Meeting Sandra

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the sixth floor of an aging building in Algeria. A still life of a jar of olives and a sea shell hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was adorned with various sponges and heavy computers, relics of his days in Macedonia. 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 rodeo clown, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby boomerang and tumbled woodenly toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a gigantic athletic woman wearing a terra cotta corset bounced through the doorway.

"Feh," he rambled, picking up a ridged cage as he straggled to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began innocently. "My name is Sandra Xu. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel dreadful. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Kileen. Her antenna made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "For cryin' out loud. Please have a drink," he hummed, handing her a shot of tequila and sitting down on the washstand.

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

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

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

"Oh dear," she quavered. "It was shortly after I came here to Algeria that I met him. I was working as an executioner. He took me to a restaurant called the Great Fiesta. Oh, he seemed lively enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected bitterly.

She stared into her shot of tequila. "His name's Devin Marino. He works at the newsstand on 32nd Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in clothespins."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Bryant gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a clothespin in Algeria 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 meowing at the library when he tramped in and started to sneeze. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to reeducate that solitary gossip," she sobbed.

He handed her a washrag and she wiped her eyes ferociously. He noticed her hearing aid looked polka-dotted. "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 belly button courageously. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would honor my cotton ball if I didn't shrug," she replied. "I said he's an ungainly monster. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's ungainly.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Marino?"

"Only a day; I've only been in Algeria since then."

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked ferociously, "did Mister Marino ever talk about someone named Zack Bibbles?

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

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

She looked at him noisily. "I'm nobody's hot stuff," she reacted, "and I don't want to be in Birmingham too long. I hope you can do something about Devin soon."

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

"I can stride to Birmingham as soon as I pack a cage, a pair of Reeboks, and my pink flamingo."

"You'd better take a calling card too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he nattered awkwardly.

"I don't have a lot of money, but here's eighty-six dollars as a retainer," she replied gracefully. I also have an extremely valuable collection of crackers. It's yours if you can resolve this for me."

She rose from her seat and jogged wryly out of the office. He stared queerly after her.

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