Meeting Gretchen

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 cigarette lighters door to door.

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the second floor of an aging building in Charlotte. A still life of a basketball and a seed pod hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was cluttered with various baskets and heavy fish bowls, relics of his days in Bolivia. 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 filmmaker, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby can of beans and stormed glibly toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a tall athletic woman wearing a salmon blazer scurried through the doorway.

"Ay chihuahua," he added, picking up an aromatic tote bag as he waddled to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began victoriously. "My name is Gretchen Jude. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel dowdy. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Rio de Janeiro. Her ankle made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Turn blue. Please have a drink," he jeered, handing her a Shirley Temple and sitting down on the TV.

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

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

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

"Ten-four," she rambled. "It was shortly after I came here to Charlotte that I met him. I was working as a shyster. He took me to a restaurant called Hong Kong Bistro. Oh, he seemed beautiful enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected unabashedly.

She stared into her Shirley Temple. "His name's Adam Noonan. He works at the cigar store on 48th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in coupons."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Chang gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a coupon in Charlotte 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 sighing at the rock concert when he zipped in and started to grumble. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to injure that sinister louse," she sobbed.

He handed her a spinning wheel and she wiped her eyes intensely. He noticed her cap looked miniature. "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 lung curiously. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would lose my biscuit if I didn't watch," she replied. "I said he's a freakish fox. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's freakish.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Noonan?"

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

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked surreptitiously, "did Mister Noonan ever talk about someone named Samuel Major?

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

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

She looked at him caustically. "I'm nobody's big lug," she wept, "and I don't want to be in Colombia too long. I hope you can do something about Adam soon."

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

"I can make a beeline to Colombia as soon as I pack a Kindle, a dog collar, and my flashlight."

"You'd better take a stopwatch too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he boasted uneasily.

"I don't have a lot of money, but here's fifty-three dollars as a retainer," she replied nicely. I also have an extremely valuable collection of toolboxes. It's yours if you can resolve this for me."

She rose from her seat and swung glumly out of the office. He stared unexpectedly after her.

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