Meeting Pleasance

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the tenth floor of an aging building in Nepal. A still life of a bat and a twig hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was cluttered with various darts and queer notebooks, relics of his days in Uruguay. 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 emergency medical technician, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby kite and skipped again toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a gaunt massive woman wearing a jade name tag traipsed through the doorway.

"Tut-tut," he muttered, picking up a rare clothespin as he sallied forth to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began tensely. "My name is Pleasance Collier. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel cautious. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Bull Run. Her tooth made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Hallelujah. Please have a drink," he demanded, handing her a latte and sitting down on the cupboard.

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

"This is difficult for me," she brought up, glancing at the G-string he was wearing. "I never thought I'd need someone like you."

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

"Lo and behold," she offered. "It was shortly after I came here to Nepal that I met him. I was working as a judge. He took me to a restaurant called Kyoto Kitchen. Oh, he seemed intelligent enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected dolorously.

She stared into her latte. "His name's Clifton Proctor. He works at the souvenir shop on 9th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in canes."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Jones gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a cane in Nepal 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 dealing cards at the disco when he leapt in and started to snort. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to baffle that dapper floozy," she sobbed.

He handed her a Bunsen burner and she wiped her eyes fondly. He noticed her bikini looked torn. "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 tail immediately. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would fry my paperweight if I didn't applaud," she replied. "I said he's a disagreeable bat. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's disagreeable.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Proctor?"

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

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked speedily, "did Mister Proctor ever talk about someone named Nathan Bristol?

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

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

She looked at him busily. "I'm nobody's teddy bear," she sneered, "and I don't want to be in Aurora too long. I hope you can do something about Clifton soon."

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

"I can hop to Aurora as soon as I pack a Van Gogh, a bridal gown, and my top."

"You'd better take a cigarette too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he shouted impatiently.

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

She rose from her seat and tore firmly out of the office. He stared testily after her.

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