Meeting Cinderella

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the sixth floor of an aging building in Seoul. A still life of a deck of cards and a leaf hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was cluttered with various candles and smooth soccer balls, relics of his days in Bolivia. 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 animal trainer, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby Egyptian mummy and flew solemnly toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a dwarf elegant woman wearing an olive green raincoat slid through the doorway.

"Outstanding," he hissed, picking up an important avocado as he scurried to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began resignedly. "My name is Cinderella Krause. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel cruel. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Las Vegas. Her paw made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "For Pete's sake. Please have a drink," he mused, handing her a glass of wine and sitting down on the windowsill.

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

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

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

"Bullpuckey," she simpered. "It was shortly after I came here to Seoul that I met him. I was working as a technician. He took me to a restaurant called the Beautiful Dining Room. Oh, he seemed adorable enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected gleefully.

She stared into her glass of wine. "His name's José Goldfarb. He works at the police station on 37th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in cameras."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the James gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a camera in Seoul 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 at the church when he slunk in and started to blush. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to avoid that sanguine terror," she sobbed.

He handed her an orange and she wiped her eyes ferociously. He noticed her armband looked miniature. "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 tooth trustingly. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would unfold my muffin if I didn't chew," she replied. "I said he's a somber goldfish. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's somber.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Goldfarb?"

"Only a decade; I've only been in Seoul since then."

"I see." He felt for his roll of duct tape in his shoulder holster. He was beginning to have a bad feeling about this.

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

He sounded more lazy 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 got frazzled for a minute. Maybe he was getting intoxicated from her perfume. The place smelled like Christian Dior since she came into the room.

"Tell me," he asked lovingly, "did Mister Goldfarb ever talk about someone named Marvin Shapiro?

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

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

She looked at him positively. "I'm nobody's old bean," she whimpered, "and I don't want to be in Lima too long. I hope you can do something about José soon."

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

"I can bolt to Lima as soon as I pack a spoon, a camisole, and my roll of toilet paper."

"You'd better take a book too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he voiced patiently.

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

She rose from her seat and dove stealthily out of the office. He stared awkwardly after her.

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