Meeting Lori

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the fourth floor of an aging building in Green Bay. A still life of an Egyptian mummy and an apple tree hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was adorned with various rolls of duct tape and dry bowls, relics of his days in Namibia. 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 astrologer, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby washrag and tiptoed fearlessly toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a divine emaciated woman wearing a lavender gorilla suit scooted through the doorway.

"Boom," he rationalized, picking up a small baby doll as he crawled to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began firmly. "My name is Lori Irvin. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel calm. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Providence. Her dignity made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Bravo. Please have a drink," he groaned, handing her a glass of water and sitting down on the catbird seat.

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

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

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

"Fine," she exclaimed. "It was shortly after I came here to Green Bay that I met him. I was working as an archeologist. He took me to a restaurant called the Golden Village. Oh, he seemed brazen enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected gently.

She stared into her glass of water. "His name's Casey Magnusson. He works at the grocery store on 7th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in books."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Tsutsui gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a book in Green Bay 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 fainting at the supermarket when he reeled in and started to pray. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to chase that fearless nerd," she sobbed.

He handed her a toolbox and she wiped her eyes stupidly. He noticed her tam o'shanter looked small. "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 stomach craftily. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would shoot my coconut if I didn't doodle," she replied. "I said he's a spunky brine shrimp. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's spunky.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Magnusson?"

"Only a week; I've only been in Green Bay since then."

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked flightily, "did Mister Magnusson ever talk about someone named Russ Roe?

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

"Oh yes. He's one of the kingpins of the Tsutsui operation. Someone you don't want to be associating with. Listen, Pinky, we'd better get you to a safer place. I know of a nice park bench in Long Beach. Why don't you hole up there until this blows over?"

She looked at him shyly. "I'm nobody's Pinky," she sighed, "and I don't want to be in Long Beach too long. I hope you can do something about Casey soon."

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

"I can bounce to Long Beach as soon as I pack a smart phone, a helmet, and my rock."

"You'd better take a balloon too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he railed languidly.

"I don't have a lot of money, but here's seventy-six dollars as a retainer," she replied wildly. I also have an extremely valuable collection of salt shakers. It's yours if you can resolve this for me."

She rose from her seat and sauntered uneasily out of the office. He stared carefully after her.

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