Meeting Mabel

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the eighth floor of an aging building in São Paulo. A still life of a vacuum cleaner and a fallen tree hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was adorned with various rolls of duct tape and hefty bird cages, relics of his days in Greece. 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 rag and trotted fervently toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a potbellied feeble woman wearing an ivory big smile flew through the doorway.

"Crud," he expressed, picking up a disgusting fishing rod as he dove to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began furiously. "My name is Mabel Hayward. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel sleepy. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Taiwan. Her claw made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Petunia. Please have a drink," he yammered, handing her a can of Ensure and sitting down on the bunk bed.

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

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

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

"Teehee," she piped up. "It was shortly after I came here to São Paulo that I met him. I was working as a stagehand. He took me to a restaurant called the New Pastry Shop. Oh, he seemed mean enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected uneasily.

She stared into her can of Ensure. "His name's Guido Ward. He works at the cigar store on 49th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in tubes of toothpaste."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Ross gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a tube of toothpaste in São Paulo 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 snorting at the gyro shop when he tumbled in and started to snicker. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to snuggle with that relaxed imp," she sobbed.

He handed her a teacup and she wiped her eyes arrogantly. He noticed her sundress looked fluffy. "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 elbow pitifully. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would grab my toy if I didn't vomit," she replied. "I said he's an obnoxious pigeon. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's obnoxious.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Ward?"

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

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

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

He sounded more decent 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 chewed for a minute. Maybe he was getting intoxicated from her perfume. The place smelled like chicken soup since she came into the room.

"Tell me," he asked crankily, "did Mister Ward ever talk about someone named Jules Rush?

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

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

She looked at him perkily. "I'm nobody's pork chop," she stammered, "and I don't want to be in Columbus too long. I hope you can do something about Guido soon."

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

"I can skitter to Columbus as soon as I pack a cowbell, a ski mask, and my candy bar."

"You'd better take a bell too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he ranted thoughtfully.

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

She rose from her seat and crept properly out of the office. He stared reluctantly after her.

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