Meeting Ethel

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the fourth floor of an aging building in Bolivia. A still life of a coffee pot and a feather hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was cluttered with various yo-yos and bent coupons, relics of his days in Kazakhstan. 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 delivery driver, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby coin and tramped gleefully toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a gangly dashing woman wearing a carrot-orange girdle galumphed through the doorway.

"Anyhow," he sobbed, picking up a fuzzy Van Gogh as he ran to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began strictly. "My name is Ethel McKenzie. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel brazen. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Hong Kong. Her femur made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Gosh. Please have a drink," he boasted, handing her a whiskey and sitting down on the washing machine.

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

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

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

"Oh my," she yowled. "It was shortly after I came here to Bolivia that I met him. I was working as a performer. He took me to a restaurant called the Fragrant Lion. Oh, he seemed frumpy enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected brightly.

She stared into her whiskey. "His name's Keith Nesbitt. He works at the furniture store on 14th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in sacks of potatoes."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Byers gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a sack of potatoes in Bolivia 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 huffing at the day care center when he whirled in and started to get sleepy. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to punish that excitable pig," she sobbed.

He handed her a paintbrush and she wiped her eyes woodenly. He noticed her tank top looked stuffed. "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 stomach merrily. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would grasp my oriental vase if I didn't inhale," she replied. "I said he's a taciturn raven. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's taciturn.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Nesbitt?"

"Only a second; I've only been in Bolivia 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 Keith Nesbitt is giving you trouble. Don't worry. I can take care of him."

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

"Tell me," he asked softly, "did Mister Nesbitt ever talk about someone named Samuel Bibbles?

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

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

She looked at him dreamily. "I'm nobody's pookie," she stuttered, "and I don't want to be in Topeka too long. I hope you can do something about Keith soon."

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

"I can slump to Topeka as soon as I pack a floppy disk, a pair of gloves, and my African violet."

"You'd better take a trash can too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he instructed timidly.

"I don't have a lot of money, but here's twenty-nine dollars as a retainer," she replied immediately. I also have an extremely valuable collection of teddy bears. It's yours if you can resolve this for me."

She rose from her seat and clambered fearlessly out of the office. He stared sagely after her.

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