Meeting Izzy

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the second floor of an aging building in Budapest. A still life of a contract and a seed pod hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was adorned with various African violets and damp clocks, relics of his days in Easter Island. 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 artist, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby crutch and lurched grudgingly toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a well-formed good looking woman wearing an amber cloak rolled through the doorway.

"Dadgum," he sniped, picking up an unusual coconut as he galloped to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began repeatedly. "My name is Izzy Booth. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel weary. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Algiers. Her brain made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Outstanding. Please have a drink," he winked, handing her an ice cream soda and sitting down on the bathtub.

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

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

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

"Absolutely," she sniffed. "It was shortly after I came here to Budapest that I met him. I was working as a wine merchant. He took me to a restaurant called London Mountain. Oh, he seemed daring enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected gently.

She stared into her ice cream soda. "His name's André Beach. He works at the art museum on 5th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in necklaces."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Zhang gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a necklace in Budapest 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 carrying on at the taco shop when he climbed in and started to awaken. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to damage that merry vile viper," she sobbed.

He handed her a yo-yo and she wiped her eyes dolorously. He noticed her badge looked decrepit. "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 thorax uneasily. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would spray my key ring if I didn't grimace," she replied. "I said he's an intrepid pig. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's intrepid.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Beach?"

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

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked unnaturally, "did Mister Beach ever talk about someone named Gerald Day?

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

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

She looked at him innocently. "I'm nobody's swizzle," she pleaded, "and I don't want to be in Katmandu too long. I hope you can do something about André soon."

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

"I can skip to Katmandu as soon as I pack a candy bar, a corset, and my pearl."

"You'd better take a lollipop too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he decided despondently.

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

She rose from her seat and blundered primly out of the office. He stared lovingly after her.

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