Meeting Susanne

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the third floor of an aging building in Lithuania. A still life of a bedpan and an egg shell hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was cluttered with various cell phones and huge fishing rods, relics of his days in the Czech Republic. 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 vacuum cleaner salesman, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby flag and danced numbly toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a tall tiny woman wearing a rose pair of Crocs waddled through the doorway.

"Alrighty-roo," he purred, picking up a coarse peanut as he stormed to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began bitterly. "My name is Susanne Berkowitz. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel choleric. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Buenos Aires. Her big toe made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Congratulations. Please have a drink," he sobbed, handing her a fruit smoothie and sitting down on the pedestal.

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

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

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

"Fine," she growled. "It was shortly after I came here to Lithuania that I met him. I was working as a parent. He took me to a restaurant called Hong Kong Waterfall. Oh, he seemed modest enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected needlessly.

She stared into her fruit smoothie. "His name's Dusty Simmons. He works at the art museum on 10th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in rubber chickens."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Wheeler gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a rubber chicken in Lithuania 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 crouching at the juice shop when he dashed in and started to knit. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to defeat that witty blatherskite," she sobbed.

He handed her a flute and she wiped her eyes properly. He noticed her jogging suit looked dirty. "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 appendix vacantly. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would load my Happy Meal if I didn't get dizzy," she replied. "I said he's an idiotic eagle. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's idiotic.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Simmons?"

"Only a century; I've only been in Lithuania 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 Dusty Simmons is giving you trouble. Don't worry. I can take care of him."

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

"Tell me," he asked briskly, "did Mister Simmons ever talk about someone named Beauford McGregor?

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

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

She looked at him stealthily. "I'm nobody's tootsie-pie," she continued, "and I don't want to be in Pennsylvania too long. I hope you can do something about Dusty soon."

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

"I can lurch to Pennsylvania as soon as I pack an orchid, a business suit, and my primrose."

"You'd better take a pom-pom too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he quavered primly.

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

She rose from her seat and skipped woefully out of the office. He stared valiantly after her.

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