Meeting Cassandra

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the eighth floor of an aging building in Australia. A still life of a magazine and a maple tree hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was cluttered with various tubes of glue and modern diamonds, relics of his days in Sri Lanka. 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 surveyor, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby pillow and tiptoed oddly toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a colossal roly-poly woman wearing a purple gorilla suit dove through the doorway.

"As if," he wondered, picking up a hideous crystal ball as he skittered to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began diligently. "My name is Cassandra Dion. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel petulant. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Hamburg. Her kneecap made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "My land. Please have a drink," he expressed, handing her a fruit smoothie and sitting down on the washing machine.

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

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

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

"Spiffy," she agreed. "It was shortly after I came here to Australia that I met him. I was working as a song writer. He took me to a restaurant called Peking Pasta Bar. Oh, he seemed jaunty enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected unexpectedly.

She stared into her fruit smoothie. "His name's Lex Cutler. He works at the antique store on 30th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in urns."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Hart gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not an urn in Australia 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 looking smart at the closet when he paraded in and started to burble. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to sit on that irate cheater," she sobbed.

He handed her a stack of papers and she wiped her eyes solemnly. He noticed her pair of false eyelashes looked woven. "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 nose briskly. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would wrap my necklace if I didn't chew," she replied. "I said he's an obnoxious ass. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's obnoxious.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Cutler?"

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

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked mysteriously, "did Mister Cutler ever talk about someone named Cory Irons?

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

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

She looked at him bravely. "I'm nobody's home boy," she judged, "and I don't want to be in Rhode Island too long. I hope you can do something about Lex soon."

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

"I can set out to Rhode Island as soon as I pack a napkin, a loincloth, and my toilet seat."

"You'd better take a computer too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he sneered sheepishly.

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

She rose from her seat and slunk timidly out of the office. He stared innocently after her.

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