Heinz Noonan, the “Bearded Holmes” of the Sandersonville Police Department, was helplessly trapped in a departmental meeting with blatant undertones. He, along with the rest of the Sandersonville Police, Fire, and Medical Emergency staff, was in an executive meeting hosted by the Sandersonville Commissioner of Homeland Security. While the Commissioner termed this gathering as a presentation, it would have been more correctly defined as a lecture on the need for unity in the department – headed by and lead by his Royal Highness.

In spite of the fact there were three departments there.

It was also a way for the Commissioner to justify his acquisition of a large fish tank along with two dozen neon tetras. The Commissioner was pointing to the tetras, all in a school facing the same direction, and was haranguing one and all that this was the way staff was supposed to operate. No one cracked a smile but silent snickers filled the Commissioner’s throne room.

Noonan was gagging on guffaws, silent like those of the rest of the staff, when Harriet saved him from breaking the stern code of silence followed by all staff members of buffoons. He was needed downstairs, and Noonan did not utter a single word of protest.

“You have a loo-loo call downstairs,” Harriet said. “Someone has to lose Monday.”

“Lose Monday? That’ll be a trick. Even the Lord could not do it.”

“Well, Heinz. You’ll get your chance to best the Lord.”

*  *  *

“Noonan.”

“Thank goodness you are there. I do need some help. I need to lose Monday.” The voice was that of an older woman.

Noonan dug around on his desk for a notepad. “Losing a day of the week is not easy.”

“But I need it. See, I have this problem.”

“We all have problems. Can I get your name? I can see from your area code that you are calling from California.”

There was a moment of silence. “Actually, I don’t want to leave my name. I was told you could be discrete.”

“I will do what I can. Why don’t you tell me your problem, and I’ll see if I can help.”

“Well, it is embarrassing, Captain.”

“Heinz. Until there’s a crime, I’m just Heinz.”

“OK, Heinz. It’s a short story with a big problem. I and my husband were married for 27 years. Two years ago, we had a falling out and got divorced. We split all of the household goods and investments with the exception of an office building here in Corona. The sale was complicated and it took a while to negotiate a deal. During negotiations my husband, then – and now my ex-husband – was caught up in a financial scam at his office. He was sentenced to a year in jail. He had participated in the negotiations for the sale of our property in Corona, and we are scheduled to sign the actual transfer next Monday at 10 a.m.”

“Let me guess,” Noonan said sadly. “There’s been a complication.”

“Boy, do you have that right! I suspected but did not know he had been having an affair with a younger woman. She came out of the woodwork a week ago, and suddenly, the deal to sell the office building was not good enough. For her. While the sales price was fine, the 50/50 split with my ex-husband was not.”

“Let me guess,” Noonan said. “She wants more for your ex-husband and wants to stall the final signing.”

“It’s more complicated than that. My husband was sentenced to a year behind bars so I was given the Power of Attorney to negotiate the deal. But I could not sign off on the deal until three things happened. First, that he agreed to the sales price, which he has. Second, that the split would be 50/50, which it is. Third, I could sign the deal if he were still in custody at the actual transfer of property, which will be Monday.”

Noonan shook his head. “But he’s getting out early.”

There was a sniffle on the other end of the line. “Because of Covid-19. He’s a nonviolent offender, so he’s being put on house arrest.”

“With his young friend, I’ll bet.”

“Yes, sir. He will be released Sunday, in two days. The final signing of the deal will be the next day, Monday. At 10 a.m. He’ll be there with a probation officer because he’s still technically in custody.”

“You think he’s going to upset the applecart, right?”

“I don’t think it. I know it. I was hopeful you could come up with a solution for me to get the final documents signed before Monday at 10 a.m. I need some kind of a delay for all day Monday because on Tuesday, I will have the legal right to sign off on the deal he has already agreed to.”

“So you need to make Monday disappear.”

“I was told you were a genius at making the impossible possible.”

*  *  *

Three days later, Harriet came into Noonan’s office with a large package. It was strapped with tape and labels which indicated the package was to be kept frozen. Harriet was reading the letter as she placed the box on Noonan’s desk.

“This letter is one of your odd ones. It’s from Japan. You know anyone in Japan?”

Noonan mumbled something that sounded like “Eh?’ or “Huh?”

“Right. The letter says thanks with no signature. But it is addressed to you.”

“That’s all it says?”

“No. It says ‘Enjoy the Wagyu. You deserve it.’ I looked up Wagyu. It’s a breed of Japanese cattle. Very expensive meat.”

“Must taste yummy.”

Harriet clutched the box to her chest as she leaned toward Noonan. “You’ll never know. This appears to be an emolument and law enforcement people can’t take those. I, on the other hand, am just a poor civil servant and I will dispose of this item.”

“Let me know if it tastes yummy.”

“I will. Now, tell Momma why you got a shipment of Wagyu from Tokyo when you know no one in Japan.”

“Short story.”

“I’m like Ross Perot, ‘all ears.’”

“Remember that loo-loo call last Friday?”

“When I pulled you away from the neon tetra screed?”

“Screed?”

“That’s the term the office now uses for His Majesty’s lectures.” She looked up to the ceiling, through the tiles to the Commissioner’s throne room on the third floor. “Now, the loo-loo call.”

“Well, the problem the woman had was at a 10 a.m. meeting on Monday in her lawyer’s office. Her husband, who has been in prison, was going to be there. And he was going to be there with a friend …”

Harriet cut it. “… a chickepoo who has been pressuring the ex-husband for a bigger cut of the legal pie.”

“Yup. But there was a twist. The ex-wife had the power of attorney to sign on Tuesday. So she needed …”

Again, Harriet cut in. “I remember, she had to lose Monday. How’d she do that?”

“Oh, I didn’t tell her what to do. I just offered a suggestion.”

“Which was?”

“I told her to give her ex-husband a call at about 10 p.m. on Sunday confirming the appointment with the lawyer the next day. Then she should board a plane for Tokyo with someone who could notarize a document. She calls her husband from the airport and then boards the 10 p.m. flight to Tokyo. It’s a 12-hour flight, so she arrives in Tokyo on Tuesday at 10 a.m. Los Angeles time.”

“And signs the papers there?”

“No. Too tight a schedule. Tokyo is 17 hours ahead of Los Angeles. The moment she passed over the International Dateline, at about 3 a.m. Los Angeles time on Monday, it’s now Tuesday where she is. So she lost Monday, so to speak. For her, it is Tuesday so the Power of Attorney is active. Now that it was Tuesday, she just signed all the documents. She has the notary who was with her notarize the documents. Then she used her iPhone to snapshot photos of the legal documents, her boarding pass, shots of a clock showing it is after midnight. Then, since it was Tuesday – just barely, but legally Tuesday – she texts the whole kit and caboodle to the lawyer’s office. She had signed the documents on Tuesday, so they are legal.”

“Clever! So she lost Monday.”

Noonan pointed to the box of Wagyu. “Apparently. “By the way, do you what you call a cow with no legs?”

“Ouch!”

“Ground beef.”