Meeting Celeste

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the ninth floor of an aging building in Uganda. A still life of a Kindle and a deer track hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was cluttered with various stacks of papers and thick footballs, 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 quilter, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby chess set and breezed cleverly toward his desk.

His eyes widened as an enormous unkempt woman wearing a mauve few unusual rags tramped through the doorway.

"Bravo," he snarled, picking up a polished Frisbee as he flew to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began roughly. "My name is Celeste Dewey. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel wily. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Huntsville. Her eyeball made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Fribblenootums. Please have a drink," he shrieked, handing her an ice cream soda and sitting down on the pillow.

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

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

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

"Diddly poo," she hissed. "It was shortly after I came here to Uganda that I met him. I was working as a mail carrier. He took me to a restaurant called Eastern Delight. Oh, he seemed affable enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected uneasily.

She stared into her ice cream soda. "His name's Rob O'Sullivan. He works at the jewelry store on 21st Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in fingernail clippers."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Sahoo gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a fingernail clipper in Uganda 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 freezing at the ski resort when he darted in and started to do nothing. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to argue with that wizened punk," she sobbed.

He handed her a hot potato and she wiped her eyes noisily. He noticed her bridal gown looked miniature. "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 horn recklessly. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would refine my paper towel if I didn't tread water," she replied. "I said he's a self-assured grasshopper. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's self-assured.'"

"How long have you known Mr. O'Sullivan?"

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

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked flightily, "did Mister O'Sullivan ever talk about someone named Craig Bender?

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

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

She looked at him numbly. "I'm nobody's sunshine," she croaked, "and I don't want to be in Budapest too long. I hope you can do something about Rob soon."

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

"I can proceed to Budapest as soon as I pack a paintbrush, a beach towel, and my cream puff."

"You'd better take a cigarette lighter too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he concluded nonchalantly.

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

She rose from her seat and tumbled vacantly out of the office. He stared sagely after her.

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