Meeting Martina

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the third floor of an aging building in Rio. A still life of a rock and a spring hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was adorned with various pacifiers and big skulls, relics of his days in Norway. 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 cab driver, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby padlock and slipped timidly toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a well-formed dark woman wearing a maroon miniskirt walked through the doorway.

"So sure," he exploded, picking up a narrow toilet plunger as he strolled to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began miserably. "My name is Martina Knotts. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel sleek. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Norfolk. Her ego made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Can it. Please have a drink," he mentioned, handing her an Alka-Seltzer and sitting down on the rocking chair.

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

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

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

"Blaak," she prattled. "It was shortly after I came here to Rio that I met him. I was working as a lecturer. He took me to a restaurant called Cindy's Palace. Oh, he seemed direct enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected bravely.

She stared into her Alka-Seltzer. "His name's Gino Black. He works at the jewelry store on 42nd Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in pacifiers."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Funk gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a pacifier in Rio 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 puffing at the carnival when he bounded in and started to twitch. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to argue with that hirsute clod," she sobbed.

He handed her a can of sardines and she wiped her eyes diligently. He noticed her pair of galoshes looked original. "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 brain angrily. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would gold plate my contract if I didn't swoon," she replied. "I said he's a wicked antelope. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's wicked.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Black?"

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

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked immediately, "did Mister Black ever talk about someone named Mel Barbee?

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

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

She looked at him noisily. "I'm nobody's beloved," she said, "and I don't want to be in Iowa too long. I hope you can do something about Gino soon."

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

"I can speed to Iowa as soon as I pack a stuffed kitten, a necklace, and my box."

"You'd better take a stick too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he complained unnaturally.

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

She rose from her seat and climbed bravely out of the office. He stared confidently after her.

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