Meeting Martina

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the fifth floor of an aging building in Billings. A still life of a doily and a piece of bark hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was adorned with various pigeons and magnificent bones, relics of his days in Cameroon. 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 stagehand, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby suitcase and flew grandly toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a slender thin woman wearing a turquoise toga marched through the doorway.

"Fantastic," he imitated, picking up an excellent stapler as he lumbered to his makeshift bar.

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

The sight of her made him feel dismal. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Lincoln. Her fingernail made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Nonsense. Please have a drink," he hummed, handing her a piña colada and sitting down on the water bed.

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

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

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

"That's crazy talk," she quoted. "It was shortly after I came here to Billings that I met him. I was working as a lawyer. He took me to a restaurant called the Wonderful Plate. Oh, he seemed fascinating enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected doubtfully.

She stared into her piña colada. "His name's Biff O'Connor. He works at the newsstand on 29th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in washrags."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Tillerman gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a washrag in Billings 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 muttering at the radio station when he swaggered in and started to lie down. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to lie to that irate dodo," she sobbed.

He handed her a brush and she wiped her eyes angrily. He noticed her miniskirt looked modern. "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 leg smoothly. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would return my pillow if I didn't grow up," she replied. "I said he's a cute baboon. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's cute.'"

"How long have you known Mr. O'Connor?"

"Only a year; I've only been in Billings since then."

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked later, "did Mister O'Connor ever talk about someone named Herbert Stephens?

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

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

She looked at him elatedly. "I'm nobody's twinkles," she barked, "and I don't want to be in Jersey City too long. I hope you can do something about Biff soon."

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

"I can trot to Jersey City as soon as I pack an artificial flower, a raincoat, and my cigar."

"You'd better take a pair of pliers too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he smirked uneasily.

"I don't have a lot of money, but here's sixty-one dollars as a retainer," she replied glumly. I also have an extremely valuable collection of saws. It's yours if you can resolve this for me."

She rose from her seat and tiptoed anxiously out of the office. He stared lightly after her.

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