A Detective Paco Rerun - Detective Paco and the Climate Babe

I went down to the University to nose around and find out about this mysterious consensus of scientific bodies that had decided we were all soon destined to be permanent occupants of a planetary steam bath. It was late, but I figured there had to be one or two geniuses around who preferred playing with test tubes to stacking empty shot glasses down at Machado’s.

The main door to the Physics building was open and it looked like a good place to start so I tossed my cigarette into a hydrangea bush and sauntered in. The corridors were dimly lit, and the place smelled like Mr. Clean’s bathroom. Down the hall I saw a bright slit of light at the bottom of a door marked “Climatology Department – L. Petri, Dean”. A hole in one. I opened the door and stepped in and that’s when I saw her.

I don’t know what I was expecting; some geezer with coke bottle glasses and hair like an Easter basket full of excelsior, I suppose. I recalled my days in biology lab in high school, and I’d never seen a Petri dish to match this one. She had long chestnut-colored hair tied in a loose queue that fell half-way down her back and a figure that looked like a stylized ‘S’. When she looked up at me I saw that her eyes were like two deep pools of melted glacier water and I could see myself grabbing a big rock and jumping in and sinking straight to the bottom.

“Can I help you?”

“I hope so, ma’am. Name’s Paco, private detective. I’m looking into claims made by. . .” - I consulted my notes – “a David Suzuki that all scientific bodies agree we’ll soon be able to go trolling for marlin off the coast of Nebraska.”

She turned to face me and her unfastened white lab coat parted: just enough to let me know that this was one scientific body worth some close attention.

She pondered for a moment. “David Suzuki? Wasn’t he the old guy in The Karate Kid?”

“No, Professor Petri. He’s a scientist. A geneticist, I believe, who’s banging the global warming drum.”

She laughed. It sounded like a soft breeze stirring silver wind chimes.

“In that case, I’ve never heard of him. And if he’s marching to the sound of that particular drummer, he’s way off base. There is no consensus, and my own view is that the global warming scare is largely fraudulent, a bogey-man used by ideologues to gain more political power. And call me Linda”

So who was I going to believe: a bespectacled old Japanese duffer who was carrying water for Al Gore, or this Venus in a lab coat who’d just asked me to call her “Linda”.

I smiled and put my notebook away. Case solved. “Linda, you look a little thirsty. Have you ever been to Machado’s?”

She smiled and took off her lab coat. “Mr. Paco, I’ll show you how to build a rhombic dodecahedron from bar coasters. Let’s go”.