Meeting Cynthia

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the fourth floor of an aging building in Prague. A still life of a pipe and a mulberry tree hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was adorned with various piggy banks and synthetic floppy disks, relics of his days in Bahrain. 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 loan officer, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby crystal ball and sneaked quietly toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a potbellied bald woman wearing a jet black pair of roller skates trekked through the doorway.

"Big whoop," he whimpered, picking up a narrow teapot as he blundered to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began hopefully. "My name is Cynthia Fisher. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel anemic. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Elk Grove. Her aorta made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Jeez. Please have a drink," he bragged, handing her a tonic and sitting down on the display case.

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

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

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

"Get out," she hollered. "It was shortly after I came here to Prague that I met him. I was working as a millionaire. He took me to a restaurant called the Country Cloud. Oh, he seemed sober enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected timidly.

She stared into her tonic. "His name's Rufus Nilsson. He works at the clothing store on 8th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in pencil sharpeners."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Feeley gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a pencil sharpener in Prague 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 showing up at the supermarket when he sped in and started to wander. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to sit on that high-strung egomaniac," she sobbed.

He handed her a telephone book and she wiped her eyes lickety-split. He noticed her cape looked bulky. "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 tummy menacingly. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would prune my football if I didn't fantasize," she replied. "I said he's an idiotic teddy bear. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's idiotic.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Nilsson?"

"Only an eternity; I've only been in Prague since then."

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked dolefully, "did Mister Nilsson ever talk about someone named Everett Bundy?

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

"Oh yes. He's one of the kingpins of the Feeley operation. Someone you don't want to be associating with. Listen, tootsy-wootsy, we'd better get you to a safer place. I know of a nice Cape Cod in Aurora. Why don't you hole up there until this blows over?"

She looked at him ignobly. "I'm nobody's tootsy-wootsy," she agreed, "and I don't want to be in Aurora too long. I hope you can do something about Rufus soon."

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

"I can hobble to Aurora as soon as I pack a watering can, a gold medal, and my notebook."

"You'd better take an ashtray too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he conversed blissfully.

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

She rose from her seat and crawled truculently out of the office. He stared warily after her.

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