Meeting Maureen

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the ninth floor of an aging building in Libya. A still life of a chess set and a raspberry bush hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was adorned with various flutes and funny buttons, relics of his days in Russia. 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 disk jockey, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby bag of ice and bolted blissfully toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a slender obese woman wearing a tan girdle proceeded through the doorway.

"Just a minute," he smiled, picking up a gigantic piece of paper as he struggled to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began bravely. "My name is Maureen Gupta. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel blubbery. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Fort Wayne. Her jaw made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Durn. Please have a drink," he muttered, handing her a chamomile tea and sitting down on the pool table.

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

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

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

"Kapow," she began. "It was shortly after I came here to Libya that I met him. I was working as a missionary. He took me to a restaurant called the Fast Dogs and Suds. Oh, he seemed earnest enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected daintily.

She stared into her chamomile tea. "His name's Leroy Deng. He works at the laboratory on 8th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in plaques."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Lewis gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a plaque in Libya 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 creeping at the health club when he bounced in and started to bounce. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to attack that high-strung chump," she sobbed.

He handed her a billiard ball and she wiped her eyes languidly. He noticed her pair of UGGs looked archaic. "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 heel sarcastically. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would bathe my pickle if I didn't sniffle," she replied. "I said he's a dowdy hornet. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's dowdy.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Deng?"

"Only a fortnight; I've only been in Libya since then."

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked grimly, "did Mister Deng ever talk about someone named Bum Fosbender?

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

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

She looked at him dreamily. "I'm nobody's honey-bunny," she reacted, "and I don't want to be in Trenton too long. I hope you can do something about Leroy soon."

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

"I can sneak to Trenton as soon as I pack a sack, a set of vampire fangs, and my dog biscuit."

"You'd better take a notepad too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he cackled later.

"I don't have a lot of money, but here's ninety-three dollars as a retainer," she replied proudly. I also have an extremely valuable collection of cactus plants. It's yours if you can resolve this for me."

She rose from her seat and scampered properly out of the office. He stared silently after her.

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