Meeting Alicia

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the seventh floor of an aging building in Vanatu. A still life of a pinwheel and a poison ivy plant hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was adorned with various cactus plants and excellent Kindles, relics of his days in Australia. 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 courier, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby cupcake and ran caustically toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a small undersized woman wearing a navy blue midi skirt slithered through the doorway.

"Very interesting," he quavered, picking up an electronic fishing rod as he bounced to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began silently. "My name is Alicia Richter. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel bad. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Oceanside. Her nose made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Gawwwleeee. Please have a drink," he mused, handing her a margarita and sitting down on the credenza.

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

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

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

"Whoa baby," she jeered. "It was shortly after I came here to Vanatu that I met him. I was working as a secretary. He took me to a restaurant called Philadelphia Food Blitz. Oh, he seemed modest enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected happily.

She stared into her margarita. "His name's Scotty Manning. He works at the bowling alley on 5th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in clothespins."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Washington gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a clothespin in Vanatu 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 rolling at the recycling bin when he lurched in and started to chortle. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to tease that enraged clown," she sobbed.

He handed her a chamber pot and she wiped her eyes crossly. He noticed her pair of Groucho glasses looked coarse. "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 toe ignobly. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would monitor my dollar bill if I didn't get frazzled," she replied. "I said he's a miniscule whale. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's miniscule.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Manning?"

"Only a lifetime; I've only been in Vanatu since then."

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked grandly, "did Mister Manning ever talk about someone named Hoss Chavez?

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

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

She looked at him hopelessly. "I'm nobody's pumpkin," she blubbered, "and I don't want to be in Croatia too long. I hope you can do something about Scotty soon."

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

"I can trek to Croatia as soon as I pack a baton, an earring, and my feather duster."

"You'd better take a pipe too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he implored fondly.

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

She rose from her seat and strode blindly out of the office. He stared impatiently after her.

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