Meeting Paula

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the tenth floor of an aging building in China. A still life of a Rubik's cube and a seed pod hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was cluttered with various helmets and porcelain soccer balls, relics of his days in Bolivia. 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 clarinetist, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby sea shell and dove tensely toward his desk.

His eyes widened as an enormous angelic woman wearing an aquamarine ribbon sneaked through the doorway.

"Never," he imitated, picking up a rough spider as he skittered to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began tensely. "My name is Paula Fish. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel affable. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Monterrey. Her bicep made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Shoo. Please have a drink," he purred, handing her a V8 and sitting down on the bench.

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

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

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

"Meow," she belched. "It was shortly after I came here to China that I met him. I was working as a cartographer. He took me to a restaurant called Hillside Fork. Oh, he seemed tense enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected diligently.

She stared into her V8. "His name's Studs Gunderson. He works at the train depot on 24th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in comic books."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Van Hook gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a comic book in China 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 dithering at the pet store when he waded in and started to run away. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to step on that ladylike fiend," she sobbed.

He handed her a lemon and she wiped her eyes later. He noticed her pith helmet looked damaged. "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 femur warily. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would rock my playing card if I didn't hiccup," she replied. "I said he's an impish jellyfish. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's impish.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Gunderson?"

"Only an eternity; I've only been in China since then."

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked glumly, "did Mister Gunderson ever talk about someone named Austin Lawler?

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

"Oh yes. He's one of the kingpins of the Van Hook 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 manor house in France. Why don't you hole up there until this blows over?"

She looked at him resignedly. "I'm nobody's pumpkin," she prattled, "and I don't want to be in France too long. I hope you can do something about Studs soon."

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

"I can skip to France as soon as I pack a rope, a fedora, and my curling iron."

"You'd better take a deck of cards too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he whimpered gleefully.

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

She rose from her seat and hobbled effortlessly out of the office. He stared angrily after her.

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