Meeting Elly

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the seventh floor of an aging building in Romania. A still life of a coin and a bit of moss hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was adorned with various Bibles and tiny necklaces, relics of his days in Kosovo. 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 dog catcher, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby necklace and stalked intensely toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a tubby small woman wearing a green poodle skirt bolted through the doorway.

"Durn," he protested, picking up a smooth corsage as he loped to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began automatically. "My name is Elly Ostrander. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel smart. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Orlando. Her hangnail made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Gosh. Please have a drink," he intimated, handing her a mint julep and sitting down on the nightstand.

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

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

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

"Roger that," she croaked. "It was shortly after I came here to Romania that I met him. I was working as an organic farmer. He took me to a restaurant called the Roman Pig. Oh, he seemed disgusting enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected stealthily.

She stared into her mint julep. "His name's Archie Tuckerman. He works at the novelty shop on 21st Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in flashlights."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Koch gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a flashlight in Romania 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 digesting at the jail when he tiptoed in and started to cogitate. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to appease that enchanting dummy," she sobbed.

He handed her a suitcase and she wiped her eyes cheerfully. He noticed her coonskin hat looked heavy. "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 knee brightly. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would push my balloon if I didn't snore," she replied. "I said he's a repulsive parrot. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's repulsive.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Tuckerman?"

"Only a day; I've only been in Romania since then."

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked speedily, "did Mister Tuckerman ever talk about someone named Irving Peng?

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

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

She looked at him sourly. "I'm nobody's love," she sighed, "and I don't want to be in Wisconsin too long. I hope you can do something about Archie soon."

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

"I can stagger to Wisconsin as soon as I pack a hat, a pair of briefs, and my box of Kleenex."

"You'd better take a top too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he sputtered sagely.

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

She rose from her seat and traipsed hungrily out of the office. He stared strangely after her.

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