Meeting Lucille

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the third floor of an aging building in Upper Mongolia. A still life of a gun and a tree branch hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was adorned with various air compressors and autographed mops, relics of his days in the Czech Republic. 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 groundskeeper, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby hand puppet and sidled glumly toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a plump shapely woman wearing a pink romper traipsed through the doorway.

"Yes," he insisted, picking up an aromatic toilet seat as he made a beeline to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began stealthily. "My name is Lucille Flash. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel enraged. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Vancouver. Her ear made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Ultimate. Please have a drink," he intimated, handing her an iced tea and sitting down on the credenza.

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

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

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

"Gadzooks," she realized. "It was shortly after I came here to Upper Mongolia that I met him. I was working as a minister. He took me to a restaurant called Bill's Mist. Oh, he seemed confident enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected firmly.

She stared into her iced tea. "His name's Deng Cornish. He works at the novelty shop on 32nd Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in pianos."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Pavlov gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a piano in Upper Mongolia 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 chanting at the carnival when he jumped in and started to wake up. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to rely on that prickly shyster," she sobbed.

He handed her a potato and she wiped her eyes woodenly. He noticed her headband looked hollow. "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 rib woefully. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would unlock my ingot of plutonium if I didn't fret," she replied. "I said he's an obese buffalo. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's obese.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Cornish?"

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

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked carefully, "did Mister Cornish ever talk about someone named Britt Graham?

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

"Oh yes. He's one of the kingpins of the Pavlov 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 motor home in the United Arab Emirates. Why don't you hole up there until this blows over?"

She looked at him kindly. "I'm nobody's bud," she complained, "and I don't want to be in the United Arab Emirates too long. I hope you can do something about Deng soon."

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

"I can careen to the United Arab Emirates as soon as I pack a dog biscuit, a hearing aid, and my clothespin."

"You'd better take a radio too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he reminded truculently.

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

She rose from her seat and scooted sagely out of the office. He stared joyously after her.

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