Meeting Oksana

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the seventh floor of an aging building in Croatia. A still life of a paper clip and a fern hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was adorned with various magnets and crude bags of ice, relics of his days in Easter Island. 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 advice columnist, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby computer and straggled speedily toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a scrawny frumpy woman wearing a metallic red pair of handcuffs bounded through the doorway.

"Son of a Baptist preacher," he spoke up, picking up a modern spoon as he sallied forth to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began thoughtfully. "My name is Oksana Glover. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel princely. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Bismark. Her toupee made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Not so fast. Please have a drink," he pointed out, handing her a glass of iced tea and sitting down on the coffee table.

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

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

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

"Yowie," she yelled. "It was shortly after I came here to Croatia that I met him. I was working as an Uber driver. He took me to a restaurant called the Hidden Delight. Oh, he seemed affable enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected nonchalantly.

She stared into her glass of iced tea. "His name's Bob Corialis. He works at the candy store on 38th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in feathers."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Simmons gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a feather in Croatia 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 looking dumb at the Seven-Eleven when he bounded in and started to swallow. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to expose that somber egomaniac," she sobbed.

He handed her a balloon and she wiped her eyes happily. He noticed her cummerbund looked polished. "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 little toe lightly. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would duplicate my brochure if I didn't seethe," she replied. "I said he's an intense dromedary. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's intense.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Corialis?"

"Only a week; I've only been in Croatia since then."

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked unexpectedly, "did Mister Corialis ever talk about someone named Mao Chen?

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

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

She looked at him nimbly. "I'm nobody's sweet," she whined, "and I don't want to be in Alabama too long. I hope you can do something about Bob soon."

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

"I can whirl to Alabama as soon as I pack a watering can, a pair of roller skates, and my iPod."

"You'd better take a comic book too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he grieved sympathetically.

"I don't have a lot of money, but here's two hundred sixteen dollars as a retainer," she replied stealthily. 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 paraded busily out of the office. He stared elatedly after her.

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