Carlton is easy to convince.  Grindman is sufficiently lacking in scruples to impress a snake like him.   Only The Boss remains hostile; unnerved by his previous brush with the shady world of private investigators no doubt.  Not that he lets on.   When questioned about his preference for Corporate Intelligence Solutions, he declares them to be more trustworthy and upright than Grindman, which is funny since most of their money is made as mercenaries.   But still, he has no idea that I know the true source of his concern…..

I make sure everyone else knows though.

“He was caught seducing some old woman in a hotel?!” Jane guffaws.

“Not any old woman, his Boss’s wife…”

“Oh my god!  It gets better!” she can barely contain herself.  

Alex and Liz look on in astonishment.

“He was a bit of a player, in his youth,” I explain, mischievously.

“Of what, poke-her?!” Jane guffaws. “Ha ha ha ha!”

I forgive the terrible gag, as another unfortunate picture of The Boss’s naked backside floats into mind.   It’s beginning to dog me, like that baby in Ally McBeal; popping up when I least expect it……

“Are you ok?” Liz touches my arm.

“Er, oh, yes!  It’s just, er, oh, never mind!

“Well, after all those years lecturing us that, ‘things were different’ when he was a lad,” Liz muses. “It turns out he was right!  So different, that the assistants got to fondle the Boss’s wife.”

“What a perk!” Jane is still laughing. “It makes free gym membership seem very mean in comparison.”

“But, how did he manage it?” Alex is agog.  “Imagine if I did that?”

“Not easily, your last partner had chest hair and testicles.” 

“They might have a lot in common!” he laughs. Then, after a pause.  “Well, all right, not me, Tarquin, perhaps…..”

“He would have to lose his virginity first!” Jane points out. 

More hysterical laughter.   

The naked bottom floats back into mind.  I quickly close my eyes.

“Dan then!” Alex offers. “I bet he could seduce Mrs Boss.”

“He can seduce anything,” Liz sniffs. “He just overpowers it with his aftershave.”  

She still isn’t over the Christmas Party. 

“But think of the practicalities,”Jane points out. “The Boss never brings his wife here.  We have no idea what she looks like.  He doesn’t even have a picture of her on his desk.”

But he does have one of his sports car.  Because that’s the kind of man he is. 

“Perhaps he’s learnt from his own misadventures?”  Liz smirks, “And doesn’t trust her with his thrusting, young assistants….”

More mirth.

“More likely, ” Alex reasons. “He’s frightened of Miranda.  One glimpse of her in action and he would have a very costly divorce on his hands…..”

This is undoubtedly true.   The bottom pops up again.  Arrggh!

“What happened after Grindman caught them out?” asks Liz.

“Oh, er!”  I steady myself. “The pictures were sent to her husband and they ended up getting a divorce.”

“What happened to The Boss?”

“Teflon King?  He got away Scot-free.  Only his buttocks were identifiable; and his boss wasn’t familiar with those.”

This provokes another bout of laughter.   

“He has no idea that you’re on to him, Helen?”

“No.  He never met Grindman so he doesn’t know that he was the one who exposed him, so to speak.”

“Why did Grindman tell you?” Jane eyes me suspiciously.

“He wants the work.”

“You traded the work for the story?!”

“Sort of.”

“Helen!”

“Carlton was going to give him the work anyway;all I did was let Grindman think that he wasn’t and that I have done him a huge favour by changing his mind.”

This, being just the right side of dishonest, is applauded. 

“Good work,” Jane nods.  “It’s always useful to have a private eye in your pocket.”

And she, of all people, would know. 

“So what happens now?”

“Well, unfortunately, I have to instruct Grindman to get his claws stuck into Amelia.  Poor girl.”

“Perhaps you can use that to her advantage.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, presumably, if you tell her he’s on to her, then it’s up to her to give him the slip.”

“Or lead him on a wild goose chase,” Liz gives me a knowing look. 

This could be the answer. 

“Can we tip her off?”

Jane nods.  “Leave that to me.”

I never like leaving anything to Jane, but faced with the alternative I agree.   

With one caveat.

“Don’t tell me anything about your methods,” I command. “Then, if they torture me, I shan’t be able to betray you.”

Although, if Carlton or The Boss ever finds out that I’m in league with the enemy, losing a few finger nails will be the least of my worries…..

I don’t dwell on this, because Grindman is waiting to report back with his first “brief”.

“‘Ere you go,” he hands me a bundle of papers.

“What are these?”

“‘Background checks; credit records and contact details.  Standard stuff.”

I leaf through them.  There is everything here from her birth certificate to her tax records here.

“How did you get all this?”

“Magic.”

I flash him a disapproving look.

“They don’t reveal anythin’ of interest,” he informs me. “In fact, I think she may be the most borin’ target I’ve ever investigated.”

“She is a solicitor,” I remind him. 

“True.  But still.  I’ve tagged plenty of them and there’s usually somethin’ murky in their closets – drug addictions, debt problems, sexual deviancies…..you know? ”

No, I don’t know! 

Jane would though…..  

“Anyway,” I move on briskly. “What do you plan to do next?”

