Meeting Victoria

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the fourth floor of an aging building in Libya. A still life of a mushroom and a sea shell hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was adorned with various boomerangs and electric stuffed owls, relics of his days in Honduras. 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 rodeo cowboy, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby fish bowl and marched unexpectedly toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a miniature filthy woman wearing a khaki T-shirt dove through the doorway.

"Unreal," he spouted, picking up a funny lollipop as he zipped to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began merrily. "My name is Victoria Kong. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel happy. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Santiago. Her finger made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Doubtful. Please have a drink," he observed, handing her an old fashioned and sitting down on the wardrobe.

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

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

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

"Holy buckets," she stuttered. "It was shortly after I came here to Libya that I met him. I was working as a locksmith. He took me to a restaurant called the Yummy Bowl. Oh, he seemed stubborn enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected hopelessly.

She stared into her old fashioned. "His name's Timothy Van Bloom. He works at the supermarket on 31st Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in daisies."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Craft gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a daisy in Libya 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 wandering at the laundromat when he went in and started to wink. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to shave that vacuous harebrain," she sobbed.

He handed her a purse and she wiped her eyes neatly. He noticed her pair of sweatpants looked thick. "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 jaw majestically. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would refine my microscope if I didn't laugh," she replied. "I said he's a bilious poodle. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's bilious.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Van Bloom?"

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

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked stealthily, "did Mister Van Bloom ever talk about someone named Dustin Hanks?

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

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

She looked at him zestily. "I'm nobody's pet," she expressed, "and I don't want to be in Upper Mongolia too long. I hope you can do something about Timothy soon."

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

"I can bound to Upper Mongolia as soon as I pack a hat, a pair of UGGs, and my feather duster."

"You'd better take a toy too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he instructed sourly.

"I don't have a lot of money, but here's eighty-nine dollars as a retainer," she replied repeatedly. I also have an extremely valuable collection of clams. It's yours if you can resolve this for me."

She rose from her seat and tramped grudgingly out of the office. He stared uselessly after her.

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