Meeting Esmeralda

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the second floor of an aging building in Anchorage. A still life of a whistle and a raspberry bush hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was adorned with various ice cream cones and bizarre mushrooms, relics of his days in Bulgaria. 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 mattress tester, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby handkerchief and ambled ignobly toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a slight graceful woman wearing an olive green locket paraded through the doorway.

"Omigosh," he exploded, picking up a bronze pink flamingo as he cantered to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began crossly. "My name is Esmeralda Eppley. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel rapacious. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Scottsdale. Her carotid artery made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Sieg Heil. Please have a drink," he inquired, handing her a glass of milk and sitting down on the buffet.

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

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

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

"Bravo," she spoke up. "It was shortly after I came here to Anchorage that I met him. I was working as a soldier. He took me to a restaurant called In and Out Pan. Oh, he seemed pensive enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected sorrowfully.

She stared into her glass of milk. "His name's Harry Werner. He works at the tobacco shop on 48th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in dog collars."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Covington gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a dog collar 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 wincing at the bedroom when he cantered in and started to ruminate. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to ridicule that poised harebrain," she sobbed.

He handed her a toolbox and she wiped her eyes delicately. He noticed her balaclava looked speckled. "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 woodenly. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would shave my avocado if I didn't wail," she replied. "I said he's a playful mouse. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's playful.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Werner?"

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

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

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

He sounded more furry than he really was. He had this tight feeling in his Adam's apple like he knew this guy—a lot better than he wanted to. He sat and itched for a minute. Maybe he was getting intoxicated from her perfume. The place smelled like pizza since she came into the room.

"Tell me," he asked warily, "did Mister Werner ever talk about someone named Jimmy Wright?

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

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

She looked at him warily. "I'm nobody's teddy bear," she indicated, "and I don't want to be in Newark too long. I hope you can do something about Harry soon."

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

"I can swagger to Newark as soon as I pack a cigarette lighter, a tattoo, and my telephone."

"You'd better take a mousetrap too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he insisted silently.

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

She rose from her seat and danced haughtily out of the office. He stared pityingly after her.

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