This dame walks into my office without knocking on my door, sometimes I think why did I even bother getting a door if people aren’t even going to bother knocking on it, then I remember the door came with the office so I didn’t really have a choice in the matter. Oh, well, such is life. Anyway, I happen to be in the middle of my lunch. It’s Tuesday so I’m having quiche and salad.
“Can’t you see I’m in the middle of my quiche and salad?”
I look up and notice the dame. She’s hot. My God, hotter than a page 3 girl in the middle of the desert in the middle of the day, wrapped up in a duffel coat. Boy I wish she’d do herself a favour take that coat off.
She pulls me out of my quiche and salad.
“How the hell did you get in there?”
“What do you think? I slipped on a banana skin. What’s with all the questions? I’m the private dick around here.”
“Not that private from what I’ve heard.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You tell me.”
“No, you tell me.”
“No, you tell me.”
“All right forget it. I don’t have all day, can’t you see I’m closed for lunch?”
“I’ve already eaten.”
“Lucky you. What did you have?”
“Chicken.”
“What kind of chicken?”
“Actually I had an egg, I was in a hurry and couldn’t wait.”
“What can I do for you, Miss…?”
“Miss Nomer.”
“How appropriate.”
“Don’t worry, it’s not my real name.”
“Let me guess, you won’t tell me your real name because you distrust me.”
“It’s mistrust.”
“Pleased to meet you.”
“How’s the quiche?”
“I’ll live. Why don’t you have a seat and tell me what the problem is.”
“I can’t sit down. I’ve got piles.”
“I got piles too, lady. Piles of paperwork, I’ve got a tax return to do before the end of the month or I get hit with a fine. Quit wasting my time and tell me what you want.”
“I think I’m having an affair.”
“What makes you think that?”
“I’ve been acting very strange lately.”
“I don’t blame you.”
“What does that mean?”
“I don’t know but I’m going to find out. I’ll tell you what I can do. I’ll follow you around for $50 a day, see what I can dig up.”
“Why dollars?”
“Because the pound sign on my laptop doesn’t work.”
“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that. I’ll give you 50Euros.”
“You drive a hard bargain.”
“Actually I drive a Nissan Micra, sometimes I ride a bike, what with the congestion charge and everything.”
“All right, 50 quid, and you got yourself a deal.”
“50 quid, that’s more than 50Euros.”
“Yeah, well, VAT increase, if you don’t like it, lump it.”
“What does expression even mean?”
“I have no idea.”
“Please, if my husband finds out I’m having an affair, he’ll kill me.”
“I won’t let that happen to you.”
The dame gives me 50 quid and I kick her out of my office, I hurt my foot I forgot I’m not wearing any shoes, I never wear shoes when I’m eating quiche, don’t ask, that’s just the way I roll. Actually I roll like this. I give the dame a head start; tell her to go about her day as if everything is normal. With the 50 quid she gave me I go to Star Bucks I can just about afford a coffee, I order a skinny latte, Grande size, which is the smallest size you can get even though everyone knows Grande means big. Where the hell did these bozos go to school? Don’t they know anything? Rio Grande? It’s a pretty big river. La Grande Illusion? It’s a pretty big illusion. Grande Fratello? The Italian version of Big Brother, same crap different language. Anyway, you get the picture.
I take my coffee, and walk on trying to catch up with the dame I don’t want to walk too fast as I’m afraid I’ll spill my coffee, I’m behind her about 50 yards, a yard for every pound she gave me to follow her but she must she sense that she’s being followed because she picks up the pace. I take a sip of my coffee, it’s real nice, I got an extra sprinkle of cinnamon on top, but I think I’m going to lose the dame, it reminds me of the time I had to follow Kris Acabusi, man that guy is fast, especially when there aren’t any hurdles in his way.
Suddenly, the lady turns around, I react in the only way I know, I dive into the nearest bush, not that kind of bush what do you take me for? I mean a shrub. Phew that was close. I pick myself up, run down the nearest alley, not that kind of alley, I climb over a fence, into a garden, through a cat flap; it’s a small cat flap, when I say small I mean Grande size, big enough for a tiger. Crikey, who would live in a house like this? There’s only one way to find out. I go upstairs and get changed. The lady arrives at the front door and rings the doorbell. I open the door; I’m standing there in a fancy pink dressing gown, with fluffy slippers and big fat cigar hanging out my mouth.
“Good to see you again,” I say.
“You too,” says the dame.
The lady plants a big fat kiss on my lips before I’ve had a chance to take cigar out of my mouth.
“Ouch y,” she says, “that really hurt. When are you going to stop smoking?”
“I’ll stop smoking when you leave your husband,” I reply.
“That’s real funny, darling” she says. “How was your day?”
“Great,” I say. “Now come inside and take off your duffel coat.”
