4I made my way downstairs and pushed out onto the second floor. Bella’s office door was ajar. Through the opening, I saw her standing at the window, staring out at Ujazdowskie Boulevard. She wore a gray wool sweater and matching slacks, with serviceable half-boots on her feet. From the rear she appeared credible in a position usually filled by balding men.
I knocked on the door frame.
She closed the mini blinds and turned to reveal her less conventional side. Her copper-colored hair spiked into a punk crew cut above green eyes lined, shadowed, and mascara’d with a combination of cosmetics I couldn’t name. The beaten silver hoops in her ears jingled raucously as she dropped into her office chair. She gave a tired sigh. “What, you have a budget emergency to solve on this so-called holiday?
