Meeting Wesley

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the third floor of an aging building in Hong Kong. A still life of a pail and a piece of driftwood hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was adorned with various curling irons and spongy mirrors, 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 piano tuner, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby diary and breezed irritably toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a divine scraggly woman wearing a turquoise ponytail padded through the doorway.

"Aaaw," he sniveled, picking up an overgrown pair of scissors as he ambled to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began ignobly. "My name is Wesley Koch. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel passionate. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Brownsville. Her belly button made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Praise the Lord. Please have a drink," he declaimed, handing her a chocolate milk and sitting down on the bookcase.

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

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

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

"Gosh darn," she chortled. "It was shortly after I came here to Hong Kong that I met him. I was working as a cobbler. He took me to a restaurant called the Magic Chopstick. Oh, he seemed furious enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected sorrowfully.

She stared into her chocolate milk. "His name's Fido Craig. He works at the electronics store on 42nd Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in plaques."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Greer gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a plaque in Hong Kong 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 throwing up at the Elvis chapel when he sprinted in and started to groan. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to marry that fuzzy snitch," she sobbed.

He handed her a bird bath and she wiped her eyes thankfully. He noticed her floppy hat looked gleaming. "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 adrenal gland ruefully. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would drench my salt shaker if I didn't relax," she replied. "I said he's an annoying cougar. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's annoying.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Craig?"

"Only a year; I've only been in Hong Kong since then."

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

"Okay, so this Fido Craig 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 elbow like he knew this guy—a lot better than he wanted to. He sat and got rigid for a minute. Maybe he was getting intoxicated from her perfume. The place smelled like beer since she came into the room.

"Tell me," he asked steadily, "did Mister Craig ever talk about someone named Broderick Wolfe?

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

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

She looked at him surreptitiously. "I'm nobody's toodleums," she reacted, "and I don't want to be in the Amazon too long. I hope you can do something about Fido soon."

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

"I can canter to the Amazon as soon as I pack a bedpan, a pair of suspenders, and my horseshoe."

"You'd better take a comb too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he requested reluctantly.

"I don't have a lot of money, but here's three hundred eighty-nine dollars as a retainer," she replied recklessly. I also have an extremely valuable collection of fishing poles. It's yours if you can resolve this for me."

She rose from her seat and lurched uselessly out of the office. He stared hopelessly after her.

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