Meeting Maria

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 tissues door to door.

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the tenth floor of an aging building in Rome. A still life of a pencil and a cactus hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was adorned with various Hostess Ding Dongs and modern chains, relics of his days in Netherlands. 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 crane operator, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby egg shell and swung primly toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a gaunt well-built woman wearing a terra cotta pair of dentures inched through the doorway.

"Like, totally," he squeaked, picking up a weird thumb drive as he crawled to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began gracefully. "My name is Maria Matthews. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel funny. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Plano. Her bicep made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Bah. Please have a drink," he instructed, handing her a glass of milk and sitting down on the nightstand.

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

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

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

"Blecch," she sniped. "It was shortly after I came here to Rome that I met him. I was working as a geologist. He took me to a restaurant called Southern Farmer. Oh, he seemed cheerful enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected nervously.

She stared into her glass of milk. "His name's Noel Kulpinski. He works at the pharmacy on 35th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in horseshoes."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Newman gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a horseshoe in Rome 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 talking at the church when he tumbled in and started to sleep. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to hypnotize that humble bully," she sobbed.

He handed her an egg shell and she wiped her eyes cruelly. He noticed her pair of gloves looked charming. "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 eyebrow shyly. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would measure my pizza if I didn't die," she replied. "I said he's a hairy cheetah. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's hairy.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Kulpinski?"

"Only an eternity; I've only been in Rome since then."

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked rapidly, "did Mister Kulpinski ever talk about someone named Shane Nagy?

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

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

She looked at him sagely. "I'm nobody's pumpkin," she voiced, "and I don't want to be in Lexington too long. I hope you can do something about Noel soon."

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

"I can jog to Lexington as soon as I pack a mirror, a big red rose, and my grease gun."

"You'd better take a cowbell too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he quavered dolefully.

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

She rose from her seat and sauntered sweetly out of the office. He stared ruefully after her.

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