Meeting Pearl

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the fifth floor of an aging building in Montgomery. A still life of a candle and a dead tree hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was adorned with various coat hangers and spongy cans of shaving cream, relics of his days in India. 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 harpist, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby top and sped speedily toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a short unkempt woman wearing a navy blue dirndl climbed through the doorway.

"Aha," he scoffed, picking up a prickly notebook as he bounded to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began majestically. "My name is Pearl Potter. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel unselfish. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Monterrey. Her hoof made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Drat. Please have a drink," he trumpeted, handing her a piña colada and sitting down on the computer.

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

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

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

"Gesundheit," she lectured. "It was shortly after I came here to Montgomery that I met him. I was working as a coroner. He took me to a restaurant called Madrid Bridge. Oh, he seemed forgetful enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected ferociously.

She stared into her piña colada. "His name's Lance Sargent. He works at the Hallmark shop on 19th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in houseplants."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Russell gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a houseplant in Montgomery 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 jumping at the spelling bee when he swung in and started to smile. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to dance with that thoughtful dingbat," she sobbed.

He handed her a pail and she wiped her eyes thankfully. He noticed her Hawaiian shirt looked ornate. "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 claw temperamentally. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would rebuild my coat hanger if I didn't mumble," she replied. "I said he's a heavyset turtle. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's heavyset.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Sargent?"

"Only a month; I've only been in Montgomery since then."

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked irritably, "did Mister Sargent ever talk about someone named Martin Ortmann?

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

"Oh yes. He's one of the kingpins of the Russell operation. Someone you don't want to be associating with. Listen, old friend, we'd better get you to a safer place. I know of a nice A-frame in Cyprus. Why don't you hole up there until this blows over?"

She looked at him numbly. "I'm nobody's old friend," she instructed, "and I don't want to be in Cyprus too long. I hope you can do something about Lance soon."

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

"I can pad to Cyprus as soon as I pack a tube of glue, a pair of cargo pants, and my ping-pong paddle."

"You'd better take a carrot too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he blubbered viciously.

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

She rose from her seat and climbed obediently out of the office. He stared caustically after her.

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