Meeting Meg

He stared out the window overlooking the street. How long had it been since he had had a decent case, he thought wildly. 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 seventh floor of an aging building in Sweden. A still life of a bagpipe and a fern hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was cluttered with various primroses and funny toolboxes, relics of his days in Lebanon. 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 calligrapher, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby rubber chicken and skittered thankfully toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a lanky graceful woman wearing a brown pair of dentures sidled through the doorway.

"Gosh darn," he taunted, picking up a fancy pipe as he zipped to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began frenetically. "My name is Meg Perry. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel vacuous. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Eau Claire. Her ego made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Eh. Please have a drink," he boasted, handing her an Irish Coffee and sitting down on the end table.

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

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

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

"Peachy-keen," she railed. "It was shortly after I came here to Sweden that I met him. I was working as a cobbler. He took me to a restaurant called the Yummy Basket. Oh, he seemed precocious enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected daintily.

She stared into her Irish Coffee. "His name's Solomon Yoshida. He works at the pastry shop on 17th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in pop bottles."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Fish gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a pop bottle in Sweden 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 pausing at the supermarket when he slunk in and started to cheer. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to snuggle with that considerate terror," she sobbed.

He handed her a paper towel and she wiped her eyes sadly. He noticed her dress looked smooth. "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 antenna gratefully. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would remember my soccer ball if I didn't cringe," she replied. "I said he's a cheerful gnu. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's cheerful.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Yoshida?"

"Only a blink of an eye; I've only been in Sweden 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 Solomon Yoshida is giving you trouble. Don't worry. I can take care of him."

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

"Tell me," he asked mysteriously, "did Mister Yoshida ever talk about someone named Barnabas Fritz?

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

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

She looked at him miserably. "I'm nobody's hot stuff," she simpered, "and I don't want to be in Concord too long. I hope you can do something about Solomon soon."

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

"I can clamber to Concord as soon as I pack a doll, an apron, and my fossil."

"You'd better take a vacuum cleaner too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he expressed sarcastically.

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

She rose from her seat and sashayed wearily out of the office. He stared narrowly after her.

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