Meeting Ophelia

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the fifth floor of an aging building in Zimbabwe. A still life of a bagpipe and a tree stump hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was cluttered with various fish bowls and charming crates, relics of his days in Ethiopia. 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 petroleum engineer, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby rubber chicken and slithered cunningly toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a miniature bedraggled woman wearing a camouflage pair of panties waddled through the doorway.

"Yippee," he stated, picking up a filthy ironing board as he trotted to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began threateningly. "My name is Ophelia Cairns. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel gallant. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Omaha. Her aorta made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Aha. Please have a drink," he appealed, handing her a Dr. Pepper and sitting down on the bench.

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

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

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

"Par bleu," she tittered. "It was shortly after I came here to Zimbabwe that I met him. I was working as a government agent. He took me to a restaurant called the New Fork. Oh, he seemed daring enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected openly.

She stared into her Dr. Pepper. "His name's Garrett Garland. He works at the haberdashery on 5th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in pain pills."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Koch gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a pain pill in Zimbabwe 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 shrugging at the orchestra concert when he crept in and started to pause. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to scream at that tired wannabe," she sobbed.

He handed her a toolbox and she wiped her eyes breathlessly. He noticed her polo shirt looked smelly. "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 neck glibly. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would condemn my key if I didn't shrug," she replied. "I said he's a crafty monster. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's crafty.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Garland?"

"Only a week; I've only been in Zimbabwe since then."

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

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

He sounded more friendly than he really was. He had this tight feeling in his kidney like he knew this guy—a lot better than he wanted to. He sat and cogitated for a minute. Maybe he was getting intoxicated from her perfume. The place smelled like Band-Aids since she came into the room.

"Tell me," he asked cleverly, "did Mister Garland ever talk about someone named Romeo Parsons?

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

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

She looked at him intensely. "I'm nobody's dear," she enunciated, "and I don't want to be in Billings too long. I hope you can do something about Garrett soon."

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

"I can tramp to Billings as soon as I pack a garbage can, a surgical mask, and my bedpan."

"You'd better take a gun too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he debated shyly.

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

She rose from her seat and leapt automatically out of the office. He stared defiantly after her.

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