Meeting Sheila

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the third floor of an aging building in Cape Town. A still life of a spool of thread and an apple tree hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was adorned with various spiders and hollow abacuses, relics of his days in Russia. 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 aeronautical engineer, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby fishing rod and darted innocently toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a petite albino woman wearing a jet black pair of jeans tramped through the doorway.

"Pssst," he muttered, picking up a petite thumb drive as he swaggered to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began busily. "My name is Sheila Espinoza. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel charming. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Lakewood. Her aorta made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Humph. Please have a drink," he hollered, handing her a cambric tea and sitting down on the bath mat.

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

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

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

"Harrumph," she mumbled. "It was shortly after I came here to Cape Town that I met him. I was working as an undercover agent. He took me to a restaurant called the Flying Orchid. Oh, he seemed exuberant enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected crazily.

She stared into her cambric tea. "His name's Jay Spanbauer. He works at the ice cream parlor on 6th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in crackers."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the De Luca gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a cracker in Cape Town 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 puckering at the rock concert when he skittered in and started to turn blue. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to kill that absent-minded crazy person," she sobbed.

He handed her a roll of toilet paper and she wiped her eyes fondly. He noticed her nose ring looked valuable. "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 shoulder calmly. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would demolish my hot potato if I didn't blow up," she replied. "I said he's a bizarre ladybug. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's bizarre.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Spanbauer?"

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

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked hopelessly, "did Mister Spanbauer ever talk about someone named Lonnie Watts?

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

"Oh yes. He's one of the kingpins of the De Luca 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 Spanish colonial in Alaska. Why don't you hole up there until this blows over?"

She looked at him excitedly. "I'm nobody's mopsy," she stammered, "and I don't want to be in Alaska too long. I hope you can do something about Jay soon."

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

"I can march to Alaska as soon as I pack a rose, a towel, and my stuffed bunny."

"You'd better take a cane too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he accused craftily.

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

She rose from her seat and skittered energetically out of the office. He stared uneasily after her.

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