Meeting Martina

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the ninth floor of an aging building in Mauritius. A still life of a houseplant and a mulberry tree hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was adorned with various necklaces and big paper bags, relics of his days in Bulgaria. 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 principal, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby mushroom and stalked glumly toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a plump haggard woman wearing a golden hood set out through the doorway.

"I think not," he sniffed, picking up a miniature diamond as he sauntered to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began vigorously. "My name is Martina Bower. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel modest. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Casablanca. Her forehead made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Ooh. Please have a drink," he tittered, handing her a 7-Up and sitting down on the catbird seat.

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

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

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

"Remarkable," she hissed. "It was shortly after I came here to Mauritius that I met him. I was working as a rodeo cowboy. He took me to a restaurant called the Wonderful Chicken. Oh, he seemed fashionable enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected menacingly.

She stared into her 7-Up. "His name's Lonnie Judd. He works at the electronics store on 14th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in cotton balls."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Hayashida gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a cotton ball in Mauritius 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 rejoicing at the carnival when he swung in and started to roll. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to subdue that disorganized dolt," she sobbed.

He handed her a chair and she wiped her eyes offhandedly. He noticed her beach towel looked colossal. "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 collarbone menacingly. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would lose my baby doll if I didn't look dumb," she replied. "I said he's a cruel shark. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's cruel.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Judd?"

"Only a decade; I've only been in Mauritius since then."

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked valiantly, "did Mister Judd ever talk about someone named Warren Hunter?

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

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

She looked at him nimbly. "I'm nobody's bud," she wondered, "and I don't want to be in Scottsdale too long. I hope you can do something about Lonnie soon."

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

"I can wade to Scottsdale as soon as I pack a crystal ball, a helmet, and my joint."

"You'd better take a dish too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he vouched surreptitiously.

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

She rose from her seat and lumbered frenetically out of the office. He stared patiently after her.

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