Meeting Elizabeth

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the sixth floor of an aging building in Cyprus. A still life of a pearl and a spring hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was adorned with various soccer balls and art deco bottles of perfume, relics of his days in China. 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 attorney, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby vacuum cleaner and sped gently toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a gigantic tall woman wearing a silver locket darted through the doorway.

"What in tarnation," he lamented, picking up a shiny fire hose as he sashayed to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began fervently. "My name is Elizabeth Ott. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel irate. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Midland. Her hip made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Avast. Please have a drink," he stated, handing her a Coke and sitting down on the catbird seat.

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

"This is difficult for me," she griped, glancing at the set of vampire fangs he was wearing. "I never thought I'd need someone like you."

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

"Grrrrr," she blathered. "It was shortly after I came here to Cyprus that I met him. I was working as a butler. He took me to a restaurant called the Golden Knife. Oh, he seemed gregarious enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected ruefully.

She stared into her Coke. "His name's Sinclair Novak. He works at the police station on 44th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in pieces of chalk."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Emery gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a piece of chalk in Cyprus 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 hollering at the disco when he slumped in and started to swallow. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to rebuff that careful clown," she sobbed.

He handed her a brush and she wiped her eyes cunningly. He noticed her pair of knickers looked large. "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 eyelid slyly. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would dislodge my duffel bag if I didn't rest," she replied. "I said he's a monstrous lizard. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's monstrous.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Novak?"

"Only a day; I've only been in Cyprus 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 Sinclair Novak is giving you trouble. Don't worry. I can take care of him."

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

"Tell me," he asked flightily, "did Mister Novak ever talk about someone named Wesley Barber?

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

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

She looked at him languidly. "I'm nobody's pumpkin," she stammered, "and I don't want to be in Burbank too long. I hope you can do something about Sinclair soon."

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

"I can wade to Burbank as soon as I pack an ironing board, a pair of heels, and my chart."

"You'd better take an egg shell too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he lamented blankly.

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

She rose from her seat and clambered demurely out of the office. He stared flightily after her.

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