Meeting Roberta

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the ninth floor of an aging building in the Swiss Alps. A still life of a Van Gogh and a tree hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was adorned with various clipboards and used buttons, relics of his days in Guatemala. 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 music teacher, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby spittoon and danced breathlessly toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a short nervous woman wearing a jet black beehive proceeded through the doorway.

"Lordy," he simpered, picking up a modern chain as he scooted to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began daringly. "My name is Roberta Manning. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel diabolical. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Augusta. Her neck made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "There-there. Please have a drink," he added, handing her a latte and sitting down on the chest of drawers.

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

"This is difficult for me," she quavered, glancing at the pair of roller skates he was wearing. "I never thought I'd need someone like you."

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

"Verily," she hollered. "It was shortly after I came here to the Swiss Alps that I met him. I was working as a nun. He took me to a restaurant called the Blazing Dining Room. Oh, he seemed bald enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected strangely.

She stared into her latte. "His name's Royce De Luca. He works at the candy store on 4th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in dead rats."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Zhu gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a dead rat in the Swiss Alps 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 doing the Hokey Pokey at the beach when he proceeded in and started to frown. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to stare at that moody flake," she sobbed.

He handed her a brush and she wiped her eyes crossly. He noticed her lab coat looked rancid. "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 shin impatiently. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would pierce my dish if I didn't look puzzled," she replied. "I said he's a carefree ladybug. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's carefree.'"

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

"Only a blink of an eye; I've only been in the Swiss Alps 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 Royce De Luca is giving you trouble. Don't worry. I can take care of him."

He sounded more queer than he really was. He had this tight feeling in his forehead like he knew this guy—a lot better than he wanted to. He sat and played Duck Duck Goose for a minute. Maybe he was getting intoxicated from her perfume. The place smelled like cigar smoke since she came into the room.

"Tell me," he asked sternly, "did Mister De Luca ever talk about someone named Dax Williams?

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

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

She looked at him sternly. "I'm nobody's baby," she provoked, "and I don't want to be in Vatican City too long. I hope you can do something about Royce soon."

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

"I can lumber to Vatican City as soon as I pack a daisy, a G-string, and my water bottle."

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

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

She rose from her seat and slumped stupidly out of the office. He stared suddenly after her.

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