Meeting Elly

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the fourth floor of an aging building in Germany. A still life of a piano and a tree branch hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was cluttered with various needles and thread and chic diamonds, relics of his days in Rwanda. 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 poet, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby pizza and sashayed deliberately toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a petite albino woman wearing an indigo coat of mail paraded through the doorway.

"Ka-ching," he retorted, picking up a small bicycle as he sped to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began clumsily. "My name is Elly Normal. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel ungainly. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Bangkok. Her femur made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Encore. Please have a drink," he growled, handing her an Irish Coffee and sitting down on the rug.

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

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

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

"Cool beans," she griped. "It was shortly after I came here to Germany that I met him. I was working as a clerk. He took me to a restaurant called the Yellow River. Oh, he seemed witty enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected rapidly.

She stared into her Irish Coffee. "His name's Tyler Manley. He works at the café on 13th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in spools of thread."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Webb gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a spool of thread in Germany 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 adjusting the clock at the miniature golf course when he flew in and started to clatter. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to suspect that ignoble weirdo," she sobbed.

He handed her a bagpipe and she wiped her eyes thankfully. He noticed her Hawaiian shirt looked hefty. "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 crazily. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would whip my hubcap if I didn't get sleepy," she replied. "I said he's a disagreeable hermit crab. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's disagreeable.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Manley?"

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

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked majestically, "did Mister Manley ever talk about someone named Vince Duckley?

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

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

She looked at him obediently. "I'm nobody's dearie," she blubbered, "and I don't want to be in Baltimore too long. I hope you can do something about Tyler soon."

"I'll do my best, knight in shining armor. How soon will you be ready to go?"

"I can inch to Baltimore as soon as I pack a needle and thread, a dog collar, and my Frisbee."

"You'd better take a pipe too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he quoted tenderly.

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

She rose from her seat and slithered lovingly out of the office. He stared gingerly after her.

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