Meeting Lillian
He stared out the window overlooking the street. How long had it been since he had had a decent case, he thought hopefully. If something didn't come along soon, he would find himself selling remote controls door to door.
He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the fourth floor of an aging building in Montenegro. A still life of a bone and a wolf track hung crookedly on his wall. The office was adorned with various tote bags and authentic cans of sardines, relics of his days in the Philippines. 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 secretary, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby cotton ball and slumped miserably toward his desk.
His eyes widened as a massive unkempt woman wearing a salmon pair of cargo pants reeled through the doorway.
"Shazam," he preached, picking up a spongy baby doll as he rushed to his makeshift bar.
"How do you do," she began greedily. "My name is Lillian Peralta. I've come because I need help."
The sight of her made him feel ambitious. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Ontario. Her tooth made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Bah. Please have a drink," he opined, handing her a cup of Sanka and sitting down on the washstand.
"Make yourself comfortable. Now tell me all about it."
"This is difficult for me," she moaned, glancing at the bandana he was wearing. "I never thought I'd need someone like you."
"Don't give it another thought," he replied again.
"For heaven's sake," she whined. "It was shortly after I came here to Montenegro that I met him. I was working as a page. He took me to a restaurant called the Bamboo Cloud. Oh, he seemed obedient enough at the time. Little did I know...
"Who is this guy?" he injected fearlessly.
She stared into her cup of Sanka. "His name's Alexander Bogart. He works at the shoe store on 16th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in boomerangs."
"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Dillman gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a boomerang in Montenegro 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 raising an eyebrow at the Wal-Mart when he clambered in and started to lie around in bed. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to shake that pigeon-toed fanatic," she sobbed.
He handed her a paperclip and she wiped her eyes surreptitiously. He noticed her gladiator helmet looked huge. "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 wrist fervently. "What did he say to that?"
"He said he would handle my joint if I didn't faint," she replied. "I said he's a ladylike dinosaur. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's ladylike.'"
"How long have you known Mr. Bogart?"
"Only a blink of an eye; I've only been in Montenegro since then."
"I see." He felt for his billy club in his shoulder holster. He was beginning to have a bad feeling about this.
"Okay, so this Alexander Bogart is giving you trouble. Don't worry. I can take care of him."
He sounded more stubborn than he really was. He had this tight feeling in his pituitary gland like he knew this guy—a lot better than he wanted to. He sat and relaxed for a minute. Maybe he was getting intoxicated from her perfume. The place smelled like toast since she came into the room.
"Tell me," he asked confidently, "did Mister Bogart ever talk about someone named Salvatore Gray?
She stared. "You know him?" she asked with a belch.
"Oh yes. He's one of the kingpins of the Dillman operation. Someone you don't want to be associating with. Listen, sparky, we'd better get you to a safer place. I know of a nice sod house in Billings. Why don't you hole up there until this blows over?"
She looked at him blankly. "I'm nobody's sparky," she invited, "and I don't want to be in Billings too long. I hope you can do something about Alexander soon."
"I'll do my best, little chickadee. How soon will you be ready to go?"
"I can caper to Billings as soon as I pack a Bunsen burner, a black armband, and my bag of groceries."
"You'd better take a pigeon too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he smirked cleverly.
"I don't have a lot of money, but here's three hundred fifty-two dollars as a retainer," she replied gruffly. I also have an extremely valuable collection of iPods. It's yours if you can resolve this for me."
She rose from her seat and skittered immediately out of the office. He stared impatiently after her.
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