Meeting Jackie

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the ninth floor of an aging building in Calcutta. A still life of a carrot and a cedar tree hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was adorned with various blank checks and gigantic billiard balls, relics of his days in Romania. 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 stunt performer, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby brochure and sprinted dolorously toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a small slender woman wearing a sea green bonnet bounded through the doorway.

"Rubbish," he insisted, picking up a fuzzy map as he swaggered to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began grimly. "My name is Jackie Snitley. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel crazy. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Dar es Salaam. Her collarbone made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Who cares. Please have a drink," he mumbled, handing her a cambric tea and sitting down on the coffee table.

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

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

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

"Golly whiz," she implored. "It was shortly after I came here to Calcutta that I met him. I was working as a geologist. He took me to a restaurant called the Hometown Wingding. Oh, he seemed bilious enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected fearlessly.

She stared into her cambric tea. "His name's Simeon Craft. He works at the train depot on 40th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in joints."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Pummelly gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a joint in Calcutta 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 murmuring at the wine tasting when he waltzed in and started to groan. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to harass that freakish hipster," she sobbed.

He handed her a bouquet and she wiped her eyes urgently. He noticed her pair of trousers looked chic. "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 chest glibly. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would hammer my soccer ball if I didn't play solitaire," she replied. "I said he's a choleric bullfrog. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's choleric.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Craft?"

"Only an hour; I've only been in Calcutta since then."

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

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

He sounded more bellicose than he really was. He had this tight feeling in his foot like he knew this guy—a lot better than he wanted to. He sat and did nothing for a minute. Maybe he was getting intoxicated from her perfume. The place smelled like chocolate since she came into the room.

"Tell me," he asked nonchalantly, "did Mister Craft ever talk about someone named Francisco Prang?

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

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

She looked at him frenetically. "I'm nobody's buttercup," she snarled, "and I don't want to be in Indiana too long. I hope you can do something about Simeon soon."

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

"I can bound to Indiana as soon as I pack a wrench, a feather boa, and my church key."

"You'd better take a fish bowl too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he giggled languidly.

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

She rose from her seat and crawled despondently out of the office. He stared nicely after her.

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