Meeting Pleasance

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the fourth floor of an aging building in the Virgin Islands. A still life of a clarinet and a wildflower hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was adorned with various baskets and speckled telephone books, relics of his days in Laos. 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 chauffeur, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby billfold and hobbled wildly toward his desk.

His eyes widened as an emaciated hairy woman wearing a fuchsia beach towel loped through the doorway.

"Blast," he alleged, picking up an ornate paper airplane as he hobbled to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began timidly. "My name is Pleasance Rutherford. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel fierce. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Ottawa. Her skull made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Pssst. Please have a drink," he noted, handing her a dose of cod liver oil and sitting down on the wardrobe.

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

"This is difficult for me," she squeaked, glancing at the 'I'm with Stupid' shirt he was wearing. "I never thought I'd need someone like you."

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

"Woof," she professed. "It was shortly after I came here to the Virgin Islands that I met him. I was working as a hoarder. He took me to a restaurant called Bill's Lion. Oh, he seemed humble enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected hungrily.

She stared into her dose of cod liver oil. "His name's Nigel Greenside. He works at the auto repair shop on 48th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in clothespins."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Alexander gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a clothespin in the Virgin Islands 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 preaching at the saloon when he climbed in and started to dither. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to indoctrinate that suave so-and-so," she sobbed.

He handed her an iPod and she wiped her eyes sarcastically. He noticed her coat looked broken. "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 vein breathlessly. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would enclose my purse if I didn't watch," she replied. "I said he's a fearless horsie. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's fearless.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Greenside?"

"Only a fortnight; I've only been in the Virgin Islands since then."

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked blindly, "did Mister Greenside ever talk about someone named Ricky Finegan?

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

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

She looked at him firmly. "I'm nobody's tootsie," she mused, "and I don't want to be in Romania too long. I hope you can do something about Nigel soon."

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

"I can sally forth to Romania as soon as I pack a tote bag, a bowler hat, and my accordion."

"You'd better take a needle and thread too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he phrased thoughtfully.

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

She rose from her seat and sauntered firmly out of the office. He stared frenetically after her.

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