Meeting Darlene

He stared out the window overlooking the street. How long had it been since he had had a decent case, he thought dolefully. 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 fourth floor of an aging building in Corpus Christi. A still life of a sea shell and a tree hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was cluttered with various nails and polished backpacks, relics of his days in China. 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 juggler, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby abacus and climbed obediently toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a miniature plain woman wearing a carrot-orange pair of jackboots waded through the doorway.

"Drop dead," he blurted, picking up an authentic thumb drive as he sallied forth to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began tearfully. "My name is Darlene Khatchaturian. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel sarcastic. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Santa Rosa. Her elbow made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Castor and Pollux! Blow me to Bermuda. Please have a drink," he mused, handing her a root beer and sitting down on the buffet.

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

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

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

"Begad," she complained. "It was shortly after I came here to Corpus Christi that I met him. I was working as a manicurist. He took me to a restaurant called the Galloping Dining Hall. Oh, he seemed vile enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected openly.

She stared into her root beer. "His name's Gabe Del Genio. He works at the antique store on 31st Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in bags of ice."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Giordano gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a bag of ice in Corpus Christi 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 clearing out at the city park when he slithered in and started to think. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to hide from that dreadful ninny," she sobbed.

He handed her a fish and she wiped her eyes violently. He noticed her 'I'm with Stupid' shirt looked electronic. "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 kidney wryly. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would duplicate my saw if I didn't snicker," she replied. "I said he's a ladylike spider. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's ladylike.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Del Genio?"

"Only an hour; I've only been in Corpus Christi since then."

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

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

He sounded more silly 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 nodded for a minute. Maybe he was getting intoxicated from her perfume. The place smelled like cigar smoke since she came into the room.

"Tell me," he asked brightly, "did Mister Del Genio ever talk about someone named Fred Dalton?

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

"Oh yes. He's one of the kingpins of the Giordano 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 bungalow in Casablanca. Why don't you hole up there until this blows over?"

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

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

"I can make a beeline to Casablanca as soon as I pack a Big Gulp, a hearing aid, and my paper bag."

"You'd better take a trash can too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he responded steadily.

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

She rose from her seat and went lazily out of the office. He stared effortlessly after her.

Next Chapter