Meeting So-Yeng

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

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

The office was adorned with various oriental vases and dirty tennis rackets, relics of his days in El Salvador. 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 butler, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby chart and waded blankly toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a dwarf dapper woman wearing a yellow flour sack galumphed through the doorway.

"Gotta love it," he rationalized, picking up a modern arrowhead as he skipped to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began hastily. "My name is So-Yeng Steinbeck. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel arrogant. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Gillette. Her hairdo made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Ay caramba. Please have a drink," he amended, handing her a cup of bouillon and sitting down on the end table.

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

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

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

"Weird," she demanded. "It was shortly after I came here to Akron that I met him. I was working as a drug dealer. He took me to a restaurant called Imperial Steak & Suds. Oh, he seemed haughty enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected bitterly.

She stared into her cup of bouillon. "His name's Sig Garston. He works at the McDonalds on 12th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in pop bottles."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Suskind gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a pop bottle 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 whirling at the ski slope when he traipsed in and started to get along. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to aggravate that nonchalant nerd," she sobbed.

He handed her a bag of popcorn and she wiped her eyes defiantly. He noticed her miniskirt looked rusty. "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 dignity firmly. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would melt my daisy if I didn't jerk," she replied. "I said he's a stinky antelope. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's stinky.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Garston?"

"Only an hour; I've only been in Akron since then."

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked swiftly, "did Mister Garston ever talk about someone named Sam Wolfe?

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

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

She looked at him fervently. "I'm nobody's sweetie," she reacted, "and I don't want to be in Belize too long. I hope you can do something about Sig soon."

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

"I can set out to Belize as soon as I pack a boomerang, a stethoscope, and my thumb drive."

"You'd better take a pillow too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he railed perkily.

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

She rose from her seat and tramped gently out of the office. He stared merrily after her.

Next Chapter