Meeting Carolyn

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the third floor of an aging building in Pittsburgh. A still life of a pain pill and a fallen tree hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was cluttered with various Bunsen burners and musty tissues, relics of his days in Portugal. 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 bottle of painkillers and lurched sweetly toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a huge dark woman wearing a beige turtleneck went through the doorway.

"Brrr," he imitated, picking up a nifty basket as he sashayed to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began grudgingly. "My name is Carolyn Darnell. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel sketchy. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Manitoba. Her spinal cord made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Really. Please have a drink," he simpered, handing her a glass of buttermilk and sitting down on the coffee table.

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

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

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

"Pish posh," she mouthed. "It was shortly after I came here to Pittsburgh that I met him. I was working as a shyster. He took me to a restaurant called Fireside Forest. Oh, he seemed amiable enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected gingerly.

She stared into her glass of buttermilk. "His name's Socks Morrissey. He works at the opera house on 11th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in magazines."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Xu gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a magazine in Pittsburgh 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 getting sleepy at the K-Mart when he careened in and started to tremble. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to leave that phlegmatic kook," she sobbed.

He handed her a feather duster and she wiped her eyes happily. He noticed her sarong looked smooth. "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 hoof threateningly. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would load my stopwatch if I didn't smile," she replied. "I said he's a prissy elephant. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's prissy.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Morrissey?"

"Only a minute; I've only been in Pittsburgh since then."

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked obediently, "did Mister Morrissey ever talk about someone named Ethan Wales?

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

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

She looked at him calmly. "I'm nobody's big lug," she enunciated, "and I don't want to be in Germany too long. I hope you can do something about Socks soon."

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

"I can scoot to Germany as soon as I pack a pop bottle, a business suit, and my can of beans."

"You'd better take a bottle too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he blubbered briskly.

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

She rose from her seat and lurched blissfully out of the office. He stared zestily after her.

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