“No,” said I, “I did not. But what has all this got to do with me?”
“Wakey-wakey, chief. God’s gone missing. His wife wants Him found.”
“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”
“That very much depends on what it is you think I’m saying.”
“Me?” I said. “You want me to find God?”
“God’s wife wants you to find God. Someone told her that you were the best in the business.”
“Someone? Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”
“If you think I’m saying that it was me—”
“Barry, I love you.”
“—then you’re wrong, chief.”
“What was that?”
“Nothing, chief. Not a thing.”
“Me!” I upped right out of my chair, skipped the light fandango and turned cartwheels ’cross the floor.
“Whoa! Don’t do that, chief! Agh! Eeek! Ooh!”
“Sorry, Barry.” I fell into a perfect splits position before back-flipping over my desk to land once more upon my chair. There to turn a whiter shade of pale.
“The piles, chief?”
“Urgh!”
I sat upon an ice pack and pondered my position. I was being called in to find God. This was the Big One. This was The Case. Every great detective dreams of The Case. And this had to be it.
“Barry,” said I, with more seriousness than a Sudanese soothsayer, “this is the Big One, but I have a problem here.”
“You could strap the ice pack into your underpants.”
“Not that kind of problem. I’m already engaged on a case. I’ve taken the thousand big ones up front. And although these are now only small ones, compared to the Big One, I can’t just quit the case.”
“Chief. A word to the wise here. God’s wife is not the kind of creature that you want to keep waiting. If you think that God’s been a little harsh with the Ethiopians, believe me, piss God’s wife off and you’re in a world of hurt.”
I glanced down at my wristlet watch. “Listen, Barry,” I said. “It’s just turned four. I can have this other case tied up today, easy. Then I could go out this evening, have a few beers, talk some toot, get an early night and find God first thing in the morning. How does that sound?”
“About as likely as Blue Peter sponsoring a Gary Glitter comeback concert, chief.”
“That likely, eh?”
“That, or just a bit less.”
I pondered my position once more. I felt the need to cogitate. To conceptualize. To lucubrate. To cerebrate. To ruminate. To …
“Gimme a break, chief. Dump your case and let’s go looking for God.”
“Well …”
“Chief, would you like me to tell you a little story about God’s wife?”
“Does it have a happy ending?”
“No, chief, it doesn’t. But I’m going to tell it to you anyway. It’s all about how the world really began and it’s not the version you’ve read in the Old Testament. I’ll tell it as it happened and I’ll do all the voices and everything. I’ll even throw in a title for good luck.”
“Go on then.”
“OK.”
God’s wife wasn’t impressed.
“And what is that supposed to be?” she asked.
“It’s a present,” said God. “I made it for you.”
“A present.” God’s wife did that thing with her mouth. That thing that God didn’t like.
“It’s for your birthday,” said God. “You see I didn’t forget.”
“I see,” said the wife of God.
“And I’ve named it after you. It’s called the Earth.”
God’s wife did that thing once again. “My name is not Earth!” she said. “It’s Eartha. You know I don’t like you calling me Earth. It sounds dirty, somehow.”
“You used to like it when I called you Earth.” God made a sad and sorry face.
“Well that was then and this is now and what is that supposed to be?”
“Which that is that?”
“That little that down there on the Earth.”
“Ah,” said God, with pride in His voice. “That little that is Man.”
“Man?” asked Eartha, wife of God.
“Man,” said God. “I created him in my own image.”
“Ha ha ha,” went the wife of God. “You never looked as good as that.”
“It’s what you call an idealized representation.”
“Yeah, right, sure it is.”
“Look,” God sighed. “Do you want it or not? It took me days to make.”
“How many days?”
God sighed again. “What does it matter, how many days? Look at the detail. Look at all the pretty colours.”
God’s wife looked. “And what are those?” she asked.
“Those are trees,” said God. “And those are flowers. And those are rabbits. And those are birdies. And that’s a Ford Fiesta.”
“I don’t like that,” said Eartha.
“Why don’t you like it? What’s wrong with it?”
“The design of the inner sill on the wheel arches. You’ll get rust there.”
“Ah,” said God.
“And why is Man grinning like that?”
“Because he’s happy.” God shook His old head. “So do you want it, or not?”
God’s wife shrugged. “Suppose so,” she said. “But what’s it for? Can I wear it?”
“No!” God threw up His hands in despair. “It’s not for wearing. It’s not even for touching. It’s just for looking at. You look at it and it makes you happy.”
God’s wife looked. “Oh no it doesn’t,” she said. “But if you made me another one, I could wear the pair as earrings.”
“I give up,” said God. “I give up.” And God put on His over-robe. “I give up and I’m going fishing.”
“Fishing?”
“Never mind!”
God left, slamming the door behind Him. God’s wife looked down on the Earth. “Well,” she said, “I suppose it’s an improvement on that stupid black hole thing He made for me last year. But it needs a bit of tidying up. It needs a woman’s touch. The Ford Fiesta can go for a start. And as for you …”
God’s wife peered down at the grinning Man.
“What you need is a wife.”
The grinning Man ceased grinning. “I’d rather keep the Ford,” he said.
“And you probably know the rest, chief. Adam gets a wife. The wife gets tempted. Original sin. Adam gets kicked out of paradise and it’s another ten thousand years before the Ford Fiesta is invented. And they never sort out the problem with the inner sill on the wheel arches.”
I whistled two bars of “Mean Woman Blues”.
“You get the picture now, chief?”
“I do. So I’ll tell you what I think. I think I’ll put the other case on hold for now!”
“I think you’ve made the right decision there, chief. And it’s really nice that you made it of your own free will, without me having to mention the threats and everything.”
“Threats? What threats?”
“Oh, just the threats that God’s wife made, regarding what she’d do if you didn’t find her husband within twenty-four hours. The most unpleasant but suitably spectacular death, followed by the eternity of hellfire and damnation. But as you’ve made the decision of your own free will, I won’t have to mention them at all.”
“Thank goodness for that.”
“You haven’t got a hope, you feeble-minded sod.”
“What was that, Barry?”
“I said put on your hat and coat and let’s go and find God.”
“OK, Barry, let’s have a little action.”