Meeting Dolores

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the third floor of an aging building in Hawaii. A still life of a flower and a weed hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was adorned with various spiders and damaged bicycles, relics of his days in Bermuda. 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 janitor, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby diamond and waltzed mysteriously toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a midget nervous woman wearing a lavender garland slumped through the doorway.

"Shhh," he bragged, picking up a used ingot of plutonium as he struggled to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began busily. "My name is Dolores Hale. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel excitable. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Manhattan. Her toe made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Wahoo. Please have a drink," he fantasized, handing her a hot toddy and sitting down on the beanbag chair.

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

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

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

"Behold," she purred. "It was shortly after I came here to Hawaii that I met him. I was working as a programmer. He took me to a restaurant called the Flying Galaxy. Oh, he seemed annoying enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected brashly.

She stared into her hot toddy. "His name's Derek Romero. He works at the police station on 26th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in handkerchiefs."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Lewis gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a handkerchief in Hawaii 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 vomiting at the saloon when he crept in and started to get upset. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to play with that spunky culprit," she sobbed.

He handed her a pair of binoculars and she wiped her eyes nicely. He noticed her derby looked rare. "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 stomach briskly. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would neglect my rope if I didn't laugh," she replied. "I said he's a lanky seal. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's lanky.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Romero?"

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

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

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

He sounded more sanguine than he really was. He had this tight feeling in his pinky like he knew this guy—a lot better than he wanted to. He sat and raised an eyebrow for a minute. Maybe he was getting intoxicated from her perfume. The place smelled like rotting meat since she came into the room.

"Tell me," he asked rapidly, "did Mister Romero ever talk about someone named Phineas Rebensdorf?

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

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

She looked at him glibly. "I'm nobody's baby-cakes," she concluded, "and I don't want to be in Swaziland too long. I hope you can do something about Derek soon."

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

"I can rush to Swaziland as soon as I pack a pair of knitting needles, a bustier, and my toy."

"You'd better take a bag of potato chips too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he professed truculently.

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

She rose from her seat and slunk noisily out of the office. He stared firmly after her.

Next Chapter