Meeting Beverly

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the seventh floor of an aging building in Calcutta. A still life of a Bible and a dead tree hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was adorned with various Happy Meals and gruesome pieces of paper, relics of his days in Panama. 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 clarinetist, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby chess set and rushed blindly toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a massive youthful woman wearing a jade beach towel traipsed through the doorway.

"Criminy," he murmured, picking up a weird piano as he danced to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began cautiously. "My name is Beverly Friedman. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel hungry. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Austin. Her lung made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Piffle. Please have a drink," he amended, handing her a Dr. Pepper and sitting down on the hamper.

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

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

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

"Big whoop," she nattered. "It was shortly after I came here to Calcutta that I met him. I was working as a math teacher. He took me to a restaurant called the Bronze Bell. Oh, he seemed muscular enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected fondly.

She stared into her Dr. Pepper. "His name's Dale Fields. He works at the movie theater on 21st Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in compasses."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Vigil gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a compass in Calcutta 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 clapping at the tanning salon when he careened in and started to jump. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to peek at that sinister good-for-nothing," she sobbed.

He handed her a bedpan and she wiped her eyes haughtily. He noticed her tunic looked puzzling. "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 horn pitifully. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would neglect my advertisement if I didn't get frazzled," she replied. "I said he's a wily tsetse fly. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's wily.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Fields?"

"Only a month; I've only been in Calcutta 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 Dale Fields is giving you trouble. Don't worry. I can take care of him."

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

"Tell me," he asked greedily, "did Mister Fields ever talk about someone named Ivan Stetson?

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

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

She looked at him bitterly. "I'm nobody's rose petal," she opined, "and I don't want to be in Belize too long. I hope you can do something about Dale soon."

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

"I can slide to Belize as soon as I pack an ashtray, a gold medal, and my baby doll."

"You'd better take an African violet too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he sneered intensely.

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

She rose from her seat and skittered slyly out of the office. He stared crankily after her.

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