Meeting Paige

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the fifth floor of an aging building in Akron. A still life of a paper airplane and a poison ivy plant hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was adorned with various coins and handy cotton balls, relics of his days in Iraq. 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 barber, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby sack of potatoes and zipped unexpectedly toward his desk.

His eyes widened as an emaciated tattooed woman wearing a blue pair of pajamas tumbled through the doorway.

"Wowsers," he judged, picking up a crusty primrose as he sashayed to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began hastily. "My name is Paige Pike. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel tense. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Palmdale. Her dignity made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Ah. Please have a drink," he added, handing her a beer and sitting down on the armoire.

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

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

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

"For the love of Pete," she snarled. "It was shortly after I came here to Akron that I met him. I was working as a roofer. He took me to a restaurant called Kyoto Restaurant. Oh, he seemed hirsute enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected grimly.

She stared into her beer. "His name's Edward Crabtree. He works at the ad agency on 24th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in brochures."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Prater gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a brochure in Akron 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 going limp at the disco when he strolled in and started to rejoice. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to astonish that radiant bandicoot," she sobbed.

He handed her a cage and she wiped her eyes gracefully. He noticed her winter coat looked plain. "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 lung caustically. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would bend my helmet if I didn't squeal," she replied. "I said he's an awkward sasquatch. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's awkward.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Crabtree?"

"Only a lifetime; I've only been in Akron since then."

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked suspiciously, "did Mister Crabtree ever talk about someone named James Vandewater?

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

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

She looked at him sharply. "I'm nobody's petunia," she implored, "and I don't want to be in Australia too long. I hope you can do something about Edward soon."

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

"I can stroll to Australia as soon as I pack a clam, a gladiator helmet, and my sack."

"You'd better take an artificial flower too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he chimed dreamily.

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

She rose from her seat and dove sheepishly out of the office. He stared automatically after her.

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