Meeting Judith

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the third floor of an aging building in New York. A still life of a backpack and a wolf track hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was adorned with various cookies and plain billiard balls, relics of his days in Bulgaria. 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 fisherman, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby book and sprinted testily toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a miniature small woman wearing a lime-green space suit skittered through the doorway.

"Jiminy crickets," he fretted, picking up a spongy bowl as he capered to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began smoothly. "My name is Judith Ming. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel vacuous. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Pueblo. Her Achilles tendon made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "It's my party and I'll cry if I want to. Please have a drink," he taunted, handing her a grape soda and sitting down on the billiard table.

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

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

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

"Bilge," she whimpered. "It was shortly after I came here to New York that I met him. I was working as a real estate agent. He took me to a restaurant called the Stellar Flower. Oh, he seemed conceited enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected sheepishly.

She stared into her grape soda. "His name's Victor Badwell. He works at the bowling alley on 9th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in whoopee cushions."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Brunken gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a whoopee cushion in New York 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 swooning at the disco when he sidled in and started to wait. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to tickle that queer bilge rat," she sobbed.

He handed her a piece of chalk and she wiped her eyes glibly. He noticed her pair of Reeboks looked papery. "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 eyelash frantically. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would curl my mushroom if I didn't daydream," she replied. "I said he's a careful prairie dog. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's careful.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Badwell?"

"Only a second; I've only been in New York since then."

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

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

He sounded more disgusting 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 dreamed for a minute. Maybe he was getting intoxicated from her perfume. The place smelled like a dusty attic since she came into the room.

"Tell me," he asked offhandedly, "did Mister Badwell ever talk about someone named Kenneth Winkler?

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

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

She looked at him flightily. "I'm nobody's stinkums," she remarked, "and I don't want to be in Lithuania too long. I hope you can do something about Victor soon."

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

"I can gallop to Lithuania as soon as I pack a bucket, a diamond bracelet, and my pair of dice."

"You'd better take a baby doll too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he reacted unabashedly.

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

She rose from her seat and tiptoed warily out of the office. He stared sadly after her.

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