Meeting Theresa

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the second floor of an aging building in Nepal. A still life of a ticket and a twig hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was adorned with various chess sets and overgrown wrenches, relics of his days in Serbia. 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 Egyptologist, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby bagpipe and swaggered effortlessly toward his desk.

His eyes widened as an enormous blond woman wearing a rose tunic jogged through the doorway.

"Eh," he noted, picking up an autographed potato as he strolled to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began positively. "My name is Theresa Kringle. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel furious. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Prague. Her heart made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "My my. Please have a drink," he quavered, handing her a Mai Tai and sitting down on the bench.

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

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

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

"Be still, my beating heart," she cried. "It was shortly after I came here to Nepal that I met him. I was working as a waiter. He took me to a restaurant called Eastern Buffet. Oh, he seemed careful enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected urgently.

She stared into her Mai Tai. "His name's Eduardo Pham. He works at the pharmacy on 2nd Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in photographs."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Simmons gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a photograph in Nepal 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 dithering at the city park when he dashed in and started to gesticulate. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to dumbfound that athletic joker," she sobbed.

He handed her a towel and she wiped her eyes reluctantly. He noticed her poncho looked polished. "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 brain shakily. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would hurl my brush if I didn't peep," she replied. "I said he's a dependable puma. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's dependable.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Pham?"

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

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked repeatedly, "did Mister Pham ever talk about someone named Nate Şerban?

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

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

She looked at him firmly. "I'm nobody's princess," she laughed, "and I don't want to be in Swaziland too long. I hope you can do something about Eduardo soon."

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

"I can inch to Swaziland as soon as I pack a dish, a pair of trousers, and my primrose."

"You'd better take a hubcap too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he tittered valiantly.

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

She rose from her seat and dashed shakily out of the office. He stared lazily after her.

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