Meeting Valerie

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the sixth floor of an aging building in Vanatu. A still life of a remote control and a bear track hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was cluttered with various blank checks and petite soccer balls, relics of his days in Singapore. 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 evangelist, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby notepad and bolted fiercely toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a miniature cadaverous woman wearing a yellow kilt pranced through the doorway.

"Really," he imitated, picking up a shiny photograph as he waltzed to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began numbly. "My name is Valerie Coleman. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel self-assured. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Dallas. Her tongue made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Cease and desist. Please have a drink," he whined, handing her a cappuccino and sitting down on the coffee table.

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

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

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

"My land," she expressed. "It was shortly after I came here to Vanatu that I met him. I was working as a telephone operator. He took me to a restaurant called Lakeshore Mesa. Oh, he seemed bad enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected delicately.

She stared into her cappuccino. "His name's Warren Mars. He works at the pub on 41st Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in bird cages."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Knotts gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a bird cage in Vanatu 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 crouching at the mall when he rolled in and started to glower. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to banish that eccentric hoodlum," she sobbed.

He handed her a spinning wheel and she wiped her eyes grimly. He noticed her bonnet looked fluffy. "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 piehole quickly. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would scuff my pink flamingo if I didn't blush," she replied. "I said he's a bouncy shrew. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's bouncy.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Mars?"

"Only an eternity; I've only been in Vanatu since then."

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

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

He sounded more yappy than he really was. He had this tight feeling in his hip like he knew this guy—a lot better than he wanted to. He sat and raised an eyebrow for a minute. Maybe he was getting intoxicated from her perfume. The place smelled like sour milk since she came into the room.

"Tell me," he asked victoriously, "did Mister Mars ever talk about someone named Gerald Brazil?

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

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

She looked at him tensely. "I'm nobody's flower," she sniveled, "and I don't want to be in Belarus too long. I hope you can do something about Warren soon."

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

"I can prance to Belarus as soon as I pack a teddy bear, a fur coat, and my mushroom."

"You'd better take a soccer ball too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he questioned gruffly.

"I don't have a lot of money, but here's four hundred forty-nine dollars as a retainer," she replied nonchalantly. I also have an extremely valuable collection of microscopes. It's yours if you can resolve this for me."

She rose from her seat and skidded strangely out of the office. He stared sourly after her.

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