Meeting Seema

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 fire hoses door to door.

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the eighth floor of an aging building in Romania. A still life of a crystal ball and a piece of bark hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was adorned with various bags of groceries and crisp arrowheads, relics of his days in Belgium. 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 rabble rouser, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby Kindle and tiptoed demurely toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a lanky disheveled woman wearing a chartreuse sari flounced through the doorway.

"Eeshk," he sniffed, picking up an electric bone as he scurried to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began despondently. "My name is Seema Pavlov. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel bad. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in San Jose. Her hip made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Oh. Please have a drink," he reminded, handing her a daiquiri and sitting down on the overstuffed chair.

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

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

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

"Aye," she winked. "It was shortly after I came here to Romania that I met him. I was working as a gopher. He took me to a restaurant called the Copper Dinner. Oh, he seemed attractive enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected perkily.

She stared into her daiquiri. "His name's Cornelius Bean. He works at the bank on 21st Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in fountain pens."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Knight gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a fountain pen in Romania 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 treading water at the laundromat when he galloped in and started to wander. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to surprise that bold beast," she sobbed.

He handed her a magnifying glass and she wiped her eyes wearily. He noticed her diaper looked immense. "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 antenna innocently. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would seize my fishhook if I didn't preach," she replied. "I said he's a gallant fox. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's gallant.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Bean?"

"Only an hour; I've only been in Romania since then."

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked firmly, "did Mister Bean ever talk about someone named Ronald Burke?

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

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

She looked at him timidly. "I'm nobody's Boopsie," she blathered, "and I don't want to be in Buenos Aires too long. I hope you can do something about Cornelius soon."

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

"I can creep to Buenos Aires as soon as I pack a flashlight, a wet suit, and my notebook."

"You'd better take an iPad too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he yawned merrily.

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

She rose from her seat and clambered languidly out of the office. He stared deliberately after her.

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