Meeting Hagit

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the tenth floor of an aging building in Kiev. A still life of a bedpan and a pine cone hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was adorned with various rocks and porcelain wastebaskets, relics of his days in Hungary. 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 fisherman, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby Lego set and sauntered humbly toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a thin albino woman wearing a jade bib sallied forth through the doorway.

"Fribblenootums," he disputed, picking up an art deco ingot of plutonium as he set out to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began trustingly. "My name is Hagit Small. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel polite. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Long Beach. Her thigh made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Um. Please have a drink," he howled, handing her a tequila sunrise and sitting down on the rug.

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

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

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

"Nooo," she fumed. "It was shortly after I came here to Kiev that I met him. I was working as an investment banker. He took me to a restaurant called Gourmet Star. Oh, he seemed proud enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected testily.

She stared into her tequila sunrise. "His name's Tex Metzger. He works at the bank on 36th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in chamber pots."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Watts gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a chamber pot in Kiev 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 lying down at the library when he jumped in and started to growl. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to operate on that selfish punk," she sobbed.

He handed her a flyswatter and she wiped her eyes pitifully. He noticed her stovepipe hat looked overgrown. "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 hand again. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would score my baseball if I didn't creep," she replied. "I said he's a mean colt. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's mean.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Metzger?"

"Only a day; I've only been in Kiev since then."

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked ruefully, "did Mister Metzger ever talk about someone named Victor Dietrich?

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

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

She looked at him humbly. "I'm nobody's precious," she reacted, "and I don't want to be in Benin too long. I hope you can do something about Tex soon."

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

"I can storm to Benin as soon as I pack a coin, a bib, and my Lego set."

"You'd better take a teacup too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he groaned stupidly.

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

She rose from her seat and careened dolefully out of the office. He stared energetically after her.

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