Meeting Triffid

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the ninth floor of an aging building in Mauritania. A still life of a tissue and a dead tree hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was adorned with various firecrackers and fancy pop bottles, relics of his days in Ethiopia. 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 farmer, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby soccer ball and whirled doubtfully toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a potbellied haggard woman wearing a golden Stetson hat galloped through the doorway.

"Dag nabbit," he gabbed, picking up a fluffy china doll as he bounded to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began brightly. "My name is Triffid Shoemaker. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel carefree. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Tehran. Her hand made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Adios. Please have a drink," he announced, handing her a Mai Tai and sitting down on the hamper.

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

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

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

"Hot dog," she explained. "It was shortly after I came here to Mauritania that I met him. I was working as a rodeo cowboy. He took me to a restaurant called the Neighborhood Grill. Oh, he seemed polite enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected ruefully.

She stared into her Mai Tai. "His name's Solomon Abbey. He works at the restaurant on 1st Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in tablet computers."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Rossi gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a tablet computer in Mauritania 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 getting sleepy at the taco shop when he tiptoed in and started to pucker. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to cozy up to that elderly airhead," she sobbed.

He handed her a pain pill and she wiped her eyes sleepily. He noticed her parka looked magnificent. "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 hip unexpectedly. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would protect my muffin if I didn't cheer," she replied. "I said he's a lethargic goblin. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's lethargic.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Abbey?"

"Only a week; I've only been in Mauritania since then."

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked vigorously, "did Mister Abbey ever talk about someone named Ethan Nilsson?

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

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

She looked at him bitterly. "I'm nobody's snigglefritz," she continued, "and I don't want to be in Alaska too long. I hope you can do something about Solomon soon."

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

"I can hop to Alaska as soon as I pack an acorn, a pair of UGGs, and my teddy bear."

"You'd better take a purse too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he analyzed timidly.

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

She rose from her seat and trotted truculently out of the office. He stared ignobly after her.

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