Meeting Jessi

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the eighth floor of an aging building in Vietnam. A still life of a water bottle and a deer track hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was adorned with various hair brushes and bizarre snails, relics of his days in Georgia. 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 civil servant, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby horseshoe and trekked energetically toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a dainty fit woman wearing a jade pacifier inched through the doorway.

"Uh-oh," he piped up, picking up a fuzzy primrose as he tumbled to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began sweetly. "My name is Jessi Kettle. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel jolly. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Tunis. Her neck made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Abracadabra. Please have a drink," he groaned, handing her a chamomile tea and sitting down on the armoire.

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

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

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

"Outstanding," she cried. "It was shortly after I came here to Vietnam that I met him. I was working as a chauffeur. He took me to a restaurant called the Hot Grill. Oh, he seemed gargantuan enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected briskly.

She stared into her chamomile tea. "His name's Hendrick Crowe. He works at the fortune teller shop on 20th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in carrots."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Prang gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a carrot in Vietnam 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 weeping at the bagel shop when he inched in and started to grimace. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to exclude that timid clod," she sobbed.

He handed her a broom and she wiped her eyes thoughtfully. He noticed her feather boa 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 tooth sorrowfully. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would rotate my radio if I didn't twitch," she replied. "I said he's an affable bullfrog. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's affable.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Crowe?"

"Only a day; I've only been in Vietnam since then."

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked steadily, "did Mister Crowe ever talk about someone named Lucian Wolf?

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

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

She looked at him resignedly. "I'm nobody's patootie," she announced, "and I don't want to be in Abilene too long. I hope you can do something about Hendrick soon."

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

"I can hop to Abilene as soon as I pack an ice cream cone, a big red rose, and my church key."

"You'd better take a pepper grinder too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he accused slowly.

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

She rose from her seat and traipsed firmly out of the office. He stared courageously after her.

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