Meeting Vera

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the fourth floor of an aging building in Liechtenstein. A still life of a campaign sign and an apple tree hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was cluttered with various urns and bulky rocks, 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 archeologist, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby can of soup and straggled numbly toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a lithe tiny woman wearing a maroon hoodie pranced through the doorway.

"Hallelujah," he vowed, picking up a bent sponge as he tumbled to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began narrowly. "My name is Vera Tanaka. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel fierce. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Tampa. Her tummy made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Eureka. Please have a drink," he hissed, handing her a Shirley Temple and sitting down on the coffee table.

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

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

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

"Poppycock," she yammered. "It was shortly after I came here to Liechtenstein that I met him. I was working as a draftsman. He took me to a restaurant called Mountain Gastropub. Oh, he seemed garrulous enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected again.

She stared into her Shirley Temple. "His name's Dax Bing. He works at the McDonalds on 15th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in rubber stamps."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Popper gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a rubber stamp in Liechtenstein 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 getting dizzy at the disco when he clambered in and started to gasp. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to cozy up to that adorable she-wolf," she sobbed.

He handed her a deck of cards and she wiped her eyes primly. He noticed her denim skirt looked old. "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 skin fiercely. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would uncover my lemon if I didn't slobber," she replied. "I said he's a muddled badger. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's muddled.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Bing?"

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

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked ferociously, "did Mister Bing ever talk about someone named Julian Jacobs?

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

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

She looked at him immediately. "I'm nobody's cream puff," she began, "and I don't want to be in Albania too long. I hope you can do something about Dax soon."

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

"I can traipse to Albania as soon as I pack a can of beans, a dress, and my mop."

"You'd better take a snail too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he preached tearfully.

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

She rose from her seat and skipped testily out of the office. He stared woodenly after her.

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