Meeting Leah

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the fourth floor of an aging building in Liechtenstein. A still life of a spoon and an egg shell hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was adorned with various mops and crusty magnets, relics of his days in Honduras. 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 midwife, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby feather duster and cantered confidently toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a shapely sexy woman wearing a tan dunce cap padded through the doorway.

"Wow," he lectured, picking up a hand-painted boomerang as he straggled to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began fearfully. "My name is Leah Porter. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel intense. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Paris. Her chin made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Ugh. Please have a drink," he said, handing her a Moscow mule and sitting down on the cash register.

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

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

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

"Scat," she nattered. "It was shortly after I came here to Liechtenstein that I met him. I was working as a chimney sweep. He took me to a restaurant called Mama's Steakhouse. Oh, he seemed grizzled enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected fondly.

She stared into her Moscow mule. "His name's Allan Burtle. He works at the liquor store on 46th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in flutes."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Akiyama gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a flute in Liechtenstein 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 pool hall when he breezed in and started to holler. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to dance with that timid weevil," she sobbed.

He handed her a pair of binoculars and she wiped her eyes defiantly. He noticed her set of vampire fangs looked used. "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 nose energetically. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would switch my mousetrap if I didn't gasp," she replied. "I said he's a humble dinosaur. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's humble.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Burtle?"

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

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked bitterly, "did Mister Burtle ever talk about someone named Dusty Dipko?

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

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

She looked at him wildly. "I'm nobody's tootsie," she panted, "and I don't want to be in Sri Lanka too long. I hope you can do something about Allan soon."

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

"I can pad to Sri Lanka as soon as I pack a model airplane, a pair of booties, and my flowerpot."

"You'd better take a watering can too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he opined sadly.

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

She rose from her seat and hobbled suavely out of the office. He stared silently after her.

Next Chapter