I had gone out for lunch and was now walking back to my office. I noticed a man stumbling down the street. He was very handsome, and he was dressed elegantly. At first, I thought he was drunk. But then I noticed he was clutching at his chest. Furthermore, his coat was stained red.

He had been shot!

He continued stumbling. There was a circular fountain nearby. He got in it and lied down in the water!

"Sir!" I shouted.

I ran to the fountain, kicked my sandals off, got in, and lied down beside him.

He smiled. "Hello. You needn't of gotten wet, on my account!"

"It's OK. Don't try to talk; I'll get help for you."

"Don't bother; I know I'm done for! What's your name, if you don't mind my asking?"

"Jennifer Mason. Most people call me Barefoot Jenny."

"My name is—well, I guess it no long matters. I'd like to thank you, Barefoot Jenny. I can at least see one last beautiful lady before dying."

"Please don't talk like that!"

"Goodbye, Barefoot Jenny."

And then, he died!

People had gathered, by now. A policeman got in the fountain and helped me help him out. Fortunately, he was friends with Lt. Kirschenbaum, who was called to assist.


The Lt. came into my office, the next day. His look was very somber. "Hi, Jenny," he said.

"Looks like you've got some bad new to tell me, Carl."

He nodded. "I can't tell it to you right her. We need to go someplace more private. I'll drive you."

"OK."

I put my shoes on, and we left.


Taken his home car, he drove me to a local park. We got out and sat on an empty bench.

"You didn't see that man die, yesterday."

"You mean…officially."

"Yes."

"Can you tell me why?"

"He was a secret agent."

"You mean like James Bond."

"Yes."

"I see. Was he one of ours, or one of theirs?"

"I don't know. They didn't tell me that."

"I see. So, in other words, if I know who killed him, they'd have to shoot me, right?"

He chuckled. "That's about it, Jenny! So, promise me you won't try to investigate it."

I nodded. "I promise."

"Good girl! Now, I've got a little something for you."

From his pocket, he gave me an envelope. Inside was $1000! I gave him back most of it, except $100. "This is for the guy's funeral; it's the least I can do."

"OK, Jenny."

"Can you at least tell me his name?"

"Vladamir Bogerov."

"Then, he was one of theirs."

"Not necessarily; he might have been a double agent."

"True."

"Oh, please don't discuss this, anymore."

"Discuss what?"

He smiled. "Good! Now, how about I treat you to lunch?"

"Sounds good, Carl!"

We got up and left.


I never heard anymore about this incident. But I sincerely hope this guy was on our side.