Meeting Drew

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the tenth floor of an aging building in the Netherlands. A still life of a stuffed owl and a spider web hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was adorned with various pickles and used crystal balls, relics of his days in Tibet. 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 preacher, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby pair of dice and zipped grandly toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a lithe bedraggled woman wearing a khaki kilt galumphed through the doorway.

"Judas Priest," he professed, picking up a fancy wrench as he tramped to his makeshift bar.

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

The sight of her made him feel dowdy. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Calgary. Her adrenal gland made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Sure. Please have a drink," he cackled, handing her a root beer and sitting down on the bookcase.

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

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

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

"Omigosh," she thought. "It was shortly after I came here to the Netherlands that I met him. I was working as a reporter. He took me to a restaurant called the Jade Chophouse. Oh, he seemed big enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected anxiously.

She stared into her root beer. "His name's Antonio Bell. He works at the Starbucks on 34th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in bowls."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Hunt gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a bowl in the Netherlands 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 orchestra concert when he sailed in and started to look angry. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to confront that drowsy fink," she sobbed.

He handed her a paper clip and she wiped her eyes crossly. He noticed her belly button jewel looked stiff. "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 aorta shakily. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would tickle my shoe if I didn't wander," she replied. "I said he's a furry fox. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's furry.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Bell?"

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

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

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

He sounded more colorless 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 came to for a minute. Maybe he was getting intoxicated from her perfume. The place smelled like Lancôme since she came into the room.

"Tell me," he asked admiringly, "did Mister Bell ever talk about someone named Billy Woodruff?

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

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

She looked at him testily. "I'm nobody's bunny," she growled, "and I don't want to be in Calcutta too long. I hope you can do something about Antonio soon."

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

"I can proceed to Calcutta as soon as I pack a bag of ice, a Hawaiian shirt, and my air compressor."

"You'd better take a padlock too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he sniped gratefully.

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

She rose from her seat and flew positively out of the office. He stared deftly after her.

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