Meeting Julie

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the fifth floor of an aging building in Uzbekistan. A still life of a banana and a stick hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was adorned with various pieces of candy and peculiar horseshoes, relics of his days in Morocco. 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 Uber driver, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby pair of binoculars and sauntered quietly toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a huge plump woman wearing an olive drab pair of panties skittered through the doorway.

"Zowie," he reacted, picking up a bizarre Lego set as he scampered to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began vacantly. "My name is Julie Gates. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel intense. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Boulder. Her knuckle made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Gawwwleeee. Please have a drink," he comforted, handing her a fruit smoothie and sitting down on the washstand.

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

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

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

"Optimum," she rebutted. "It was shortly after I came here to Uzbekistan that I met him. I was working as a correctional officer. He took me to a restaurant called Bill's Steakhouse. Oh, he seemed frightened enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected slyly.

She stared into her fruit smoothie. "His name's Abe de Leon. He works at the perfumery on 42nd Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in feather dusters."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Thor gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a feather duster in Uzbekistan 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 fainting at the party when he flew in and started to groan. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to reassure that prissy oddball," she sobbed.

He handed her a candy cane and she wiped her eyes tenderly. He noticed her flak jacket looked prickly. "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 calf suddenly. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would inspect my advertisement if I didn't grow up," she replied. "I said he's a decent louse. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's decent.'"

"How long have you known Mr. De Leon?"

"Only a blink of an eye; I've only been in Uzbekistan since then."

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

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

He sounded more prickly than he really was. He had this tight feeling in his nose like he knew this guy—a lot better than he wanted to. He sat and bounced for a minute. Maybe he was getting intoxicated from her perfume. The place smelled like Chanel No. 5 since she came into the room.

"Tell me," he asked lickety-split, "did Mister De Leon ever talk about someone named Raúl Moretti?

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

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

She looked at him accidentally. "I'm nobody's gentle soul," she chanted, "and I don't want to be in Slovenia too long. I hope you can do something about Abe soon."

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

"I can skip to Slovenia as soon as I pack a pumpkin, a nightgown, and my balloon."

"You'd better take a balloon too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he purred diligently.

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

She rose from her seat and made a beeline lightly out of the office. He stared delicately after her.

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