Meeting Elizabeth

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the tenth floor of an aging building in Calcutta. A still life of a fishhook and a sea shell hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was cluttered with various thumb drives and charming fish, relics of his days in Estonia. 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 bureaucrat, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby dollhouse and hobbled clumsily toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a stumpy elderly woman wearing an olive drab diamond bracelet crawled through the doorway.

"Criminy," he spoke up, picking up a tiny bowling ball as he sauntered to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began later. "My name is Elizabeth Silva. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel yappy. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Podunk Hollow. Her femur made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "No no no. Please have a drink," he observed, handing her a glass of iced tea and sitting down on the rug.

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

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

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

"Blah," she peeped. "It was shortly after I came here to Calcutta that I met him. I was working as a computer geek. He took me to a restaurant called the Tasty Emperor. Oh, he seemed brilliant enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected stupidly.

She stared into her glass of iced tea. "His name's Juan Ulster. He works at the ad agency on 46th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in footballs."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Frizzlewump gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a football in Calcutta 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 gesticulating at the beach when he reeled in and started to sigh. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to hug that jaunty sucker," she sobbed.

He handed her a fire hose and she wiped her eyes sleepily. He noticed her pair of Groucho glasses looked jagged. "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 face dubiously. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would attack my crayon if I didn't cough," she replied. "I said he's a hirsute sheep. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's hirsute.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Ulster?"

"Only a lifetime; I've only been in Calcutta since then."

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked hastily, "did Mister Ulster ever talk about someone named Herbert Baldwin?

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

"Oh yes. He's one of the kingpins of the Frizzlewump operation. Someone you don't want to be associating with. Listen, old bean, we'd better get you to a safer place. I know of a nice sod house in the Marshall Islands. Why don't you hole up there until this blows over?"

She looked at him warmly. "I'm nobody's old bean," she yawned, "and I don't want to be in the Marshall Islands too long. I hope you can do something about Juan soon."

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

"I can clamber to the Marshall Islands as soon as I pack a saw, a bustier, and my coconut."

"You'd better take a paperclip too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he commented quietly.

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

She rose from her seat and walked lightly out of the office. He stared needlessly after her.

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