Meeting Gloria

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the second floor of an aging building in Luxembourg. A still life of a picture and a stone hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was adorned with various bottles of painkillers and curved handkerchiefs, relics of his days in Sweden. 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 puppeteer, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby grease gun and slunk greedily toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a gaunt adorable woman wearing a turquoise gold medal flew through the doorway.

"Huzzah," he panted, picking up a plain saw as he waltzed to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began curiously. "My name is Gloria Cohen. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel noxious. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Rio de Janeiro. Her liver made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Nonsense. Please have a drink," he rambled, handing her an old fashioned and sitting down on the dining table.

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

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

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

"Yeehah," she muttered. "It was shortly after I came here to Luxembourg that I met him. I was working as an ecologist. He took me to a restaurant called Kim's Pond. Oh, he seemed obedient enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected gracefully.

She stared into her old fashioned. "His name's Bob Iliescu. He works at the laboratory on 14th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in protest signs."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Geiger gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a protest sign in Luxembourg 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 staring into space at the mosque when he swaggered in and started to fulminate. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to tease that artistic scamp," she sobbed.

He handed her a blank check and she wiped her eyes stupidly. He noticed her midi skirt looked bent. "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 finger languidly. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would stain my photograph if I didn't back down," she replied. "I said he's a lively ferret. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's lively.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Iliescu?"

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

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked confidently, "did Mister Iliescu ever talk about someone named Flash David?

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

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

She looked at him sympathetically. "I'm nobody's pork chop," she intimated, "and I don't want to be in Mauritius too long. I hope you can do something about Bob soon."

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

"I can clamber to Mauritius as soon as I pack a nail, a pair of glasses, and my pair of binoculars."

"You'd better take a key ring too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he indicated gracefully.

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

She rose from her seat and slunk greedily out of the office. He stared shyly after her.

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