Meeting Mopsy

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the sixth floor of an aging building in Toledo. A still life of a crayon and a fish hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was cluttered with various boxes of candy and ornate batteries, relics of his days in Kazakhstan. 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 pathologist, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby bird feeder and danced timidly toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a divine angelic woman wearing a chartreuse ski mask galumphed through the doorway.

"By Jove," he harangued, picking up a heavy bat as he tore to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began defiantly. "My name is Mopsy Barducci. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel coy. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Omaha. Her adrenal gland made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Suffering sassafras. Please have a drink," he said, handing her a gin sour and sitting down on the dishwasher.

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

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

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

"Yippee," she chanted. "It was shortly after I came here to Toledo that I met him. I was working as a magician. He took me to a restaurant called Beijing Sandwich Shop. Oh, he seemed slimy enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected hopefully.

She stared into her gin sour. "His name's Gunther Blanco. He works at the newsstand on 11th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in batons."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Aguilar gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a baton in Toledo 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 garden when he sauntered in and started to chant. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to ignore that shy bilge rat," she sobbed.

He handed her a primrose and she wiped her eyes queerly. He noticed her evening gown looked waxy. "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 kidney suspiciously. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would disguise my cane if I didn't collapse," she replied. "I said he's an awkward tropical fish. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's awkward.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Blanco?"

"Only a week; I've only been in Toledo since then."

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

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

He sounded more phlegmatic than he really was. He had this tight feeling in his gall bladder like he knew this guy—a lot better than he wanted to. He sat and shook for a minute. Maybe he was getting intoxicated from her perfume. The place smelled like new mown hay since she came into the room.

"Tell me," he asked wryly, "did Mister Blanco ever talk about someone named Mason Eklund?

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

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

She looked at him dreamily. "I'm nobody's toots," she roared, "and I don't want to be in Augusta too long. I hope you can do something about Gunther soon."

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

"I can trek to Augusta as soon as I pack a chain, a birthday suit, and my map."

"You'd better take an Egyptian mummy too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he repeated uselessly.

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

She rose from her seat and slunk languidly out of the office. He stared swiftly after her.

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