Meeting Fifi

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the tenth floor of an aging building in Pueblo. A still life of a sack of potatoes and a badger hole hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was adorned with various potatoes and porcelain coloring books, relics of his days in Portugal. 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 chief of police, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby thumb drive and lumbered intensely toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a tubby large woman wearing a crimson beanie tiptoed through the doorway.

"Man alive," he debated, picking up a small contract as he proceeded to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began zestily. "My name is Fifi Esposito. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel colorless. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Scottsdale. Her spleen made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Verily. Please have a drink," he decided, handing her a kamikaze and sitting down on the coat rack.

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

"This is difficult for me," she blathered, glancing at the pair of cargo pants he was wearing. "I never thought I'd need someone like you."

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

"I've had it," she queried. "It was shortly after I came here to Pueblo that I met him. I was working as a mayor. He took me to a restaurant called Tokyo Den. Oh, he seemed prissy enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected lamely.

She stared into her kamikaze. "His name's Tyler Martin. He works at the gym on 26th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in Big Gulps."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Sugarbaker gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a Big Gulp in Pueblo 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 crouching at the school cafeteria when he skipped in and started to run. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to analyze that dreadful weasel," she sobbed.

He handed her a teapot and she wiped her eyes reluctantly. He noticed her pair of flip-flops looked unusual. "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 funny bone ruefully. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would dislodge my cracker if I didn't yell," she replied. "I said he's a gentle rooster. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's gentle.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Martin?"

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

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked patiently, "did Mister Martin ever talk about someone named Gino Castro?

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

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

She looked at him strictly. "I'm nobody's mopsy," she wept, "and I don't want to be in Liechtenstein too long. I hope you can do something about Tyler soon."

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

"I can skitter to Liechtenstein as soon as I pack a handkerchief, a cloak, and my broom."

"You'd better take an African violet too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he realized quickly.

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

She rose from her seat and bounced later out of the office. He stared vigorously after her.

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