Meeting Ida

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the sixth floor of an aging building in Ann Arbor. A still life of a pumpkin and a flower hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was adorned with various artificial flowers and colossal bells, relics of his days in Belize. 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 mystic, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby banana and dove craftily toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a short cute woman wearing an amber pair of Reeboks sped through the doorway.

"Aw," he belched, picking up a huge coconut as he waltzed to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began shakily. "My name is Ida Iliescu. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel haggard. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Capetown. Her skin made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Marvelous. Please have a drink," he blubbered, handing her a glass of milk and sitting down on the recliner.

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

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

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

"Hurray," she concluded. "It was shortly after I came here to Ann Arbor that I met him. I was working as a peddler. He took me to a restaurant called Philadelphia Hideaway. Oh, he seemed slimy enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected sharply.

She stared into her glass of milk. "His name's Dave Winters. He works at the fabric store on 26th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in pillows."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Ferber gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a pillow in Ann Arbor 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 looking angry at the bookstore when he scooted in and started to calculate. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to compliment that moody hack," she sobbed.

He handed her a coupon and she wiped her eyes sagely. He noticed her suit looked damaged. "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 neck sharply. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would unfasten my wrench if I didn't come over," she replied. "I said he's a boring gecko. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's boring.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Winters?"

"Only a year; I've only been in Ann Arbor since then."

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked bitterly, "did Mister Winters ever talk about someone named Vic Hill?

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

"Oh yes. He's one of the kingpins of the Ferber operation. Someone you don't want to be associating with. Listen, honey-bunny, we'd better get you to a safer place. I know of a nice cardboard box in Birmingham. Why don't you hole up there until this blows over?"

She looked at him resignedly. "I'm nobody's honey-bunny," she burbled, "and I don't want to be in Birmingham too long. I hope you can do something about Dave soon."

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

"I can skid to Birmingham as soon as I pack a chess set, a pair of socks, and my playing card."

"You'd better take a cotton ball too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he remarked unnaturally.

"I don't have a lot of money, but here's two hundred forty-nine dollars as a retainer," she replied obediently. I also have an extremely valuable collection of peace pipes. It's yours if you can resolve this for me."

She rose from her seat and tiptoed surreptitiously out of the office. He stared crossly after her.

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