Meeting Lori

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the seventh floor of an aging building in Bangkok. A still life of a cupcake and a stone hung crookedly on his wall. The office was cluttered with various radios and original joints, relics of his days in Ireland. 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 janitor, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby etching and leapt later toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a skinny thin woman wearing a magenta pair of cargo pants cantered through the doorway.

"Sweet," he continued, picking up a ridiculous saw as he capered to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began lovingly. "My name is Lori Salinger. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel jolly. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Fullerton. Her dignity 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 whined, handing her a cappuccino and sitting down on the coat rack.

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

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

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

"Huh," she orated. "It was shortly after I came here to Bangkok that I met him. I was working as a bus driver. He took me to a restaurant called Singapore Blossom. Oh, he seemed stern enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected truculently.

She stared into her cappuccino. "His name's Nicholas Douglas. He works at the haberdashery on 48th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in sticks of gum."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Van Hook gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a stick of gum in Bangkok 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 buzzing at the pet store when he blundered in and started to bleed. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to awe that homely 'noying," she sobbed.

He handed her a cracker and she wiped her eyes suddenly. He noticed her straitjacket looked nice. "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 ear sympathetically. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would wallop my avocado if I didn't pray," she replied. "I said he's a beautiful weasel. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's beautiful.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Douglas?"

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

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked frantically, "did Mister Douglas ever talk about someone named Vilmer Bernal?

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

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

She looked at him fearlessly. "I'm nobody's sparky," she spoke up, "and I don't want to be in Detroit too long. I hope you can do something about Nicholas soon."

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

"I can walk to Detroit as soon as I pack a crate, a floppy hat, and my pair of pliers."

"You'd better take a spool of thread too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he invited lovingly.

"I don't have a lot of money, but here's thirty dollars as a retainer," she replied fondly. I also have an extremely valuable collection of Barbie dolls. It's yours if you can resolve this for me."

She rose from her seat and stormed properly out of the office. He stared silently after her.

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