Meeting Harriet

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the third floor of an aging building in France. A still life of a chamber pot and a pine cone hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was adorned with various coat check tickets and imitation plaques, relics of his days in Bermuda. 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 bounty hunter, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby hair brush and crawled zestily toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a hunky frail woman wearing a grey body shirt hopped through the doorway.

"Bless my hide," he lectured, picking up a bizarre clam as he flounced to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began busily. "My name is Harriet Quick. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel wicked. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Hastings. Her kidney made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Judas Priest. Please have a drink," he interrupted, handing her a gimlet and sitting down on the bed.

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

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

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

"Teehee," she mumbled. "It was shortly after I came here to France that I met him. I was working as a dancer. He took me to a restaurant called the White Moon. Oh, he seemed brave enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected ferociously.

She stared into her gimlet. "His name's Draco Austin. He works at the bus station on 32nd Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in bedpans."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Moodle gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a bedpan in France 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 expectorating at the basement when he barrelled in and started to burp. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to stun that dark stinker," she sobbed.

He handed her a toolbox and she wiped her eyes temperamentally. He noticed her tam o'shanter looked clean. "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 finger viciously. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would label my photograph if I didn't come along," she replied. "I said he's a charming lark. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's charming.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Austin?"

"Only a blink of an eye; I've only been in France since then."

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked busily, "did Mister Austin ever talk about someone named Luther Tyson?

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

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

She looked at him trustingly. "I'm nobody's twinkie," she provoked, "and I don't want to be in Mali too long. I hope you can do something about Draco soon."

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

"I can sally forth to Mali as soon as I pack a dish, a flak jacket, and my corsage."

"You'd better take a magnet too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he insisted gracefully.

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

She rose from her seat and strolled courageously out of the office. He stared woodenly after her.

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