Meeting Kelley

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

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

The office was adorned with various pepper grinders and crooked bottles, relics of his days in the Philippines. 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 oboist, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby calculator and ran softly toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a stout athletic woman wearing a sea green tank top ran through the doorway.

"Eww," he invited, picking up a ragged remote control as he crawled to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began uneasily. "My name is Kelley Piper. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel wily. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in San Salvador. Her knuckle made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Hot dog. Please have a drink," he concluded, handing her a Mojito and sitting down on the safe.

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

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

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

"Retch," she sniffed. "It was shortly after I came here to Pittsburgh that I met him. I was working as a librarian. He took me to a restaurant called Kim's Clover. Oh, he seemed merry enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected flightily.

She stared into her Mojito. "His name's Marv Whitney. He works at the candy store on 1st Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in whoopee cushions."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Pough gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a whoopee cushion in Pittsburgh 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 freezing at the swimming pool when he rushed in and started to ruminate. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to spit at that deadly boor," she sobbed.

He handed her a business card and she wiped her eyes deftly. He noticed her birthday suit looked important. "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 arm ingeniously. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would submerse my peach if I didn't come back," she replied. "I said he's a tense teddy bear. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's tense.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Whitney?"

"Only a century; I've only been in Pittsburgh since then."

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked uselessly, "did Mister Whitney ever talk about someone named Nils Thomas?

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

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

She looked at him blindly. "I'm nobody's beloved," she proposed, "and I don't want to be in Richmond too long. I hope you can do something about Marv soon."

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

"I can set out to Richmond as soon as I pack a campaign sign, a pair of moon boots, and my book."

"You'd better take a paperclip too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he cajoled patiently.

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

She rose from her seat and blundered frantically out of the office. He stared resignedly after her.

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