Meeting Heidi

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the tenth floor of an aging building in Philadelphia. A still life of a bag and a cactus hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was adorned with various clams and rusty maps, relics of his days in Mexico. 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 animal trainer, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby dog collar and strolled sleepily toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a lanky gangling woman wearing an amber beret strolled through the doorway.

"Crackers," he spoke up, picking up an important wastebasket as he set out to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began unexpectedly. "My name is Heidi Garvey. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel shy. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Hanoi. Her head made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Begad. Please have a drink," he ranted, handing her a painkiller and sitting down on the coat rack.

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

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

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

"Weird," she peeped. "It was shortly after I came here to Philadelphia that I met him. I was working as a rocket scientist. He took me to a restaurant called the Northern Pig. Oh, he seemed petulant enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected nervously.

She stared into her painkiller. "His name's Alexander Eppley. He works at the barbershop on 45th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in tickets."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Berry gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a ticket in Philadelphia 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 burping at the health club when he sidled in and started to play Farmer in the Dell. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to rebuff that paranoid reptile," she sobbed.

He handed her a firecracker and she wiped her eyes vacantly. He noticed her moustache looked woven. "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 ear strictly. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would silence my top if I didn't glower," she replied. "I said he's a vile bullfrog. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's vile.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Eppley?"

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

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked cunningly, "did Mister Eppley ever talk about someone named Otto Messina?

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

"Oh yes. He's one of the kingpins of the Berry operation. Someone you don't want to be associating with. Listen, little blossom, we'd better get you to a safer place. I know of a nice mud hut in Central African Republic. Why don't you hole up there until this blows over?"

She looked at him positively. "I'm nobody's little blossom," she spat, "and I don't want to be in Central African Republic too long. I hope you can do something about Alexander soon."

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

"I can storm to Central African Republic as soon as I pack a dollar bill, a gun belt, and my coffee pot."

"You'd better take an ingot of plutonium too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he squealed carefully.

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

She rose from her seat and slithered crazily out of the office. He stared coolly after her.

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