“Well,” he sniffs. “Now I’ve got all her contact details, I’ll move on to phase two of my investigative plan: trailing the suspect.”

“You’ll follow her?”

“Yeah.  Get a feel for her movements; work out what she does; perhaps even make contact.”

“How will you do that?” I eye him suspiciously.

“Depends.”

“On what?”

“On, how good lookin’ she is! ha ha!” 

He sees my disapproving look.

“That was a joke,” he adds. “It depends on how well the surveillance is going.”

“And how, exactly, do you plan to make contact?”

“Can’t reveal my methods.”

“You can if you want my client’s continued instructions.”

He gives an irritable grunt but gives in. “I might strike up conversation in a cafe or at a bus stop, or I might pretend to be a window cleaner, or a salesman.  My best one with the ladies is cosmetics.  That gets ‘em everytime.”

“Don’t they think it a bit strange that a middle aged man is selling make-up?”

“Not when I tell ‘em I used to be a brick layer but my company went bust and it’s the only job I could get to support my wife and three kids.  They lap it up.  I’ve made a small fortune flogging Avon over the years.”

He gives an indulgent chuckle and helps himself to three of our biscuits.

“I don’t think you’ll find it so easy to fool Amelia,” I advise him.

“We’ll see.  I can be pretty charming when I want to be.”

I find that hard to believe.

“Ok, well, perhaps we can meet again next week and you can let me know how you’ve been getting on?”

“Yeah, all right.  Before I do that though, I want to know a bit more about the case.”

“You’ve had all the papers.  I’m not sure there is anything more I can tell you.”

“I don’t mean the litigation.  I mean the personalities involved.   I haven’t met her old boss, Carlton.  You have.  What do you think of him?”

I hesitate.

“Truthfully,” he urges. “Just between us.”

“He is wolf in wolf’s clothing.”

“You think she’s right in what she says?”

“I do.”

“I see,” he sucks the custard out of one of the cremes. ” Well, it’s a good that you don’t let your personal feelings cloud your professional obligations.”

Indeed.

Meeting over, I immediately let my personal feelings cloud my professional obligations and tell Jane what Grindman’s movements will be over the coming week.  She says nothing but nods. 

Then I return to my desk and call Carlton.

“Ah, the lovely Ms Bailey,” he oils. “I hope you are calling with good news?”

“Just a quick update about Mr Grindman’s investigations,” I inform him.

“Go on.”

“Well,  he’s managed to obtain all the personal data he needed to begin phase two - address/telephone numbers etcetera and he’s moving to a more active role next week.   The credit searches and background checks didn’t reveal anything interesting so he’s hoping he’ll be able to glean more from observation-based investigation.”

“Stalking?!” he laughs.

“Trailing and observing,” I explain.

“Marvellous.  I’m sure that will turn up something startling.  I’m really very anxious that we get to the bottom of her motivation, Helen.   It concerns me.   I think she may have developed some sort of psychological problem, which is making her behave in this manner.”

Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, perhaps?

“Really?”

“Yes, it’s the only think of to explain it.  Why else would she be making this such a personal attack?”

“Perhaps you should try putting yourself in her shoes for a moment,” I advise.  “It’s a tactic we litigators often use.”

“Oh, I have, Helen!  On numerous occasions, believe me, and each time, I find myself wondering how such a lovely, sweet girl like Amelia could turn into such a cruel, spiteful bitch.”

I almost choke on my tea.  “Spiteful bitch?!”

“I know that’s not a nice term,” he agrees, “but that’s what I think of her.”

“Well,” I measure my response, “She doesn’t seem to think too highly of you either. ”

“I know!  And that’s what I find so astonishing.   I went out of my way to look after that girl and this is how she repays me.”

“You made her redundant.”

“That was nothing to do with me.  That was an HR decision.”

“You selected her.”

“I had to choose someone and, sadly, she was the most obvious candidate.  I just couldn’t afford to baby-sit her any longer.”

“The problem is,” I point out. “Your records don’t back this up.  You gave her great appraisals, you paid for her to go on expensive courses and you promoted her to clients…..”

“All tactics designed to help her!” he lies. “Appraisals to bolster her confidence, courses to improve her work and client lunches to help her social skills.”

He really is a piece of work if he thinks a Court will believe that.

 ”The trouble with litigation,” I advise him. “There are always two sides to every story and you never know which one the Courts will believe.”

“You think they may believe a snivelling little girl over an experienced old-timer like me?” he gasps.

If there is any justice in this world they will.

“It’s a risk,” I reply. “As we’ve previously advised, it might be better for all concerned, if you can reach a sensible compromise and move on.”

“That’s defeatist talk.  I won’t have it!”

“It’s realistic advice,” I counter. “A good advocate could make you look very foolish in the witness box.”

“Nonsense!” he splutters.

“I have seen  lots of very confident witnesses crumble under cross-examanation.  You need to consider this carefully.”

“Sometimes,” he hisses. “I wonder whose side you guys are on.”

“You shouldn’t worry about that.” I reply. “We are here to promote your firm’s best interests.”

And if that means putting an end to you preying on innocent young assistants, then that’s what we shall do!