Meeting Lorie

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the fifth floor of an aging building in Albuquerque. A still life of a stamp and a bear track hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was cluttered with various Hostess Ding Dongs and electronic fishing poles, relics of his days in Israel. 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 chauffeur, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby hockey puck and tramped furiously toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a midget muscular woman wearing a hot pink T-shirt galloped through the doorway.

"Whoa baby," he whispered, picking up a fuzzy contract as he flew to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began hysterically. "My name is Lorie Finney. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel depraved. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Fort Worth. Her eyelash made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Ugh. Please have a drink," he continued, handing her a shot of bourbon and sitting down on the hammock.

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

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

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

"I doubt it," she professed. "It was shortly after I came here to Albuquerque that I met him. I was working as a DoorDash driver. He took me to a restaurant called Yong's Pasta Bar. Oh, he seemed gargantuan enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected accidentally.

She stared into her shot of bourbon. "His name's Charles Dipko. He works at the bank on 27th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in skulls."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Tannenbaum gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a skull in Albuquerque 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 doing the Hokey Pokey at the spelling bee when he strolled in and started to scribble. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to grill that elderly chump," she sobbed.

He handed her a rag and she wiped her eyes cheerfully. He noticed her blouse looked well worn. "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 pancreas primly. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would prune my dish if I didn't get sleepy," she replied. "I said he's an ambitious finch. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's ambitious.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Dipko?"

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

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked pityingly, "did Mister Dipko ever talk about someone named Alton Prentice?

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

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

She looked at him needlessly. "I'm nobody's buddy," she prattled, "and I don't want to be in Mongolia too long. I hope you can do something about Charles soon."

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

"I can bound to Mongolia as soon as I pack a baseball bat, a Stetson hat, and my bag of groceries."

"You'd better take a fishing rod too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he offered cleverly.

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

She rose from her seat and galloped speedily out of the office. He stared craftily after her.

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