Meeting Isabel

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the sixth floor of an aging building in Toledo. A still life of a kite and an apple tree hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was cluttered with various crayons and nifty pairs of dice, relics of his days in Uruguay. 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 fitness trainer, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby dollar bill and tumbled gleefully toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a chubby pale woman wearing a jet black maxi skirt traipsed through the doorway.

"Hello," he chuckled, picking up a smooth pair of binoculars as he tiptoed to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began gently. "My name is Isabel Booth. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel agile. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Greensboro. Her chin made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Shucks. Please have a drink," he sniveled, handing her a glass of buttermilk and sitting down on the couch.

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

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

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

"Shazam," she pronounced. "It was shortly after I came here to Toledo that I met him. I was working as a molecular biologist. He took me to a restaurant called Northern Spoon. Oh, he seemed wicked enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected truculently.

She stared into her glass of buttermilk. "His name's Sven Dodd. He works at the nail salon on 20th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in pairs of headphones."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Page gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a pair of headphones in Toledo 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 leering at the city park when he careened in and started to grumble. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to stump that yappy coward," she sobbed.

He handed her a flash drive and she wiped her eyes clumsily. He noticed her tailcoat looked luxurious. "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 eyebrow threateningly. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would bend my Helmholz resonator if I didn't rest," she replied. "I said he's an irate muskrat. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's irate.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Dodd?"

"Only an hour; I've only been in Toledo since then."

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked daringly, "did Mister Dodd ever talk about someone named Nestor Hanks?

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

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

She looked at him dolefully. "I'm nobody's sweetie," she professed, "and I don't want to be in Lexington too long. I hope you can do something about Sven soon."

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

"I can hop to Lexington as soon as I pack a Band-aid, an evening gown, and my lollipop."

"You'd better take an iPhone too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he stated crankily.

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

She rose from her seat and sallied forth immediately out of the office. He stared boldly after her.

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