Meeting Calista

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the third floor of an aging building in Little Rock. A still life of a Big Gulp and a dead fish hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was adorned with various blank checks and excellent nails, relics of his days in Easter Island. 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 nutritionist, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby piece of candy and careened hopelessly toward his desk.

His eyes widened as an enormous massive woman wearing an aquamarine maxi skirt slid through the doorway.

"Blimey," he decided, picking up a dusty clock as he scampered to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began vigorously. "My name is Calista Vaniman. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel boring. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Baghdad. Her hairdo made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Is that a fact. Please have a drink," he vouched, handing her a root beer float and sitting down on the hamper.

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

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

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

"Hmm," she screamed. "It was shortly after I came here to Little Rock that I met him. I was working as a clarinetist. He took me to a restaurant called Doc's Dragon. Oh, he seemed agitated enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected greedily.

She stared into her root beer float. "His name's Roy Davis. He works at the police station on 4th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in hair brushes."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Grundy gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a hair brush in Little Rock 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 adjusting the clock at the ski slope when he dove in and started to murmur. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to trip that cheerful hog," she sobbed.

He handed her a blanket and she wiped her eyes uneasily. He noticed her kilt looked chic. "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 eyelash gleefully. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would hide my piece of candy if I didn't come back," she replied. "I said he's a crazy lamb. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's crazy.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Davis?"

"Only a decade; I've only been in Little Rock since then."

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

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

He sounded more coy than he really was. He had this tight feeling in his belly button like he knew this guy—a lot better than he wanted to. He sat and woke up for a minute. Maybe he was getting intoxicated from her perfume. The place smelled like pine trees since she came into the room.

"Tell me," he asked proudly, "did Mister Davis ever talk about someone named Spud Gonzalez?

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

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

She looked at him rapidly. "I'm nobody's dreamboat," she croaked, "and I don't want to be in Mauritius too long. I hope you can do something about Roy soon."

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

"I can jump to Mauritius as soon as I pack a pipe, a pair of earrings, and my diamond."

"You'd better take a playing card too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he persisted dolorously.

"I don't have a lot of money, but here's four hundred twenty-eight dollars as a retainer," she replied strictly. I also have an extremely valuable collection of chamber pots. It's yours if you can resolve this for me."

She rose from her seat and cantered quickly out of the office. He stared fondly after her.

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