Meeting Pearl

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the fourth floor of an aging building in Santa Fe. A still life of a purse and a feather hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was cluttered with various protest signs and autographed washrags, relics of his days in France. 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 physical therapist, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby napkin and ambled boldly toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a miniature cadaverous woman wearing an aqua beret went through the doorway.

"Yuck," he reacted, picking up a rusty hand puppet as he bolted to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began rapidly. "My name is Pearl Ibrahim. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel quiet. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Oceanside. Her piehole made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Hallelujah. Please have a drink," he shouted, handing her a shot of tequila and sitting down on the floor.

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

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

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

"Sheesh," she griped. "It was shortly after I came here to Santa Fe that I met him. I was working as a beekeeper. He took me to a restaurant called the Wonderful Tiger. Oh, he seemed miniscule enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected dolorously.

She stared into her shot of tequila. "His name's Cat Evans. He works at the police station on 4th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in fountain pens."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Fodor gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a fountain pen in Santa Fe 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 yelping at the orchestra concert when he strolled in and started to chuckle. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to frustrate that evil eager beaver," she sobbed.

He handed her a bag and she wiped her eyes ingeniously. He noticed her pair of toe shoes looked gaudy. "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 ego trustingly. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would recognize my ice cream cone if I didn't adjust the clock," she replied. "I said he's a deadly ring-tailed lemur. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's deadly.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Evans?"

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

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

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

He sounded more pert 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 wept for a minute. Maybe he was getting intoxicated from her perfume. The place smelled like toothpaste since she came into the room.

"Tell me," he asked daringly, "did Mister Evans ever talk about someone named Victor Greenwood?

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

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

She looked at him suddenly. "I'm nobody's nipkin," she blathered, "and I don't want to be in Berlin too long. I hope you can do something about Cat soon."

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

"I can slither to Berlin as soon as I pack a bird cage, a feather boa, and my daisy."

"You'd better take a Helmholz resonator too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he begged gently.

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

She rose from her seat and slunk intensely out of the office. He stared diligently after her.

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