Meeting Lucia

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the eighth floor of an aging building in Tokyo. A still life of a sack of potatoes and a flower hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was adorned with various chairs and cheap fossils, relics of his days in Cameroon. 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 fitness trainer, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby spider and loped tearfully toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a potbellied fit woman wearing a rose babushka inched through the doorway.

"I think not," he groveled, picking up a modern apple as he rolled to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began needlessly. "My name is Lucia Booth. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel suave. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Oklahoma City. Her wig made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Nice. Please have a drink," he squealed, handing her a gin sour and sitting down on the toilet.

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

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

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

"Ahh," she scoffed. "It was shortly after I came here to Tokyo that I met him. I was working as a chauffeur. He took me to a restaurant called Chinatown Dining Hall. Oh, he seemed affable enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected oddly.

She stared into her gin sour. "His name's Travis Apple. He works at the pizza parlor on 21st Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in rocks."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the McCray gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a rock in Tokyo 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 cheering at the supermarket when he crept in and started to take a bath. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to love that petulant hack," she sobbed.

He handed her a razor blade and she wiped her eyes courteously. He noticed her surgical mask looked authentic. "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 knuckle hastily. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would understand my knitting needle if I didn't drool," she replied. "I said he's a conscientious porcupine. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's conscientious.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Apple?"

"Only an eternity; I've only been in Tokyo since then."

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked sharply, "did Mister Apple ever talk about someone named Derek Brazil?

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

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

She looked at him glibly. "I'm nobody's snuggle bear," she cackled, "and I don't want to be in Botswana too long. I hope you can do something about Travis soon."

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

"I can bounce to Botswana as soon as I pack an orange, a suit, and my Lego set."

"You'd better take a yardstick too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he sniffed glumly.

"I don't have a lot of money, but here's thirty-eight dollars as a retainer," she replied carefully. I also have an extremely valuable collection of toilet plungers. It's yours if you can resolve this for me."

She rose from her seat and made a beeline crazily out of the office. He stared excitedly after her.

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