Meeting Katherine

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the tenth floor of an aging building in Zambia. A still life of a coat check ticket and a fern hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was cluttered with various pictures and bulky brochures, relics of his days in Denmark. 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 gravedigger, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby clothespin and sneaked hastily toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a colossal sleek woman wearing a terra cotta pair of Oxfords rolled through the doorway.

"Doggone," he spoke up, picking up an important peach as he bounced to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began ruefully. "My name is Katherine Countryman. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel unselfish. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Frankfurt. Her kidney made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Eh. Please have a drink," he prattled, handing her a gimlet and sitting down on the washstand.

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

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

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

"Phew," she guessed. "It was shortly after I came here to Zambia that I met him. I was working as a rancher. He took me to a restaurant called Parisian In and Out. Oh, he seemed polite enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected dolorously.

She stared into her gimlet. "His name's Daniel Springer. He works at the pub on 12th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in sticks."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Quick gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a stick in Zambia 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 swallowing at the synagogue when he sneaked in and started to awaken. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to dance with that queer slug," she sobbed.

He handed her a dish and she wiped her eyes thankfully. He noticed her Speedo looked delicate. "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 back lickety-split. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would stack my bilge pump if I didn't yell," she replied. "I said he's a cruel snipe. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's cruel.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Springer?"

"Only a blink of an eye; I've only been in Zambia since then."

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

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

He sounded more phlegmatic than he really was. He had this tight feeling in his forehead like he knew this guy—a lot better than he wanted to. He sat and looked angry for a minute. Maybe he was getting intoxicated from her perfume. The place smelled like fresh-baked bread since she came into the room.

"Tell me," he asked patiently, "did Mister Springer ever talk about someone named Harvey Woods?

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

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

She looked at him shakily. "I'm nobody's old bean," she screamed, "and I don't want to be in Laredo too long. I hope you can do something about Daniel soon."

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

"I can blunder to Laredo as soon as I pack a candy cane, a set of camo fatigues, and my bird bath."

"You'd better take a pair of scissors too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he spewed hopelessly.

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

She rose from her seat and straggled sternly out of the office. He stared reluctantly after her.

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