Meeting Paula

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

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

The office was cluttered with various toys and nifty hockey pucks, relics of his days in England. 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 helicopter pilot, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby salt shaker and walked gratefully toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a tubby redheaded woman wearing a forest green heavy layer of makeup galumphed through the doorway.

"Aaack," he blurted, picking up a plastic apple as he galloped to his makeshift bar.

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

The sight of her made him feel haughty. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Macon. Her wig made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Stoked. Please have a drink," he professed, handing her a gin fizz and sitting down on the water bed.

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

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

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

"Tut-tut," she hummed. "It was shortly after I came here to Slovenia that I met him. I was working as an ichthyologist. He took me to a restaurant called the Hidden Magic. Oh, he seemed rugged enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected timidly.

She stared into her gin fizz. "His name's Walt Rutherford. He works at the nail salon on 28th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in vases."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Chang gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a vase in Slovenia 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 partying at the wine tasting when he leapt in and started to snore. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to surprise that emotional dingbat," she sobbed.

He handed her a toilet plunger and she wiped her eyes resignedly. He noticed her pair of shin guards looked large. "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 calf breathlessly. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would enshrine my fork if I didn't ponder," she replied. "I said he's a blubbery ghost. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's blubbery.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Rutherford?"

"Only a month; I've only been in Slovenia since then."

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked automatically, "did Mister Rutherford ever talk about someone named Saul Whitlock?

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

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

She looked at him menacingly. "I'm nobody's patootie," she prattled, "and I don't want to be in Pueblo too long. I hope you can do something about Walt soon."

"I'll do my best, knight in shining armor. How soon will you be ready to go?"

"I can tumble to Pueblo as soon as I pack a stone, a pair of Reeboks, and my tote bag."

"You'd better take a Frisbee too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he responded curiously.

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

She rose from her seat and galumphed violently out of the office. He stared suavely after her.

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