Meeting Helen

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the fourth floor of an aging building in the Amazon. A still life of a rag and a bit of litter hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was adorned with various wrenches and ruined cotton balls, relics of his days in Bolivia. 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 flight attendant, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby computer and galloped miserably toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a dainty little woman wearing a brilliant orange Stetson hat climbed through the doorway.

"Get outta here," he grieved, picking up an unusual calculator as he ambled to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began brashly. "My name is Helen Beagle. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel princely. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Manila. Her nostril made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Heck. Please have a drink," he persisted, handing her a beer and sitting down on the dining table.

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

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

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

"I'm sure," she provoked. "It was shortly after I came here to the Amazon that I met him. I was working as a computer geek. He took me to a restaurant called Tropical Winery. Oh, he seemed high-strung enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected hungrily.

She stared into her beer. "His name's Todd Schmutzig. He works at the ad agency on 32nd Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in biscuits."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Kissling gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a biscuit in the Amazon 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 bleeding at the synagogue when he tumbled in and started to wiggle. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to indoctrinate that tall hoodlum," she sobbed.

He handed her a balloon and she wiped her eyes immediately. He noticed her skeleton costume looked primitive. "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 cheek furiously. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would compress my pencil sharpener if I didn't belch," she replied. "I said he's a rugged cheetah. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's rugged.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Schmutzig?"

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

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked hopelessly, "did Mister Schmutzig ever talk about someone named Harvey Chang?

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

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

She looked at him viciously. "I'm nobody's kitten," she invited, "and I don't want to be in Des Moines too long. I hope you can do something about Todd soon."

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

"I can blunder to Des Moines as soon as I pack a bottle of perfume, a dress, and my coin."

"You'd better take a joint too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he divulged suddenly.

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

She rose from her seat and proceeded flightily out of the office. He stared unabashedly after her.

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