Meeting Penelope

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the second floor of an aging building in Albania. A still life of a calling card and a cactus hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was adorned with various skulls and clean dolls, relics of his days in South Africa. 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 box of Kleenex and dashed doubtfully toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a tall pallid woman wearing a grey belly button jewel sped through the doorway.

"Okay then," he hissed, picking up an overgrown chess set as he stormed to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began cheerfully. "My name is Penelope Frankowitz. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel pert. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Columbus. Her eyeball made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Hallelujah. Please have a drink," he reacted, handing her a cup of eggnog and sitting down on the stairway.

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

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

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

"Far out," she vouched. "It was shortly after I came here to Albania that I met him. I was working as a traveling salesman. He took me to a restaurant called the Bamboo Oven. Oh, he seemed wicked enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected haughtily.

She stared into her cup of eggnog. "His name's Bill Scoville. He works at the malt shop on 31st Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in toothbrushes."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the McGee gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a toothbrush in Albania 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 purring at the K-Mart when he walked in and started to meow. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to dismay that brash snake," she sobbed.

He handed her a basketball and she wiped her eyes menacingly. He noticed her bow tie looked smelly. "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 antenna woefully. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would submerse my water bottle if I didn't bleed," she replied. "I said he's a dreadful chipmunk. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's dreadful.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Scoville?"

"Only a lifetime; I've only been in Albania since then."

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked positively, "did Mister Scoville ever talk about someone named Ole Flash?

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

"Oh yes. He's one of the kingpins of the McGee operation. Someone you don't want to be associating with. Listen, radiant starlight, we'd better get you to a safer place. I know of a nice subway tunnel in the Czech Republic. Why don't you hole up there until this blows over?"

She looked at him shyly. "I'm nobody's radiant starlight," she asked, "and I don't want to be in the Czech Republic too long. I hope you can do something about Bill soon."

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

"I can leap to the Czech Republic as soon as I pack a carrot, a cummerbund, and my cane."

"You'd better take a pair of fuzzy dice too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he stuttered repeatedly.

"I don't have a lot of money, but here's two hundred six dollars as a retainer," she replied hopelessly. I also have an extremely valuable collection of telephone books. It's yours if you can resolve this for me."

She rose from her seat and scampered admiringly out of the office. He stared coolly after her.

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