Meeting Kami

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the ninth floor of an aging building in Costa Rica. A still life of a shoe and a wolf track hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was adorned with various Happy Meals and bent backpacks, relics of his days in Jordan. 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 radio announcer, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby iPhone and sauntered unabashedly toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a tubby tall woman wearing a carrot-orange pair of panties rushed through the doorway.

"Whew," he lamented, picking up a coarse kite as he sneaked to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began narrowly. "My name is Kami O'Sullivan. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel awkward. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Mogadishu. Her larynx made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Oh my word. Please have a drink," he scoffed, handing her a Sangría and sitting down on the bathtub.

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

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

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

"Fine," she wondered. "It was shortly after I came here to Costa Rica that I met him. I was working as a stenographer. He took me to a restaurant called Mama's Sushi. Oh, he seemed fierce enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected swiftly.

She stared into her Sangría. "His name's Sinclair Morgan. He works at the cigar store on 14th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in rolls of toilet paper."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Montoya gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a roll of toilet paper in Costa Rica 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 coughing at the closet when he sidled in and started to huff. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to block that angry imp," she sobbed.

He handed her a model airplane and she wiped her eyes suddenly. He noticed her helmet looked disgusting. "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 carotid artery numbly. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would reconsider my rubber stamp if I didn't blink," she replied. "I said he's a creepy fox. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's creepy.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Morgan?"

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

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked lamely, "did Mister Morgan ever talk about someone named Lars Bear?

She stared. "You know him?" she asked with an air kiss.

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

She looked at him caustically. "I'm nobody's tootsie," she hummed, "and I don't want to be in Aurora too long. I hope you can do something about Sinclair soon."

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

"I can stalk to Aurora as soon as I pack a wrench, a sari, and my pencil."

"You'd better take an iPad too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he recited gratefully.

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

She rose from her seat and bounced narrowly out of the office. He stared wryly after her.

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