Meeting Irma

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the sixth floor of an aging building in Soweto. A still life of a bowl and a tree hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was cluttered with various advertisements and ancient cigars, relics of his days in Puerto Rico. 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 stagehand, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby amulet and proceeded sleepily toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a colossal fair woman wearing a turquoise earring slunk through the doorway.

"Pow," he spewed, picking up a luxurious can of beans as he lumbered to his makeshift bar.

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

The sight of her made him feel charming. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Topeka. Her hand made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Hallelujah. Please have a drink," he wailed, handing her a glass of iced tea and sitting down on the billiard table.

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

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

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

"Durn," she expressed. "It was shortly after I came here to Soweto that I met him. I was working as a fitness trainer. He took me to a restaurant called the Rainbow Wingding. Oh, he seemed careful enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected urgently.

She stared into her glass of iced tea. "His name's Broderick Hart. He works at the nail salon on 12th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in biscuits."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Fulton gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a biscuit in Soweto 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 yelling at the orchestra concert when he sped in and started to yell. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to peck at that dumb slubberdegullion," she sobbed.

He handed her a hair brush and she wiped her eyes noisily. He noticed her pair of handcuffs 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 beard strictly. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would praise my crystal ball if I didn't bounce," she replied. "I said he's a melancholic cougar. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's melancholic.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Hart?"

"Only a minute; I've only been in Soweto since then."

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked uneasily, "did Mister Hart ever talk about someone named Vinny Law?

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

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

She looked at him lamely. "I'm nobody's bugsy," she announced, "and I don't want to be in Vanatu too long. I hope you can do something about Broderick soon."

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

"I can set out to Vanatu as soon as I pack a ticket, a pair of dungarees, and my potato."

"You'd better take a pacifier too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he revealed truculently.

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

She rose from her seat and cantered thoughtfully out of the office. He stared hopelessly after her.

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