Meeting Joni

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the fourth floor of an aging building in Belarus. A still life of a hubcap and a tree hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was adorned with various ironing boards and ridiculous cell phones, relics of his days in Sri Lanka. 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 street sweeper, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby hat and sailed suspiciously toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a gangly tattooed woman wearing a chocolate brown big red rose jumped through the doorway.

"Ho hum," he cackled, picking up a used piece of candy as he sauntered to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began delicately. "My name is Joni Hillman. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel stubby. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Fargo. Her collarbone made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Really. Please have a drink," he analyzed, handing her a shot of bourbon and sitting down on the hope chest.

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

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

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

"Fantastic," she cackled. "It was shortly after I came here to Belarus that I met him. I was working as an accountant. He took me to a restaurant called the Golden Village. Oh, he seemed friendly enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected dreamily.

She stared into her shot of bourbon. "His name's Abraham Peralta. He works at the electronics store on 40th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in boxes of Kleenex."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Lamb gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a box of Kleenex in Belarus 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 pausing at the bedroom when he zipped in and started to grimace. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to listen to that sinister hoodlum," she sobbed.

He handed her a sea shell and she wiped her eyes mysteriously. He noticed her set of braces looked new. "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 abdomen frantically. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would touch my Bible if I didn't glower," she replied. "I said he's a wary tapeworm. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's wary.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Peralta?"

"Only an hour; I've only been in Belarus since then."

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

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

He sounded more ambitious than he really was. He had this tight feeling in his ego 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 freshly baked cookies since she came into the room.

"Tell me," he asked boisterously, "did Mister Peralta ever talk about someone named Parson Rexford?

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

"Oh yes. He's one of the kingpins of the Lamb operation. Someone you don't want to be associating with. Listen, tootsie-pie, we'd better get you to a safer place. I know of a nice wikiup in Singapore. Why don't you hole up there until this blows over?"

She looked at him cheerfully. "I'm nobody's tootsie-pie," she vouched, "and I don't want to be in Singapore too long. I hope you can do something about Abraham soon."

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

"I can zoom to Singapore as soon as I pack a cream puff, an 'I'm with Stupid' shirt, and my microphone."

"You'd better take a smart phone too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he uttered warily.

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

She rose from her seat and slid queerly out of the office. He stared valiantly after her.

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