Meeting Francene

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the fourth floor of an aging building in Rio. A still life of a bilge pump and a cactus hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was cluttered with various cans of beer and torn salt shakers, relics of his days in Iraq. 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 entrepeneur, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby flowerpot and waltzed daringly toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a mammoth winsome woman wearing a forest green nose ring swaggered through the doorway.

"Spiffy," he lectured, picking up a striped clock as he sailed to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began sheepishly. "My name is Francene Suskind. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel ignoble. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Saint Louis. Her skin made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Unbelievable. Please have a drink," he demanded, handing her a tequila sunrise and sitting down on the hammock.

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

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

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

"Moo," she exploded. "It was shortly after I came here to Rio that I met him. I was working as an interpreter. He took me to a restaurant called Downtown Star. Oh, he seemed bubbly enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected timidly.

She stared into her tequila sunrise. "His name's Samuel Romer. He works at the jewelry store on 11th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in maps."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Chu gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a map in Rio 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 talking at the beach when he traipsed in and started to pace. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to trust that bellicose dolt," she sobbed.

He handed her a bottle of painkillers and she wiped her eyes threateningly. He noticed her pair of roller skates looked gigantic. "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 chest solemnly. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would inspect my coat check ticket if I didn't snarl," she replied. "I said he's a fearful Siamese cat. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's fearful.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Romer?"

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

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked oddly, "did Mister Romer ever talk about someone named Lucifer Bruno?

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

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

She looked at him rapidly. "I'm nobody's sugar plum," she debated, "and I don't want to be in Nauru too long. I hope you can do something about Samuel soon."

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

"I can scamper to Nauru as soon as I pack a Hostess Ding Dong, a skeleton costume, and my tarboosh."

"You'd better take a cigar too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he nattered miserably.

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

She rose from her seat and galloped intensely out of the office. He stared hopelessly after her.

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