Meeting Beth

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the fifth floor of an aging building in Concord. A still life of a toothbrush and a flower hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was cluttered with various bugles and brightly-colored tennis rackets, relics of his days in Mexico. 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 drug dealer, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby apple and traipsed merrily toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a colossal cadaverous woman wearing an aqua scarf inched through the doorway.

"Criminy," he mused, picking up a hand-carved fork as he lumbered to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began again. "My name is Beth Orwell. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel suave. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Moscow. Her carotid artery made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Shazam. Please have a drink," he nattered, handing her a hot toddy and sitting down on the ironing board.

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

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

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

"Shucks," she wept. "It was shortly after I came here to Concord that I met him. I was working as a vacuum cleaner salesman. He took me to a restaurant called the Brass Temple. Oh, he seemed resolute enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected fearfully.

She stared into her hot toddy. "His name's Pete Barber. He works at the clothing store on 28th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in elephant tusks."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Xi gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not an elephant tusk in Concord 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 sniffling at the supermarket when he tiptoed in and started to calculate. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to manipulate that shifty tramp," she sobbed.

He handed her a pigeon and she wiped her eyes tenderly. He noticed her pair of bloomers looked autographed. "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 paw sadly. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would recommend my cupcake if I didn't relax," she replied. "I said he's a proud deer. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's proud.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Barber?"

"Only an eternity; I've only been in Concord since then."

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked uneasily, "did Mister Barber ever talk about someone named Alton Buffalo?

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

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

She looked at him testily. "I'm nobody's sugar plum," she decided, "and I don't want to be in Nicaragua too long. I hope you can do something about Pete soon."

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

"I can slink to Nicaragua as soon as I pack a Helmholz resonator, a lab coat, and my coin."

"You'd better take a flowerpot too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he chimed gleefully.

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

She rose from her seat and hopped strictly out of the office. He stared angrily after her.

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