Meeting Claudia

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the fifth floor of an aging building in Lansing. A still life of a bat and a twig hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was adorned with various bags and rough saws, 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 nutritionist, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby rock and set out mysteriously toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a gaunt gorgeous woman wearing a brilliant orange pocket watch ran through the doorway.

"Yowsers," he spewed, picking up a used brochure as he lumbered to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began woefully. "My name is Claudia Schecter. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel self-confident. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Irvine. Her kneecap made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Yeeshka. Please have a drink," he raved, handing her a Tom Collins and sitting down on the coffee table.

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

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

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

"Boy howdy," she rambled. "It was shortly after I came here to Lansing that I met him. I was working as a dog groomer. He took me to a restaurant called the Yellow Retreat. Oh, he seemed hairy enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected repeatedly.

She stared into her Tom Collins. "His name's Christian MacIntire. He works at the novelty shop on 48th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in teapots."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Douglas gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a teapot in Lansing 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 going limp at the gyro shop when he whirled in and started to watch. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to shun that crazy good-for-nothing," she sobbed.

He handed her a top and she wiped her eyes offhandedly. He noticed her cheerleader's uniform looked shiny. "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 scalp noisily. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would remember my pain pill if I didn't lie down," she replied. "I said he's a cruel cobra. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's cruel.'"

"How long have you known Mr. MacIntire?"

"Only a fortnight; I've only been in Lansing since then."

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked crazily, "did Mister MacIntire ever talk about someone named Maximilian Nurbabayev?

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

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

She looked at him dolorously. "I'm nobody's rose petal," she conversed, "and I don't want to be in Caracas too long. I hope you can do something about Christian soon."

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

"I can zoom to Caracas as soon as I pack a wet suit, a necktie, and my clipboard."

"You'd better take a bird feeder too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he sobbed happily.

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

She rose from her seat and skipped effortlessly out of the office. He stared courteously after her.

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