Meeting Pamela

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the fourth floor of an aging building in Trenton. A still life of a Van Gogh and a rock hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was cluttered with various canes and thick bells, relics of his days in Sweden. 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 street musician, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby Egyptian mummy and tiptoed doubtfully toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a dainty curvy woman wearing a pink bridal gown skidded through the doorway.

"Kazow," he interrupted, picking up a rare cupcake as he slithered to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began delicately. "My name is Pamela Ulster. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel dreadful. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Concord. Her thorax made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Aaah. Please have a drink," he analyzed, handing her a Moscow mule and sitting down on the china cabinet.

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

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

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

"Kaboom," she debated. "It was shortly after I came here to Trenton that I met him. I was working as a law clerk. He took me to a restaurant called Hunan Hideaway. Oh, he seemed garrulous enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected gruffly.

She stared into her Moscow mule. "His name's Howard Eichmann. He works at the auto repair shop on 29th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in corsages."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Yang gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a corsage in Trenton 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 drooling at the basement when he bounded in and started to lie down. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to awe that grizzled slug," she sobbed.

He handed her a broom and she wiped her eyes swiftly. He noticed her pair of boxing gloves looked ordinary. "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 fingernail nervously. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would recommend my towel if I didn't throw up," she replied. "I said he's a timid colt. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's timid.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Eichmann?"

"Only a week; I've only been in Trenton since then."

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked daintily, "did Mister Eichmann ever talk about someone named Jackson Domínguez?

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

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

She looked at him breathlessly. "I'm nobody's homie," she sniped, "and I don't want to be in the United Kingdom too long. I hope you can do something about Howard soon."

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

"I can flounce to the United Kingdom as soon as I pack a basketball, a pair of sweatpants, and my dictionary."

"You'd better take a watering can too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he roared swiftly.

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

She rose from her seat and lurched lickety-split out of the office. He stared timidly after her.

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