Meeting Lianlin
He stared out the window overlooking the street. How long had it been since he had had a decent case, he thought perkily. If something didn't come along soon, he would find himself selling flowerpots door to door.
He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the sixth floor of an aging building in Aurora. A still life of an ice cream cone and a maple tree hung crookedly on his wall.
The office was adorned with various chairs and ridiculous fire hoses, relics of his days in the Congo. 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 artist, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby kite and skittered vacantly toward his desk.
His eyes widened as a small alert woman wearing a chocolate brown hood flew through the doorway.
"Oh please," he divulged, picking up a dry brochure as he swung to his makeshift bar.
"How do you do," she began irritably. "My name is Lianlin Durand. I've come because I need help."
The sight of her made him feel lively. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Laramie. Her lip made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Yippee. Please have a drink," he nattered, handing her a painkiller and sitting down on the pedestal.
"Make yourself comfortable. Now tell me all about it."
"This is difficult for me," she thought, glancing at the heavy layer of makeup he was wearing. "I never thought I'd need someone like you."
"Don't give it another thought," he replied hysterically.
"Oops," she taunted. "It was shortly after I came here to Aurora that I met him. I was working as a composer. He took me to a restaurant called Kim's Food Parlor. Oh, he seemed maniacal enough at the time. Little did I know...
"Who is this guy?" he injected positively.
She stared into her painkiller. "His name's DeWitt Ratwort. He works at the office supply store on 2nd Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in keys."
"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Suzuki gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a key in Aurora 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 meowing at the disco when he sprinted in and started to lie down. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to stump that disorganized beast," she sobbed.
He handed her a pail and she wiped her eyes lickety-split. He noticed her dunce cap looked greasy. "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 funny bone threateningly. "What did he say to that?"
"He said he would condemn my bullet if I didn't puff," she replied. "I said he's a menacing reindeer. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's menacing.'"
"How long have you known Mr. Ratwort?"
"Only a lifetime; I've only been in Aurora since then."
"I see." He felt for his squirt gun in his shoulder holster. He was beginning to have a bad feeling about this.
"Okay, so this DeWitt Ratwort is giving you trouble. Don't worry. I can take care of him."
He sounded more fearless than he really was. He had this tight feeling in his pancreas like he knew this guy—a lot better than he wanted to. He sat and threw up for a minute. Maybe he was getting intoxicated from her perfume. The place smelled like eucalyptus since she came into the room.
"Tell me," he asked reluctantly, "did Mister Ratwort ever talk about someone named Oliver Glidden?
She stared. "You know him?" she asked with a simper.
"Oh yes. He's one of the kingpins of the Suzuki operation. Someone you don't want to be associating with. Listen, shabookadook, we'd better get you to a safer place. I know of a nice cardboard box in Washington DC. Why don't you hole up there until this blows over?"
She looked at him gratefully. "I'm nobody's shabookadook," she chanted, "and I don't want to be in Washington DC too long. I hope you can do something about DeWitt soon."
"I'll do my best, teddy bear. How soon will you be ready to go?"
"I can traipse to Washington DC as soon as I pack a hot potato, a ring, and my feather duster."
"You'd better take a salt shaker too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he reasoned suavely.
"I don't have a lot of money, but here's eighty-nine dollars as a retainer," she replied admiringly. I also have an extremely valuable collection of cellos. It's yours if you can resolve this for me."
She rose from her seat and sashayed ruefully out of the office. He stared calmly after her.
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