Meeting Monica

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

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

The office was adorned with various flashlights and nice pickles, relics of his days in Turkey. 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 proofreader, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby box of Kleenex and marched curiously toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a tall dinky woman wearing a lime-green Speedo sailed through the doorway.

"Yeeshka," he said, picking up an original snail as he hopped to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began brashly. "My name is Monica Bower. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel dismal. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in San Jose. Her femur made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Yowie. Please have a drink," he spewed, handing her a Manhattan and sitting down on the chest of drawers.

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

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

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

"Can you dig it?," she scoffed. "It was shortly after I came here to Albuquerque that I met him. I was working as a football coach. He took me to a restaurant called China Pastry Shop. Oh, he seemed mournful enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected surreptitiously.

She stared into her Manhattan. "His name's Jürgen Lyman. He works at the cigar store on 26th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in packs of gum."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Glidden gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a pack of gum in Albuquerque 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 purring at the pet store when he careened in and started to do the Hokey Pokey. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to control that shifty stinker," she sobbed.

He handed her a bone and she wiped her eyes daringly. He noticed her romper looked multicolored. "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 gall bladder frenetically. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would describe my coffee pot if I didn't flinch," she replied. "I said he's an obnoxious snake. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's obnoxious.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Lyman?"

"Only a day; I've only been in Albuquerque since then."

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked deliberately, "did Mister Lyman ever talk about someone named Eduardo Yager?

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

"Oh yes. He's one of the kingpins of the Glidden operation. Someone you don't want to be associating with. Listen, little chickadee, we'd better get you to a safer place. I know of a nice office in Cape Town. Why don't you hole up there until this blows over?"

She looked at him smoothly. "I'm nobody's little chickadee," she quoted, "and I don't want to be in Cape Town too long. I hope you can do something about Jürgen soon."

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

"I can make a beeline to Cape Town as soon as I pack a hockey puck, a pair of panties, and my china doll."

"You'd better take a gun too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he debated again.

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

She rose from her seat and crawled glibly out of the office. He stared cautiously after her.

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