It was inscribed, “Mrs M. Jones, Assistant Detective”, followed by my telephone number (yes, my public call box telephone number!), and “c/o” ...er posh hotel address.“How?” I asked, marvelling how she could have this produced in time.“Oh, the concierge at the hotel can get almost anything done for you overnight. Anything at all, no questions asked.” She smiled sweetly, and rather innocently, which was completely convincing, even though she was still using that young middle-class English accent. Saturday arrives, and Michael is right on time at 5:00. It should only take about a half hour to move the boxes from the attic to the curb for trash pick up on Monday, boxes that were too heavy for me to carry, or so I said. It was a brutally hot day, and of course even hotter in the attic, which made the work pretty grueling. By the end of the job Michael's shirt was soaked with sweat, so I offered to wash his clothes and let him take a shower. He was reluctant, but after a little convincing. More

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