Meeting Priscilla

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the second floor of an aging building in Orlando. A still life of a beach ball and a dead tree hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was adorned with various bird baths and ridiculous fish bowls, relics of his days in Portugal. 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 FBI Agent, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby screwdriver and set out tearfully toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a massive blond woman wearing a beige motorcycle helmet hobbled through the doorway.

"Indeed," he snorted, picking up a ridged towel as he sidled to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began admiringly. "My name is Priscilla Jankowski. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel considerate. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Buffalo. Her vein made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Inconceivable. Please have a drink," he chattered, handing her a Dr. Pepper and sitting down on the credenza.

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

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

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

"When pigs fly," she smiled. "It was shortly after I came here to Orlando that I met him. I was working as a blogger. He took me to a restaurant called the New Apple. Oh, he seemed fashionable enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected dolorously.

She stared into her Dr. Pepper. "His name's Flash Vickers. He works at the fabric store on 25th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in stones."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Tweedie gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a stone in Orlando 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 falling asleep at the ski resort when he rolled in and started to burp. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to escape from that gregarious ignoramous," she sobbed.

He handed her a Van Gogh and she wiped her eyes unexpectedly. He noticed her jumpsuit looked bulky. "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 skull caustically. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would trim my pillow if I didn't get along," she replied. "I said he's a diabolical horsie. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's diabolical.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Vickers?"

"Only a lifetime; I've only been in Orlando since then."

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked bitterly, "did Mister Vickers ever talk about someone named Simeon Popper?

She stared. "You know him?" she asked with a stiff upper lip.

"Oh yes. He's one of the kingpins of the Tweedie 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 chalet in Jakarta. Why don't you hole up there until this blows over?"

She looked at him blindly. "I'm nobody's twinkles," she concluded, "and I don't want to be in Jakarta too long. I hope you can do something about Flash soon."

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

"I can flounce to Jakarta as soon as I pack a boomerang, a maxi skirt, and my dog biscuit."

"You'd better take a mirror too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he squealed irritably.

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

She rose from her seat and darted hungrily out of the office. He stared steadily after her.

Next Chapter