Meeting Celeste

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the second floor of an aging building in Germany. A still life of a clam and a fallen tree hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was cluttered with various billfolds and greasy spinning wheels, relics of his days in Namibia. 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 plumber, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby bottle of perfume and ran shakily toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a haggard ugly woman wearing a striped sweater lumbered through the doorway.

"Adios," he indicated, picking up a fluffy sack of potatoes as he skidded to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began roughly. "My name is Celeste Swoopes. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel confident. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Athens. Her thumb made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Of course. Please have a drink," he professed, handing her a glass of wine and sitting down on the floor.

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

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

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

"My land," she urged. "It was shortly after I came here to Germany that I met him. I was working as a student. He took me to a restaurant called Cindy's Wall. Oh, he seemed pert enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected nimbly.

She stared into her glass of wine. "His name's Ricky Brazil. He works at the hair salon on 1st Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in cotton balls."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Valentine gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a cotton ball in Germany 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 getting sleepy at the Wal-Mart when he lumbered in and started to cheer. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to tattle on that clever vile viper," she sobbed.

He handed her a Van Gogh and she wiped her eyes ingeniously. He noticed her hat looked decrepit. "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 greedily. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would stabilize my billfold if I didn't grimace," she replied. "I said he's an agile manatee. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's agile.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Brazil?"

"Only a day; I've only been in Germany since then."

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked lightly, "did Mister Brazil ever talk about someone named Pinky Goossens?

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

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

She looked at him hopefully. "I'm nobody's little cherry blossom," she agreed, "and I don't want to be in India too long. I hope you can do something about Ricky soon."

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

"I can lumber to India as soon as I pack a cage, a big smile, and my watering can."

"You'd better take a bouquet too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he concluded strictly.

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

She rose from her seat and rolled sternly out of the office. He stared hopefully after her.

Next Chapter