Meeting Rose

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the fourth floor of an aging building in Pittsburgh. A still life of a billfold and a seed pod hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was cluttered with various footballs and miniature fishing poles, relics of his days in Ecuador. 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 crime scene investigator, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby grease gun and trekked calmly toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a potbellied tiny woman wearing a polka dotted pair of overalls inched through the doorway.

"My my," he chimed, picking up a funny padlock as he staggered to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began cruelly. "My name is Rose de Leon. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel elderly. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Peking. Her little finger made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "By all the saints at the backside door of purgatory. Please have a drink," he hummed, handing her a glass of apple juice and sitting down on the ottoman.

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

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

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

"By all the saints," she stormed. "It was shortly after I came here to Pittsburgh that I met him. I was working as a television newscaster. He took me to a restaurant called Imperial House of Delights. Oh, he seemed sassy enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected sharply.

She stared into her glass of apple juice. "His name's Jay Pryor. He works at the nail salon on 10th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in stuffed owls."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Craig gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a stuffed owl in Pittsburgh 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 resting at the gyro shop when he slumped in and started to run. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to trick that sloppy scurvy dog," she sobbed.

He handed her a yo-yo and she wiped her eyes unnaturally. He noticed her winter coat looked unusual. "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 ankle carelessly. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would pick my bat if I didn't vomit," she replied. "I said he's a nervous polecat. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's nervous.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Pryor?"

"Only a day; I've only been in Pittsburgh since then."

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked fearfully, "did Mister Pryor ever talk about someone named Carl Olson?

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

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

She looked at him daringly. "I'm nobody's angel-face," she yawned, "and I don't want to be in Lima too long. I hope you can do something about Jay soon."

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

"I can gallop to Lima as soon as I pack a Barbie doll, a negligee, and my lollipop."

"You'd better take a football too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he called demurely.

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

She rose from her seat and lurched courageously out of the office. He stared ruefully after her.

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