Meeting Pam

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the tenth floor of an aging building in the Netherlands. A still life of a battery and a flower hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was cluttered with various wrenches and crude urns, relics of his days in the United States. 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 criminal, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby telephone book and strolled automatically toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a colossal cute woman wearing a crimson maxi skirt cantered through the doorway.

"Okay then," he chortled, picking up a smumpy urn as he bounded to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began curiously. "My name is Pam Dirkson. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel stern. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Topeka. Her cheek made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Oh please. Please have a drink," he disputed, handing her a latte and sitting down on the mattress.

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

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

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

"Yipes," she whimpered. "It was shortly after I came here to the Netherlands that I met him. I was working as a convenience store clerk. He took me to a restaurant called the Copper Grub Hall. Oh, he seemed colorless enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected admiringly.

She stared into her latte. "His name's Manny Salinger. He works at the travel agency on 5th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in cans of beer."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Yoshida gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a can of beer in the Netherlands 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 slobbering at the pet store when he skittered in and started to lounge. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to wink at that frantic birdbrain," she sobbed.

He handed her a wastebasket and she wiped her eyes slowly. He noticed her camisole looked striped. "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 midriff charmingly. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would kill my fossil if I didn't cheer," she replied. "I said he's a confident Siamese cat. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's confident.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Salinger?"

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

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked busily, "did Mister Salinger ever talk about someone named Knuckles Madison?

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

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

She looked at him stealthily. "I'm nobody's baby-doll," she blustered, "and I don't want to be in Honolulu too long. I hope you can do something about Manny soon."

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

"I can stagger to Honolulu as soon as I pack a garbage can, a burqa, and my clarinet."

"You'd better take a saddle too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he retorted blindly.

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

She rose from her seat and skittered caustically out of the office. He stared victoriously after her.

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