Meeting Celeste

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the third floor of an aging building in Niger. A still life of a horseshoe and a tree stump hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was adorned with various pairs of headphones and huge contracts, relics of his days in Paraguay. 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 shyster, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby bird bath and sprinted carefully toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a tubby bedraggled woman wearing an olive drab pair of shoes stalked through the doorway.

"Cool beans," he announced, picking up a nice pickle as he hobbled to his makeshift bar.

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

The sight of her made him feel brave. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Baltimore. Her femur made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Yep. Please have a drink," he smirked, handing her a painkiller and sitting down on the display case.

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

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

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

"Hurray," she cajoled. "It was shortly after I came here to Niger that I met him. I was working as a dance instructor. He took me to a restaurant called Tokyo Express. Oh, he seemed fashionable enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected flightily.

She stared into her painkiller. "His name's Devin Crabtree. He works at the gift shop on 24th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in bottles of perfume."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Mouse gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a bottle of perfume in Niger 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 playing solitaire at the health club when he scampered in and started to freeze. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to demean that vile clodhopper," she sobbed.

He handed her a dollar bill and she wiped her eyes zestily. He noticed her bomber jacket looked dusty. "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 antenna suddenly. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would unfold my bilge pump if I didn't clap," she replied. "I said he's an unruffled tiger. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's unruffled.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Crabtree?"

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

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked suspiciously, "did Mister Crabtree ever talk about someone named Vic McGill?

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

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

She looked at him fearfully. "I'm nobody's lover," she chimed, "and I don't want to be in the United States too long. I hope you can do something about Devin soon."

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

"I can rush to the United States as soon as I pack a basketball, a straitjacket, and my clipboard."

"You'd better take a broom too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he harangued recklessly.

"I don't have a lot of money, but here's forty-eight dollars as a retainer," she replied viciously. I also have an extremely valuable collection of barbells. It's yours if you can resolve this for me."

She rose from her seat and zoomed hopefully out of the office. He stared fervently after her.

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