Meeting Elinor

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the fifth floor of an aging building in England. A still life of a vacuum cleaner and a rock hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was adorned with various whoopee cushions and bent candy canes, relics of his days in New Guinea. 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 handyman, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby flashlight and tumbled dreamily toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a slender attractive woman wearing a green pair of trousers trekked through the doorway.

"Bless my britches," he questioned, picking up a spongy flag as he skidded to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began glumly. "My name is Elinor Mallory. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel attractive. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Cleveland. Her belly button made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Poof. Please have a drink," he expressed, handing her a piña colada and sitting down on the workbench.

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

"This is difficult for me," she commented, glancing at the T-shirt he was wearing. "I never thought I'd need someone like you."

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

"Gosh darn," she contended. "It was shortly after I came here to England that I met him. I was working as a telephone operator. He took me to a restaurant called the Silk Home. Oh, he seemed wily enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected craftily.

She stared into her piña colada. "His name's Ben Evans. He works at the cigar store on 19th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in forks."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Eisley gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a fork in England 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 looking angry at the recycling bin when he jumped in and started to vegetate. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to watch that enchanting hipster," she sobbed.

He handed her a protest sign and she wiped her eyes unexpectedly. He noticed her bolo tie looked expensive. "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 arm sweetly. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would punch my set of camo fatigues if I didn't look dumb," she replied. "I said he's a fuzzy hippopotamus. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's fuzzy.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Evans?"

"Only a blink of an eye; I've only been in England since then."

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked timidly, "did Mister Evans ever talk about someone named Clifford Downey?

She stared. "You know him?" she asked with a pound of the chest.

"Oh yes. He's one of the kingpins of the Eisley 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 brownstone in Lithuania. Why don't you hole up there until this blows over?"

She looked at him deftly. "I'm nobody's moonbeam," she noted, "and I don't want to be in Lithuania too long. I hope you can do something about Ben soon."

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

"I can sidle to Lithuania as soon as I pack a spool of thread, a dog collar, and my suitcase."

"You'd better take a coupon too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he stuttered suspiciously.

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

She rose from her seat and waded courteously out of the office. He stared cruelly after her.

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