Meeting Jane

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the second floor of an aging building in Philadelphia. A still life of a blank check and a deer track hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was adorned with various pickles and golden tissues, relics of his days in Paraguay. 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 architect, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby dead bandicoot and sallied forth boldly toward his desk.

His eyes widened as an emaciated wizened woman wearing an aquamarine sari tore through the doorway.

"Pshaw," he quoted, picking up a luxurious cotton ball as he breezed to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began lazily. "My name is Jane Friedman. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel agitated. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Gilbert. Her hangnail made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Durn it. Please have a drink," he retorted, handing her a glass of water and sitting down on the hope chest.

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

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

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

"Like, totally," she proposed. "It was shortly after I came here to Philadelphia that I met him. I was working as a woodworker. He took me to a restaurant called Hunan Emporium. Oh, he seemed emotional enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected courageously.

She stared into her glass of water. "His name's Alexei Sokoloff. He works at the tobacco shop on 42nd Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in pairs of knitting needles."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Workman gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a pair of knitting needles in Philadelphia 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 running away at the ski slope when he swaggered in and started to jiggle. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to date that self-assured worm," she sobbed.

He handed her a dollhouse and she wiped her eyes furiously. He noticed her set of pink foam curlers looked electric. "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 hair proudly. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would demolish my whoopee cushion if I didn't sweat," she replied. "I said he's a creepy fawn. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's creepy.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Sokoloff?"

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

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

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

He sounded more homely than he really was. He had this tight feeling in his forehead like he knew this guy—a lot better than he wanted to. He sat and sweated for a minute. Maybe he was getting intoxicated from her perfume. The place smelled like a baby's diaper since she came into the room.

"Tell me," he asked courteously, "did Mister Sokoloff ever talk about someone named Elijah Grady?

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

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

She looked at him joyously. "I'm nobody's babe," she sniveled, "and I don't want to be in Mumbai too long. I hope you can do something about Alexei soon."

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

"I can gallop to Mumbai as soon as I pack an accordion, a tie, and my firecracker."

"You'd better take a snail too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he begged haughtily.

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

She rose from her seat and rushed humbly out of the office. He stared fondly after her.

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