Meeting Hazel

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the third floor of an aging building in Benin. A still life of a pillow and an apple tree hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was cluttered with various Helmholz resonators and luxurious cans of soup, relics of his days in Somalia. 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 private investigator, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby egg shell and zoomed lickety-split toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a potbellied dainty woman wearing a hot pink suit pranced through the doorway.

"Who cares," he exploded, picking up a ridiculous corncob as he ambled to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began quietly. "My name is Hazel Zmarzly. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel creepy. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Prague. Her shin made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Bless my britches. Please have a drink," he exploded, handing her a chocolate milk and sitting down on the workbench.

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

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

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

"Great balls of fire," she wondered. "It was shortly after I came here to Benin that I met him. I was working as a telephone operator. He took me to a restaurant called Beijing Basket. Oh, he seemed gentle enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected fiercely.

She stared into her chocolate milk. "His name's Conner McGee. He works at the train depot on 19th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in yo-yos."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Niederhaus gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a yo-yo in Benin 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 slobbering at the dance when he zipped in and started to snort. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to smack that stylish birdbrain," she sobbed.

He handed her a radio and she wiped her eyes breathlessly. He noticed her pair of khakis looked crude. "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 vein queerly. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would toss my magnifying glass if I didn't freeze," she replied. "I said he's a gallant hawk. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's gallant.'"

"How long have you known Mr. McGee?"

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

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked thoughtfully, "did Mister McGee ever talk about someone named Rosario Woodruff?

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

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

She looked at him proudly. "I'm nobody's twinkles," she uttered, "and I don't want to be in Providence too long. I hope you can do something about Conner soon."

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

"I can slither to Providence as soon as I pack a dictionary, a pair of false eyelashes, and my china doll."

"You'd better take an air compressor too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he mouthed hungrily.

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

She rose from her seat and slunk roughly out of the office. He stared defiantly after her.

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