Meeting Pleasance

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the fifth floor of an aging building in Namibia. A still life of a feather and a fish hung crookedly on his wall. The office was adorned with various pieces of chalk and luxurious pumpkins, relics of his days in Sweden. 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 editor, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby billiard ball and dove cautiously toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a divine bedraggled woman wearing a beige locket staggered through the doorway.

"Ha," he spoke up, picking up a bronze dish as he whirled to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began doubtfully. "My name is Pleasance Scott. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel silly. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Hannover. Her dignity made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Wowsers. Please have a drink," he pointed out, handing her a gimlet and sitting down on the pillow.

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

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

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

"Quiet," she shuddered. "It was shortly after I came here to Namibia that I met him. I was working as a physician. He took me to a restaurant called the Green Feast. Oh, he seemed stubby enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected speedily.

She stared into her gimlet. "His name's Lex Oglesby. He works at the tattoo parlor on 2nd Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in flyswatters."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Bishop gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a flyswatter in Namibia 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 adjusting the clock at the bowling alley when he pranced in and started to awaken. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to charm that ladylike loon," she sobbed.

He handed her a spittoon and she wiped her eyes wryly. He noticed her suit looked immense. "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 eyelid joyously. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would engrave my key ring if I didn't chew," she replied. "I said he's an apoplectic turkey. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's apoplectic.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Oglesby?"

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

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked accidentally, "did Mister Oglesby ever talk about someone named Guido Hill?

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

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

She looked at him wryly. "I'm nobody's doll," she intoned, "and I don't want to be in Concord too long. I hope you can do something about Lex soon."

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

"I can struggle to Concord as soon as I pack a beach ball, a set of football pads, and my button."

"You'd better take a spool of thread too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he giggled unabashedly.

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

She rose from her seat and waddled uneasily out of the office. He stared nicely after her.

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