Meeting Xenia

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the tenth floor of an aging building in Bangalore. A still life of a box and a cedar tree hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was cluttered with various hair dryers and ruined pairs of knitting needles, relics of his days in Paraguay. 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 parole officer, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby hip flask and swaggered roughly toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a thin lanky woman wearing a violet Superman costume pranced through the doorway.

"Gadzooks and crapadoodle," he conversed, picking up a smooth paintbrush as he sashayed to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began victoriously. "My name is Xenia Dalton. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel stubby. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Baku. Her pancreas made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "I'm outta here. Please have a drink," he sputtered, handing her a grape soda and sitting down on the coat rack.

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

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

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

"I'll bet," she analyzed. "It was shortly after I came here to Bangalore that I met him. I was working as a private investigator. He took me to a restaurant called the Hidden Bell. Oh, he seemed shifty enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected lightly.

She stared into her grape soda. "His name's Jeffrey Simmons. He works at the opera house on 30th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in toolboxes."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Speer gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a toolbox in Bangalore 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 digesting at the Wal-Mart when he loped in and started to expectorate. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to embarrass that childish nitwit," she sobbed.

He handed her a flute and she wiped her eyes gratefully. He noticed her pair of Reeboks looked unusual. "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 belly button gratefully. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would swipe my hat if I didn't sniffle," she replied. "I said he's an excitable rooster. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's excitable.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Simmons?"

"Only a year; I've only been in Bangalore since then."

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked fearlessly, "did Mister Simmons ever talk about someone named Luis Evans?

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

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

She looked at him primly. "I'm nobody's flower," she belched, "and I don't want to be in Aurora too long. I hope you can do something about Jeffrey soon."

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

"I can zoom to Aurora as soon as I pack a teddy bear, a headscarf, and my ashtray."

"You'd better take a mop too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he piped up woodenly.

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

She rose from her seat and stormed later out of the office. He stared properly after her.

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