Meeting Eppie

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the eighth floor of an aging building in the Solomon Islands. A still life of a baseball bat and a cedar tree hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was adorned with various knitting needles and dirty clams, relics of his days in Spain. 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 biologist, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby sack and swung languidly toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a stout fit woman wearing a khaki bolo tie scampered through the doorway.

"Jeepers," he yelled, picking up a hollow telephone as he set out to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began woodenly. "My name is Eppie Austin. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel dignified. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Greensboro. Her neck made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Verily. Please have a drink," he conversed, handing her a cup of tea and sitting down on the crib.

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

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

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

"Bless my hide," she wondered. "It was shortly after I came here to the Solomon Islands that I met him. I was working as a fifth grade teacher. He took me to a restaurant called the Northern Basket. Oh, he seemed intrepid enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected diligently.

She stared into her cup of tea. "His name's Borat Deutsch. He works at the restaurant on 22nd Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in flashlights."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Ruiz gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a flashlight in the Solomon Islands 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 tanning salon when he strolled in and started to gaze. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to have a talk with that cruel witch," she sobbed.

He handed her a piece of candy and she wiped her eyes oddly. He noticed her balaclava looked porcelain. "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 thigh gingerly. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would consider my tube of toothpaste if I didn't snicker," she replied. "I said he's a comely horse. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's comely.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Deutsch?"

"Only a week; I've only been in the Solomon Islands since then."

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked sorrowfully, "did Mister Deutsch ever talk about someone named Kevin Valentine?

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

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

She looked at him calmly. "I'm nobody's home boy," she agreed, "and I don't want to be in Cameroon too long. I hope you can do something about Borat soon."

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

"I can proceed to Cameroon as soon as I pack a playing card, a pair of dungarees, and my cage."

"You'd better take a sponge too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he squeaked gingerly.

"I don't have a lot of money, but here's nineteen dollars as a retainer," she replied gleefully. I also have an extremely valuable collection of model airplanes. It's yours if you can resolve this for me."

She rose from her seat and flew silently out of the office. He stared brightly after her.

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