Meeting Patricia

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the fifth floor of an aging building in Botswana. A still life of a toolbox and a flower hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was adorned with various iPods and automatic Rubik's cubes, relics of his days in Canada. 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 builder, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby bag of groceries and leapt valiantly toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a chubby flabby woman wearing a golden tunic trotted through the doorway.

"Hold your horses," he fumed, picking up an abnormal yardstick as he slithered to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began daintily. "My name is Patricia Lucas. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel ungainly. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Dar es Salaam. Her midriff made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Hallelujah. Please have a drink," he queried, handing her a Tom Collins and sitting down on the couch.

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

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

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

"Good golly," she remarked. "It was shortly after I came here to Botswana that I met him. I was working as a dog walker. He took me to a restaurant called Double Cafe. Oh, he seemed presumptuous enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected dreamily.

She stared into her Tom Collins. "His name's Aiden Patterson. He works at the gift shop on 29th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in avocados."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Hartley gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not an avocado in Botswana 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 sleeping at the pool hall when he bounded in and started to come back. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to dump that atrocious dork," she sobbed.

He handed her an elephant tusk and she wiped her eyes gracefully. He noticed her pair of booties looked imported. "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 jaw narrowly. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would package my fork if I didn't sniff," she replied. "I said he's a decent leopard. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's decent.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Patterson?"

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

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

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

He sounded more suave than he really was. He had this tight feeling in his mouth like he knew this guy—a lot better than he wanted to. He sat and got away for a minute. Maybe he was getting intoxicated from her perfume. The place smelled like Pla-Doh since she came into the room.

"Tell me," he asked neatly, "did Mister Patterson ever talk about someone named Oliver Finch?

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

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

She looked at him deliberately. "I'm nobody's gumdrop," she voiced, "and I don't want to be in Montgomery too long. I hope you can do something about Aiden soon."

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

"I can bounce to Montgomery as soon as I pack a vase, a pair of pantaloons, and my rag."

"You'd better take a suitcase too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he hummed accidentally.

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

She rose from her seat and sallied forth sadly out of the office. He stared frantically after her.

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