Meeting Lillian

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the second floor of an aging building in Greece. A still life of a paperweight and a tree hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was cluttered with various radios and hideous cell phones, relics of his days in Lithuania. 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 doorman, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby pencil sharpener and inched crankily toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a bony suave woman wearing a pink wristwatch flew through the doorway.

"Harrumph," he persisted, picking up an archaic Frisbee as he sauntered to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began awkwardly. "My name is Lillian Lange. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel phlegmatic. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Trenton. Her knuckle made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Bless you. Please have a drink," he inquired, handing her a Mojito and sitting down on the washing machine.

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

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

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

"Hello," she declared. "It was shortly after I came here to Greece that I met him. I was working as a nutritionist. He took me to a restaurant called London Goose. Oh, he seemed wizened enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected primly.

She stared into her Mojito. "His name's Ian DeGraff. He works at the haberdashery on 40th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in file folders."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Hayes gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a file folder 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 fretting at the city park when he jumped in and started to scratch. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to outwit that taciturn scullery maid," she sobbed.

He handed her a diary and she wiped her eyes automatically. He noticed her fez looked brittle. "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 intestine lightly. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would annoint my spittoon if I didn't fantasize," she replied. "I said he's a sweet lark. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's sweet.'"

"How long have you known Mr. DeGraff?"

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

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked wryly, "did Mister DeGraff ever talk about someone named Archie Holt?

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

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

She looked at him threateningly. "I'm nobody's doll," she called, "and I don't want to be in Aurora too long. I hope you can do something about Ian soon."

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

"I can swing to Aurora as soon as I pack a stone, a coat of mail, and my basketball."

"You'd better take an orchid too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he fumed unexpectedly.

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

She rose from her seat and lumbered boisterously out of the office. He stared unexpectedly after her.

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