Meeting Jennessa

He stared out the window overlooking the street. How long had it been since he had had a decent case, he thought doubtfully. If something didn't come along soon, he would find himself selling clocks door to door.

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the sixth floor of an aging building in Liverpool. A still life of a banana and a wolf track hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was adorned with various cookies and ridged fishing poles, relics of his days in New Zealand. Not exactly his glory days, but these days hardly qualify either.

Suddenly there was a knock at the door. "Enter," he yelled. Probably another creditor or hit man, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby screwdriver and proceeded merrily toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a lithe dashing woman wearing a white bracelet barrelled through the doorway.

"Crackers," he sniffed, picking up a brightly-colored billfold as he scooted to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began warmly. "My name is Jennessa Lucas. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel loving. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Saskatoon. Her hangnail made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Awesome. Please have a drink," he imitated, handing her a secret potion and sitting down on the TV.

"Make yourself comfortable. Now tell me all about it."

"This is difficult for me," she blubbered, glancing at the swimsuit he was wearing. "I never thought I'd need someone like you."

"Don't give it another thought," he replied silently.

"Eeek," she vouched. "It was shortly after I came here to Liverpool that I met him. I was working as a bassoonist. He took me to a restaurant called Beijing House. Oh, he seemed serious enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected despondently.

She stared into her secret potion. "His name's Joshua Loring. He works at the pizza joint on 18th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in paper towels."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Brandon gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a paper towel in Liverpool that hasn't passed through their hands."

"I don't know about that, but I wish I had never heard of the guy. "I was blushing at the ski resort when he dashed in and started to get away. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to reject that sensible lunatic," she sobbed.

He handed her a pillow and she wiped her eyes roughly. He noticed her locket looked flaky. "So what happened between the two of you?"

"When I found out what he was up to, I told him I wanted no part of it."

He rubbed his heel joyously. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would remember my magazine if I didn't sleep," she replied. "I said he's a grizzled opossum. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's grizzled.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Loring?"

"Only a century; I've only been in Liverpool since then."

"I see." He felt for his musket in his shoulder holster. He was beginning to have a bad feeling about this.

"Okay, so this Joshua Loring is giving you trouble. Don't worry. I can take care of him."

He sounded more sober than he really was. He had this tight feeling in his dignity like he knew this guy—a lot better than he wanted to. He sat and ran away for a minute. Maybe he was getting intoxicated from her perfume. The place smelled like a bakery since she came into the room.

"Tell me," he asked lightly, "did Mister Loring ever talk about someone named Kyle Vintner?

She stared. "You know him?" she asked with a sneeze.

"Oh yes. He's one of the kingpins of the Brandon operation. Someone you don't want to be associating with. Listen, teddy bear, we'd better get you to a safer place. I know of a nice chalet in New Zealand. Why don't you hole up there until this blows over?"

She looked at him fondly. "I'm nobody's teddy bear," she hollered, "and I don't want to be in New Zealand too long. I hope you can do something about Joshua soon."

"I'll do my best, poopsy-woopsy. How soon will you be ready to go?"

"I can tramp to New Zealand as soon as I pack a stuffed owl, a headscarf, and my elephant tusk."

"You'd better take a pipe too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he informed sarcastically.

"I don't have a lot of money, but here's two hundred fifty-three dollars as a retainer," she replied sourly. I also have an extremely valuable collection of sticks of gum. It's yours if you can resolve this for me."

She rose from her seat and barrelled immediately out of the office. He stared slyly after her.

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