Milo made a show of putting on reading glasses, dropping papers, retrieving them. “Um … okay … so… how about we talk about the house on Borodi—”

Helga cut him off: “Blah blah blah.”

“The house on Borodi Lane, where—”

“Blah blah blah blah blah.”

Milo grinned.

“Something is funny, Policeman?”

“Blah blah blah is one of my favorite phrases.” Helga rotated a finger in the air. “Is that supposed to give us commonality?”

“I don’t imagine commonality would be possible between us.”

“Oh?”

“You despise people,” said Milo. “Most of the time I consider myself part of the human race.”

“I despise people?” said Helga.

“So you said the first time we met.”

“You, Policeman, need to stop decoding literally.”

Milo snapped his fingers. “I knew I should’ve paid attention in metaphor class.”

Helga ran a manicured finger under chopped black bangs. “A policeman who has studied the dictionary.”

“Started with A and working all the way to B. Unfortunately, I kinda got hung up on boom.”

Helga didn’t answer.

Milo said, “The house on Borodi—”

“I burned some twigs. So what?”

“Twigs.”

“A heap of rotting wood, a monstrosity. I did the world a favor.”

“By burning down the house—”

“Not a house,” Helga corrected. “Ruins. Twigs. Garbage. Monstrosity. Shit. I cleansed in the name of aesthetic righteousness, structural integrity, epistemological consistency, and meta-ecology.”

“Meta-ecology. Didn’t get even close to that in the dictionary.”

“It won’t be in there. I constructed it.”

“Ah.”

Helga Gemein held up the rotating finger. “It means stepping back from trivial components of the gestalt that endow the system with no functional autonomy.”

Milo said, “Looking at the big cosmic machine, not the cogs.”

Helga studied him. “You can’t hope to understand because you are American and Americans are all religious.”

“We’ve got a few atheists.”

“In name only, Policeman. Even your atheists are religious because American faith is infinite. The suckling pig that never stops offering its flesh.”

“I’m not sure I’m—”

“You people have convinced yourself possibilities are endless, endings are happy, puzzles are to solved, the future is an advertising jingle, your way of life is sacred, might makes right. If Americans would tear themselves away from their twigs and their shit and use their eyes and ears and noses to dissect reality, they would alter their cognitive structure.”

Maria Thomas muttered, “And become clinically depressed like Europe.”

Helga said, “Americans are the domesticated pets of the world. Submissive and eating their own shit. Until they turn vicious and then we have war.”

Boxmeister said, “Talk about a cuckoo clock.”

Thomas said, “I’ve been to Interpol conferences. She’s just another spoiled Euro-trash brat.”

“But maybe a little whack, too?” Boxmeister nudged me. “What do you think, Doc?”

Thomas said, “Bite your tongue, Detective, and don’t answer, Dr. Delaware. It’s going to be pain enough dealing with a foreign national, last thing we need is diminished capacity.”