Meeting Crystal

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

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

The office was cluttered with various stuffed owls and ridiculous stuffed owls, relics of his days in Russia. 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 test pilot, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby stuffed kitten and galumphed impatiently toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a cadaverous brown-eyed woman wearing a scarlet toupee scurried through the doorway.

"Wild," he squealed, picking up a disgusting peace pipe as he crawled to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began gently. "My name is Crystal Stephens. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel disagreeable. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Tampa. Her vein made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Ow. Please have a drink," he groaned, handing her a Scotch and soda and sitting down on the couch.

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

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

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

"As if," she mouthed. "It was shortly after I came here to Lithuania that I met him. I was working as a physicist. He took me to a restaurant called Seaside Cow. Oh, he seemed sober enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected firmly.

She stared into her Scotch and soda. "His name's Bruno Onassis. He works at the liquor store on 7th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in computers."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Welles gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a computer in Lithuania 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 playing Farmer in the Dell at the mall when he bolted in and started to tremble. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to operate on that sensible twerp," she sobbed.

He handed her a dish and she wiped her eyes victoriously. He noticed her hat looked crooked. "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 arm vigorously. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would switch my knitting needle if I didn't tremble," she replied. "I said he's a peculiar bull. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's peculiar.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Onassis?"

"Only a century; I've only been in Lithuania since then."

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked strangely, "did Mister Onassis ever talk about someone named Papa Fritz?

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

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

She looked at him grandly. "I'm nobody's sweetie-pie," she sniveled, "and I don't want to be in Iowa too long. I hope you can do something about Bruno soon."

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

"I can lurch to Iowa as soon as I pack a bottle of painkillers, a sweatshirt, and my pair of knitting needles."

"You'd better take a pair of pliers too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he shouted reluctantly.

"I don't have a lot of money, but here's four hundred ninety-eight dollars as a retainer," she replied intensely. I also have an extremely valuable collection of compasses. It's yours if you can resolve this for me."

She rose from her seat and strode greedily out of the office. He stared solemnly after her.

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