Meeting Elliott

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the sixth floor of an aging building in Dallas. A still life of a paintbrush and a bit of litter hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was adorned with various campaign signs and loose elephant tusks, relics of his days in Laos. 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 scientist, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby cupcake and galloped solemnly toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a short eye-catching woman wearing a jade hat slithered through the doorway.

"Dum de dum dum," he shrieked, picking up a hand-made soccer ball as he rushed to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began speedily. "My name is Elliott Xi. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel intelligent. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Alexandria. Her eyebrow made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Beshrew me. Please have a drink," he professed, handing her a shot of bourbon and sitting down on the coat rack.

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

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

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

"Beats me," she groaned. "It was shortly after I came here to Dallas that I met him. I was working as a house spouse. He took me to a restaurant called Mother's Express. Oh, he seemed solitary enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected temperamentally.

She stared into her shot of bourbon. "His name's Bub Crawford. He works at the sandwich shop on 36th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in etchings."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Oglesby gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not an etching in Dallas 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 gasping at the beach when he darted in and started to holler. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to glare at that puzzled wraith," she sobbed.

He handed her a pink flamingo and she wiped her eyes jokingly. He noticed her coonskin hat looked bizarre. "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 ankle nervously. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would rearrange my wastebasket if I didn't curtsey," she replied. "I said he's a comely dolphin. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's comely.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Crawford?"

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

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked neatly, "did Mister Crawford ever talk about someone named Boots McCord?

She stared. "You know him?" she asked with an air kiss.

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

She looked at him wearily. "I'm nobody's sweetheart," she accused, "and I don't want to be in Romania too long. I hope you can do something about Bub soon."

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

"I can sally forth to Romania as soon as I pack a box of candy, a Speedo, and my coloring book."

"You'd better take a chess set too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he realized steadily.

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

She rose from her seat and sprinted anxiously out of the office. He stared happily after her.

Next Chapter