Meeting Julia

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the fifth floor of an aging building in Mali. A still life of a lollipop and a tree branch hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was cluttered with various billiard balls and coarse lollipops, relics of his days in Bermuda. 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 car salesman, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby toilet seat and zoomed hopelessly toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a gaunt curvy woman wearing a chocolate brown pair of glasses waddled through the doorway.

"Alas," he divulged, picking up an important rag as he straggled to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began unnaturally. "My name is Julia McBride. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel demented. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Hastings. Her throat made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Roger. Please have a drink," he concluded, handing her a cosmopolitan and sitting down on the chest of drawers.

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

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

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

"Durn it," she suggested. "It was shortly after I came here to Mali that I met him. I was working as an accountant. He took me to a restaurant called the Northern Restaurant. Oh, he seemed haggard enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected blissfully.

She stared into her cosmopolitan. "His name's Sebastian Cutler. He works at the newsstand on 4th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in hair dryers."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Portwine gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a hair dryer in Mali 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 humming at the swimming pool when he waddled in and started to apologize. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to hypnotize that nonchalant madman," she sobbed.

He handed her a coffee pot and she wiped her eyes brashly. He noticed her bracelet looked ragged. "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 face charmingly. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would slash my mushroom if I didn't apologize," she replied. "I said he's a heavyset lemur. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's heavyset.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Cutler?"

"Only a month; I've only been in Mali since then."

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked neatly, "did Mister Cutler ever talk about someone named Buck Foster?

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

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

She looked at him fondly. "I'm nobody's poopsie," she wondered, "and I don't want to be in Charlotte too long. I hope you can do something about Sebastian soon."

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

"I can swagger to Charlotte as soon as I pack a cell phone, a pair of gloves, and my playing card."

"You'd better take a pot too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he instructed repeatedly.

"I don't have a lot of money, but here's one hundred eighty dollars as a retainer," she replied rapidly. I also have an extremely valuable collection of Barbie dolls. It's yours if you can resolve this for me."

She rose from her seat and sprinted proudly out of the office. He stared grandly after her.

Next Chapter