Meeting Gina

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the eighth floor of an aging building in Bogotá. A still life of a crystal ball and an apple tree hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was cluttered with various baby dolls and rough model airplanes, relics of his days in New Guinea. 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 upholsterer, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby stuffed kitten and tiptoed grudgingly toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a slight homely woman wearing an azure pair of knickers proceeded through the doorway.

"Holy cats," he jeered, picking up a papery firecracker as he sashayed to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began lickety-split. "My name is Gina Perry. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel attractive. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Shanghai. Her fingernail made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Crackers. Please have a drink," he howled, handing her a cup of cocoa and sitting down on the footstool.

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

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

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

"Nope," she admitted. "It was shortly after I came here to Bogotá that I met him. I was working as a missionary. He took me to a restaurant called New York Steak & Suds. Oh, he seemed statuesque enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected miserably.

She stared into her cup of cocoa. "His name's Guido Garcia. He works at the clothing store on 8th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in microscopes."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Case gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a microscope in Bogotá 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 clattering at the day care center when he sidled in and started to adjust the clock. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to scream at that disorganized dorf," she sobbed.

He handed her an Egyptian mummy and she wiped her eyes uselessly. He noticed her pair of sweatpants looked striped. "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 jaw positively. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would neglect my top if I didn't shiver," she replied. "I said he's an emotional leopard. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's emotional.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Garcia?"

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

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked wearily, "did Mister Garcia ever talk about someone named T.J. Speer?

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

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

She looked at him suspiciously. "I'm nobody's dreamboat," she chortled, "and I don't want to be in Oxford too long. I hope you can do something about Guido soon."

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

"I can lurch to Oxford as soon as I pack a cactus plant, a fez, and my barbell."

"You'd better take a pack of gum too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he sputtered automatically.

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

She rose from her seat and skidded solemnly out of the office. He stared fondly after her.

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