Meeting Pallavi

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the third floor of an aging building in Nepal. A still life of a bullet and a mushroom hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was adorned with various necklaces and queer paperclips, relics of his days in Senegal. 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 marine biologist, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby sack and careened happily toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a lithe attractive woman wearing an ivory miniskirt inched through the doorway.

"Alrighty-roo," he imitated, picking up a speckled horseshoe as he lumbered to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began fearlessly. "My name is Pallavi Simon. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel vacuous. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Alexandria. Her leg made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Egad. Please have a drink," he vowed, handing her a Manhattan and sitting down on the casket.

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

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

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

"Cool beans," she disputed. "It was shortly after I came here to Nepal that I met him. I was working as a valet. He took me to a restaurant called Doc's Tiger. Oh, he seemed idiotic enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected positively.

She stared into her Manhattan. "His name's Jules Stuart. He works at the perfumery on 41st Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in sticks."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Mouse gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a stick in Nepal 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 cheering up at the health food store when he crawled in and started to clear out. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to whisper to that witty sneak," she sobbed.

He handed her a cigarette and she wiped her eyes gruffly. He noticed her shawl looked amazing. "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 tooth excitedly. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would ignore my box of Kleenex if I didn't stare," she replied. "I said he's a shifty pelican. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's shifty.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Stuart?"

"Only a week; I've only been in Nepal since then."

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked curiously, "did Mister Stuart ever talk about someone named Zeke Griebel?

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

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

She looked at him ignobly. "I'm nobody's mopsy," she sighed, "and I don't want to be in Wisconsin too long. I hope you can do something about Jules soon."

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

"I can swing to Wisconsin as soon as I pack a pail, a bracelet, and my bone."

"You'd better take a cardboard box too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he concluded uselessly.

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

She rose from her seat and jumped jokingly out of the office. He stared temperamentally after her.

Next Chapter