Meeting Ling

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the seventh floor of an aging building in Mauritania. A still life of a wastebasket and a piece of driftwood hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was cluttered with various bicycles and ancient muffins, relics of his days in Ecuador. 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 warehouse picker, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby lemon and swung madly toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a small heavyset woman wearing a teal hoodie waltzed through the doorway.

"Praise the Lord," he stammered, picking up an authentic fossil as he jumped to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began anxiously. "My name is Ling Yamaguchi. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel athletic. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Saskatoon. Her appendix made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Praise the Lord. Please have a drink," he wondered, handing her a tequila sunrise and sitting down on the china hutch.

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

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

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

"Hmm," she spoke up. "It was shortly after I came here to Mauritania that I met him. I was working as a coach. He took me to a restaurant called Northern Gastropub. Oh, he seemed obese enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected blindly.

She stared into her tequila sunrise. "His name's Mookie Noon. He works at the McDonalds on 40th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in spools of thread."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Spence gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a spool of thread in Mauritania 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 screeching at the jail when he paraded in and started to pass out. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to educate that dapper monster," she sobbed.

He handed her a bottle and she wiped her eyes cruelly. He noticed her leotard looked sleek. "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 kneecap strictly. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would punch my picture if I didn't wake up," she replied. "I said he's an arrogant cobra. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's arrogant.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Noon?"

"Only a blink of an eye; I've only been in Mauritania since then."

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked softly, "did Mister Noon ever talk about someone named Harry Dole?

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

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

She looked at him tenderly. "I'm nobody's noodle," she railed, "and I don't want to be in Vermont too long. I hope you can do something about Mookie soon."

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

"I can waltz to Vermont as soon as I pack a Big Gulp, a cowboy hat, and my basket."

"You'd better take a teddy bear too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he trumpeted merrily.

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

She rose from her seat and dove calmly out of the office. He stared boisterously after her.

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