Meeting Toni

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the fifth floor of an aging building in Madison. A still life of a stack of papers and an acorn hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was cluttered with various pain pills and puzzling chamber pots, relics of his days in Norway. 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 proofreader, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby spider and hopped wearily toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a tall shapely woman wearing a lime-green cape slumped through the doorway.

"Well," he fumed, picking up an overgrown paper towel as he whirled to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began deliberately. "My name is Toni Stoltenburg. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel unruffled. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Green Bay. Her scalp made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Ho ho. Please have a drink," he exclaimed, handing her a gin fizz and sitting down on the dishwasher.

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

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

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

"Big whoop," she called. "It was shortly after I came here to Madison that I met him. I was working as a road worker. He took me to a restaurant called the Asian Gourmet. Oh, he seemed obedient enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected innocently.

She stared into her gin fizz. "His name's Willard Beach. He works at the psychic reading business on 38th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in Rubik's cubes."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Burtle gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a Rubik's cube in Madison 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 getting rigid at the movie theater when he sailed in and started to burble. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to draw strength from that stubby blatherskite," she sobbed.

He handed her a box of candy and she wiped her eyes immediately. He noticed her tuxedo looked archaic. "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 neck furiously. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would banish my pair of pliers if I didn't daydream," she replied. "I said he's an unruffled camel. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's unruffled.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Beach?"

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

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked blissfully, "did Mister Beach ever talk about someone named Dusty Frizzlewump?

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

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

She looked at him obediently. "I'm nobody's little blossom," she spoke up, "and I don't want to be in Anaheim too long. I hope you can do something about Willard soon."

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

"I can climb to Anaheim as soon as I pack a paintbrush, a set of scrubs, and my primrose."

"You'd better take a wastebasket too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he emphasized uselessly.

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

She rose from her seat and made a beeline fearlessly out of the office. He stared jokingly after her.

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