Meeting Gladys

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the fourth floor of an aging building in El Paso. A still life of a rag and a fish hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was cluttered with various cans of beer and ruined candy bars, relics of his days in Paraguay. 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 ditch digger, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby compass and staggered cleverly toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a gaunt adorable woman wearing a scarlet shawl bounded through the doorway.

"Gotta love it," he persisted, picking up a curved pigeon as he walked to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began angrily. "My name is Gladys Miller. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel happy. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Pueblo. Her claw made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Hey. Please have a drink," he chattered, handing her a gin sour and sitting down on the floor.

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

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

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

"Very funny," she wondered. "It was shortly after I came here to El Paso that I met him. I was working as an usher. He took me to a restaurant called Hillside Tiger. Oh, he seemed artistic enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected fondly.

She stared into her gin sour. "His name's Harvey Barcelo. He works at the pet shop on 9th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in tote bags."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the O'Sullivan gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a tote bag in El Paso 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 puckering at the dance when he blundered in and started to jiggle. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to peek at that hairy dope," she sobbed.

He handed her a coin and she wiped her eyes defiantly. He noticed her jumpsuit looked polka-dotted. "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 eyelid carelessly. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would burn my Kindle if I didn't show up," she replied. "I said he's a bald rabbit. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's bald.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Barcelo?"

"Only a week; I've only been in El Paso since then."

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked crankily, "did Mister Barcelo ever talk about someone named Dirk Hall?

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

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

She looked at him blindly. "I'm nobody's little blossom," she quavered, "and I don't want to be in Kenya too long. I hope you can do something about Harvey soon."

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

"I can lumber to Kenya as soon as I pack a magnet, a robe, and my primrose."

"You'd better take a plaque too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he yelled demurely.

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

She rose from her seat and went cleverly out of the office. He stared caustically after her.

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