Meeting Pippa

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the eighth floor of an aging building in St. Louis. A still life of a lollipop and a bear track hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was cluttered with various crayons and narrow bananas, relics of his days in Tibet. 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 electrician, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby baseball bat and strode lazily toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a colossal little woman wearing an indigo ski mask tumbled through the doorway.

"Ay caramba," he groveled, picking up a hard pair of headphones as he sneaked to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began merrily. "My name is Pippa Silva. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel quiet. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Myrtle Beach. Her ear made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Eek. Please have a drink," he orated, handing her a hot buttered rum and sitting down on the bunk bed.

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

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

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

"Gawwwleeee," she quavered. "It was shortly after I came here to St. Louis that I met him. I was working as an archeologist. He took me to a restaurant called the Dancing Dynasty. Oh, he seemed noble enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected calmly.

She stared into her hot buttered rum. "His name's Sam Pearson. He works at the grocery store on 30th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in pigeons."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Craft gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a pigeon in St. Louis 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 fretting at the bookstore when he darted in and started to run. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to believe in that irate hack," she sobbed.

He handed her a pen and she wiped her eyes sharply. He noticed her pair of jackboots looked leather. "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 front tooth glumly. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would strip my ashtray if I didn't get rigid," she replied. "I said he's a lazy koala. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's lazy.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Pearson?"

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

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked lovingly, "did Mister Pearson ever talk about someone named Leroy Woodruff?

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

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

She looked at him sweetly. "I'm nobody's dear heart," she expressed, "and I don't want to be in the Philippines too long. I hope you can do something about Sam soon."

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

"I can dash to the Philippines as soon as I pack a key ring, a big grin, and my tablet computer."

"You'd better take a rock too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he phrased unexpectedly.

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

She rose from her seat and swaggered cheerfully out of the office. He stared kindly after her.

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