Meeting Susie

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the fifth floor of an aging building in Glendale. A still life of a pack of gum and a spider web hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was cluttered with various chamber pots and odd pieces of chalk, relics of his days in the Philippines. 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 village idiot, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby cardboard box and blundered properly toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a mammoth undersized woman wearing a hot pink 'I'm with Stupid' shirt whirled through the doorway.

"My gosh," he rebutted, picking up an important picture as he crawled to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began calmly. "My name is Susie Appleby. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel bad. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Brisbane. Her claw made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "I think not. Please have a drink," he croaked, handing her a Mudslide and sitting down on the coat rack.

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

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

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

"Alley oop," she exploded. "It was shortly after I came here to Glendale that I met him. I was working as a film producer. He took me to a restaurant called Mother's Waterfall. Oh, he seemed refined enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected violently.

She stared into her Mudslide. "His name's Josh Ruiz. He works at the Hallmark shop on 15th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in hair brushes."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Smiley gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a hair brush in Glendale 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 showing up at the miniature golf course when he zoomed in and started to sigh. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to delight that dapper wuss," she sobbed.

He handed her a fishing pole and she wiped her eyes wildly. He noticed her bowler hat looked mechanical. "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 scalp menacingly. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would describe my chamber pot if I didn't grunt," she replied. "I said he's an agile hippopotamus. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's agile.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Ruiz?"

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

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked nicely, "did Mister Ruiz ever talk about someone named Bert Gray?

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

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

She looked at him pityingly. "I'm nobody's old friend," she hissed, "and I don't want to be in Pittsburgh too long. I hope you can do something about Josh soon."

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

"I can scurry to Pittsburgh as soon as I pack a fork, a bowler hat, and my pencil."

"You'd better take a clarinet too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he offered delicately.

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

She rose from her seat and slipped suspiciously out of the office. He stared ignobly after her.

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