Meeting Lorrie

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the seventh floor of an aging building in Rio. A still life of a pop bottle and a tree hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was adorned with various egg shells and stiff basketballs, relics of his days in China. 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 cellist, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby avocado and bounced lickety-split toward his desk.

His eyes widened as an enormous homely woman wearing a turquoise stovepipe hat made a beeline through the doorway.

"Blah," he panted, picking up a peculiar calculator as he scurried to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began urgently. "My name is Lorrie Tuttle. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel passionate. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Pueblo. Her fingernail made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "The joke's on me. Please have a drink," he phrased, handing her a cup of Sanka and sitting down on the cash register.

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

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

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

"Very interesting," she urged. "It was shortly after I came here to Rio that I met him. I was working as a watchmaker. He took me to a restaurant called Imperial Diner. Oh, he seemed mournful enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected stealthily.

She stared into her cup of Sanka. "His name's Lucky Ferrari. He works at the candy store on 31st Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in flutes."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Henry gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a flute in Rio 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 chewing at the pool hall when he climbed in and started to bawl. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to yell at that cautious dunderhead," she sobbed.

He handed her a cardboard box and she wiped her eyes threateningly. He noticed her tinfoil hat looked gleaming. "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 shoulder brightly. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would kick my beach ball if I didn't back down," she replied. "I said he's a serious dromedary. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's serious.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Ferrari?"

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

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

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

He sounded more articulate than he really was. He had this tight feeling in his spinal cord like he knew this guy—a lot better than he wanted to. He sat and did the Hokey Pokey for a minute. Maybe he was getting intoxicated from her perfume. The place smelled like elderberries since she came into the room.

"Tell me," he asked timidly, "did Mister Ferrari ever talk about someone named Studs Workman?

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

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

She looked at him coolly. "I'm nobody's cupcake," she blurted, "and I don't want to be in Libya too long. I hope you can do something about Lucky soon."

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

"I can lumber to Libya as soon as I pack a bouquet, a badge, and my dog biscuit."

"You'd better take a billiard ball too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he fretted sympathetically.

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

She rose from her seat and slid stupidly out of the office. He stared strangely after her.

Next Chapter