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A Question of Business
“Have you ever heard of the film The Wizard of Australia, Sergeant?”
The crunch of the gravel. The hunched arboreal predawn light.
“Do you mean The Wizard of Oz, sir?”
“I’m not thick, Sergeant. If I had meant The Wizard of Oz, I would have said The Wizard of Oz. I was asking if you’d ever seen The Wizard of Australia.”
“Is it … an adult film, sir?”
“What’s with you this morning?”
“I’m sorry, sir. It’s just that I’ve never heard of — “
A woman approached the two of us. She was wearing an exceptionally low-key version of one of those Dynasty dresses — like it was a distant cousin, maybe, with the slightest hint of ruffled, puffy sleeves; the overall geometric shape a slight tilt, a slight nod to the prevailing sense of ‘Business’ in the air, as if this were the kind of dress that would be suitable for a dress casual business party at the office up in London; and she was already mid-conversation with the Inspector. What was I doing? She was already mid-conversation with the Inspector. How long had it been?
“We’ll do everything we can, Madame,” Inspector Rhinestone said. “Don’t worry. If I miss something — ” He turned to face me. “My sergeant is here, too.” He turned back. “Mind like a steel trap, that one.”
