Meeting Rebecca

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the tenth floor of an aging building in the Swiss Alps. A still life of a jar of olives and a wildflower hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was adorned with various photographs and ornate teapots, relics of his days in Indonesia. 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 harpist, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby fishing rod and zoomed frenetically toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a divine scraggly woman wearing a fuchsia jumper trotted through the doorway.

"Phew," he cried, picking up a funny pickle as he slumped to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began patiently. "My name is Rebecca Bennett. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel hirsute. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Madison. Her buttocks made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Begad. Please have a drink," he conversed, handing her a 7-Up and sitting down on the fainting couch.

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

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

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

"Gawwwleeee," she added. "It was shortly after I came here to the Swiss Alps that I met him. I was working as a yoga instructor. He took me to a restaurant called the Magic Den. Oh, he seemed merry enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected dreamily.

She stared into her 7-Up. "His name's Reginald Montgomery. He works at the bank on 11th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in dictionaries."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Fretwell gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a dictionary in the Swiss Alps 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 cheering at the bedroom when he waded in and started to squeak. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to replace that brazen flake," she sobbed.

He handed her an arrowhead and she wiped her eyes courageously. He noticed her pair of dungarees looked worn. "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 midriff sorrowfully. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would spin my bag if I didn't look dumb," she replied. "I said he's an undignified German Shepherd. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's undignified.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Montgomery?"

"Only an eternity; I've only been in the Swiss Alps since then."

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked greedily, "did Mister Montgomery ever talk about someone named T.J. Tuckerman?

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

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

She looked at him wryly. "I'm nobody's lambkin," she crooned, "and I don't want to be in Athens too long. I hope you can do something about Reginald soon."

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

"I can sneak to Athens as soon as I pack a diagram, a pair of gloves, and my necklace."

"You'd better take a thumb drive too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he amended frenetically.

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

She rose from her seat and galumphed slowly out of the office. He stared ruefully after her.

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