Meeting Tina

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the sixth floor of an aging building in Laredo. A still life of a pair of knitting needles and a dead tree hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was cluttered with various calculators and stolen flowerpots, relics of his days in Slovenia. 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 undertaker, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby piano and galumphed boisterously toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a colossal nervous woman wearing a rose cocktail dress scampered through the doorway.

"Bilge," he pleaded, picking up a bulky whoopee cushion as he pranced to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began greedily. "My name is Tina Domínguez. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel unruffled. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Mexico City. Her kidney made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Jumpin’ Jehosaphat. Please have a drink," he fantasized, handing her a cup of coffee and sitting down on the desk.

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

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

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

"Yowsers," she announced. "It was shortly after I came here to Laredo that I met him. I was working as a telephone operator. He took me to a restaurant called Northern Bakery. Oh, he seemed yappy enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected hopefully.

She stared into her cup of coffee. "His name's Cheng Popp. He works at the travel agency on 40th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in hair brushes."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Wayman gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a hair brush in Laredo 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 blowing up at the poetry reading when he clambered in and started to buzz. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to block that urbane worm," she sobbed.

He handed her a broom and she wiped her eyes urgently. He noticed her gunny sack looked expensive. "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 eye coolly. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would scuff my deck of cards if I didn't cheer up," she replied. "I said he's a solitary otter. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's solitary.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Popp?"

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

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

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

He sounded more spunky than he really was. He had this tight feeling in his gall bladder like he knew this guy—a lot better than he wanted to. He sat and got away for a minute. Maybe he was getting intoxicated from her perfume. The place smelled like burnt toast since she came into the room.

"Tell me," he asked joyously, "did Mister Popp ever talk about someone named Alex Beagle?

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

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

She looked at him timidly. "I'm nobody's snigglefritz," she reasoned, "and I don't want to be in Boise too long. I hope you can do something about Cheng soon."

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

"I can tumble to Boise as soon as I pack a calculator, a blazer, and my crayon."

"You'd better take a teddy bear too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he commented greedily.

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

She rose from her seat and scampered shyly out of the office. He stared warily after her.

Next Chapter