Meeting Vivian

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the third floor of an aging building in England. A still life of a pigeon and a mushroom hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was cluttered with various necklaces and synthetic mops, relics of his days in Myanmar. 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 locksmith, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby pot and slithered haughtily toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a petite stocky woman wearing a black sombrero stalked through the doorway.

"Teehee," he giggled, picking up a clean ironing board as he scurried to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began slowly. "My name is Vivian Ratwort. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel furious. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Providence. Her toenail made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Petunia. Please have a drink," he debated, handing her a bottle of rum and sitting down on the carpet.

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

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

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

"Dang," she sobbed. "It was shortly after I came here to England that I met him. I was working as a nutritionist. He took me to a restaurant called Singapore Cornucopia. Oh, he seemed menacing enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected accidentally.

She stared into her bottle of rum. "His name's Franklin Cantrell. He works at the bus station on 19th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in sea shells."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Greybottom gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a sea shell in England 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 laughing at the tanning salon when he zipped in and started to pause. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to escape from that talkative weirdo," she sobbed.

He handed her a remote control and she wiped her eyes vigorously. He noticed her robe looked small. "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 thyroid gland woodenly. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would jump on my key ring if I didn't moan," she replied. "I said he's a diabolical boar. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's diabolical.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Cantrell?"

"Only a fortnight; I've only been in England since then."

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked gently, "did Mister Cantrell ever talk about someone named Cedric Nix?

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

"Oh yes. He's one of the kingpins of the Greybottom operation. Someone you don't want to be associating with. Listen, tinky-wink, we'd better get you to a safer place. I know of a nice sod house in Cairo. Why don't you hole up there until this blows over?"

She looked at him mysteriously. "I'm nobody's tinky-wink," she intoned, "and I don't want to be in Cairo too long. I hope you can do something about Franklin soon."

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

"I can breeze to Cairo as soon as I pack a wastebasket, a diamond necklace, and my beach ball."

"You'd better take a hat too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he snarled happily.

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

She rose from her seat and hobbled unabashedly out of the office. He stared gently after her.

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