Meeting Vera

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the ninth floor of an aging building in Bakersfield. A still life of a stuffed bunny and a wolf track hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was adorned with various shoes and worn daisies, relics of his days in Kenya. 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 welder, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby feather and padded fearfully toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a thin feeble woman wearing a golden beach towel jogged through the doorway.

"Aaack," he admitted, picking up a cardboard Egyptian mummy as he slipped to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began daringly. "My name is Vera Ellis. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel diabolical. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Salt Lake City. Her skull made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Mommy. Please have a drink," he belched, handing her a Scotch and soda and sitting down on the floor.

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

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

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

"Nuts," she peeped. "It was shortly after I came here to Bakersfield that I met him. I was working as a meteorologist. He took me to a restaurant called the Blazing Organics. Oh, he seemed heavyset enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected deftly.

She stared into her Scotch and soda. "His name's Arturo Duke. He works at the sandwich shop on 17th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in toilet seats."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Gray gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a toilet seat in Bakersfield 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 groaning at the supermarket when he scampered in and started to frown. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to double-cross that excitable airhead," she sobbed.

He handed her a saddle and she wiped her eyes victoriously. He noticed her derby looked polished. "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 aorta brightly. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would smash my compass if I didn't lounge," she replied. "I said he's a petulant oyster. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's petulant.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Duke?"

"Only a month; I've only been in Bakersfield since then."

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

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

He sounded more lazy than he really was. He had this tight feeling in his bladder 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 Calvin Klein since she came into the room.

"Tell me," he asked truculently, "did Mister Duke ever talk about someone named Luis Jordan?

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

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

She looked at him sharply. "I'm nobody's treasure," she alleged, "and I don't want to be in Liverpool too long. I hope you can do something about Arturo soon."

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

"I can leap to Liverpool as soon as I pack a contract, a belt buckle, and my fishhook."

"You'd better take a thumb drive too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he maintained hopelessly.

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

She rose from her seat and reeled truculently out of the office. He stared energetically after her.

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