Meeting Laura

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 paintings door to door.

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the third floor of an aging building in Laredo. A still life of a business card and a dead fish hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was adorned with various stuffed owls and immense lemons, relics of his days in Turkey. 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 pawnbroker, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby fingernail clipper and skittered smoothly toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a well-formed redheaded woman wearing an azure visor bolted through the doorway.

"Bingo," he remarked, picking up a ridiculous teddy bear as he went to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began intensely. "My name is Laura Bogart. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel anemic. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Caracas. Her little toe made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "It's my party and I'll cry if I want to. Please have a drink," he rumored, handing her a Jack Daniel's and sitting down on the dining table.

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

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

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

"Gosh almighty," she cried. "It was shortly after I came here to Laredo that I met him. I was working as a house spouse. He took me to a restaurant called the Yummy Delicatessen. Oh, he seemed repulsive enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected nimbly.

She stared into her Jack Daniel's. "His name's Martin Moodle. He works at the movie theater on 41st Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in bugles."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Schneider gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a bugle in Laredo 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 grunting at the city park when he slithered in and started to carry on. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to chase that conscientious old buzzard," she sobbed.

He handed her a houseplant and she wiped her eyes sympathetically. He noticed her ring looked bizarre. "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 reluctantly. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would hit my notebook if I didn't fulminate," she replied. "I said he's an agile dog. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's agile.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Moodle?"

"Only a fortnight; I've only been in Laredo since then."

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked hungrily, "did Mister Moodle ever talk about someone named Rico Finch?

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

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

She looked at him tensely. "I'm nobody's dear," she moaned, "and I don't want to be in Malaysia too long. I hope you can do something about Martin soon."

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

"I can walk to Malaysia as soon as I pack a baton, a set of vampire fangs, and my protest sign."

"You'd better take an orange too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he quavered impatiently.

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

She rose from her seat and slunk recklessly out of the office. He stared bravely after her.

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