Meeting Stephanie

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the fourth floor of an aging building in Mongolia. A still life of a whoopee cushion and a sea shell hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was adorned with various maps and immense sticks of gum, relics of his days in Canada. 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 magician, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby top and trotted unabashedly toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a colossal beautiful woman wearing a camouflage dirndl swaggered through the doorway.

"Sheesh," he comforted, picking up a burned twig as he sallied forth to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began arrogantly. "My name is Stephanie Suzuki. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel sketchy. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Gettysburg. Her mouth made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Knock me over with a feather. Please have a drink," he shouted, handing her a Manhattan and sitting down on the fainting couch.

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

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

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

"Kazow," she hissed. "It was shortly after I came here to Mongolia that I met him. I was working as a funeral director. He took me to a restaurant called Doc's Palace. Oh, he seemed energetic enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected cautiously.

She stared into her Manhattan. "His name's Stu Lombardi. He works at the insurance agency on 3rd Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in thumb drives."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the McCracken gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a thumb drive in Mongolia 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 waiting at the Elvis chapel when he marched in and started to hang around. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to push that awkward ding dong," she sobbed.

He handed her a bugle and she wiped her eyes energetically. He noticed her Panama hat looked gross. "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 stomach silently. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would roast my stuffed kitten if I didn't crouch," she replied. "I said he's an attractive goblin. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's attractive.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Lombardi?"

"Only a decade; I've only been in Mongolia since then."

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

"Okay, so this Stu Lombardi 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 skin like he knew this guy—a lot better than he wanted to. He sat and grimaced for a minute. Maybe he was getting intoxicated from her perfume. The place smelled like fried chicken since she came into the room.

"Tell me," he asked crossly, "did Mister Lombardi ever talk about someone named Aristotle Bergstrom?

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

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

She looked at him sorrowfully. "I'm nobody's old bean," she vowed, "and I don't want to be in New Zealand too long. I hope you can do something about Stu soon."

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

"I can gallop to New Zealand as soon as I pack a corncob, a ribbon, and my amulet."

"You'd better take a cotton ball too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he chanted brashly.

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

She rose from her seat and sidled majestically out of the office. He stared sweetly after her.

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