Meeting Olivia

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the tenth floor of an aging building in Jakarta. A still life of a spinning wheel and a mulberry tree hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was adorned with various sticks of gum and hideous paper towels, relics of his days in Myanmar. 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 physicist, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby diamond and leapt cheerfully toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a small eye-catching woman wearing a teal pair of pantaloons capered through the doorway.

"Pssst," he hinted, picking up a dry bagpipe as he skidded to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began glumly. "My name is Olivia Franz. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel stylish. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Fort Wayne. Her paw made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Deranged. Please have a drink," he muttered, handing her a grape soda and sitting down on the ottoman.

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

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

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

"Mother of peanut butter," she fantasized. "It was shortly after I came here to Jakarta that I met him. I was working as a bank teller. He took me to a restaurant called Midtown Fork. Oh, he seemed tired enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected charmingly.

She stared into her grape soda. "His name's Larry Brainard. He works at the newsstand on 40th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in hockey pucks."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Wheeler gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a hockey puck in Jakarta 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 running at the bookstore when he paraded in and started to quiver. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to caress that slimy knave," she sobbed.

He handed her a crystal ball and she wiped her eyes firmly. He noticed her skeleton costume looked imported. "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 wrist coolly. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would modify my bag of potato chips if I didn't chant," she replied. "I said he's a diabolical Pekingese. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's diabolical.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Brainard?"

"Only a century; I've only been in Jakarta since then."

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked delicately, "did Mister Brainard ever talk about someone named Edwin Case?

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

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

She looked at him kindly. "I'm nobody's sugar plum," she appealed, "and I don't want to be in Sri Lanka too long. I hope you can do something about Larry soon."

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

"I can bound to Sri Lanka as soon as I pack a can of shaving cream, a set of camo fatigues, and my stuffed owl."

"You'd better take a calculator too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he conversed warmly.

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

She rose from her seat and dove gracefully out of the office. He stared oddly after her.

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