The Amazing Adventures of Miss Ariana Okata

A Journey of a Thousand Miles Begins With One Step, and Preferably in Louboutins

Having decided to delay the phone call to Det. Daniel until my arrival in gay Paris (which is not a reference to the city's sexual orientation, but a quaint, old-fashioned moniker for the city of lights, and is pronounced "Gay Paree"), and eager to locate the real culprits in Ted's untimely death, I quickly began eating into the money Ted had willed to me and boarded a flight there the next day in order to begin my own international private investigation. I thought that given my knack for tailing suspicious people, such as the trial-run surveilling the mysteriously sexy Y-san, plus my enjoyment while doing so, I should definitely press on. Of course, I was also now fully re-employed, posthumously, by none other than Ted himself, as the official investigator of his untimely demise.

I caught the next day's flight to Paris, France, a city I'd always wanted to see. None of my ex-boyfriends had ever offered to take me there or I would have jumped at the opportunity. Well, I didn't need a man to take me there, so I took myself there, on a mission, not just as a tourist with money burning a hole in her Coach wallet, although I was certainly that as well.

While packing my Gucci suitcase, my iPhone chimed from the depths of my purse. It was another text message from the mysterious and potentially helpful "S. Admirer", whom I assumed was an adult male, but in this day and age, who knew for sure. Didn't matter; I needed all the assistance I could get:

J & P checked into the Paris Ritz on Thursday, May 7. They were spotted at Le Bistro on 5 Rue Madeleine on Saturday, October 23, eating caviar on toast and drinking Earl Grey Tea spiked with vodka. Upon your arrival, I will help U find them.

Hugs and kisses,

S.A.

I texted the mysterious Mr./Miss/Ms./Mrs. Secret Admirer back:

I will arrive at Charles de Gaulle Airport at 2:35 p.m. Paris time. How will I find U? And do U know what I look like?

Two minutes later I received a response:

Of course I do. I'm looking forward to laying eyes on U again! I will be wearing a pink rose in my lapel. – S.A.

I shot back:

Who R U?

S. Admirer responded:

For me to know and U to find out...eventually. XO

As for tracking down Jacques and Pierre, why not just call the gendarmerie (the French police), you ask? If I did then I wouldn't have a good reason to visit Paris, would I?

Prior to my departure, unable after all to wait until my arrival in France, I called Daniel to say goodbye while in the waiting lounge at the airport.

"Reynolds."

He sounded to-the-point and was breathing a little heavily. My knees quivered at the now-familiar sound of his deep, sonorous and officious voice, but I kept my own steady. I was sure to raise it at least an octave, in order to sound as girly and cheerful as possible.

"Hello, Constable Reynolds. Am I catching you at a bad time?"

"No, just got out of the shower. Who is this?"

"Shower? Oh, um, Ariana Okata." When he failed to respond I added, "Ted Davison's receptionist."

I forgave his pause, as I assumed Daniel heard hundreds of names during the course of his work-week.

"Right, of course, Ms. Okata."

"Call me Ariana."

I tried to use my soft, sexy, non-suspect voice.