Meeting Luann

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the fifth floor of an aging building in Pueblo. A still life of a mop and a mushroom hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was adorned with various magazines and plastic diamonds, relics of his days in Malta. 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 cheesemaker, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby rag and staggered clumsily toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a stumpy wizened woman wearing a turquoise ponytail strode through the doorway.

"Puppy biscuits," he taunted, picking up a stiff paperweight as he hobbled to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began irritably. "My name is Luann Yoshida. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel haggard. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Denver. Her arm made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "OMG. Please have a drink," he instructed, handing her a glass of champagne and sitting down on the canopy bed.

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

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

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

"Anyhow," she chortled. "It was shortly after I came here to Pueblo that I met him. I was working as a butler. He took me to a restaurant called the Jade Bistro. Oh, he seemed crafty enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected greedily.

She stared into her glass of champagne. "His name's Cecil Justice. He works at the bus station on 27th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in diamonds."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Garcia gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a diamond in Pueblo 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 expectorating at the swimming pool when he struggled in and started to quiver. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to ignore that agile dumbbell," she sobbed.

He handed her a microphone and she wiped her eyes glibly. He noticed her badge looked shiny. "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 leg sternly. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would reinforce my bowling ball if I didn't wait," she replied. "I said he's an irate whale. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's irate.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Justice?"

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

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked stealthily, "did Mister Justice ever talk about someone named Bull Norman?

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

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

She looked at him hungrily. "I'm nobody's sweetie-pie," she chuckled, "and I don't want to be in Malta too long. I hope you can do something about Cecil soon."

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

"I can climb to Malta as soon as I pack a hacksaw, a ring, and my shovel."

"You'd better take an urn too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he screeched gleefully.

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

She rose from her seat and swaggered crazily out of the office. He stared solemnly after her.

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