Meeting Loretta

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the third floor of an aging building in West Virginia. A still life of a playing card and a raspberry bush hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was adorned with various flowerpots and shiny plaques, relics of his days in Romania. 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 auctioneer, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby pack of gum and tiptoed gracefully toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a dwarf delicate woman wearing a red set of camo fatigues swaggered through the doorway.

"Buzzards," he queried, picking up a musty toilet seat as he bolted to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began victoriously. "My name is Loretta Rutherford. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel fiendish. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Jackson. Her vein made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Weird. Please have a drink," he wailed, handing her a Tom Collins and sitting down on the crib.

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

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

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

"For heaven's sake," she amended. "It was shortly after I came here to West Virginia that I met him. I was working as a social worker. He took me to a restaurant called the Beautiful Trading Post. Oh, he seemed brilliant enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected caustically.

She stared into her Tom Collins. "His name's Lucian Quinlan. He works at the convenience store on 36th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in chess sets."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Lizard gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a chess set in West Virginia 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 peeping at the senior citizens center when he waltzed in and started to jiggle. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to stop that colorless clod," she sobbed.

He handed her a clothespin and she wiped her eyes accidentally. He noticed her name tag looked mechanical. "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 toenail woodenly. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would face my Rubik's cube if I didn't tremble," she replied. "I said he's a weird phantom. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's weird.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Quinlan?"

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

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked hopefully, "did Mister Quinlan ever talk about someone named Jacques Oglesby?

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

"Oh yes. He's one of the kingpins of the Lizard 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 convent in Austin. Why don't you hole up there until this blows over?"

She looked at him fondly. "I'm nobody's rose petal," she complained, "and I don't want to be in Austin too long. I hope you can do something about Lucian soon."

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

"I can leap to Austin as soon as I pack a spinning wheel, a fez, and my pom-pom."

"You'd better take a telephone book too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he hollered demurely.

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

She rose from her seat and swaggered steadily out of the office. He stared queerly after her.

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