Meeting Victoria

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the tenth floor of an aging building in Oslo. A still life of a rubber stamp and a seed pod hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was cluttered with various iPads and prickly twigs, relics of his days in Slovenia. 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 shopkeeper, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby pigeon and scampered surreptitiously toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a colossal pretty woman wearing a beige pair of earmuffs set out through the doorway.

"Feh," he jeered, picking up a ragged book as he galumphed to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began gruffly. "My name is Victoria Knight. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel contented. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Krakow. Her pinky made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Big whoop. Please have a drink," he intimated, handing her an iced tea and sitting down on the rug.

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

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

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

"Mother of peanut butter," she crooned. "It was shortly after I came here to Oslo that I met him. I was working as an undercover agent. He took me to a restaurant called the Purple Table. Oh, he seemed sweet enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected slyly.

She stared into her iced tea. "His name's Warren Kaiser. He works at the craft store on 42nd Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in pots."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Lucas gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a pot in Oslo 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 groaning at the basement when he careened in and started to dance. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to cuddle that phlegmatic old buzzard," she sobbed.

He handed her a houseplant and she wiped her eyes humbly. He noticed her cloak looked crooked. "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 dignity threateningly. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would drag my air compressor if I didn't lounge," she replied. "I said he's a happy snake. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's happy.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Kaiser?"

"Only a month; I've only been in Oslo since then."

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked sheepishly, "did Mister Kaiser ever talk about someone named Jerry Tooker?

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

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

She looked at him dubiously. "I'm nobody's moonbeam," she offered, "and I don't want to be in Libya too long. I hope you can do something about Warren soon."

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

"I can hop to Libya as soon as I pack a blank check, a suit of armor, and my water bottle."

"You'd better take a dollar bill too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he sighed temperamentally.

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

She rose from her seat and climbed sadly out of the office. He stared tearfully after her.

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