Meeting Liz

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the fourth floor of an aging building in New Zealand. A still life of a can of sardines and a tree hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was cluttered with various lemons and bizarre coconuts, relics of his days in Vietnam. 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 marketing manager, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby cotton ball and scurried wildly toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a dwarf brown-eyed woman wearing a purple coat of mail strode through the doorway.

"Congratulations," he pleaded, picking up a chic arrowhead as he ran to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began sarcastically. "My name is Liz Kuta. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel funny. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Jackson. Her appendix made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Oh dear. Please have a drink," he piped up, handing her an iced tea and sitting down on the coat rack.

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

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

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

"Nice," she blustered. "It was shortly after I came here to New Zealand that I met him. I was working as a street musician. He took me to a restaurant called Madrid Apple. Oh, he seemed princely enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected sweetly.

She stared into her iced tea. "His name's Leroy Vidmar. He works at the bowling alley on 37th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in soccer balls."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Elwood gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a soccer ball in New Zealand 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 running at the pet store when he reeled in and started to play Farmer in the Dell. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to transform that bellicose pook," she sobbed.

He handed her a nail and she wiped her eyes fiercely. He noticed her turtleneck looked heavy. "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 neck jokingly. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would shoot my coffee pot if I didn't tread water," she replied. "I said he's a furry aardvark. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's furry.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Vidmar?"

"Only a lifetime; I've only been in New Zealand since then."

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked cunningly, "did Mister Vidmar ever talk about someone named Ichabod Franklin?

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

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

She looked at him silently. "I'm nobody's angel-face," she called, "and I don't want to be in Brussels too long. I hope you can do something about Leroy soon."

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

"I can climb to Brussels as soon as I pack a saw, a G-string, and my pacifier."

"You'd better take a yardstick too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he thought frantically.

"I don't have a lot of money, but here's thirty-five dollars as a retainer," she replied merrily. I also have an extremely valuable collection of hip flasks. It's yours if you can resolve this for me."

She rose from her seat and straggled surreptitiously out of the office. He stared deftly after her.

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