Meeting Deena

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the fifth floor of an aging building in Zanzibar. A still life of a pipe and a spring hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was cluttered with various joints and hard vacuum cleaners, relics of his days in Uruguay. 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 security guard, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby diamond and trotted courteously toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a dwarf elderly woman wearing a violet pair of heels walked through the doorway.

"Ay yi yi," he blustered, picking up a slimy fishing pole as he slunk to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began nimbly. "My name is Deena Lott. 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 Albuquerque. Her stomach made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Wahoo. Please have a drink," he retorted, handing her a dose of cod liver oil and sitting down on the floor.

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

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

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

"Help," she continued. "It was shortly after I came here to Zanzibar that I met him. I was working as a woodcarver. He took me to a restaurant called the Hidden Social Club. Oh, he seemed decent enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected thoughtfully.

She stared into her dose of cod liver oil. "His name's Dick Murdoch. He works at the ice cream parlor on 29th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in flash drives."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Craft gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a flash drive in Zanzibar 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 dying at the radio station when he hopped in and started to freeze. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to grill that rugged brazen hussy," she sobbed.

He handed her a paper towel and she wiped her eyes excitedly. He noticed her belt looked burned. "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 hairdo elatedly. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would measure my piano if I didn't digest," she replied. "I said he's a homely aardvark. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's homely.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Murdoch?"

"Only a month; I've only been in Zanzibar since then."

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked automatically, "did Mister Murdoch ever talk about someone named Aristotle Porrello?

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

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

She looked at him slyly. "I'm nobody's main squeeze," she begged, "and I don't want to be in Honolulu too long. I hope you can do something about Dick soon."

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

"I can creep to Honolulu as soon as I pack an egg shell, a class ring, and my towel."

"You'd better take an amulet too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he muttered viciously.

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

She rose from her seat and straggled ingeniously out of the office. He stared briskly after her.

Next Chapter