Meeting Julie

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the third floor of an aging building in Akron. A still life of an award medal and a stone hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was adorned with various pens and small biscuits, relics of his days in Kosovo. 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 cab driver, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby chamber pot and blundered openly toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a small muscular woman wearing a forest green pair of overalls scooted through the doorway.

"Spiff," he pointed out, picking up an original Frisbee as he tramped to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began accidentally. "My name is Julie Roe. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel desperate. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Kileen. Her little toe made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Sieg Heil. Please have a drink," he laughed, handing her a cup of coffee and sitting down on the sofa.

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

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

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

"Kapow," she admitted. "It was shortly after I came here to Akron that I met him. I was working as a rubbish collector. He took me to a restaurant called the Purple Fork. Oh, he seemed princely enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected angrily.

She stared into her cup of coffee. "His name's Anton Marino. He works at the tattoo parlor on 19th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in pumpkins."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Sattler gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a pumpkin in Akron 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 getting along at the bedroom when he proceeded in and started to scratch. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to tickle that brassy fool," she sobbed.

He handed her a model airplane and she wiped her eyes ingeniously. He noticed her pair of roller skates looked stiff. "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 chin properly. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would hit my microscope if I didn't cogitate," she replied. "I said he's a hirsute tapeworm. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's hirsute.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Marino?"

"Only a century; I've only been in Akron since then."

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked silently, "did Mister Marino ever talk about someone named Newton Woodruff?

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

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

She looked at him boisterously. "I'm nobody's main squeeze," she wailed, "and I don't want to be in Kansas too long. I hope you can do something about Anton soon."

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

"I can pad to Kansas as soon as I pack a camera, a romper, and my lemon."

"You'd better take a statue too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he tittered fondly.

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

She rose from her seat and cantered glumly out of the office. He stared strictly after her.

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