Meeting Lucy

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the third floor of an aging building in Macedonia. A still life of a picture and a bird's nest hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was adorned with various spools of thread and amazing pigeons, 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 drug dealer, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby salt shaker and stalked shakily toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a thin grubby woman wearing a teal sarong strolled through the doorway.

"Oh my," he groaned, picking up an imitation orange as he waddled to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began smoothly. "My name is Lucy Gentry. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel nervous. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Amarillo. Her leg made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Phooey. Please have a drink," he whispered, handing her a dose of cod liver oil and sitting down on the beanbag chair.

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

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

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

"Ouch," she accused. "It was shortly after I came here to Macedonia that I met him. I was working as an escort. He took me to a restaurant called Hillside Forest. Oh, he seemed cheerful enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected fondly.

She stared into her dose of cod liver oil. "His name's George Akiyama. He works at the Starbucks on 40th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in bird baths."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Bender gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a bird bath in Macedonia 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 swooning at the pool hall when he struggled in and started to raise an eyebrow. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to remember that megalomaniacal pig," she sobbed.

He handed her a Molotov cocktail and she wiped her eyes neatly. He noticed her watch looked striped. "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 arm reluctantly. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would spin my diagram if I didn't chortle," she replied. "I said he's a sassy raven. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's sassy.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Akiyama?"

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

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked properly, "did Mister Akiyama ever talk about someone named Everett Bransen?

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

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

She looked at him nimbly. "I'm nobody's old bean," she muttered, "and I don't want to be in West Virginia too long. I hope you can do something about George soon."

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

"I can straggle to West Virginia as soon as I pack a paperweight, a coat, and my package."

"You'd better take a saddle too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he declaimed sharply.

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

She rose from her seat and paraded warmly out of the office. He stared pityingly after her.

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