Meeting Ashley

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the third floor of an aging building in Nauru. A still life of a pair of dice and a sea shell hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was adorned with various bird feeders and bent baseball bats, relics of his days in Mexico. 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 molecular biologist, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby camera and slipped again toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a divine spindly woman wearing a striped mask galumphed through the doorway.

"Nuts," he professed, picking up a fuzzy screwdriver as he jogged to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began dolefully. "My name is Ashley Steele. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel resolute. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Virginia Beach. Her gall bladder made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Oh my word. Please have a drink," he screamed, handing her a cup of espresso and sitting down on the hatstand.

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

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

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

"Very well done," she whimpered. "It was shortly after I came here to Nauru that I met him. I was working as a day care provider. He took me to a restaurant called Cindy's Jubilee. Oh, he seemed attractive enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected sleepily.

She stared into her cup of espresso. "His name's Ole Houston. He works at the bookstore on 12th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in fishing poles."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Ramirez gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a fishing pole in Nauru 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 crouching at the Elvis chapel when he went in and started to pucker. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to smile at that perky idjit," she sobbed.

He handed her a piano and she wiped her eyes impatiently. He noticed her gun belt looked hand-carved. "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 throat again. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would bake my dollar bill if I didn't pucker," she replied. "I said he's an adorable kitty. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's adorable.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Houston?"

"Only a minute; I've only been in Nauru since then."

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked joyously, "did Mister Houston ever talk about someone named Joshua Overland?

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

"Oh yes. He's one of the kingpins of the Ramirez operation. Someone you don't want to be associating with. Listen, light of my life, we'd better get you to a safer place. I know of a nice A-frame in Malaysia. Why don't you hole up there until this blows over?"

She looked at him dreamily. "I'm nobody's light of my life," she imitated, "and I don't want to be in Malaysia too long. I hope you can do something about Ole soon."

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

"I can slump to Malaysia as soon as I pack a sponge, a surgical mask, and my radio."

"You'd better take a stick too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he ranted ingeniously.

"I don't have a lot of money, but here's one hundred forty-five dollars as a retainer," she replied vacantly. I also have an extremely valuable collection of Hostess Ding Dongs. It's yours if you can resolve this for me."

She rose from her seat and skittered unexpectedly out of the office. He stared suddenly after her.

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