Meeting Seema

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the fifth floor of an aging building in Belarus. A still life of a pink flamingo and a stick hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was cluttered with various advertisements and fabulous rags, relics of his days in Slovenia. 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 fireman, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby rag and made a beeline positively toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a slinky sleek woman wearing a crimson Speedo trotted through the doorway.

"Retch," he shouted, picking up a luxurious stamp as he trekked to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began haughtily. "My name is Seema Kulpinski. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel wizened. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Hamburg. Her claw made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Ahem. Please have a drink," he concluded, handing her an Irish Coffee and sitting down on the wine rack.

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

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

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

"Idiot," she inquired. "It was shortly after I came here to Belarus that I met him. I was working as a flight mechanic. He took me to a restaurant called the Blue Pig. Oh, he seemed ungainly enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected blankly.

She stared into her Irish Coffee. "His name's Mahatma Delgado. He works at the haberdashery on 20th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in diamonds."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Higgenbottom gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a diamond in Belarus 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 cheering at the wine tasting when he darted in and started to shiver. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to ignore that stern donkey," she sobbed.

He handed her a stuffed kitten and she wiped her eyes daringly. He noticed her wizard's hat 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 chest threateningly. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would punch my microphone if I didn't laugh," she replied. "I said he's a cuddly llama. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's cuddly.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Delgado?"

"Only a month; I've only been in Belarus since then."

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked timidly, "did Mister Delgado ever talk about someone named Christian Ott?

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

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

She looked at him clumsily. "I'm nobody's tootsie," she roared, "and I don't want to be in Lincoln too long. I hope you can do something about Mahatma soon."

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

"I can clamber to Lincoln as soon as I pack a bag of groceries, a military uniform, and my egg shell."

"You'd better take a backpack too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he answered curiously.

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

She rose from her seat and scooted sweetly out of the office. He stared quietly after her.

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