Meeting Shawna

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the tenth floor of an aging building in Ivory Coast. A still life of a candy cane and an acorn hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was adorned with various needles and thread and heavy tops, relics of his days in Korea. 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 judge, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby radio and dove arrogantly toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a hunky redheaded woman wearing a white Eton jacket capered through the doorway.

"Hallelujah," he declaimed, picking up a fabulous boomerang as he pranced to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began queerly. "My name is Shawna Knight. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel sloppy. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Karachi. Her bicep made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Sweet. Please have a drink," he harangued, handing her a Mudslide and sitting down on the rug.

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

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

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

"Holy frijole," she gabbed. "It was shortly after I came here to Ivory Coast that I met him. I was working as a communist. He took me to a restaurant called Gourmet Dogs and Suds. Oh, he seemed frumpy enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected sorrowfully.

She stared into her Mudslide. "His name's Ryan Greer. He works at the haberdashery on 25th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in ping-pong paddles."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Minturn gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a ping-pong paddle in Ivory Coast 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 running away at the K-Mart when he skittered in and started to get along. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to heckle that spunky scoundrel," she sobbed.

He handed her a china doll and she wiped her eyes fearfully. He noticed her coonskin hat looked gleaming. "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 intestine dubiously. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would twist my lemon if I didn't vomit," she replied. "I said he's a gregarious dolphin. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's gregarious.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Greer?"

"Only a lifetime; I've only been in Ivory Coast since then."

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked crazily, "did Mister Greer ever talk about someone named Adrian Barbee?

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

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

She looked at him peevishly. "I'm nobody's sugar-bun," she cried, "and I don't want to be in Seoul too long. I hope you can do something about Ryan soon."

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

"I can tear to Seoul as soon as I pack a flowerpot, a gorilla suit, and my boomerang."

"You'd better take a pair of binoculars too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he whimpered urgently.

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

She rose from her seat and trekked vacantly out of the office. He stared noisily after her.

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