Meeting Elinor

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the third floor of an aging building in São Paulo. A still life of a pinwheel and a tree branch hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was adorned with various dog biscuits and dirty ice cream cones, relics of his days in New Zealand. 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 obstetrician, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby padlock and climbed urgently toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a huge olive woman wearing a hot pink pair of trousers trotted through the doorway.

"Encore," he rambled, picking up a speckled dollar bill as he sashayed to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began reluctantly. "My name is Elinor Blake. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel frantic. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Bridgeport. Her nostril made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "You don't say. Please have a drink," he vouched, handing her a glass of champagne and sitting down on the recliner.

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

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

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

"Doubtful," she chuckled. "It was shortly after I came here to São Paulo that I met him. I was working as an Internet celebrity. He took me to a restaurant called Tropical Serpent. Oh, he seemed prickly enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected gracefully.

She stared into her glass of champagne. "His name's Horatio Sinclair. He works at the Starbucks on 34th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in rubber stamps."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Gorman gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a rubber stamp in São Paulo 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 turning blue at the disco when he trotted in and started to freak out. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to pinch that agile prattling gabbler," she sobbed.

He handed her a daisy and she wiped her eyes sleepily. He noticed her evening gown looked electric. "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 fingernail brightly. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would hurl my Bunsen burner if I didn't get sleepy," she replied. "I said he's a queer yeti. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's queer.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Sinclair?"

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

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked quickly, "did Mister Sinclair ever talk about someone named Billy Bing?

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

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

She looked at him needlessly. "I'm nobody's honey bunch," she muttered, "and I don't want to be in New Zealand too long. I hope you can do something about Horatio soon."

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

"I can parade to New Zealand as soon as I pack a fish, a necklace, and my camera."

"You'd better take a crystal ball too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he harangued cheerfully.

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

She rose from her seat and lumbered noisily out of the office. He stared gracefully after her.

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