Samantha Emmons demanded a seat at the rear of the coffee shop and walked toward it without waiting for the waitress, who trailed behind welcoming us to Calisto's Bistro. I wondered if all the shops along this stretch of Wilshire had ludicrous names. The waitress appeared stunned when I ordered "just a cup of coffee."

"Wha...wha...what kind of coffee?" she stammered, unable to fathom a customer in her bistro ordering plain coffee without an 'ino' at the end of its name.

"I'd like a cup of coffee...blackarino?" The waitress smiled a perfectly empty L.A. smile and sauntered off. Pretty much how the entire L.A. service industry moved--at a saunter. I was positive that "ino" cost me an extra buck and a half for the cup. "Now," I said to Miss Emmons, "tell me about this Safari Don character. Start with why a grown up would allow himself to be called Safari Don."

Samantha chuckled. "I know...I know...silly, isn't it? Believe me, I've tried to get Rachel out of that business for years. It is so..."

"Pedestrian?" I offered.

"Yes. But Rachel just told me I'm a snob, which I suppose I am. But still, hanging around that store all day, selling that cheesy merchandise and booking tours for rich retirees who want to go see wild game and naked savages...I have to tell you, I was glad when she told me she was breaking up with Safari."

I shook my head. Bad enough to be called Safari Don, but having people call you just Safari was unforgivable. I pretty much liked him for Rachel's disappearance on principle. "What kind of man is he, Miss Emmons?"

"Oh, to outward appearances he's a pillar of the community. Donates to all the right charities, belongs to the right organizations. You might have seen him in the papers for some of his animal activist activities. He regularly takes mistreated or untrainable animals from the local zoos and ships them back to Africa to live on his private reserve. In fact, he just arranged shipment for two baby elephants, a zebra, and assorted other animals last week. That's one of the reasons he was coming back. But...he's got a hair-trigger temper. He's scary. When I told him that Rachel was going to break up with him because he was gone too often..."

"Wait. You told him that?"

"Yes...after she'd been missing for a couple of days. I wanted to gauge his reaction."

"Well, that was particularly stupid, lady. If he killed her over that, his reaction might have been to bash your skull with that nob-kerry thing! So, spill. What did he say when you told him?"

She blushed. "Well, he honestly seemed broken up by it. In tears. He couldn't believe it, he said, since they'd just started building a house near Lake Limpopo. He seemed very torn up."

"Then why do you like him for the murder?"

"Just a feeling, I guess. And the fact that no one saw her leave before he got to the store. But the police don't have a shred of evidence to go on. Which is why I called you."

"Okay, I'll go see 'Safari' myself tomorrow. See if I can gauge anything. In the meantime," I said, pulling out Safari Don's ledgers from underneath my coat, "maybe you can help me with this."

"What have you done? You stole those from the store!"

I nodded. "Don't get your knickers in a twist. I'll have them back in there before he knows they're gone. Now, help me out here. My secretary, Motli, has been teaching me financial geek stuff lately. You mentioned you were an accountant. So here are some numbers from the Bazaar Safari, but I don't know how much cash it collected during 1996."

I showed her the page I was looking at.

Accounts receivable, January 1, 1996    $   200,000
Accounts receivable, December 31, 1996  $   280,000
Sales in 1996                           $ 3,500,000

How much cash did the Bazaar Safari collect from its customers in 1996?

1) $3,420, 000
2) $3,500, 000
3) $3,780, 000
4) $3,700, 000

Income Statement information provided by Joe Louderback.

The answer is 1) $3,420, 000. Bazaar Safari collected 200,000 from its beginning of year receivables, which arose from sales made in 1995. It also collected 3,220,000 from its sales in 1996, which is 3,500,000 sales less 280,000 accounts receivable at the end of the year. Of the 3,500,000 sales, 280,000 was uncollected at year end, so 3,220,000 was collected. Sales are recognized when the customers buy product, regardless of whether they pay at the time of sale. (In some cases, especially where collections of sales are very iffy, companies wait until they receive cash to record sales, but these are exceptions.)

Samantha Emmons explained it to me very patiently. Twice. I'd been doing my best to learn this stuff ever since poor Motli took one to the head and became delusional about her being a savior of the investment world or something. Playing along until she got better seemed cheaper than buying her therapy.

I finished my cup of blackarino coffee and told Miss Emmons I'd stop by and grill Safari Don himself the next day, then get back to her. But right now, according to the silly "We'll be back at 2:00" sign on the bazaar door, I had fifteen minutes to get the ledgers back inside the store. I really hoped Safari Don didn't cut his lunch short.

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