Meeting Elinor

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the eighth floor of an aging building in Boise. A still life of a comb and a wolf track hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was adorned with various pairs of knitting needles and original hair dryers, relics of his days in Estonia. 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 electrician, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby rock and flounced caustically toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a colossal adorable woman wearing a chartreuse parka bolted through the doorway.

"Ha," he insisted, picking up a nifty teacup as he skipped to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began breathlessly. "My name is Elinor McAllister. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel earnest. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Avonlea. Her hair made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Okay. Please have a drink," he rebutted, handing her a Mudslide and sitting down on the rocking chair.

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

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

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

"Wahoo," she snarled. "It was shortly after I came here to Boise that I met him. I was working as a janitor. He took me to a restaurant called China Den. Oh, he seemed ignoble enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected brightly.

She stared into her Mudslide. "His name's Jimmie Lee Wicker. He works at the saloon on 10th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in boomerangs."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Sandman gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a boomerang in Boise 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 buzzing at the restaurant when he staggered in and started to rejoice. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to question that contented snitch," she sobbed.

He handed her a cracker and she wiped her eyes trustingly. He noticed her necklace looked handy. "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 brain ferociously. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would replace my pepper grinder if I didn't cheer," she replied. "I said he's an ambitious manticore. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's ambitious.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Wicker?"

"Only a blink of an eye; I've only been in Boise since then."

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked pityingly, "did Mister Wicker ever talk about someone named Reynaldo Dick?

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

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

She looked at him craftily. "I'm nobody's rose petal," she whined, "and I don't want to be in Latvia too long. I hope you can do something about Jimmie Lee soon."

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

"I can stroll to Latvia as soon as I pack a tissue, a gun belt, and my wastebasket."

"You'd better take a fossil too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he implored angrily.

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

She rose from her seat and proceeded hungrily out of the office. He stared uselessly after her.

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