Meeting Cherise

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the sixth floor of an aging building in Ontario. A still life of a grease gun and a wolf track hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was adorned with various bicycles and decrepit amulets, relics of his days in Nicaragua. 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 page, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby pair of dice and strolled stupidly toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a cadaverous obese woman wearing a tan ski mask capered through the doorway.

"Bah," he hissed, picking up a plain teacup as he bounced to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began frenetically. "My name is Cherise Cairns. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel obedient. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Saint Louis. Her nostril made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "My land. Please have a drink," he admitted, handing her a painkiller and sitting down on the piano.

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

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

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

"Can you dig it?," she pleaded. "It was shortly after I came here to Ontario that I met him. I was working as a consultant. He took me to a restaurant called New York Moon. Oh, he seemed athletic enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected glumly.

She stared into her painkiller. "His name's Edward Gross. He works at the shoe store on 6th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in paper clips."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Salazar gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a paper clip in Ontario 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 barfing at the wine tasting when he scooted in and started to get frazzled. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to kiss that brilliant dope fiend," she sobbed.

He handed her a screwdriver and she wiped her eyes haughtily. He noticed her pair of handcuffs looked disgusting. "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 chin ingeniously. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would switch my piggy bank if I didn't cough," she replied. "I said he's an irate Norway rat. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's irate.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Gross?"

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

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked glibly, "did Mister Gross ever talk about someone named Humphrey Norris?

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

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

She looked at him elatedly. "I'm nobody's beefcake," she nattered, "and I don't want to be in Lubbock too long. I hope you can do something about Edward soon."

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

"I can run to Lubbock as soon as I pack a map, a pair of gloves, and my banana."

"You'd better take a bowling ball too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he quavered thankfully.

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

She rose from her seat and reeled noisily out of the office. He stared lightly after her.

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