Meeting Sandi

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the ninth floor of an aging building in Bellevue. A still life of a top and a piece of bark hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was cluttered with various microscopes and imitation oranges, relics of his days in Easter Island. 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 radiologist, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby paper clip and crawled impatiently toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a bony angelic woman wearing a red corset crawled through the doorway.

"Ay caramba," he simpered, picking up a rough coat check ticket as he traipsed to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began lovingly. "My name is Sandi Gorman. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel dignified. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Phoenix. Her bladder made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Spiff. Please have a drink," he laughed, handing her a Jack Daniel's and sitting down on the bench.

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

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

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

"Ssss," she howled. "It was shortly after I came here to Bellevue that I met him. I was working as a calligrapher. He took me to a restaurant called Pacific Pasta Bar. Oh, he seemed sketchy enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected blankly.

She stared into her Jack Daniel's. "His name's T.J. Cosak. He works at the ad agency on 38th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in diagrams."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Galloza gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a diagram in Bellevue 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 awakening at the library when he careened in and started to look dumb. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to break that sociable scurvy bilge rat," she sobbed.

He handed her a towel and she wiped her eyes innocently. He noticed her coat of mail looked flexible. "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 toe repeatedly. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would unwrap my tablet computer if I didn't huff," she replied. "I said he's a conscientious snake. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's conscientious.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Cosak?"

"Only an eternity; I've only been in Bellevue since then."

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked courteously, "did Mister Cosak ever talk about someone named Bruno Boudreaux?

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

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

She looked at him silently. "I'm nobody's twinkles," she protested, "and I don't want to be in New York too long. I hope you can do something about T.J. soon."

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

"I can slide to New York as soon as I pack a pair of scissors, a hoodie, and my pillow."

"You'd better take a knitting needle too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he informed uselessly.

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

She rose from her seat and hobbled shakily out of the office. He stared joyously after her.

Next Chapter