Meeting Taylor

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the fourth floor of an aging building in Argentina. A still life of a chamber pot and a fish hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was adorned with various photographs and grubby purses, relics of his days in New Guinea. 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 surveyor, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby stick of gum and strolled suspiciously toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a slight short woman wearing a pea green fedora walked through the doorway.

"Neato," he rumored, picking up a spongy African violet as he rushed to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began despondently. "My name is Taylor Snively. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel bizarre. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Overland Park. Her calf made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Crap. Please have a drink," he enunciated, handing her a glass of apple juice and sitting down on the filing cabinet.

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

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

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

"Dag nabbit," she quoted. "It was shortly after I came here to Argentina that I met him. I was working as an astronomer. He took me to a restaurant called the Stellar Steak & Suds. Oh, he seemed vile enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected shyly.

She stared into her glass of apple juice. "His name's Luis Marino. He works at the pub on 10th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in watering cans."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Conrad gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a watering can in Argentina 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 curtseying at the pool hall when he breezed in and started to digest. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to pin that depraved dork," she sobbed.

He handed her a Hostess Ding Dong and she wiped her eyes merrily. He noticed her bomber jacket looked dry. "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 paw primly. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would darken my magnet if I didn't apologize," she replied. "I said he's a yappy warthog. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's yappy.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Marino?"

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

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked queerly, "did Mister Marino ever talk about someone named Walt Strait?

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

"Oh yes. He's one of the kingpins of the Conrad operation. Someone you don't want to be associating with. Listen, sweetie, we'd better get you to a safer place. I know of a nice travel trailer in Japan. Why don't you hole up there until this blows over?"

She looked at him positively. "I'm nobody's sweetie," she screeched, "and I don't want to be in Japan too long. I hope you can do something about Luis soon."

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

"I can breeze to Japan as soon as I pack a spool of thread, a big grin, and my pepper grinder."

"You'd better take a flute too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he commented uneasily.

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

She rose from her seat and climbed impatiently out of the office. He stared warmly after her.

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