Read One Week in the Private House for Free Online

favour. It's a little delicate...'
    'Spit it out, MM.'
    'Well. You're single, am I right? And unattached? And you're also, in my humble opinion, the company's most attractive employee. In fact, Jem, I think you're just about the sexiest little vixen I've ever seen. You don't mind me saying that, do you? Good. And well, I get the impression that you're not exactly - What I mean is, you seem to be fairly broadminded, easygoing, and ..
    i get it. The badger game.'
    'Pardon?'
    'Entrapment. If I can't find any dirt stuck to Headman, you want me to create some. Get him in flagrante , and make off with some hard evidence.'
    'Exactly. Excellently put. Will you do it, Jem? This is my last resort'
    'What's Headman like?'
    'Wealthy, of course. Fortyish. Single. He's been in the company of a few ex-debs, so he's unlikely to be homosexual. There's never been a hint of scandal. He seems to be a regular clean-living chap.'
    This assignment sounds like a piece of cake. Of course I'll do it. When do I start?'
    'Immediately. This morning I used a call box to phone an old acquaintance of mine. She's a journalist, and she's just gone to Brazil, incognito, to do a TV report. Her name's Jemima Fawcett, but she calls herself Jem - so you don't even have to get used to a pseudonym. Here's her NUJ card, driving licence, credit cards. I don't think anyone can connect you with me. So from now on, you're her. You're working freelance - her employers, the TV company, certainly won't be prepared to tell anyone where she really is - and you're after a story about Headman. Profile of the successful entrepreneur, that sort of thing. As a journalist, you'll be expected to carry a camera and a tape recorder. Use them, Jem: get Headman in a compromising situation, and get him on tape or film. There's a directorship waiting for you if you pull this off.'
    'What if he refuses to talk to me?'
    'Use your natural talents, Jem. Unless he's made of reinforced concrete, he'll jump at the chance.'
    'No, Larson. Absolutely not. Terence Headman is one of the wealthiest businessmen in the country. And a thoroughly respectable one. I can't authorise an investigation. You haven't got a shred of evidence.'
    'But I am owed two weeks' leave,' Lucy said, smiling sweetly at the Chief Inspector as she crossed her legs and fluttered her eyelashes, 'and I can't think of a better place to spend a fortnight away than an exclusive health club -can you?'
    if you get much fitter, Lucy, you'll develop pectorals that are even bigger than your - Well, never mind. Of course I can't stop you trying to get inside the Private House - but remember, you're on your own!'
    Julia had had two pink gins on the aeroplane, and was feeling a little light-headed as she walked from the airfield's one runway towards the small cluster of airport buildings. She was worried about her underwear and her travelling bag: she had had to leave with both, to prevent Gerald becoming suspicious, but knickers and personal possessions were unnecessary - and disapproved of - at her destination. Once inside the almost deserted lounge, she made straight for the public conveniences.
    Locked inside one of the cubicles and seated on the lavatory she felt safer, less flustered. These are down, she said to herself, lifting her high heels out of her cream silk camiknickers, and so they might as well come right off. She picked the sheer material off the floor, held the knickers to her cheek, and then stuffed them into her Liberty-print travelling bag. She rummaged through the few other items of clothing that the bag contained, making sure that none of them was labelled, and inspected her make-up and toiletries - all unremarkable brands, nothing unusual. She emptied her handbag on the tiled floor, and checked every compartment for anything that might carry her name. There was nothing to identify her except for two crumpled, handwritten shopping lists and the passenger copy of her air ticket. These three items she flushed down the