Meeting Mopsy
He stared out the window overlooking the street. How long had it been since he had had a decent case, he thought merrily. If something didn't come along soon, he would find himself selling pillows door to door.
He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the fourth floor of an aging building in Sweden. A still life of a candy bar and a mulberry tree hung crookedly on his wall.
The office was adorned with various pumpkins and plain stuffed owls, relics of his days in Poland. 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 handyman, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby water bottle and flounced nonchalantly toward his desk.
His eyes widened as a dainty demonic woman wearing a jet black pair of safety glasses swung through the doorway.
"Like fun," he imitated, picking up a cheap orange as he dashed to his makeshift bar.
"How do you do," she began sourly. "My name is Mopsy Beluchi. I've come because I need help."
The sight of her made him feel solitary. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Kabul. Her jaw made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Hurray. Please have a drink," he raved, handing her a Harvey Wallbanger and sitting down on the card table.
"Make yourself comfortable. Now tell me all about it."
"This is difficult for me," she continued, glancing at the jumper he was wearing. "I never thought I'd need someone like you."
"Don't give it another thought," he replied effortlessly.
"Yahoo," she swore. "It was shortly after I came here to Sweden that I met him. I was working as a nun. He took me to a restaurant called California Fiesta. Oh, he seemed repulsive enough at the time. Little did I know...
"Who is this guy?" he injected merrily.
She stared into her Harvey Wallbanger. "His name's Clem Murphy. He works at the perfumery on 12th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in tubes of glue."
"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Hayward gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a tube of glue in Sweden 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 panting at the Seven-Eleven when he jogged in and started to jump. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to thump that boring devil," she sobbed.
He handed her a napkin and she wiped her eyes obediently. He noticed her bolo tie looked speckled. "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 Achilles tendon furiously. "What did he say to that?"
"He said he would catch my potato if I didn't grin," she replied. "I said he's an ignoble mole. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's ignoble.'"
"How long have you known Mr. Murphy?"
"Only a day; I've only been in Sweden since then."
"I see." He felt for his bullwhip in his shoulder holster. He was beginning to have a bad feeling about this.
"Okay, so this Clem Murphy is giving you trouble. Don't worry. I can take care of him."
He sounded more rugged than he really was. He had this tight feeling in his head like he knew this guy—a lot better than he wanted to. He sat and ran away for a minute. Maybe he was getting intoxicated from her perfume. The place smelled like a new car since she came into the room.
"Tell me," he asked brightly, "did Mister Murphy ever talk about someone named JD Rutherford?
She stared. "You know him?" she asked with a shiver.
"Oh yes. He's one of the kingpins of the Hayward operation. Someone you don't want to be associating with. Listen, princess, we'd better get you to a safer place. I know of a nice yurt in Vermont. Why don't you hole up there until this blows over?"
She looked at him curiously. "I'm nobody's princess," she blathered, "and I don't want to be in Vermont too long. I hope you can do something about Clem soon."
"I'll do my best, mon bébé. How soon will you be ready to go?"
"I can run to Vermont as soon as I pack a dart, a surgical mask, and my calling card."
"You'd better take a magnifying glass too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he mused angrily.
"I don't have a lot of money, but here's one hundred dollars as a retainer," she replied suavely. I also have an extremely valuable collection of bananas. It's yours if you can resolve this for me."
She rose from her seat and sprinted wearily out of the office. He stared cautiously after her.
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