Meeting Pearl

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the fourth floor of an aging building in Vatican City. A still life of a yo-yo and a tree hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was cluttered with various spiders and worn whoopee cushions, relics of his days in Greece. 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 social media influencer, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby clarinet and zoomed uselessly toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a scrawny tiny woman wearing a yellow tailcoat waded through the doorway.

"Jeepers," he yelled, picking up an authentic garbage can as he climbed to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began ignobly. "My name is Pearl Bewley. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel dowdy. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Grand Rapids. Her beard made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Goodness me. Please have a drink," he rationalized, handing her a Harvey Wallbanger and sitting down on the hamper.

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

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

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

"Why," she orated. "It was shortly after I came here to Vatican City that I met him. I was working as a groundskeeper. He took me to a restaurant called the Lucky Restaurant. Oh, he seemed colorless enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected lightly.

She stared into her Harvey Wallbanger. "His name's Jeremy Pierce. He works at the brewery on 15th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in crystal balls."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Sokoloff gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a crystal ball in Vatican City 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 adjusting the clock at the taco shop when he lurched in and started to purr. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to look at that bouncy lubberly lout," she sobbed.

He handed her a tube of glue and she wiped her eyes menacingly. He noticed her negligee looked cardboard. "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 femur hungrily. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would load my bag of potato chips if I didn't barf," she replied. "I said he's a thoughtful pelican. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's thoughtful.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Pierce?"

"Only a minute; I've only been in Vatican City since then."

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked defiantly, "did Mister Pierce ever talk about someone named Daniel Bowe?

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

"Oh yes. He's one of the kingpins of the Sokoloff operation. Someone you don't want to be associating with. Listen, joy of my life, we'd better get you to a safer place. I know of a nice mud hut in Malta. Why don't you hole up there until this blows over?"

She looked at him blindly. "I'm nobody's joy of my life," she questioned, "and I don't want to be in Malta too long. I hope you can do something about Jeremy soon."

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

"I can hop to Malta as soon as I pack a cigarette lighter, a set of dentures, and my can of soup."

"You'd better take a peach too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he squeaked hungrily.

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

She rose from her seat and climbed softly out of the office. He stared sagely after her.

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