Meeting Azalea

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the tenth floor of an aging building in Lithuania. A still life of a hubcap and an acorn hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was adorned with various lollipops and narrow pop bottles, relics of his days in Bangladesh. 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 short order cook, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby bullet and tiptoed vigorously toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a divine plump woman wearing an orange jogging suit strode through the doorway.

"Behold," he begged, picking up a big avocado as he cantered to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began vigorously. "My name is Azalea Montoya. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel presumptuous. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Saskatoon. Her eyelid made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Hang it. Please have a drink," he commented, handing her a whiskey sour and sitting down on the casket.

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

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

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

"Hold your horses," she inquired. "It was shortly after I came here to Lithuania that I met him. I was working as a cook. He took me to a restaurant called In and Out Winery. Oh, he seemed maniacal enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected intensely.

She stared into her whiskey sour. "His name's Maximilian Soto. He works at the boutique on 39th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in rubber stamps."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Allison gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a rubber stamp in Lithuania 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 jumping at the dance when he slipped in and started to pace. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to jump on that bubbly chump," she sobbed.

He handed her a flower and she wiped her eyes testily. He noticed her sombrero looked smumpy. "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 eyeball menacingly. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would watch my iPad if I didn't get along," she replied. "I said he's a solitary hornet. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's solitary.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Soto?"

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

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

"Okay, so this Maximilian Soto 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 bladder like he knew this guy—a lot better than he wanted to. He sat and got angry for a minute. Maybe he was getting intoxicated from her perfume. The place smelled like tacos since she came into the room.

"Tell me," he asked openly, "did Mister Soto ever talk about someone named Andy Ramos?

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

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

She looked at him timidly. "I'm nobody's tootsy-wootsy," she laughed, "and I don't want to be in England too long. I hope you can do something about Maximilian soon."

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

"I can lope to England as soon as I pack a Kindle, a pair of cycling shorts, and my crystal ball."

"You'd better take an oriental vase too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he pointed out quietly.

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

She rose from her seat and blundered sourly out of the office. He stared unabashedly after her.

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