snipe in her lips and a match in her fingers before I could manage a word edgewise.
“Ah, I really prefer people not smoke in here.” I said it reluctantly, but I said it. Smell lingers for
weeks
, to my schnozz.
“Oh.” She paused, peering around once more. “Yes, I can imagine you would.”
Then I
did
get a big smile—teasing, apologetic, and mocking all at once, and if you can suss out how she did that, you go right on ahead and put me wise, ’cause I got no idea—right before she struck the match and lit her cigarette anyway.
I couldn’t help but laugh, which woulda ruined any further attempt to get her to snuff the thing even if I’d planned on making one. Anyone else woulda gotten an earful—maybe even a snoutful—over it. Not her.
Hell, maybe I’d just been all on my lonesome for too long.
“Not married, you said.” It wasn’t a question.
One last smile, the tiny one again, and then she got all serious.
“Mr. Oberon, I was given your name by… a source I trust very highly.” She inhaled deep, then turned away from me before blowing out a lungful. “I need your help, as much as I don’t care to admit it.”
Yeah, I imagined she
wouldn’t
, at that.
“Gimme the skinny,” I said. “Whole thing.”
For a confident, classy dame, her story was a pretty mundane one. Disappointingly, even.
Lemme just give you the gist, ’cause the conversation itself—while keen in the moment, given who I was yapping with—really ain’t much to hear about.
Ramona’s punk of a cousin needed a place to flop, and even though she knows he’s trouble, she’s too softhearted to give him the brush-off, so he’s bunking at her place. He’s already loitered a lot longer’n she’d agreed to, but, again, can’t bring herself to give him the bounce.
Midst of all this, Ramona’s ex-flame shows up. (Yeah, it bugged me to hear that, and the “ex” part only simmered me down a little.) This gink’s more of a lowlife than the cousin. Him, she’s all set to give the bum’s rush, with her cousin’s help, but he’s begging her, damn near on his knees. He’s got some thugs gunning for him over a “bad investment,” and he just needs a place to hole up for a few hours, maybe one night.
So, all right. Her place is getting crowded, but Ramona decides he can have
one
night. He gives her any grief about making tracks tomorrow, though, and it’s just a matter of whether the coppers or the guys he owes find him first.
Yeah, you’ve already tumbled to a few dozen ways this could turn sour real fast, ain’t ya?
Buncha thumps and crashes and other sounds that just never bode anything positive wake her up a little before dawn. Her cousin’s tearing the place up like he’s misplaced the lien on his soul and Satan’s due for breakfast. The ex-beau is long gone, of course. Took with him a whole sack-full of Ramona’s jewelry, some silver, other dribs and drabs, and every bit of cash in the place.
Unfortunately, “every bit” includes a thick wad of rhino that her cousin was holding onto for some of the less savory Joes that
he’s
in deep with. Kid throws a complete ing-bing, panics, and takes the run-out, leaving Ramona holding the bag.
“I don’t know precisely who my cousin was indebted to,” she told me, finishing up her account. “Whoever they are, they don’t seem to have any better idea of where he’s gone to than I have—but they certainly know where
I
am.
“Mr. Oberon, my car’s been broken into multiple times, my home at least once while I was out. I can’t prove it, but I’m
quite
sure I’ve seen the same fellow following me on multiple occasions. I don’t think I have enough to go to the police, and, even if I did, I hate the thought of preferring charges on family.
“I can raise the money to pay these people off. I just need some time to do it. I need someone—I need you—to make sure I have that time. Find either Jeremy or Cliff if you can—feel free to send Cliff right
“Ah, I really prefer people not smoke in here.” I said it reluctantly, but I said it. Smell lingers for
weeks
, to my schnozz.
“Oh.” She paused, peering around once more. “Yes, I can imagine you would.”
Then I
did
get a big smile—teasing, apologetic, and mocking all at once, and if you can suss out how she did that, you go right on ahead and put me wise, ’cause I got no idea—right before she struck the match and lit her cigarette anyway.
I couldn’t help but laugh, which woulda ruined any further attempt to get her to snuff the thing even if I’d planned on making one. Anyone else woulda gotten an earful—maybe even a snoutful—over it. Not her.
Hell, maybe I’d just been all on my lonesome for too long.
“Not married, you said.” It wasn’t a question.
One last smile, the tiny one again, and then she got all serious.
“Mr. Oberon, I was given your name by… a source I trust very highly.” She inhaled deep, then turned away from me before blowing out a lungful. “I need your help, as much as I don’t care to admit it.”
Yeah, I imagined she
wouldn’t
, at that.
“Gimme the skinny,” I said. “Whole thing.”
For a confident, classy dame, her story was a pretty mundane one. Disappointingly, even.
Lemme just give you the gist, ’cause the conversation itself—while keen in the moment, given who I was yapping with—really ain’t much to hear about.
Ramona’s punk of a cousin needed a place to flop, and even though she knows he’s trouble, she’s too softhearted to give him the brush-off, so he’s bunking at her place. He’s already loitered a lot longer’n she’d agreed to, but, again, can’t bring herself to give him the bounce.
Midst of all this, Ramona’s ex-flame shows up. (Yeah, it bugged me to hear that, and the “ex” part only simmered me down a little.) This gink’s more of a lowlife than the cousin. Him, she’s all set to give the bum’s rush, with her cousin’s help, but he’s begging her, damn near on his knees. He’s got some thugs gunning for him over a “bad investment,” and he just needs a place to hole up for a few hours, maybe one night.
So, all right. Her place is getting crowded, but Ramona decides he can have
one
night. He gives her any grief about making tracks tomorrow, though, and it’s just a matter of whether the coppers or the guys he owes find him first.
Yeah, you’ve already tumbled to a few dozen ways this could turn sour real fast, ain’t ya?
Buncha thumps and crashes and other sounds that just never bode anything positive wake her up a little before dawn. Her cousin’s tearing the place up like he’s misplaced the lien on his soul and Satan’s due for breakfast. The ex-beau is long gone, of course. Took with him a whole sack-full of Ramona’s jewelry, some silver, other dribs and drabs, and every bit of cash in the place.
Unfortunately, “every bit” includes a thick wad of rhino that her cousin was holding onto for some of the less savory Joes that
he’s
in deep with. Kid throws a complete ing-bing, panics, and takes the run-out, leaving Ramona holding the bag.
“I don’t know precisely who my cousin was indebted to,” she told me, finishing up her account. “Whoever they are, they don’t seem to have any better idea of where he’s gone to than I have—but they certainly know where
I
am.
“Mr. Oberon, my car’s been broken into multiple times, my home at least once while I was out. I can’t prove it, but I’m
quite
sure I’ve seen the same fellow following me on multiple occasions. I don’t think I have enough to go to the police, and, even if I did, I hate the thought of preferring charges on family.
“I can raise the money to pay these people off. I just need some time to do it. I need someone—I need you—to make sure I have that time. Find either Jeremy or Cliff if you can—feel free to send Cliff right
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