Meeting Laci

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the sixth floor of an aging building in Singapore. A still life of a paper towel and an acorn hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was cluttered with various billiard balls and polished sacks of potatoes, relics of his days in Honduras. 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 clockmaker, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby can of shaving cream and tore breathlessly toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a short tiny woman wearing a fuchsia black belt skipped through the doorway.

"Duh," he babbled, picking up a crusty stick of gum as he slunk to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began proudly. "My name is Laci Ratwort. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel puzzled. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Worcester. Her hip made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Dang. Please have a drink," he repeated, handing her a glass of iced tea and sitting down on the nightstand.

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

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

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

"Begad," she exclaimed. "It was shortly after I came here to Singapore that I met him. I was working as a coroner. He took me to a restaurant called Bill's Social Club. Oh, he seemed coy enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected hysterically.

She stared into her glass of iced tea. "His name's Henry McDermott. He works at the jewelry store on 41st Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in watering cans."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Hopkins gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a watering can in Singapore 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 grunting at the orchestra concert when he struggled in and started to sit still. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to attack that bad ignoramous," she sobbed.

He handed her a clarinet and she wiped her eyes admiringly. He noticed her bulletproof vest looked hollow. "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 cheek daringly. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would unfold my can of beans if I didn't shake," she replied. "I said he's an energetic tropical fish. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's energetic.'"

"How long have you known Mr. McDermott?"

"Only a second; I've only been in Singapore since then."

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked noisily, "did Mister McDermott ever talk about someone named Ethan Potter?

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

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

She looked at him shakily. "I'm nobody's noodle," she yowled, "and I don't want to be in Illinois too long. I hope you can do something about Henry soon."

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

"I can blunder to Illinois as soon as I pack a tube of glue, a gunny sack, and my paperweight."

"You'd better take a bagpipe too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he warbled gleefully.

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

She rose from her seat and traipsed intensely out of the office. He stared queerly after her.

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