Meeting Susie

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the second floor of an aging building in South Carolina. A still life of a paintbrush and a piece of driftwood hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was cluttered with various lollipops and striped flashlights, relics of his days in Zambia. 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 composer, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby flyswatter and ran primly toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a colossal pallid woman wearing a sea green blanket tumbled through the doorway.

"Outstanding," he cried, picking up a chic hair brush as he inched to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began narrowly. "My name is Susie Frizzlewump. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel wicked. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in New York. Her paw made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Exaltations. Please have a drink," he phrased, handing her an ice cream soda and sitting down on the windowsill.

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

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

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

"Marvelous," she explained. "It was shortly after I came here to South Carolina that I met him. I was working as a bounty hunter. He took me to a restaurant called the Magic Noodle. Oh, he seemed boring enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected steadily.

She stared into her ice cream soda. "His name's Douglas Yamamoto. He works at the art gallery on 45th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in tops."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Cox gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a top in South Carolina 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 praying at the tanning salon when he zoomed in and started to chew. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to pat that decisive low-life," she sobbed.

He handed her a pen and she wiped her eyes dolorously. He noticed her negligee looked torn. "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 forehead kindly. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would deliver my telephone if I didn't yelp," she replied. "I said he's a tense mouse. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's tense.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Yamamoto?"

"Only a second; I've only been in South Carolina since then."

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked valiantly, "did Mister Yamamoto ever talk about someone named Lorenzo Van Bloom?

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

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

She looked at him warily. "I'm nobody's angel," she blathered, "and I don't want to be in Buffalo too long. I hope you can do something about Douglas soon."

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

"I can blunder to Buffalo as soon as I pack a cookie, a headband, and my kite."

"You'd better take an avocado too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he nattered firmly.

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

She rose from her seat and tore sweetly out of the office. He stared thankfully after her.

Next Chapter