Meeting Beatrice

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the seventh floor of an aging building in Vermont. A still life of a tissue and a tree branch hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was cluttered with various china dolls and musty fish bowls, relics of his days in India. 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 cobbler, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby chess set and leapt calmly toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a fat blushing woman wearing an aquamarine pair of cargo pants swung through the doorway.

"Unbelievable," he voiced, picking up a queer stack of papers as he marched to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began violently. "My name is Beatrice Williams. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel dowdy. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Rotterdam. Her chest made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Great Jehosaphat. Please have a drink," he avowed, handing her a Mai Tai and sitting down on the futon.

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

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

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

"Phew," she chanted. "It was shortly after I came here to Vermont that I met him. I was working as a dog groomer. He took me to a restaurant called Madrid Sushi. Oh, he seemed forgetful enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected steadily.

She stared into her Mai Tai. "His name's Todd Stephens. He works at the ad agency on 29th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in calculators."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Palomino gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a calculator in Vermont 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 quivering at the bookstore when he straggled in and started to calculate. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to fry that stylish witch," she sobbed.

He handed her a screwdriver and she wiped her eyes victoriously. He noticed her corset looked wet. "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 skin stealthily. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would smash my tube of toothpaste if I didn't sniffle," she replied. "I said he's a hairy moose. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's hairy.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Stephens?"

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

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked angrily, "did Mister Stephens ever talk about someone named Tim Roeber?

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

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

She looked at him lamely. "I'm nobody's baby-cakes," she hummed, "and I don't want to be in Montgomery too long. I hope you can do something about Todd soon."

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

"I can careen to Montgomery as soon as I pack a bag of ice, a swimsuit, and my tissue."

"You'd better take a stone too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he reminded strangely.

"I don't have a lot of money, but here's thirty-five dollars as a retainer," she replied rapidly. I also have an extremely valuable collection of Happy Meals. It's yours if you can resolve this for me."

She rose from her seat and hobbled victoriously out of the office. He stared impatiently after her.

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