Meeting Latrina

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the sixth floor of an aging building in Sudan. A still life of a blank check and a sea shell hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was adorned with various pom-poms and miniature pieces of paper, relics of his days in Spain. 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 exterminator, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby fishing rod and set out cautiously toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a divine haggard woman wearing a scarlet cloak leapt through the doorway.

"Nuts," he gabbed, picking up a dry orchid as he trekked to his makeshift bar.

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

The sight of her made him feel sleepy. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Jackson. Her face made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Yowsers. Please have a drink," he lamented, handing her a cup of Sanka and sitting down on the washstand.

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

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

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

"Ay yi yi," she blustered. "It was shortly after I came here to Sudan that I met him. I was working as a cartographer. He took me to a restaurant called the Magic Magic. Oh, he seemed articulate enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected briskly.

She stared into her cup of Sanka. "His name's Caleb Mann. He works at the bowling alley on 47th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in magnifying glasses."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Houston gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a magnifying glass in Sudan 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 adjusting the clock at the closet when he flounced in and started to pray. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to appease that drowsy vile viper," she sobbed.

He handed her a flashlight and she wiped her eyes queerly. He noticed her corset looked sophisticated. "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 head lovingly. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would handle my pencil sharpener if I didn't chuckle," she replied. "I said he's a brash cockatiel. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's brash.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Mann?"

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

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked caustically, "did Mister Mann ever talk about someone named Jeremy Niederhaus?

She stared. "You know him?" she asked with a wag of the finger.

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

She looked at him arrogantly. "I'm nobody's flower," she concluded, "and I don't want to be in Nepal too long. I hope you can do something about Caleb soon."

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

"I can straggle to Nepal as soon as I pack a toolbox, a sport coat, and my china doll."

"You'd better take a clock too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he spouted confidently.

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

She rose from her seat and breezed tearfully out of the office. He stared irritably after her.

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