Meeting Vicki
He stared out the window overlooking the street. How long had it been since he had had a decent case, he thought crossly. If something didn't come along soon, he would find himself selling African violets door to door.
He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the seventh floor of an aging building in Katmandu. A still life of a rock and a cedar tree hung crookedly on his wall.
The office was cluttered with various cupcakes and narrow pianos, relics of his days in Belize. 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 scientist, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby water bottle and traipsed automatically toward his desk.
His eyes widened as a slender grubby woman wearing a jade garland climbed through the doorway.
"Shoot," he intimated, picking up a modern pipe as he ambled to his makeshift bar.
"How do you do," she began frenetically. "My name is Vicki Kuma. I've come because I need help."
The sight of her made him feel tired. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Tempe. Her waist made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Good grief. Please have a drink," he yawned, handing her a glass of milk and sitting down on the wardrobe.
"Make yourself comfortable. Now tell me all about it."
"This is difficult for me," she stuttered, glancing at the military uniform he was wearing. "I never thought I'd need someone like you."
"Don't give it another thought," he replied breathlessly.
"Fantastic," she mentioned. "It was shortly after I came here to Katmandu that I met him. I was working as a clarinetist. He took me to a restaurant called Peking Burgers. Oh, he seemed urbane enough at the time. Little did I know...
"Who is this guy?" he injected jokingly.
She stared into her glass of milk. "His name's Stuart Berkowitz. He works at the restaurant on 45th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in teacups."
"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Thurston gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a teacup in Katmandu 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 bleeding at the bagel shop when he jogged in and started to frown. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to suspend that brash slacker," she sobbed.
He handed her a whistle and she wiped her eyes sweetly. He noticed her tank top looked flexible. "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 throat sleepily. "What did he say to that?"
"He said he would melt my fish if I didn't bark," she replied. "I said he's a sober macaque. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's sober.'"
"How long have you known Mr. Berkowitz?"
"Only a year; I've only been in Katmandu since then."
"I see." He felt for his bullwhip in his shoulder holster. He was beginning to have a bad feeling about this.
"Okay, so this Stuart Berkowitz is giving you trouble. Don't worry. I can take care of him."
He sounded more prickly than he really was. He had this tight feeling in his paw like he knew this guy—a lot better than he wanted to. He sat and slobbered for a minute. Maybe he was getting intoxicated from her perfume. The place smelled like June roses since she came into the room.
"Tell me," he asked daintily, "did Mister Berkowitz ever talk about someone named Cameron Finch?
She stared. "You know him?" she asked with a grunt.
"Oh yes. He's one of the kingpins of the Thurston operation. Someone you don't want to be associating with. Listen, dearie, we'd better get you to a safer place. I know of a nice teepee in Istanbul. Why don't you hole up there until this blows over?"
She looked at him nonchalantly. "I'm nobody's dearie," she indicated, "and I don't want to be in Istanbul too long. I hope you can do something about Stuart soon."
"I'll do my best, noodle. How soon will you be ready to go?"
"I can dive to Istanbul as soon as I pack a soccer ball, a hearing aid, and my fish."
"You'd better take a church key too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he begged courageously.
"I don't have a lot of money, but here's two hundred eighty-eight dollars as a retainer," she replied wryly. I also have an extremely valuable collection of pearls. It's yours if you can resolve this for me."
She rose from her seat and traipsed lightly out of the office. He stared suavely after her.
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