Fiction
The God Problem Solver: Part 2
Others just get wet
In part one, down-on-his-luck petty criminal Eddy came up with his retirement plan. He would pose as God online to fleece gullible Airtasker users of their possessions. He managed to swap an old lady’s rose bushes, but the payment wasn’t quite what he imagined.
Another request came though the next day.
Hey God, I need your help to stop my traitorous bitch of a wife sleeping with a dirtbag.
MadMax69
Eddy wasn’t sure he wanted a piece of this, but after last night’s dinner, a few rounds of drinks and a flutter on the dogs, most of Zorro’s hard work had been erased. Plus, Eddy had seen Cheaters; it looked like easy work.
He met MadMax69 outside Donut King in Burwood shopping centre. A middle-aged man in a tweed jacket sat hunched over three dinosaur donuts. His combover was on full display as he attacked the fried dough with a knife and fork.
‘You must be Mad Max 69,’ said Eddy.
The man looked Eddy up and down with a frown. ‘And you must be God.’
Eddy had decided to try and look the part for the meeting. He dressed himself in black jeans, black Dunlop volleys and a black Metallica tee-shirt with a clerical collar drawn on with white-out.
‘Technically speaking, God is my employer, but me and the big fella go way back. Now, what seems to be the problem?’
Eddy eased himself down into the plastic chair across from Mad Max and eyed off the donuts. He hadn’t eaten since the previous night — a 2 am kebab with extra BBQ sauce and heartburn.
‘My wife, Andrea, has taken off with this hippie prick from the IT department. He’s no good for her, but she won’t listen to reason from me. I need you to convince her. Dig some fucking dirt or whatever it is you people do.’
Eddy reached a hand towards the donuts. ‘Can I just — ’
‘No!’ Mad Max said, slapping Eddy’s hand away. ‘You will receive full payment on completion of the job. Here’s the address she’s been shacking up at.’
Eddy took the napkin Mad Max offered and slid it into the back pocket of his jeans before clearing his throat. ‘Hebrews 145; Through him then let us continually offer up a sacrifice of praise to God, that is, the fruit of — ’
‘Shut up.’
A tingle of excitement ran through Eddy’s body as he rode towards the address of the adulterer. As a boy, he dreamt of becoming a detective, like Columbo or Kojak, but his Mother had told him detectives end up chasing after men like his father, and what was the good in that? Eddy had talked to his own share of detectives over the years, some good, some bad. He needed a notebook. And a hat.
Eddy stopped at the two-dollar shop in Ashfield, and emerged with a pink My Little Pony diary and a red and green Rastafarian beanie.
He continued on to the address written on the napkin, and parked his bike against the fence of a rundown old terrace. He waded through knee-high weeds in the front yard and knocked on the door. As he waited, he adjusted his beanie. High and tight, just like Kojak.
‘Hello?’ said the woman who answered the door. She had a short bob of blonde hair and a soft face with more lines than it should have.
‘Mrs. MadMax, my name is Detective Eddy Carminkle. I’m here to ask you a few questions,’ Eddy said, holding the My Little Pony diary up like a badge.
‘Who are you looking for?’
‘Ah, sorry. Andrea. Andrea Johnson?’ Eddy asked, squinting at the smudged ink on the napkin.
‘Yes, that’s me. Max sent you, didn’t he?’
‘As per NSW detective code of conduct sub clause 21B, I cannot reveal my sources,’ Eddy said with a shrug of his shoulders.
Andrea sighed. ‘Go on then. Ask away.’
Eddy realised he didn’t have any questions to ask. He flicked through the empty diary in desperation.
‘How did you end up marrying a dickhead like Max in the first place?’ he asked.
Andrea blinked, then burst into laughter.
‘You better come inside.’
Eddy was led through to a small kitchen. A dreadlocked man sat at the wooden table, drinking from a coconut shell. In front of him, a dull metal teapot rested on a flat piece of bark.
‘Sup, man?’ he asked Eddy, nodding his head.
Eddy nodded back. He felt an instant Rasta connection.
‘Sup.’
‘Kai, this is Detective Eddy, from… Where did you say you were from again?’ Andrea asked.
‘Special Branch,’ Eddy said, still nodding.
‘Yeah? That’s tight, man,’ Kai said, nodding again himself.
Eddy folded himself into one of the wooden chairs at the table. A plate of choc-chip cookies sat next to the teapot. Eddy felt saliva pool in his mouth.
‘I need to ask your whereabouts on the night Mrs. Shirley’s roses were dug up and urinated on.’
Andrea and Kai stared back at him, baffled.
‘Shit. Wrong one. I mean, I heard you guys been up to no good. Max is worried about you.’
‘Listen, Eddy. Max worries about two things. Money, and the ever-expanding bald patch on his head.’
‘What about you?’ Eddy asked, directing his fiercest glare at the dreadlocked tea drinker. ‘You had any dealings with Max?’
‘Nah man, I aint got no beef with nobody. I can’t blame him for being jealous though. Andrea’s a special woman.’
Kai smiled at Andrea, who smiled back. Smiles that said more than any words, or Facebook updates, or wedding rings. The only person to smile at Eddy like that was Zorro.
‘You mind if I have one of those cookies? I’m starving,’ Eddy asked.
He looked starving, too. Eddy had the build of a jockey who’d barely survived a prisoner of war camp.
The other two swapped glances.
‘Um, I dunno man. They’ve gone a bit funny. The last one I had made me feel real strange,’ Kai said.
‘My middle name is strange. Don’t worry, I’m off the clock,’ Eddy said with a wink, placing his beanie down on the table.
A few hours later, Eddy floated home on his bike, content with his day’s work. Warm rain tumbled down as he cycled through city streets. Nine-to-fiver’s cursed as they stumbled out of their office blocks without an umbrella to protect them.
Eddy smiled. Bob Marley said it best, ‘Some people feel the rain, others just get wet.’
The next day he met back up with MadMax69, this time bent over a caramel éclair.
‘You work fast. What’d you get for me? Any dirt on the homewrecker?’
‘Kai? He’s clean as a whistle. Top bloke, actually, and one hell of baker. I can see why she left you for him. No offence.’
MadMax glared back, a smear of caramel hanging from the corner of his mouth. Dude should stick to using cutlery, Eddy thought.
‘She wrote you a note though,’ Eddy said, passing Max an envelope.
Max tore it open and pulled out a single piece of paper. His eyes softened, for a second, then hardened, and he wiped the caramel from his mouth with the back of his hand.
‘So, about that payment…’ Eddy said.
Max looked up from the letter, colour creeping up his neck.
‘Are you fucking kidding me? You think what you’ve done deserves payment?’
‘Well, God moves in mysterious ways.’
‘You are the worst detective on the face of the Earth, and I’m going to make sure everyone knows. You’re a scam artist.’
As Eddy stood to leave, he caught sight of the letter lying face up on the table.
It’s over Max.
When Eddy had read the note Andrea had written, he had approved of its brevity, but felt it might be missing a little something, so added another line before sealing it in the envelope.
Donut contact me again.
Read on for Part 3: