The world famous food detectives, Mr. and Mrs. Condolez, had just finished their daily rounds at the local all-can-eat Asian buffet when they were stunned to see a lone man at their office door’s window.
“Mr. and Mrs. Condolez!” the voice repeatedly shouted.
Mr. Condolez motioned for the man to enter and I took note of the approximate time of the encounter, 9:37 PM.
“I’m sorry to bother you at such an hour sir but it is urgent,” exclaimed the man.
His punctual moustache and confused French accent was a dead give away. This was the five star sushi chief Monsieur Hernandez Cortina Fuun Showe the second. Once again, I scrawled my notes, in all caps, on off-yellow construction paper.
“My fish! It is no good! My new fillet sandwich restaurant, La Poubelle, reeks like rot,” cried the clearly distressed man.
That’s when I knew Mr. and Mrs. Condolez would take the case. As aficionados of sea food cuisine I knew they couldn’t resist the ugly opportunity of a free sushi meal. In unison the Condolez couple stated:
“We all gotcha covered.”
“You have my most sincere appreciation.”
It was nearly nine the next morning when we hopped in the Condolez couples 1994 Ford F-250. The truck bed was loaded with the usual. Ph strips, microscopes, several coolers of varied import beers, basics tool kits, nothing out of the ordinary. I took my seat between Mr. and Mrs. as I did every weekday morning. I slept the entire ride.
Around half past nine I awoke to the sour smell of fast food coffee and greasy biscuits. The familiar stench somewhat revolted me but there was little I could do.
“What’s the hold up boy?” the Mr. exclaimed while exiting his precarious perched vehicle.
I climbed down the side and took extra caution not to step off the ledge Mr. Condolez unthinkingly parked next to. Looking over my shoulder I could see that we were at the Frenchman’s fish fillet restaurant, La Poubelle. Indeed, his store did have a fairly pungent aroma that became increasingly abhorrent as I drew closer. Without thinking I made cringed faces to the smell. I only hope Monsieur didn’t notice, for he was arriving at the door to great us.
“I am so relieved you have come to my humble restaurant. Sit, sit, s’il vous plait,” Monsieur stated as he motioned for us to take our seats.
“Hon, I think the easiest place to start would be with a sample of every course,” said Mrs. Condolez
“Every course?! Oh-la-la this will take quite some time to prepare for you. Almost all of my employees have left me,” shockingly but quietly Monsieur murmured.
“Please just do as my wife says. We are experts you know.”
Ten minutes passed by before our first course of meals came. Mr. and Mrs. Condolez stuffed themselves quite quickly. Sweat perspired from their skin as they ate at a feverish pace. To cool himself Mr. Condolez lifted his cap and patted his brow with a brown recyclable napkin. Still perturbed by the smell, I only ordered a Spiderman ice cream pop.
“Would you lookee here Patricia, this bun’s sesame seed to pickle ratio is atrocious. Yet that deals nothing with the smell. I still can’t figure out why it’s here,” Mr. Condolez inquired.
“Let’s check in the back, perhaps there is something wrong with his production line or storage,” whispered Mrs. Condolez to Mr. in order to stay out of earshot of Monsieur.
Our little search dumbfounded me. No one thought of plugging the refrigerator in.
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