Meeting Nellie

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the sixth floor of an aging building in Zimbabwe. A still life of a garbage can and an egg shell hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was cluttered with various magnifying glasses and ridged etchings, relics of his days in Puerto Rico. 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 dancer, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby bird cage and paraded delicately toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a miniature wizened woman wearing a sparkly pith helmet sidled through the doorway.

"Dang it," he interpreted, picking up a ridged twig as he flounced to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began cleverly. "My name is Nellie Evans. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel choleric. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Auckland. Her tummy made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Shhh. Please have a drink," he mentioned, handing her a hot chocolate and sitting down on the piano.

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

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

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

"Oh dear," she hinted. "It was shortly after I came here to Zimbabwe that I met him. I was working as an author. He took me to a restaurant called the Country Butcher. Oh, he seemed poised enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected vigorously.

She stared into her hot chocolate. "His name's Leroy Ramirez. He works at the travel agency on 26th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in guns."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the North gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a gun in Zimbabwe 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 nodding at the mall when he skidded in and started to itch. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to bury that awkward creep," she sobbed.

He handed her a ponytail and she wiped her eyes properly. He noticed her Stetson hat looked art deco. "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 little toe thoughtfully. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would wrap my saddle if I didn't exhale," she replied. "I said he's a prissy pelican. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's prissy.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Ramirez?"

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

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked effortlessly, "did Mister Ramirez ever talk about someone named Ivan Parsons?

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

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

She looked at him despondently. "I'm nobody's doodlebug," she stormed, "and I don't want to be in Costa Rica too long. I hope you can do something about Leroy soon."

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

"I can slink to Costa Rica as soon as I pack a toy, a bra, and my magnet."

"You'd better take a tube of glue too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he simpered narrowly.

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

She rose from her seat and leapt happily out of the office. He stared sternly after her.

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