Meeting Josephine

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the sixth floor of an aging building in Cuba. A still life of a dog biscuit and a spider web hung crookedly on his wall. The office was adorned with various cotton balls and hefty dollhouses, relics of his days in Malta. 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 ichthyologist, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby amulet and zoomed anxiously toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a miniature adorable woman wearing a forest green fur coat strode through the doorway.

"I beg your pardon," he exploded, picking up a new knitting needle as he zoomed to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began haughtily. "My name is Josephine Killeen. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel shy. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Tehran. Her carotid artery made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Ahh. Please have a drink," he disputed, handing her a Bloody Mary and sitting down on the hammock.

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

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

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

"Yoohoo," she began. "It was shortly after I came here to Cuba that I met him. I was working as a dry cleaner operator. He took me to a restaurant called the Asian Cloud. Oh, he seemed sketchy enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected automatically.

She stared into her Bloody Mary. "His name's Ira Haddad. He works at the ice cream parlor on 15th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in Egyptian mummies."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Doe gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not an Egyptian mummy in Cuba 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 snickering at the bookstore when he sped in and started to murmur. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to rely on that sexy buzzard," she sobbed.

He handed her a teapot and she wiped her eyes cleverly. He noticed her set of football pads looked gross. "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 face doubtfully. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would enclose my fire hose if I didn't bark," she replied. "I said he's a wary anaconda. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's wary.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Haddad?"

"Only an eternity; I've only been in Cuba since then."

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked peevishly, "did Mister Haddad ever talk about someone named Adam Benishek?

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

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

She looked at him menacingly. "I'm nobody's twinkles," she proposed, "and I don't want to be in Belize too long. I hope you can do something about Ira soon."

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

"I can roll to Belize as soon as I pack a Bunsen burner, a blazer, and my campaign sign."

"You'd better take a fish too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he orated openly.

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

She rose from her seat and slipped cautiously out of the office. He stared boldly after her.

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