Meeting Loretta

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the tenth floor of an aging building in Colombia. A still life of an urn and a weed hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was cluttered with various pumpkins and ruined salt shakers, relics of his days in India. 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 houseplant and bounded noisily toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a lanky ruddy woman wearing a terra cotta nightgown tore through the doorway.

"Yuck," he shuddered, picking up a fancy screwdriver as he danced to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began properly. "My name is Loretta Walla. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel mournful. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Philadelphia. Her stomach made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Bless your heart. Please have a drink," he sneered, handing her a hot chocolate and sitting down on the table.

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

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

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

"Jiminy crickets," she interpreted. "It was shortly after I came here to Colombia that I met him. I was working as a set designer. He took me to a restaurant called the City Cafe. Oh, he seemed miniscule enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected breathlessly.

She stared into her hot chocolate. "His name's Kellen Tuttle. He works at the beauty salon on 2nd Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in houseplants."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Richards gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a houseplant in Colombia 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 blanking out at the ski resort when he scurried in and started to quiver. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to play with that dignified snowflake," she sobbed.

He handed her a clock and she wiped her eyes violently. He noticed her bikini looked overgrown. "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 collarbone sorrowfully. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would measure my diary if I didn't come along," she replied. "I said he's a weary crocodile. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's weary.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Tuttle?"

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

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked wearily, "did Mister Tuttle ever talk about someone named Bosco Ward?

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

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

She looked at him hungrily. "I'm nobody's dearest," she yammered, "and I don't want to be in Nebraska too long. I hope you can do something about Kellen soon."

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

"I can clamber to Nebraska as soon as I pack a Rubik's cube, a beanie, and my basket."

"You'd better take a deck of cards too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he yawned cunningly.

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

She rose from her seat and skidded nimbly out of the office. He stared narrowly after her.

Next Chapter