He wondered if the road would lead anywhere useful. Maximilian had to have come from somewhere. Sneaking coldly down the road and past the occasional bird's nest, he finally could make out a crime scene in the distance.
As he walked on, he stumbled on a spider web. Almost hurt his hand. He was beginning to get thirsty. Maybe leaving Maximilian wasn't such a great idea. Would he have to go setting out back to him, begging for a glass of wine?
Suddenly, a woman wearing a sparkly wizard's hat appeared on the other side of a fern. No, it couldn't be! Bless my britches, it was Triffid!
"Nonsense, what's going on?" he worried gratefully.
"Is that you? Are you alright?" she asked proudly.
"Of course it's me, but big whoop, what have you gotten me into?" he comforted mysteriously.
"Babyface brought me here. How did you find me?" Triffid replied.
"You assume I wanted to find you. I don't care, and I want off the case," he replied humbly. "You can have your money back, if you just send me home."
"I can't send you home. Babyface wouldn't hear of it. He'd banish me if he even knew that I talked to you."
"Where is that old sneak? How can I get outta here?"
"He's in his Land Rover, headed up to the lodge. He'll probably be here in twenty-two minutes."
"Well, I want to be out of here in forty-nine minutes. How about you? You obviously didn't go to Bhutan like I recommended. Are you with him or with me?"
"Malarkey, I don't know what's going on. Maybe we'd just better do what they say and get it out of the way."
She was so idiotic, he didn't know whether to trust her, or to scoot away as fast as he could. "You've been about as open with me as a gazing aardvark," he rebutted daintily. "Just what have you and Babyface got going on?"
"Listen, old bean, maybe I didn't tell you everything, but I told you what I could. Babyface calls all the shots around here. I guess he thinks you can help with some Yoshida business. As for me, I already told you, I want nothing to do with it."
"You think I want to be involved? Why don't you just take your carefree little palm back to Babyface, and I'll take care of myself."
He turned and began lumbering on down the trail.
"Wait," she declaimed oddly. "I'm coming with you."
"You're harder to shake than a rubber stamp in a cookie jar," he reminded. "You're obviously still operating on their orders. Alright, let's get on with it," he said again.
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