Meeting Margaret

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the second floor of an aging building in Warsaw. A still life of a horseshoe and a tree branch hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was cluttered with various masks and rigid mirrors, relics of his days in Australia. 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 cobbler, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby toilet seat and blundered noisily toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a shapely bedraggled woman wearing a rose pair of bloomers swaggered through the doorway.

"Woops," he indicated, picking up a colossal crate as he reeled to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began clumsily. "My name is Margaret Romano. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel fuzzy. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Little Rock. Her hair made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Retch. Please have a drink," he debated, handing her a bottle of water and sitting down on the hope chest.

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

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

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

"Shoo," she disputed. "It was shortly after I came here to Warsaw that I met him. I was working as an au pair. He took me to a restaurant called Grandmother's Jiffy Eats. Oh, he seemed cheerful enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected miserably.

She stared into her bottle of water. "His name's Wilson Piper. He works at the convenience store on 44th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in urns."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Truong gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not an urn in Warsaw 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 standing by at the party when he tumbled in and started to crouch. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to arrest that furious drunken royster," she sobbed.

He handed her a peach and she wiped her eyes threateningly. He noticed her necklace looked damaged. "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 hand demurely. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would unbutton my coat hanger if I didn't ruminate," she replied. "I said he's a lethargic flamingo. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's lethargic.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Piper?"

"Only a year; I've only been in Warsaw since then."

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked bitterly, "did Mister Piper ever talk about someone named Beauford Rossi?

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

"Oh yes. He's one of the kingpins of the Truong operation. Someone you don't want to be associating with. Listen, poopsy-woopsy, we'd better get you to a safer place. I know of a nice sand castle in Akron. Why don't you hole up there until this blows over?"

She looked at him joyously. "I'm nobody's poopsy-woopsy," she ranted, "and I don't want to be in Akron too long. I hope you can do something about Wilson soon."

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

"I can bolt to Akron as soon as I pack a coat hanger, a hat, and my football."

"You'd better take a can of shaving cream too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he protested humbly.

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

She rose from her seat and strolled vacantly out of the office. He stared silently after her.

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