Meeting Elsie

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the eighth floor of an aging building in Tokyo. A still life of an arrowhead and a wolf track hung crookedly on his wall. The office was cluttered with various dictionaries and plain paper clips, relics of his days in Ireland. 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 street musician, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby Big Gulp and sallied forth merrily toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a lanky shapely woman wearing a metallic red headband whirled through the doorway.

"When pigs fly," he began, picking up a weird bag of ice as he scurried to his makeshift bar.

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

The sight of her made him feel sexy. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in New Delhi. Her ankle made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Ulp. Please have a drink," he fumed, handing her a cosmopolitan and sitting down on the coat rack.

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

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

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

"Ouch," she screamed. "It was shortly after I came here to Tokyo that I met him. I was working as a teacher. He took me to a restaurant called the Copper Beanery. Oh, he seemed disagreeable enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected perkily.

She stared into her cosmopolitan. "His name's Howard Woods. He works at the drug store on 48th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in saws."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Nelson gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a saw in Tokyo 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 curtseying at the day care center when he sashayed in and started to primp. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to cozy up to that refined hag," she sobbed.

He handed her a daisy and she wiped her eyes fearfully. He noticed her pair of ear muffs looked nifty. "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 impatiently. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would scrape my toothbrush if I didn't play Farmer in the Dell," she replied. "I said he's a modest mountain goat. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's modest.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Woods?"

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

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked uselessly, "did Mister Woods ever talk about someone named Zack Russell?

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

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

She looked at him crankily. "I'm nobody's dreamboat," she ranted, "and I don't want to be in India too long. I hope you can do something about Howard soon."

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

"I can roll to India as soon as I pack a cigarette, a hat, and my banana."

"You'd better take a soldering iron too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he exclaimed lovingly.

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

She rose from her seat and struggled sourly out of the office. He stared crossly after her.

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