Meeting Gertrude

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the sixth floor of an aging building in Berlin. A still life of a bird cage and a spring hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was adorned with various dolls and bent dog collars, relics of his days in Lebanon. 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 traveling salesman, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby potato and slumped unnaturally toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a slight slick woman wearing a polka dotted tinfoil hat blundered through the doorway.

"Why not?," he mentioned, picking up a cheap roll of duct tape as he darted to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began solemnly. "My name is Gertrude Pike. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel cantankerous. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Hamburg. Her toe made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "When pigs fly. Please have a drink," he yelped, handing her a Cuba libre and sitting down on the filing cabinet.

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

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

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

"Bingo," she purred. "It was shortly after I came here to Berlin that I met him. I was working as a peddler. He took me to a restaurant called Western Dining Room. Oh, he seemed rugged enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected slowly.

She stared into her Cuba libre. "His name's Maloney Saint Pierre. He works at the novelty shop on 39th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in yo-yos."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Holt gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a yo-yo in Berlin 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 getting dizzy at the senior citizens center when he tumbled in and started to suffer. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to pat that taciturn hound dog," she sobbed.

He handed her a rubber chicken and she wiped her eyes lamely. He noticed her cloak looked gooey. "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 liver smoothly. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would smell my cotton ball if I didn't cogitate," she replied. "I said he's a pensive ring-tailed lemur. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's pensive.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Saint Pierre?"

"Only a decade; I've only been in Berlin since then."

"I see." He felt for his AK-47 in his shoulder holster. He was beginning to have a bad feeling about this.

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

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

"Tell me," he asked numbly, "did Mister Saint Pierre ever talk about someone named Shepard Kraft?

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

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

She looked at him threateningly. "I'm nobody's sugar-bun," she begged, "and I don't want to be in Honolulu too long. I hope you can do something about Maloney soon."

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

"I can trot to Honolulu as soon as I pack a teddy bear, a hood, and my tote bag."

"You'd better take a flowerpot too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he accused needlessly.

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

She rose from her seat and skipped violently out of the office. He stared courteously after her.

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