Meeting Susanna

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the seventh floor of an aging building in Waco. A still life of a kite and a fish hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was cluttered with various cans of beans and papery photographs, relics of his days in Namibia. 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 bar owner, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby garbage can and climbed warily toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a gaunt bedraggled woman wearing an aqua letter jacket skidded through the doorway.

"Deranged," he debated, picking up a cotton toy as he capered to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began admiringly. "My name is Susanna Tilley. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel wizened. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Tehran. Her bladder made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Yowsers. Please have a drink," he protested, handing her a gin and tonic and sitting down on the fainting couch.

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

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

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

"Um," she snorted. "It was shortly after I came here to Waco that I met him. I was working as a rodeo cowboy. He took me to a restaurant called Eastern Bakery. Oh, he seemed tall enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected sadly.

She stared into her gin and tonic. "His name's Rico Rodriguez. He works at the bar on 46th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in packages."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Ellis gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a package in Waco 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 applauding at the supermarket when he traipsed in and started to come along. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to snuggle with that nervous scullery maid," she sobbed.

He handed her a business card and she wiped her eyes sorrowfully. He noticed her bib looked rough. "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 eyelash warmly. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would pound my box if I didn't carry on," she replied. "I said he's a funny honeybee. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's funny.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Rodriguez?"

"Only a day; I've only been in Waco since then."

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

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

He sounded more forgetful than he really was. He had this tight feeling in his stomach like he knew this guy—a lot better than he wanted to. He sat and hummed for a minute. Maybe he was getting intoxicated from her perfume. The place smelled like Band-Aids since she came into the room.

"Tell me," he asked smoothly, "did Mister Rodriguez ever talk about someone named Socks Porterfield?

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

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

She looked at him sadly. "I'm nobody's stinkums," she pleaded, "and I don't want to be in Karachi too long. I hope you can do something about Rico soon."

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

"I can dive to Karachi as soon as I pack a tissue, a cowboy hat, and my barbell."

"You'd better take a grease gun too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he continued resignedly.

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

She rose from her seat and skidded suavely out of the office. He stared tenderly after her.

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