2000-11-14 - 20:52:38

I was working on a case. I couldn�t afford a desk. Outside, the rain was coming down like so many condensed drops of water that had reached critical mass in the earth�s atmosphere. In walks trouble. A blond. They always were. After all, the offices were in Stockholm. She asks if I could help her out. I wasn�t sure � I was pretty busy. I�d been working round the clock. Stupid place to put that big old thing, right there in the middle of the office, but there was no time for regrets now. �I need you to follow my husband�, she says. I said I�d be happy to, on the proviso he wasn�t one of those solo arctic explorers. �I�m sure he�s having an affair, but I need you to catch him in flagrante delicto.� Now, my German wasn�t so hot, but I figured this guy had his infidelity-shaped hand in an evocatively-shaped cookie jar. �Spending sordid nights showing a brazen disregard for trust and self respect through desperate, dispassionate acts of pitiful lust, � I offered, but she wasn�t interested in how I passed my weekends. �Can you help me?� she implored. I wasn�t sure. After all, this was a post office, and I was just the guy who licked the stamps, but already I felt too involved�

(to be continued?)