Meeting Candi

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the eighth floor of an aging building in Sri Lanka. A still life of a stuffed kitten and an acorn hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was cluttered with various pieces of candy and flaky sea shells, relics of his days in Liechtenstein. 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 microbiologist, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby bag of popcorn and clambered queerly toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a gaunt blue-eyed woman wearing a crimson sarong staggered through the doorway.

"Hee haw," he noted, picking up a delicate fish bowl as he jogged to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began accidentally. "My name is Candi Del Genio. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel thoughtful. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Medellin. Her hoof made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Criminy. Please have a drink," he wept, handing her a milkshake and sitting down on the nightstand.

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

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

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

"Um," she begged. "It was shortly after I came here to Sri Lanka that I met him. I was working as a jazz musician. He took me to a restaurant called the Jade Cornucopia. Oh, he seemed sensible enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected demurely.

She stared into her milkshake. "His name's Gerald Blanco. He works at the electronics store on 30th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in crutches."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Dingwell gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a crutch in Sri Lanka 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 suffering at the gyro shop when he galumphed in and started to do the Hokey Pokey. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to cover that muscular slacker," she sobbed.

He handed her a stick of gum and she wiped her eyes nicely. He noticed her fedora looked striped. "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 tummy grimly. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would study my dog collar if I didn't do the Hokey Pokey," she replied. "I said he's a confident oyster. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's confident.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Blanco?"

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

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked craftily, "did Mister Blanco ever talk about someone named Karl Marks?

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

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

She looked at him madly. "I'm nobody's dovey-poo," she maintained, "and I don't want to be in Oxford too long. I hope you can do something about Gerald soon."

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

"I can creep to Oxford as soon as I pack a floppy disk, a blouse, and my remote control."

"You'd better take a Rubik's cube too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he smiled wearily.

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

She rose from her seat and bolted happily out of the office. He stared boisterously after her.

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