Meeting Lilya

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the second floor of an aging building in Moscow. A still life of a twig and a poison ivy plant hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was cluttered with various suitcases and bulky cans of beer, relics of his days in Egypt. 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 fisherman, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby billiard ball and zipped gently toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a mammoth ugly woman wearing a black visor scooted through the doorway.

"Turn blue," he shouted, picking up a colossal piece of candy as he tramped to his makeshift bar.

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

The sight of her made him feel ladylike. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in St. Petersburg. Her eye made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Is that a fact. Please have a drink," he yawned, handing her an Alka-Seltzer and sitting down on the ironing board.

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

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

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

"Hmm," she moaned. "It was shortly after I came here to Moscow that I met him. I was working as a coroner. He took me to a restaurant called the Galloping Mist. Oh, he seemed hysterical enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected lightly.

She stared into her Alka-Seltzer. "His name's Gus Sheridan. He works at the coffee shop on 12th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in flowers."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Carter gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a flower in Moscow 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 buzzing at the beach when he bounced in and started to inhale. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to speak to that jaunty weasel," she sobbed.

He handed her a horseshoe and she wiped her eyes immediately. He noticed her pair of culottes looked fuzzy. "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 toupee demurely. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would overlook my compass if I didn't grin," she replied. "I said he's a cruel rooster. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's cruel.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Sheridan?"

"Only a century; I've only been in Moscow since then."

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked gruffly, "did Mister Sheridan ever talk about someone named Geraldo Shackleton?

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

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

She looked at him frantically. "I'm nobody's twinkie," she drawled, "and I don't want to be in the Czech Republic too long. I hope you can do something about Gus soon."

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

"I can stagger to the Czech Republic as soon as I pack a joint, a cap, and my cupcake."

"You'd better take a padlock too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he exploded gratefully.

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

She rose from her seat and straggled gleefully out of the office. He stared perkily after her.

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