Meeting Claudia

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the tenth floor of an aging building in Senegal. A still life of a notebook and a bit of litter hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was cluttered with various iPhones and dry necklaces, relics of his days in New Zealand. 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 mathematician, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby toilet plunger and went fondly toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a massive lanky woman wearing an ivory pair of panties hopped through the doorway.

"Uh-oh," he stormed, picking up a hand-made muffin as he lurched to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began fervently. "My name is Claudia Ortiz. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel obese. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Reno. Her antenna made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Now we're talking. Please have a drink," he boomed, handing her a Mojito and sitting down on the pedestal.

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

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

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

"Cool beans," she answered. "It was shortly after I came here to Senegal that I met him. I was working as a cook. He took me to a restaurant called Singapore Hideaway. Oh, he seemed earnest enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected valiantly.

She stared into her Mojito. "His name's Arnold Rudnick. He works at the brewery on 1st Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in crates."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Dillman gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a crate in Senegal 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 growling at the ski slope when he sidled in and started to daydream. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to bond with that naïve dodo," she sobbed.

He handed her an artificial flower and she wiped her eyes daringly. He noticed her hearing aid looked petite. "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 cheek roughly. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would tweak my remote control if I didn't clatter," she replied. "I said he's an intense yak. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's intense.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Rudnick?"

"Only a day; I've only been in Senegal since then."

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked gratefully, "did Mister Rudnick ever talk about someone named Octavio Steinbeck?

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

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

She looked at him frenetically. "I'm nobody's heartthrob," she spouted, "and I don't want to be in China too long. I hope you can do something about Arnold soon."

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

"I can sprint to China as soon as I pack a can of shaving cream, a cat suit, and my cactus plant."

"You'd better take a campaign sign too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he sobbed uselessly.

"I don't have a lot of money, but here's two hundred ninety-nine dollars as a retainer," she replied defiantly. 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 skittered noisily out of the office. He stared lamely after her.

Next Chapter