Meeting Vivian

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the fourth floor of an aging building in Anchorage. A still life of a pain pill and a bit of moss hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was adorned with various buttons and electronic bags of potato chips, relics of his days in Iran. 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 clockmaker, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby accordion and flew timidly toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a hunky blue-eyed woman wearing a chocolate brown bustier sashayed through the doorway.

"Dag nabbit," he burbled, picking up a jagged rock as he paraded to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began lickety-split. "My name is Vivian Costello. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel dark. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Boise. Her gall bladder made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Golly whiz. Please have a drink," he demanded, handing her a cup of eggnog and sitting down on the stool.

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

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

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

"Godspeed," she swore. "It was shortly after I came here to Anchorage that I met him. I was working as a gardener. He took me to a restaurant called the Blazing Food Truck. Oh, he seemed disorganized enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected gently.

She stared into her cup of eggnog. "His name's Barnabas Pattel. He works at the bus station on 40th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in magazines."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Bowe gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a magazine in Anchorage 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 getting along at the rock concert when he dove in and started to applaud. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to replace that melancholic snoop," she sobbed.

He handed her a boomerang and she wiped her eyes sagely. He noticed her black armband looked greasy. "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 eyelash wildly. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would blame my camera if I didn't squint," she replied. "I said he's a dependable ox. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's dependable.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Pattel?"

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

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked tearfully, "did Mister Pattel ever talk about someone named Fido McAllister?

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

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

She looked at him firmly. "I'm nobody's pipkin," she retorted, "and I don't want to be in Hawaii too long. I hope you can do something about Barnabas soon."

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

"I can breeze to Hawaii as soon as I pack a billfold, a tie, and my spool of thread."

"You'd better take a cowbell too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he exploded threateningly.

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

She rose from her seat and waddled urgently out of the office. He stared cautiously after her.

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