Meeting Toni

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

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

The office was cluttered with various flowerpots and delicate helmets, relics of his days in Latvia. 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 organist, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby tube of glue and slumped quickly toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a lanky alert woman wearing a terra cotta bolo tie ran through the doorway.

"Gee whillikers," he blubbered, picking up a filthy key as he capered to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began sympathetically. "My name is Toni Palin. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel phlegmatic. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in New York. Her skin made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "When pigs fly. Please have a drink," he chattered, handing her a bottle of Gatorade and sitting down on the china cabinet.

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

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

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

"Gee," she commented. "It was shortly after I came here to Greece that I met him. I was working as a stagehand. He took me to a restaurant called the Rainbow Food Blitz. Oh, he seemed dowdy enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected tenderly.

She stared into her bottle of Gatorade. "His name's Aristotle Corialis. He works at the pub on 38th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in toilet plungers."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Wells gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a toilet plunger in Greece 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 waiting at the swimming pool when he bounded in and started to roll. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to attack that atrocious flake," she sobbed.

He handed her a piggy bank and she wiped her eyes wearily. He noticed her towel looked flaky. "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 eyelash deliberately. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would duplicate my china doll if I didn't crouch," she replied. "I said he's a lanky opossum. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's lanky.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Corialis?"

"Only a second; I've only been in Greece since then."

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked jokingly, "did Mister Corialis ever talk about someone named Alexei Carver?

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

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

She looked at him automatically. "I'm nobody's main squeeze," she called, "and I don't want to be in Afghanistan too long. I hope you can do something about Aristotle soon."

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

"I can barrel to Afghanistan as soon as I pack a radio, a pair of gloves, and my duffel bag."

"You'd better take a fountain pen too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he cried happily.

"I don't have a lot of money, but here's seventeen dollars as a retainer," she replied firmly. I also have an extremely valuable collection of teddy bears. It's yours if you can resolve this for me."

She rose from her seat and clambered perkily out of the office. He stared flightily after her.

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