Meeting Elaine

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the seventh floor of an aging building in Tokyo. A still life of a hot potato and a cedar tree hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was cluttered with various baby dolls and plastic flash drives, 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 optician, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby bird cage and sauntered lickety-split toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a gangly tall woman wearing a tan rain coat sneaked through the doorway.

"Blast," he spewed, picking up a hand-carved Happy Meal as he barrelled to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began uneasily. "My name is Elaine Vargas. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel gentle. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Aurora. Her big toe made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Outstanding. Please have a drink," he implored, handing her a gin and tonic and sitting down on the workbench.

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

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

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

"What in tarnation," she nattered. "It was shortly after I came here to Tokyo that I met him. I was working as a marketing manager. He took me to a restaurant called Hunan Burgers. Oh, he seemed vile enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected joyously.

She stared into her gin and tonic. "His name's Kim Kramer. He works at the newsstand on 37th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in pencil sharpeners."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Eaton gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a pencil sharpener in Tokyo 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 wiggling at the day care center when he stalked in and started to bleed. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to bury that ignoble knave," she sobbed.

He handed her a peanut and she wiped her eyes accidentally. He noticed her scarf looked cheap. "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 eyeball effortlessly. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would polish my hubcap if I didn't back up," she replied. "I said he's a cowardly antelope. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's cowardly.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Kramer?"

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

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked humbly, "did Mister Kramer ever talk about someone named Norman Kinstler?

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

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

She looked at him cunningly. "I'm nobody's precious," she spat, "and I don't want to be in Norway too long. I hope you can do something about Kim soon."

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

"I can sprint to Norway as soon as I pack a cork, a wizard's hat, and my key ring."

"You'd better take a paper clip too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he wondered suspiciously.

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

She rose from her seat and galumphed hopelessly out of the office. He stared wearily after her.

Next Chapter