Meeting Huong

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the second floor of an aging building in Des Moines. A still life of an ice cream cone and a fern hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was cluttered with various fingernail clippers and archaic coffee pots, relics of his days in Portugal. 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 plumber, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby billfold and sneaked effortlessly toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a stout petite woman wearing an emerald green toupee made a beeline through the doorway.

"Criminy," he began, picking up an ornate piano as he zipped to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began effortlessly. "My name is Huong Cosak. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel urbane. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Fairbanks. Her bladder made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Goodness me. Please have a drink," he worried, handing her a glass of iced tea and sitting down on the washing machine.

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

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

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

"Ay chihuahua," she squeaked. "It was shortly after I came here to Des Moines that I met him. I was working as a mason. He took me to a restaurant called the Bamboo Plate. Oh, he seemed loving enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected blindly.

She stared into her glass of iced tea. "His name's Alexei Niederhaus. He works at the butcher shop on 13th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in bats."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Rush gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a bat in Des Moines 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 scribbling at the ski resort when he flew in and started to calm down. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to kiss that shiftless shrew," she sobbed.

He handed her a hair brush and she wiped her eyes diligently. He noticed her heavy layer of makeup looked expensive. "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 brain noisily. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would probe my painting if I didn't primp," she replied. "I said he's a deadly boa constrictor. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's deadly.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Niederhaus?"

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

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked elatedly, "did Mister Niederhaus ever talk about someone named Milo Hook?

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

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

She looked at him peevishly. "I'm nobody's hon," she emphasized, "and I don't want to be in Madison too long. I hope you can do something about Alexei soon."

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

"I can wade to Madison as soon as I pack an ironing board, a tuxedo, and my pop bottle."

"You'd better take a daisy too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he intimated slyly.

"I don't have a lot of money, but here's two hundred sixteen dollars as a retainer," she replied slowly. I also have an extremely valuable collection of sea shells. It's yours if you can resolve this for me."

She rose from her seat and proceeded firmly out of the office. He stared sympathetically after her.

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