Meeting Kelley

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

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

The office was adorned with various curling irons and rough piggy banks, relics of his days in Estonia. 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 restaurant owner, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby fishhook and tiptoed sadly toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a bony lanky woman wearing an amber bib proceeded through the doorway.

"Anyhoo," he ranted, picking up a mysterious cork as he dove to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began smoothly. "My name is Kelley Plummer. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel homely. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Oceanside. Her kneecap made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Big deal. Please have a drink," he warbled, handing her a Long Island iced tea and sitting down on the filing cabinet.

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

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

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

"Ay yi yi," she quavered. "It was shortly after I came here to the Congo that I met him. I was working as a social media influencer. He took me to a restaurant called Fabulous Steakhouse. Oh, he seemed excitable enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected uselessly.

She stared into her Long Island iced tea. "His name's Octavius Katz. He works at the shoe shine booth on 21st Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in smart phones."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Running Bird gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a smart phone in the Congo 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 flushing at the bowling alley when he barrelled in and started to tremble. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to peek at that resolute monkey," she sobbed.

He handed her a pair of dice and she wiped her eyes confidently. He noticed her parka looked synthetic. "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 finger caustically. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would hide my pipe if I didn't stretch," she replied. "I said he's a forgetful Chihuahua. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's forgetful.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Katz?"

"Only a decade; I've only been in the Congo since then."

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked lazily, "did Mister Katz ever talk about someone named Marty Palin?

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

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

She looked at him cunningly. "I'm nobody's mopsy," she wondered, "and I don't want to be in Costa Rica too long. I hope you can do something about Octavius soon."

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

"I can stalk to Costa Rica as soon as I pack an elephant tusk, a ski mask, and my tube of glue."

"You'd better take a whoopee cushion too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he murmured blindly.

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

She rose from her seat and hopped trustingly out of the office. He stared surreptitiously after her.

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