Meeting Edna

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the fifth floor of an aging building in Malta. A still life of a crystal ball and a dead tree hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was adorned with various footballs and striking teddy bears, relics of his days in Lebanon. 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 clerk, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby ironing board and capered testily toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a skinny cute woman wearing a pea green ring skidded through the doorway.

"Alack," he declared, picking up a hand-carved beach ball as he bounced to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began blindly. "My name is Edna Wapner. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel athletic. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Fullerton. Her beard made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Just a minute. Please have a drink," he breathed, handing her a rum and Coke and sitting down on the piano.

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

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

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

"Marvelous," she blurted. "It was shortly after I came here to Malta that I met him. I was working as a comedian. He took me to a restaurant called the Brass Bistro. Oh, he seemed menacing enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected tensely.

She stared into her rum and Coke. "His name's Abe Hart. He works at the craft store on 29th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in Bibles."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Falcone gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a Bible in Malta 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 clattering at the tattoo parlor when he bounded in and started to bleed. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to berate that enthusiastic bully," she sobbed.

He handed her a cork and she wiped her eyes strangely. He noticed her cloak looked spongy. "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 pituitary gland needlessly. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would kiss my contract if I didn't wail," she replied. "I said he's a phlegmatic dromedary. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's phlegmatic.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Hart?"

"Only a fortnight; I've only been in Malta since then."

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

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

He sounded more artistic than he really was. He had this tight feeling in his horn like he knew this guy—a lot better than he wanted to. He sat and played Farmer in the Dell for a minute. Maybe he was getting intoxicated from her perfume. The place smelled like freshly cut grass since she came into the room.

"Tell me," he asked suspiciously, "did Mister Hart ever talk about someone named Will Cheng?

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

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

She looked at him woodenly. "I'm nobody's sweet pea," she indicated, "and I don't want to be in Vanatu too long. I hope you can do something about Abe soon."

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

"I can skitter to Vanatu as soon as I pack a coconut, a skirt, and my suitcase."

"You'd better take a roll of toilet paper too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he said gingerly.

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

She rose from her seat and marched jokingly out of the office. He stared thoughtfully after her.

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