The Woman With No Name, Part 3

I ran out into the verdant gardens surrounding our Stiletto Flats compound (they really are beautiful this time of year - here's a picture if you're really interested)

and gave chase to The Woman With No Name. Alas, she'd gotten too much of a head start and managed to give me the slip.

However, in her hurry to leave, she left some items lying on the path in the picture above, so I grabbed them up and took them to the guys. 

"Guys, " I said, panting a little since I had been running outdoors in desert temperatures (kinda makes you wonder how our gardens look so good, dunnit? Well, I'm sure you know how we are fabulously wealthy playboys, so of course we don't do our own gardening - don't be silly! No, we have a team of Unbelievababes who receive a pretty penny from us for working their horticultural magic on our backyard.

This is Valerie.

Birgitte...

Gaby...

and Raquel.

These four do a fantastic job of ensuring our gardens look lush and beautiful year-round.)so, anyway, where was I? Ah yes.

"Guys, " I said again, "what do you make of this??"

Of course, it wasn't this neatly arranged when I found it, but I didn't really have time to go get my camera and take a picture. Time was, as they say, of the essence. But you get the idea.

"Well," replied Clark, "I'm no expert, but that looks to me like all the tools a person would need to have with them if they were in the massage biz - specifically the holistic therapy kind."

"Why on earth would a nameless masked female-type woman of the lady variety be carrying massage equipment-"

"Holistic therapy massage equipment," interjected Clark. Sometimes he can be a real know-it-all, you know?

"Holistic therapy massage equipment, my apologies. Why would she be carrying that while sneaking around Michael's room at night?" I asked.

Clark and I both looked at Michael.

An awkward silence ensued.

Finally, Michael spluttered, "Whaaat!?! What are you guys looking at me for....?"

"Oh come on, Michael. We do this for a living. We see the evidence, add it all up and come to a logical conclusion."

"B-But..."

"And the obvious conclusion," sighed Clark, "is that that wasn't the Woman With No Name at all, but some massage babe-"

"Holistic therapy massage babe", quoth I.

"Holistic therapy massage babe, I'm sorry, Jeff," continued Clark, "who just happened to be giving Michael's gnarly feet the once-over, among other things, isn't that right, Michael?"

Michael blushed and fessed up. He'd been secretly having his feet worked on, among other things, by a hot masseuse holistic therapy masseuse because he was so embarrassed about the state of his feet.

NOT Michael's feet. But you get the idea.

So we still don't know who the Woman With No Name is. She could be anywhere, doing anything. 

She could be this lady...

or this...

or this...

or even this.

But one thing is for sure. When you see her, you'll have no idea who she is.

The Woman With No Name (chapter 2)

After Michael brought us up to speed with what had just happened in his bedroom, Jeff said, "Clark, go look around outside", to which I replied, "nuh-uh."
"What do you mean? Hurry, she might still be on the grounds!"
"Yep. Exactly. So... nope."
Jeff and Michael looked at me, confused.
"Look, I hate masks, okay? They're creepy. What happens if I go out there and find this creepy lady?"

"Well, then you bop her one - gently, of course, because she is still a lady - and knock the creepy mask off of her face so we can conduct a proper interrogation and get to the bottom of this!", Jeff advised.
"And what if what's under the mask is even worse?", I asked.

"Oh for the love of Mike", Michael chimed in.
"For that matter, why should I go outside at all? This is YOUR deal!", I shot back at him. "After all, she's appearing in YOUR bedroom, not mine nor Jeff's".
"You expect me to just traipse around outside in the dark with toes curled like this?!?", he said.
"As bad as that is, I would actually rather stare at your hideous gnarled-up toes than go outside and look for some nameless masked freak in lingerie."
I looked back at Jeff, expecting his support for my very reasonable reluctance, and maybe a high-five for cracking on Michael's feet, but he was gone. He had decided to bypass the squabble and check things out for himself.
That became apparent when we suddenly heard him yell from outdoors, "Guys! Get out here right now! You won't believe what I've found out here!"

Wait 'til Jeff tells you what he had found out there...

The Woman With No Name

To this very day, The Unbelievables still don't know who the mysterious Woman With No Name is.

We noticed her back in the '70s hanging around after some of our most notorious cases as we instructed police officials in collecting crime scene evidence. One evening we caught her lurking around the corner of a building, studying us.

At the time, she didn't have the distinctive "Face-O-Phone" she uses to communicate. It was nothing more than a plain old mask in the beginning, nondescript.

At one point, we falsely deduced The Woman With No Name was none other than Joan Rivers ... but that turned out to be a red herring. (i.e. Joan Rivers has a name: Joan Rivers. The Woman With No Name doesn't.)

Not The Woman With No Name. This is Joan Rivers ... holding a mask.

Our clandestine lurker turned up quite often. Then, just as quickly, she would disappear for months on end. An entire year went by once without hint nor hide nor hair of her. And then? There she was once more.

We started doing some digging during our off time. We weren't able to find out much ...

The Woman With No Name - the early days.

  She was always a flashy dresser, one of the notable things that caught our eyes about her. (That, and the fact she lurked around.) She never talked to us, never got in our way, never meddled in any of our affairs.

But ... she was intriguing. We asked around. One of our informants passed along a photo of her with cryptic implications:

Informant: "She was in a contest once ... and won."

 
We didn't know where that small tidbit would get us but it was one of the few clues we had on her.

For weeks after we were passed that photo we dug and dug and dug. To no avail. We pow-wowwed about the matter:

Jeff: "We could put out an ad asking if anyone knows her ..."

Clark: "Has anyone checked the post office 'Wanted' postings?"

Me: "It's noon ... and I'm still wearing pants. Why?"

Then, I came up with a brilliant idea: "I know ... I'll leave that contest photo behind with a message stating we know she won the thing and her identity. Maybe that will stir the pot." The guys were in agreement.

A few weeks later, after a quick wrap-up of some international intrigue we were looking into, I left the picture in a conspicuous place for her to find.

That night? I was restless, tossing and turning in bed in the wee hours of the morning. I turned over ... and there was The Woman With No Name staring at me in her frilly pink nightgown and "Face-O-Phone" mask. She scared the bejeebers out of me.

Her voice came across not unlike that of a female Darth Vader through her mask: "You don't really know who I am," she told me. "Keep looking. You might catch a clue by discovering how I was able to infiltrate your Unbelieva-Base ..."

And then she was gone.

Clark and Jeff came in my room seconds later.

"Hey ... we heard heavy breathing coming from in here," Clark said. "What gives?"

"And ... uhm ... why are your toes curled Michael?" Jeff asked.

Wednesday, Clark will continue the tale ...