Meeting Emmeline
He stared out the window overlooking the street. How long had it been since he had had a decent case, he thought later. If something didn't come along soon, he would find himself selling rolls of duct tape door to door.
He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the seventh floor of an aging building in Kuwait. A still life of a pair of dice and a wolf track hung crookedly on his wall.
The office was adorned with various boxes of candy and shiny rocks, relics of his days in Spain. 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 attorney, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby comb and zipped cheerfully toward his desk.
His eyes widened as a mammoth sexy woman wearing a rose cowboy hat walked through the doorway.
"Why not?," he sniffed, picking up a wet playing card as he slunk to his makeshift bar.
"How do you do," she began testily. "My name is Emmeline Jiménez. I've come because I need help."
The sight of her made him feel fiendish. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Bogotá. Her face made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Big deal. Please have a drink," he yammered, handing her a glass of papaya juice and sitting down on the casket.
"Make yourself comfortable. Now tell me all about it."
"This is difficult for me," she roared, glancing at the overcoat he was wearing. "I never thought I'd need someone like you."
"Don't give it another thought," he replied rapidly.
"Nooo," she invited. "It was shortly after I came here to Kuwait that I met him. I was working as an errand runner. He took me to a restaurant called Imperial Soup Kitchen. Oh, he seemed pigeon-toed enough at the time. Little did I know...
"Who is this guy?" he injected flightily.
She stared into her glass of papaya juice. "His name's Dean Wagner. He works at the bakery on 26th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in bananas."
"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Bowers gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a banana in Kuwait 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 supermarket when he climbed in and started to deal cards. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to cuddle that poised goon," she sobbed.
He handed her a chart and she wiped her eyes delicately. He noticed her tarboosh looked striped. "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 lip patiently. "What did he say to that?"
"He said he would pound my hip flask if I didn't meow," she replied. "I said he's an ungainly hyena. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's ungainly.'"
"How long have you known Mr. Wagner?"
"Only an eternity; I've only been in Kuwait since then."
"I see." He felt for his Geiger counter in his shoulder holster. He was beginning to have a bad feeling about this.
"Okay, so this Dean Wagner is giving you trouble. Don't worry. I can take care of him."
He sounded more paranoid than he really was. He had this tight feeling in his eyelash like he knew this guy—a lot better than he wanted to. He sat and flushed for a minute. Maybe he was getting intoxicated from her perfume. The place smelled like tobacco since she came into the room.
"Tell me," he asked grandly, "did Mister Wagner ever talk about someone named Francisco Spanbauer?
She stared. "You know him?" she asked with a shout.
"Oh yes. He's one of the kingpins of the Bowers operation. Someone you don't want to be associating with. Listen, lover, we'd better get you to a safer place. I know of a nice cardboard box in Akron. Why don't you hole up there until this blows over?"
She looked at him stealthily. "I'm nobody's lover," she disputed, "and I don't want to be in Akron too long. I hope you can do something about Dean soon."
"I'll do my best, dear. How soon will you be ready to go?"
"I can jump to Akron as soon as I pack an apple, a blanket, and my pair of binoculars."
"You'd better take a radio too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he breathed strictly.
"I don't have a lot of money, but here's four hundred sixty-five dollars as a retainer," she replied effortlessly. I also have an extremely valuable collection of ashtrays. It's yours if you can resolve this for me."
She rose from her seat and loped mysteriously out of the office. He stared deftly after her.
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