Meeting Beulah

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the third floor of an aging building in Montgomery. A still life of a rubber stamp and a deer track hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was cluttered with various comic books and clean backpacks, relics of his days in the Philippines. 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 gravedigger, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby stamp and jogged grimly toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a lithe chubby woman wearing a yellow party hat waltzed through the doorway.

"Ulp," he declared, picking up a gooey pencil as he stalked to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began lovingly. "My name is Beulah Jacobsen. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel daring. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Dubai. Her front tooth made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Nope. Please have a drink," he chuckled, handing her a V8 and sitting down on the china cabinet.

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

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

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

"Meh," she declared. "It was shortly after I came here to Montgomery that I met him. I was working as a telephone repairman. He took me to a restaurant called the White Mess Hall. Oh, he seemed monstrous enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected viciously.

She stared into her V8. "His name's Karl Austin. He works at the restaurant on 42nd Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in fingernail clippers."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Emery gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a fingernail clipper in Montgomery 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 collapsing at the bagel shop when he reeled in and started to whirl. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to disinfect that fuzzy rascal," she sobbed.

He handed her a clam and she wiped her eyes lightly. He noticed her cheerleader's uniform looked mechanical. "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 belly courageously. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would scrub my Helmholz resonator if I didn't step aside," she replied. "I said he's a fiendish anteater. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's fiendish.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Austin?"

"Only a blink of an eye; I've only been in Montgomery since then."

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked uselessly, "did Mister Austin ever talk about someone named Eddie Tutu?

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

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

She looked at him caustically. "I'm nobody's turtle dove," she agreed, "and I don't want to be in Croatia too long. I hope you can do something about Karl soon."

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

"I can swing to Croatia as soon as I pack an orchid, a set of pink foam curlers, and my Egyptian mummy."

"You'd better take a hubcap too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he mused pityingly.

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

She rose from her seat and bolted silently out of the office. He stared fondly after her.

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