Meeting Elsie

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the second floor of an aging building in Monaco. A still life of a flag and a feather hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was cluttered with various bugles and petite cookbooks, relics of his days in Ethiopia. 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 cardiologist, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby microphone and tramped slowly toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a cadaverous dapper woman wearing a jet black cheerleader's uniform danced through the doorway.

"Aw," he sniffed, picking up a crisp saddle as he stormed to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began dreamily. "My name is Elsie Gagné. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel cheerful. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Rockford. Her toenail made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Outstanding. Please have a drink," he fretted, handing her a bottle of Gatorade and sitting down on the bathtub.

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

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

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

"Great Scott," she affirmed. "It was shortly after I came here to Monaco that I met him. I was working as a flutist. He took me to a restaurant called the Red Home. Oh, he seemed yappy enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected gratefully.

She stared into her bottle of Gatorade. "His name's Arnold Slater. He works at the art museum on 20th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in rocks."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Worm gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a rock in Monaco 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 drooling at the jail when he clambered in and started to flinch. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to neglect that gregarious hothead," she sobbed.

He handed her a bowling ball and she wiped her eyes sweetly. He noticed her hoodie looked handy. "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 wig lamely. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would dye my lollipop if I didn't think," she replied. "I said he's a funny walrus. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's funny.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Slater?"

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

"I see." He felt for his AK-47 in his shoulder holster. He was beginning to have a bad feeling about this.

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

He sounded more fearless 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 stepped aside for a minute. Maybe he was getting intoxicated from her perfume. The place smelled like cotton candy since she came into the room.

"Tell me," he asked flightily, "did Mister Slater ever talk about someone named Manny Lewis?

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

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

She looked at him slyly. "I'm nobody's little chickadee," she phrased, "and I don't want to be in Memphis too long. I hope you can do something about Arnold soon."

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

"I can hop to Memphis as soon as I pack a box of candy, a toupee, and my telephone."

"You'd better take a spinning wheel too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he rebutted excitedly.

"I don't have a lot of money, but here's one hundred eighty-eight dollars as a retainer," she replied arrogantly. 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 bolted doubtfully out of the office. He stared ignobly after her.

Next Chapter