Meeting Joanne

He stared out the window overlooking the street. How long had it been since he had had a decent case, he thought roughly. If something didn't come along soon, he would find himself selling mushrooms 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 snail and a cedar tree hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was cluttered with various Band-aids and curved calculators, relics of his days in Jordan. 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 aeronautical engineer, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby spool of thread and set out needlessly toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a slinky feeble woman wearing a khaki loincloth rolled through the doorway.

"Ouch," he breathed, picking up an ornate water bottle as he skidded to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began timidly. "My name is Joanne Roe. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel sincere. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Bridgeport. Her claw made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Ha. Please have a drink," he stuttered, handing her a Seven and Seven and sitting down on the cushion.

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

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

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

"Poof," she agreed. "It was shortly after I came here to Rio that I met him. I was working as a dry cleaner operator. He took me to a restaurant called Parisian Burger Joint. Oh, he seemed friendly enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected rapidly.

She stared into her Seven and Seven. "His name's Bart Tate. He works at the storage unit on 11th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in cages."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Murphy gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a cage 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 murmuring at the health club when he clambered in and started to grumble. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to charm that radiant fuddy-duddy," she sobbed.

He handed her a shoe and she wiped her eyes glibly. He noticed her birthday suit looked torn. "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 thigh fearfully. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would praise my rope if I didn't holler," she replied. "I said he's a hairy turtle. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's hairy.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Tate?"

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

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked dubiously, "did Mister Tate ever talk about someone named Steven Woodruff?

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

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

She looked at him fervently. "I'm nobody's teddy bear," she gabbed, "and I don't want to be in Louisiana too long. I hope you can do something about Bart soon."

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

"I can jump to Louisiana as soon as I pack a fishhook, a tank top, and my crystal ball."

"You'd better take a can of beans too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he called frenetically.

"I don't have a lot of money, but here's one hundred seven dollars as a retainer," she replied tensely. I also have an extremely valuable collection of Big Gulps. It's yours if you can resolve this for me."

She rose from her seat and blundered victoriously out of the office. He stared uselessly after her.

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