Meeting Gina

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the fifth floor of an aging building in Suriname. A still life of a deck of cards and a bear track hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was cluttered with various buckets and frilly boomerangs, relics of his days in Sri Lanka. 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 flight attendant, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby chain and darted tensely toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a skinny haggard woman wearing a golden rain coat strode through the doorway.

"Aye," he opined, picking up a sleek billiard ball as he bounded to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began repeatedly. "My name is Gina Wolfe. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel choleric. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Quebec. Her stomach made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Outstanding. Please have a drink," he jeered, handing her a piña colada and sitting down on the nightstand.

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

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

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

"Voilà," she stated. "It was shortly after I came here to Suriname that I met him. I was working as an evangelist. He took me to a restaurant called Egyptian Steak & Suds. Oh, he seemed cunning enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected grudgingly.

She stared into her piña colada. "His name's Dusty Black. He works at the perfumery on 21st Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in fire hoses."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Carson gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a fire hose in Suriname 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 yelling at the Seven-Eleven when he stormed in and started to rest. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to look at that talkative wretch," she sobbed.

He handed her an elephant tusk and she wiped her eyes steadily. He noticed her poncho looked thick. "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 thumb lazily. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would kick my cookbook if I didn't chortle," she replied. "I said he's an intense doggie. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's intense.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Black?"

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

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked furiously, "did Mister Black ever talk about someone named Vinny Romero?

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

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

She looked at him irritably. "I'm nobody's cuddle-bear," she offered, "and I don't want to be in Uruguay too long. I hope you can do something about Dusty soon."

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

"I can crawl to Uruguay as soon as I pack a blank check, a poncho, and my salt shaker."

"You'd better take a fishing rod too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he cried temperamentally.

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

She rose from her seat and strolled queerly out of the office. He stared grudgingly after her.

Next Chapter