As if thinking lustfully of women had summoned another female in my life, Yulia’s name and number appeared on my Nokia’s antique screen, triggering my lone ringtone, a ghostly sound effect that combined an Yma Sumac banshee wail with some notes from a theremin. I think Marty had crafted it just for me. It wasn’t the most soothing of sounds, but you never missed a call.
“Vee Ruggles, Investigations. If you are looking for a missing alimony payment, you need to contact your bank. Those capitalist suckers are pure evil, and delight in delaying the processing of money faithfully deposited into your account by the man you once called ‘Tigerpants.’”
“Vern, quit fooling around. I need to see you about something. Today, if possible.”
Going to see Yulia always led me into some kind of absurd sit
