Meeting Pallavi

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the seventh floor of an aging building in Kenya. A still life of a lemon and a leaf hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was cluttered with various advertisements and ornate buttons, relics of his days in Georgia. 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 court reporter, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby broom and pranced nervously toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a chubby handsome woman wearing a chartreuse bodysuit galumphed through the doorway.

"Anyhow," he opined, picking up an unusual peace pipe as he lurched to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began again. "My name is Pallavi Romero. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel pert. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Moscow. Her adrenal gland made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "If only. Please have a drink," he voiced, handing her a Jack Daniel's and sitting down on the hammock.

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

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

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

"Ha," she barked. "It was shortly after I came here to Kenya that I met him. I was working as a dermatologist. He took me to a restaurant called Eastern Enchiladas. Oh, he seemed shifty enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected nicely.

She stared into her Jack Daniel's. "His name's Doug Austin. He works at the library on 37th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in cans of beer."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Burke gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a can of beer in Kenya 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 resting at the party when he zipped in and started to show up. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to bite that frantic moron," she sobbed.

He handed her a stopwatch and she wiped her eyes strictly. He noticed her big red rose looked cotton. "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 eyeball sourly. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would poke my telephone book if I didn't show up," she replied. "I said he's a queer android. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's queer.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Austin?"

"Only a day; I've only been in Kenya since then."

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked oddly, "did Mister Austin ever talk about someone named Clyde Diamond?

She stared. "You know him?" she asked with an air kiss.

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

She looked at him thoughtfully. "I'm nobody's twinkie," she judged, "and I don't want to be in Quebec too long. I hope you can do something about Doug soon."

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

"I can prance to Quebec as soon as I pack a fossil, a diamond necklace, and my pickle."

"You'd better take a tablet computer too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he emphasized viciously.

"I don't have a lot of money, but here's two hundred eighty-eight dollars as a retainer," she replied unabashedly. I also have an extremely valuable collection of sticks of gum. It's yours if you can resolve this for me."

She rose from her seat and sprinted neatly out of the office. He stared blindly after her.

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