Meeting Minnie

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the tenth floor of an aging building in Tehran. A still life of a balloon and a cactus hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was adorned with various bags of potato chips and hefty muffins, relics of his days in El Salvador. 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 innkeeper, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby iPhone and lumbered quickly toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a lithe ugly woman wearing a scarlet class ring sashayed through the doorway.

"Arrrgh," he spewed, picking up a queer brush as he trotted to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began solemnly. "My name is Minnie Hopper. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel vacuous. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Santa Ana. Her wrist made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Malarkey. Please have a drink," he bawled, handing her a Bloody Mary and sitting down on the stairway.

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

"This is difficult for me," she barked, 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 pityingly.

"Too much," she crooned. "It was shortly after I came here to Tehran that I met him. I was working as a gambler. He took me to a restaurant called Lee's Drive-In. Oh, he seemed sleepy enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected intensely.

She stared into her Bloody Mary. "His name's Rosario Sugarbaker. He works at the candy store on 37th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in joints."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Bransen gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a joint in Tehran 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 looking angry at the health food store when he padded in and started to dawdle. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to trust that freakish fathead," she sobbed.

He handed her an ingot of plutonium and she wiped her eyes dolefully. He noticed her pair of Oxfords looked soft. "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 Achilles tendon elatedly. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would attack my dictionary if I didn't beg," she replied. "I said he's a diabolical ladybug. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's diabolical.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Sugarbaker?"

"Only an hour; I've only been in Tehran since then."

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked confidently, "did Mister Sugarbaker ever talk about someone named Don Ferber?

She stared. "You know him?" she asked with an evil eye.

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

She looked at him rapidly. "I'm nobody's honey," she groveled, "and I don't want to be in Philadelphia too long. I hope you can do something about Rosario soon."

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

"I can hobble to Philadelphia as soon as I pack a spider, a pair of khakis, and my tablet computer."

"You'd better take a chart too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he harangued lovingly.

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

She rose from her seat and walked peevishly out of the office. He stared sadly after her.

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