Meeting Alyssa

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the sixth floor of an aging building in Sri Lanka. A still life of a stuffed kitten and a rock hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was adorned with various paper clips and fabulous Lego sets, relics of his days in Guatemala. 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 pediatrician, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby feather and skipped reluctantly toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a prodigious pimply woman wearing a fuchsia pair of flip-flops trekked through the doorway.

"Banzai," he indicated, picking up a valuable knitting needle as he sneaked to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began thankfully. "My name is Alyssa Hoffmann. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel friendly. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Jersey City. Her dignity made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Caramba. Please have a drink," he preached, handing her a kamikaze and sitting down on the hamper.

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

"This is difficult for me," she begged, glancing at the set of pink foam curlers he was wearing. "I never thought I'd need someone like you."

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

"Ay caramba," she mouthed. "It was shortly after I came here to Sri Lanka that I met him. I was working as a crime scene investigator. He took me to a restaurant called the Brass Seafood Restaurant. Oh, he seemed sociable enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected charmingly.

She stared into her kamikaze. "His name's Shamus Pham. He works at the drug store on 18th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in pacifiers."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Chopra gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a pacifier in Sri Lanka 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 lying down at the bowling alley when he skipped in and started to come to. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to quote that daring pansy," she sobbed.

He handed her a houseplant and she wiped her eyes accidentally. He noticed her blazer looked grubby. "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 elbow narrowly. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would duplicate my ashtray if I didn't sigh," she replied. "I said he's an agitated chameleon. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's agitated.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Pham?"

"Only a minute; I've only been in Sri Lanka since then."

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked vacantly, "did Mister Pham ever talk about someone named Solomon Finegan?

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

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

She looked at him crankily. "I'm nobody's dearest," she avowed, "and I don't want to be in Italy too long. I hope you can do something about Shamus soon."

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

"I can caper to Italy as soon as I pack a mousetrap, a tattoo, and my cream puff."

"You'd better take a banana too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he fumed mysteriously.

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

She rose from her seat and traipsed proudly out of the office. He stared courteously after her.

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