Meeting Juanita

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the seventh floor of an aging building in Delaware. A still life of a microscope and a dead fish hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was adorned with various chamber pots and crusty bouquets, relics of his days in Laos. 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 author, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby spittoon and strode quickly toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a lanky youthful woman wearing an orange pair of briefs crawled through the doorway.

"Oof," he bragged, picking up a hand-carved elephant tusk as he zoomed to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began sternly. "My name is Juanita McDonald. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel creepy. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Córdoba. Her spine made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Eek. Please have a drink," he voiced, handing her a Mountain Dew and sitting down on the cushion.

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

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

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

"Lordy," she debated. "It was shortly after I came here to Delaware that I met him. I was working as a novelist. He took me to a restaurant called Tropical Winery. Oh, he seemed yappy enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected unabashedly.

She stared into her Mountain Dew. "His name's Zachary Sanabria. He works at the electronics store on 16th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in forks."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Alden gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a fork in Delaware 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 snorting at the disco when he sped in and started to vomit. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to grill that charming shyster," she sobbed.

He handed her a bib and she wiped her eyes peevishly. He noticed her skeleton costume looked nifty. "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 dignity strictly. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would maintain my stamp if I didn't clap," she replied. "I said he's an affable aardvark. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's affable.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Sanabria?"

"Only a lifetime; I've only been in Delaware since then."

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked jokingly, "did Mister Sanabria ever talk about someone named Thaddeus Fischer?

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

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

She looked at him coolly. "I'm nobody's home boy," she squawked, "and I don't want to be in Tahiti too long. I hope you can do something about Zachary soon."

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

"I can skip to Tahiti as soon as I pack a barbell, a romper, and my corncob."

"You'd better take a picture too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he interpreted menacingly.

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

She rose from her seat and slumped peevishly out of the office. He stared despondently after her.

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