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appearing to do so. The way her lips devoured her food. The way they pursed when she drank. The way her big blue eyes looked at everything as if they were seeing the world for the very first time, like a kid’s eyes on their birthday, the way her breasts moved with her breathing, the way her dress constricted her honed and toned body, the way she tossed her tumbling, blonde hair back over her shoulder whenever it had the temerity to stray onto the table.
       Melanie Harris, as Gringo preferred to remember her, was the archetypal dumb blonde. The glitzy super attractive office glamour puss, without a brain in her head. And yet, and yet, that was unkind and incorrect. Somewhere in that dizzy head of hers lurked a clever girl who just occasionally burst forward with acts of brilliance that stunned everyone. When they happened, and it had to be said, they were exceedingly rare; they were all the more surprising. There was that dreadful business earlier in the year when All Nippon Steel had overcharged them £250,000 on a heavy duty wire contract. No one had noticed that, not even Gringo himself, nor the entire accounts department, and the bill had passed all checks and scrutiny, and was within eight minutes of being electronically settled.
       Gringo could still hear Melanie’s voice softly soothing through the office, as if she couldn’t quite believe what she’d discovered.
       ‘Why are we paying them a quarter of a mill too much?’
       The office had come to a juddering halt.
       Bloody good question! Why are we? Check every damned invoice that All Nippon has ever sent. Check every damned invoice that anyone has ever sent! Jesus Christ! Somehow the story reached head office, though certainly not from Gringo’s lips. He definitely did not want to be associated with such a monumental cock-up, but now he was, no matter how hard he might try to deflect the blame.
       Dryden Engineering had rewarded Melanie Tucker with a bottle of Cava and a £50 book token. They really knew how to look after their staff. Melanie thought it pretty cool, especially when Gringo bought the book token from her for forty pounds cash. She was quids in, though she never mentioned it to Brian or he would have wanted his share. No, Melanie Harris was a smart kid who just happened to be extremely good looking, very desirable, as Gringo reaffirmed when he treated himself to another eyeful, and that cleavage that made his mouth stone dry at the very sight of it.
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
 
 
Six
 
     
     
    Melanie had never tasted Baked Alaska before and pronounced it the King of Sweets , as she insisted on calling it.
       ‘Puddings,’ Gringo had mentioned once or twice, but for Mel they would always be Sweets .
       Neither had she seen or tasted flaming Zambucas either, and she adored the theatrical performance, as Gringo implored her not to drink until she was certain the blue flame was extinguished.
       ‘What do you with this?’ she said, waving the hot coffee bean before his eyes.
       ‘I could tell you.’
       Mel giggled. ‘Don’t be so naughty,’ and she glanced around at the emptying dining room. ‘I need the loo, Gringo,’ she whispered through slightly slurred words.
       ‘You know where it is, I’ll meet you in the bar in a few minutes.’
       She stood up and smoothed down her dress and said: ‘Don’t go away. I haven’t finished with you yet.’
       Gringo winked at her as she turned away. In the next minute the waitress returned and sat in Mel’s chair. A little familiar, thought Gringo, but she was a decent looking thing, with her bright red lipstick and pageboy short, black hair.
       ‘Your wife certainly seems to be enjoying herself.’
       ‘You think?’
       ‘I should say so.’
       ‘So you think I’m on a good thing tonight?’
       ‘I’d get her home right now, if I were you.’