Meeting Hazel

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the eighth floor of an aging building in Akron. A still life of a napkin and a badger hole hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was adorned with various tickets and jagged floppy disks, relics of his days in Estonia. 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 clockmaker, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby pumpkin and paraded hungrily toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a lithe tan woman wearing a fuchsia lab coat dove through the doorway.

"For Pete's sake," he protested, picking up an electronic pizza as he swaggered to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began elatedly. "My name is Hazel Dole. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel carefree. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Columbus. Her jaw made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Tarnation. Please have a drink," he lamented, handing her a glass of lemonade and sitting down on the bookcase.

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

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

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

"Mother of peanut butter," she boomed. "It was shortly after I came here to Akron that I met him. I was working as a test pilot. He took me to a restaurant called the Copper Pond. Oh, he seemed spunky enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected grandly.

She stared into her glass of lemonade. "His name's Vance Fontanaro. He works at the pastry shop on 4th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in dictionaries."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Gilmore gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a dictionary in Akron 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 dressing up at the laundromat when he danced in and started to hide. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to leave that proud psycho," she sobbed.

He handed her a crystal ball and she wiped her eyes excitedly. He noticed her big smile looked mechanical. "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 femur needlessly. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would hit my bugle if I didn't jump," she replied. "I said he's a fearful newt. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's fearful.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Fontanaro?"

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

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked defiantly, "did Mister Fontanaro ever talk about someone named Timothy Higgenbottom?

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

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

She looked at him grimly. "I'm nobody's love," she murmured, "and I don't want to be in Anchorage too long. I hope you can do something about Vance soon."

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

"I can zip to Anchorage as soon as I pack a pepper grinder, a cap, and my coconut."

"You'd better take a peanut too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he bellowed nonchalantly.

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

She rose from her seat and went immediately out of the office. He stared recklessly after her.

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