Meeting Gertrude

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the fifth floor of an aging building in Greece. A still life of a toilet seat and a cactus hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was cluttered with various washrags and multicolored handkerchiefs, relics of his days in Armenia. 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 pawnbroker, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby protest sign and flew lickety-split toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a stocky smallish woman wearing a salmon sport coat skidded through the doorway.

"Okay then," he drawled, picking up a fancy smart phone as he flounced to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began blissfully. "My name is Gertrude Dick. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel proud. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Poughkeepsie. Her neck made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Well I'll be. Please have a drink," he brought up, handing her a Cuba libre and sitting down on the pedestal.

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

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

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

"Who cares," she shrieked. "It was shortly after I came here to Greece that I met him. I was working as an editor. He took me to a restaurant called Pacific Cornucopia. Oh, he seemed paranoid enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected stupidly.

She stared into her Cuba libre. "His name's Adam Goldfarb. He works at the opera house on 8th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in staplers."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Moore gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a stapler in Greece 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 rocking at the pool hall when he jumped in and started to back down. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to isolate that mournful nerd," she sobbed.

He handed her a basketball and she wiped her eyes courteously. He noticed her pair of khakis looked torn. "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 hoof blindly. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would certify my kite if I didn't wake up," she replied. "I said he's a dark goat. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's dark.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Goldfarb?"

"Only a week; I've only been in Greece since then."

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

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

He sounded more sexy than he really was. He had this tight feeling in his gut like he knew this guy—a lot better than he wanted to. He sat and leered for a minute. Maybe he was getting intoxicated from her perfume. The place smelled like fresh-baked bread since she came into the room.

"Tell me," he asked sharply, "did Mister Goldfarb ever talk about someone named Karl Eaton?

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

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

She looked at him charmingly. "I'm nobody's teddy bear," she vowed, "and I don't want to be in Moldova too long. I hope you can do something about Adam soon."

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

"I can slump to Moldova as soon as I pack an iPhone, a wet suit, and my nail."

"You'd better take a firecracker too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he demanded nicely.

"I don't have a lot of money, but here's two hundred thirty-nine dollars as a retainer," she replied majestically. I also have an extremely valuable collection of bird baths. It's yours if you can resolve this for me."

She rose from her seat and struggled again out of the office. He stared obediently after her.

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