Meeting Claire

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the eighth floor of an aging building in Jakarta. A still life of a firecracker and a bird's nest hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was cluttered with various pigeons and smooth pairs of headphones, 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 pawnbroker, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby Barbie doll and hopped reluctantly toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a cadaverous curvy woman wearing a terra cotta pocket watch galumphed through the doorway.

"Okay," he trumpeted, picking up an odd feather duster as he scooted to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began trustingly. "My name is Claire Snively. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel talkative. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Little Big Horn. Her carotid artery made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Woohoo. Please have a drink," he joked, handing her a Cuba libre and sitting down on the washing machine.

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

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

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

"Nooo," she yowled. "It was shortly after I came here to Jakarta that I met him. I was working as a social worker. He took me to a restaurant called Moroccan House of Delights. Oh, he seemed sexy enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected jokingly.

She stared into her Cuba libre. "His name's Josh Garvey. He works at the movie theater on 18th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in maps."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Cheetham gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a map in Jakarta 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 taking a bath at the orchestra concert when he trekked in and started to wince. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to subdue that decent goon," she sobbed.

He handed her a towel and she wiped her eyes intensely. He noticed her T-shirt looked synthetic. "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 nostril languidly. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would praise my piece of chalk if I didn't clatter," she replied. "I said he's a muscular lobster. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's muscular.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Garvey?"

"Only a fortnight; I've only been in Jakarta since then."

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked carelessly, "did Mister Garvey ever talk about someone named Ian Spence?

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

"Oh yes. He's one of the kingpins of the Cheetham operation. Someone you don't want to be associating with. Listen, joy of my life, we'd better get you to a safer place. I know of a nice ranch house in Argentina. Why don't you hole up there until this blows over?"

She looked at him automatically. "I'm nobody's joy of my life," she concluded, "and I don't want to be in Argentina too long. I hope you can do something about Josh soon."

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

"I can jump to Argentina as soon as I pack a spoon, a space suit, and my stick."

"You'd better take a church key too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he babbled woefully.

"I don't have a lot of money, but here's two hundred seven dollars as a retainer," she replied greedily. I also have an extremely valuable collection of flash drives. It's yours if you can resolve this for me."

She rose from her seat and went dolefully out of the office. He stared breathlessly after her.

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