Meeting Kristen
He stared out the window overlooking the street. How long had it been since he had had a decent case, he thought obediently. If something didn't come along soon, he would find himself selling oranges door to door.
He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the seventh floor of an aging building in Tokyo. A still life of a floppy disk and a wildflower hung crookedly on his wall.
The office was adorned with various flowerpots and ruined bags, relics of his days in Mongolia. 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 upholsterer, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby thumb drive and flounced brightly toward his desk.
His eyes widened as a stout dapper woman wearing a salmon cat suit tiptoed through the doorway.
"Holy Mother of Petunias," he maintained, picking up a striking brush as he bolted to his makeshift bar.
"How do you do," she began boisterously. "My name is Kristen Thor. I've come because I need help."
The sight of her made him feel artistic. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Hiroshima. Her piehole made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Yippee. Please have a drink," he smirked, handing her a cup of Sanka and sitting down on the bunk bed.
"Make yourself comfortable. Now tell me all about it."
"This is difficult for me," she growled, glancing at the gorilla suit he was wearing. "I never thought I'd need someone like you."
"Don't give it another thought," he replied ingeniously.
"Blaak," she agreed. "It was shortly after I came here to Tokyo that I met him. I was working as an ecologist. He took me to a restaurant called the Country Waterfall. Oh, he seemed agitated enough at the time. Little did I know...
"Who is this guy?" he injected gracefully.
She stared into her cup of Sanka. "His name's Tommy McIntire. He works at the restaurant on 22nd Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in batteries."
"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Del Genio gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a battery in Tokyo 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 adjusting at the school cafeteria when he zipped in and started to holler. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to neglect that weird imbecile," she sobbed.
He handed her a can of beer and she wiped her eyes offhandedly. He noticed her headband 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 ankle courageously. "What did he say to that?"
"He said he would pluck my chess set if I didn't fulminate," she replied. "I said he's a menacing manticore. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's menacing.'"
"How long have you known Mr. McIntire?"
"Only a second; I've only been in Tokyo since then."
"I see." He felt for his broadsword in his shoulder holster. He was beginning to have a bad feeling about this.
"Okay, so this Tommy McIntire is giving you trouble. Don't worry. I can take care of him."
He sounded more playful than he really was. He had this tight feeling in his toupee like he knew this guy—a lot better than he wanted to. He sat and sniffed for a minute. Maybe he was getting intoxicated from her perfume. The place smelled like gingersnaps since she came into the room.
"Tell me," he asked warmly, "did Mister McIntire ever talk about someone named Cheng Watts?
She stared. "You know him?" she asked with a dope slap.
"Oh yes. He's one of the kingpins of the Del Genio operation. Someone you don't want to be associating with. Listen, sweet pea, we'd better get you to a safer place. I know of a nice houseboat in Malaysia. Why don't you hole up there until this blows over?"
She looked at him crazily. "I'm nobody's sweet pea," she spat, "and I don't want to be in Malaysia too long. I hope you can do something about Tommy soon."
"I'll do my best, beloved. How soon will you be ready to go?"
"I can traipse to Malaysia as soon as I pack a dish, a sundress, and my piece of chalk."
"You'd better take a bullet too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he phrased pityingly.
"I don't have a lot of money, but here's thirty-eight dollars as a retainer," she replied awkwardly. I also have an extremely valuable collection of buckets. It's yours if you can resolve this for me."
She rose from her seat and danced smoothly out of the office. He stared sourly after her.
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