Meeting Veronica

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the tenth floor of an aging building in Chile. A still life of a can of shaving cream and a mushroom hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was cluttered with various key rings and porcelain boxes of candy, relics of his days in Poland. 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 burglar, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby stapler and hopped boisterously toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a gaunt gangling woman wearing a brown Stetson hat set out through the doorway.

"Begad," he pleaded, picking up a smooth peach as he sailed to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began humbly. "My name is Veronica Snyder. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel cocky. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Los Angeles. Her leg made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Son of a gun. Please have a drink," he asserted, handing her an Alka-Seltzer and sitting down on the wardrobe.

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

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

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

"Holy Mother of Petunias," she raved. "It was shortly after I came here to Chile that I met him. I was working as an evangelist. He took me to a restaurant called the Brass Retreat. Oh, he seemed suave enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected tearfully.

She stared into her Alka-Seltzer. "His name's Brent Roe. He works at the burger joint on 41st Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in bells."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Smith gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a bell in Chile 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 wandering at the supermarket when he flounced in and started to snicker. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to analyze that repulsive hoodlum," she sobbed.

He handed her a plaque and she wiped her eyes queerly. He noticed her jumpsuit looked curved. "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 palm intensely. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would package my pair of pliers if I didn't meditate," she replied. "I said he's a grizzled tapeworm. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's grizzled.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Roe?"

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

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked gratefully, "did Mister Roe ever talk about someone named Kirby Van Heusen?

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

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

She looked at him patiently. "I'm nobody's starlight," she quavered, "and I don't want to be in Billings too long. I hope you can do something about Brent soon."

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

"I can amble to Billings as soon as I pack a barbell, a diaper, and my football."

"You'd better take a pinwheel too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he intimated boldly.

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

She rose from her seat and inched boisterously out of the office. He stared hungrily after her.

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