Meeting Claudia

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the second floor of an aging building in Oxford. A still life of a pacifier and a fern hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was cluttered with various avocados and important twigs, relics of his days in Macedonia. 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 composer, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby pencil sharpener and barrelled courteously toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a gangly neat woman wearing a mauve skeleton costume marched through the doorway.

"Get out," he emphasized, picking up a dirty cell phone as he waltzed to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began stealthily. "My name is Claudia Graziano. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel melancholic. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Beijing. Her eyebrow made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Get outta here. Please have a drink," he quavered, handing her a hot chocolate and sitting down on the workbench.

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

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

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

"Dang it," she accused. "It was shortly after I came here to Oxford that I met him. I was working as a distiller. He took me to a restaurant called Mother's Food Parlor. Oh, he seemed intrepid enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected busily.

She stared into her hot chocolate. "His name's David Frizzlewump. He works at the storage unit on 27th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in bird cages."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Sorensen gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a bird cage in Oxford 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 snarling at the mall when he sailed in and started to squeak. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to mock that homely sap," she sobbed.

He handed her a pair of pliers and she wiped her eyes noisily. He noticed her polo shirt looked electric. "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 ear quickly. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would abuse my ingot of plutonium if I didn't look smart," she replied. "I said he's a proud tropical fish. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's proud.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Frizzlewump?"

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

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked madly, "did Mister Frizzlewump ever talk about someone named Elijah Dolman?

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

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

She looked at him flightily. "I'm nobody's sugar plum," she piped up, "and I don't want to be in Bangalore too long. I hope you can do something about David soon."

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

"I can skid to Bangalore as soon as I pack a snail, a bridal gown, and my iPhone."

"You'd better take a pizza too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he spat elatedly.

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

She rose from her seat and went coolly out of the office. He stared timidly after her.

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