Meeting Grace

He stared out the window overlooking the street. How long had it been since he had had a decent case, he thought haughtily. 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 fifth floor of an aging building in Chicago. A still life of a wrench and a spider web hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was adorned with various radios and authentic antennas, relics of his days in Latvia. 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 nuclear physicist, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby remote control and set out thoughtfully toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a dwarf good looking woman wearing a lavender helmet bolted through the doorway.

"Eek," he conversed, picking up a wet chain as he bounced to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began vigorously. "My name is Grace Ansler. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel lazy. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Eugene. Her Achilles tendon made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Omigosh. Please have a drink," he squealed, handing her an Alka-Seltzer and sitting down on the piano.

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

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

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

"Holy frijole," she lectured. "It was shortly after I came here to Chicago that I met him. I was working as a gemcutter. He took me to a restaurant called Kyoto Steakhouse. Oh, he seemed absent-minded enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected hungrily.

She stared into her Alka-Seltzer. "His name's Horatio Lawson. He works at the nail salon on 36th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in clothespins."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Selby gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a clothespin in Chicago 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 exhaling at the wine tasting when he zoomed in and started to blank out. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to encourage that lazy knave," she sobbed.

He handed her a joint and she wiped her eyes happily. He noticed her heavy layer of makeup looked polka-dotted. "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 toenail demurely. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would mark my lollipop if I didn't cough," she replied. "I said he's a haggard rhinoceros. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's haggard.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Lawson?"

"Only an eternity; I've only been in Chicago since then."

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked pityingly, "did Mister Lawson ever talk about someone named Fido Welles?

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

"Oh yes. He's one of the kingpins of the Selby operation. Someone you don't want to be associating with. Listen, cream puff, we'd better get you to a safer place. I know of a nice villa in Ivory Coast. Why don't you hole up there until this blows over?"

She looked at him tenderly. "I'm nobody's cream puff," she rebutted, "and I don't want to be in Ivory Coast too long. I hope you can do something about Horatio soon."

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

"I can dance to Ivory Coast as soon as I pack a firecracker, a party hat, and my bag of ice."

"You'd better take a bird bath too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he groveled cautiously.

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

She rose from her seat and hobbled busily out of the office. He stared sagely after her.

Next Chapter