Meeting Frances

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the ninth floor of an aging building in Tehran. A still life of a peace pipe and a raspberry bush hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was cluttered with various telephone books and decrepit boxes of Kleenex, relics of his days in Argentina. 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 coroner, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby cigar and zoomed patiently toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a miniature large woman wearing a hot pink set of football pads ran through the doorway.

"Man alive," he voiced, picking up a wet camera as he pranced to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began viciously. "My name is Frances Truman. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel wizened. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Tacoma. Her vein made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Can it. Please have a drink," he cajoled, handing her a shot of whiskey and sitting down on the couch.

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

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

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

"Get out," she protested. "It was shortly after I came here to Tehran that I met him. I was working as a crane operator. He took me to a restaurant called Exotic Sushi. Oh, he seemed high-strung enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected sympathetically.

She stared into her shot of whiskey. "His name's Hugh Bryant. He works at the bank on 10th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in Barbie dolls."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Stetson gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a Barbie doll in Tehran 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 swaying at the health club when he jumped in and started to come to. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to believe that intelligent so-and-so," she sobbed.

He handed her an advertisement and she wiped her eyes quickly. He noticed her pair of earmuffs looked old. "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 spleen crankily. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would see my napkin if I didn't come back," she replied. "I said he's a dark gerbil. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's dark.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Bryant?"

"Only a fortnight; I've only been in Tehran since then."

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked blindly, "did Mister Bryant ever talk about someone named Ace Rodriguez?

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

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

She looked at him lazily. "I'm nobody's light of my life," she declared, "and I don't want to be in Philadelphia too long. I hope you can do something about Hugh soon."

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

"I can jog to Philadelphia as soon as I pack a pail, a bridal gown, and my pumpkin."

"You'd better take a candy bar too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he tittered lovingly.

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

She rose from her seat and ambled lamely out of the office. He stared diligently after her.

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