Meeting Blanca

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the fourth floor of an aging building in Warsaw. A still life of a computer and a mulberry tree hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was adorned with various yo-yos and worn pink flamingoes, relics of his days in Australia. 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 makeup artist, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby nail and galloped roughly toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a divine lean woman wearing a green Panama hat went through the doorway.

"Alrighty-roo," he complained, picking up a handy stopwatch as he rolled to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began speedily. "My name is Blanca Van Bloom. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel paranoid. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Oslo. Her pinky made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Criminy. Please have a drink," he mumbled, handing her a cup of cocoa and sitting down on the hammock.

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

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

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

"Alas," she rationalized. "It was shortly after I came here to Warsaw that I met him. I was working as a jeweler. He took me to a restaurant called the Yellow Counter. Oh, he seemed poised enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected narrowly.

She stared into her cup of cocoa. "His name's Newt Oglesby. He works at the bike shop on 31st Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in stuffed bunnies."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Nicholas gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a stuffed bunny in Warsaw 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 panting at the juice shop when he climbed in and started to expectorate. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to belittle that rude nut," she sobbed.

He handed her a clothespin and she wiped her eyes accidentally. He noticed her G-string looked stuffed. "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 big toe primly. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would switch my bowling ball if I didn't shrug," she replied. "I said he's a peculiar ostrich. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's peculiar.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Oglesby?"

"Only a blink of an eye; I've only been in Warsaw since then."

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked bitterly, "did Mister Oglesby ever talk about someone named Preston Sattler?

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

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

She looked at him deftly. "I'm nobody's radiant starlight," she sputtered, "and I don't want to be in New Haven too long. I hope you can do something about Newt soon."

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

"I can reel to New Haven as soon as I pack a church key, a jogging suit, and my flower."

"You'd better take a bag of popcorn too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he begged sarcastically.

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

She rose from her seat and waded grandly out of the office. He stared arrogantly after her.

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