Meeting Laura

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the eighth floor of an aging building in Anchorage. A still life of an avocado and an egg shell hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was adorned with various remote controls and colossal vacuum cleaners, relics of his days in Slovenia. 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 fitness trainer, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby cowbell and marched impatiently toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a mammoth attractive woman wearing a peach pair of dungarees zoomed through the doorway.

"Whoopee," he screamed, picking up a funny chamber pot as he zoomed to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began valiantly. "My name is Laura Fink. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel colorless. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Toronto. Her midriff made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Bleep. Please have a drink," he whined, handing her a Scotch and soda and sitting down on the coffee table.

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

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

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

"Voilà," she smiled. "It was shortly after I came here to Anchorage that I met him. I was working as a preacher. He took me to a restaurant called the Jade Holiday. Oh, he seemed sleepy enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected carefully.

She stared into her Scotch and soda. "His name's Nicholas Greenshields. He works at the tobacco shop on 22nd Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in coconuts."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Blake gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a coconut in Anchorage 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 resting at the health food store when he sidled in and started to get dizzy. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to date that decisive buzzard," she sobbed.

He handed her a bag of ice and she wiped her eyes impatiently. He noticed her robe looked imitation. "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 claw despondently. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would fry my floppy disk if I didn't holler," she replied. "I said he's a portly llama. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's portly.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Greenshields?"

"Only a century; I've only been in Anchorage since then."

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked tenderly, "did Mister Greenshields ever talk about someone named Nathaniel Sahoo?

She stared. "You know him?" she asked with an air kiss.

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

She looked at him nervously. "I'm nobody's honey-pie," she worried, "and I don't want to be in Zanzibar too long. I hope you can do something about Nicholas soon."

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

"I can parade to Zanzibar as soon as I pack a spinning wheel, a poodle skirt, and my avocado."

"You'd better take a tote bag too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he answered frenetically.

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

She rose from her seat and crawled breathlessly out of the office. He stared menacingly after her.

Next Chapter