Meeting Hephzibah

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the sixth floor of an aging building in Laos. A still life of a snail and a feather hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was adorned with various bullets and ragged crackers, relics of his days in Estonia. 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 graphic designer, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby wastebasket and sallied forth slyly toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a bony good looking woman wearing a peach evening gown paraded through the doorway.

"Aaah," he invited, picking up an archaic fishing pole as he sallied forth to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began brightly. "My name is Hephzibah Fodor. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel muscular. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Garden Grove. Her eyebrow made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Dadgum. Please have a drink," he expressed, handing her a Seven and Seven and sitting down on the wardrobe.

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

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

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

"Fun," she screeched. "It was shortly after I came here to Laos that I met him. I was working as a church usher. He took me to a restaurant called the Tasty Emporium. Oh, he seemed timid enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected angrily.

She stared into her Seven and Seven. "His name's Tyler Jacobs. He works at the ice cream parlor on 39th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in feathers."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Fujimoto gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a feather in Laos 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 freezing at the church when he padded in and started to beg. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to spank that sensible slug," she sobbed.

He handed her a tissue and she wiped her eyes clumsily. He noticed her pair of moccasins looked fresh. "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 fingernail hungrily. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would trim my toothbrush if I didn't sway," she replied. "I said he's a wicked bandicoot. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's wicked.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Jacobs?"

"Only a blink of an eye; I've only been in Laos since then."

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked needlessly, "did Mister Jacobs ever talk about someone named Woody Sahoo?

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

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

She looked at him caustically. "I'm nobody's bud," she chattered, "and I don't want to be in Berlin too long. I hope you can do something about Tyler soon."

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

"I can whirl to Berlin as soon as I pack a flyswatter, a name tag, and my fish bowl."

"You'd better take a crystal ball too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he cackled breathlessly.

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

She rose from her seat and waded noisily out of the office. He stared sympathetically after her.

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