The Curds and Whey Mystery. Bob Burke

might be the only way to find out what was going on. At least that was my justification when I agreed to it. In fact, I was so desperate and unable to come up with any other idea that, really, I had no choice.

      ‘Okay then, we’re going undercover.’ I said.

      Jack jumped up and down in excitement.

      ‘But not you,’ I said to him. ‘It could be dangerous.’

      ‘Yes, but you didn’t say that when I was disguised as the elf, did you?’ His disappointment was obvious.

      ‘But this is much more dangerous. We won’t be able to keep our eye on you like we did then and there’s always the danger of blowing your cover.’

      ‘May I be making a suggestion,’ Basili interrupted.

      I waved at him to continue.

      ‘Mr Harry and I will be talking to the guests, yes?’

      I nodded.

      ‘Well, will we not be needing a someone to be keeping an eye on the people who are working there too?’

      ‘Yes,’ Jack shouted. ‘I could be in the kitchen, helping out and stuff and, at the same time, keeping my eyes open.’

      It made sense and he’d probably be safe enough there. After all, what harm could come to him in a kitchen?

      ‘All right then team, it’s agreed. Now what shall we go as?’

       6

       A Bit of a Drag

      ‘Are you guys really serious about this?’ Gloria, my receptionist, had offered to give some tips on make-up and clothes, but seemed to be having second thoughts now that she’d actually seen our disguises. At that moment she was touching up my face with mascara and gloss – whatever they were – and seemed to be finding it tremendously difficult to refrain from smirking – if not guffawing loudly. ‘There,’ she said, putting her magical make-up kit away. ‘You’re done, but I have to say it: even if you put lipstick on a pig, it’s still a pig.’

      With as much dignity as I could muster – which wasn’t a lot considering I was wearing a long blonde wig, high heels and a black minidress – I pointed out that, as ideas went, our one had legs (and probably better ones than mine) and, if it came off (insert whatever gratuitous pun you like here), would probably help hugely in breaking the case.

      I stood up and tottered around the office, teetering from side to side as I tried to keep my balance. ‘How do women stay upright in these heels,’ I asked. ‘Is tightrope walking a genetic trait that all women have, or something?’

      ‘You’ll get used to it eventually, though I’m not sure you’ll be ready by the time you go undercover.’ Gloria paused for a second and looked even more closely at me. ‘Remind me again, who are you supposed to be exactly and, more to the point, why are you going in that ridiculous outfit?’

      ‘I am Harriet du Crêpe and I am the personal assistant and general dogsbody for that well-known foreign movie-director Alain Schmidt-Heye, and I’m dressed like this as there’s a distinct possibility someone may have noticed me earlier when I visited the B&B and I don’t want to be recognised. If they know I’m a detective then the game will be up.’

      Gloria began to erupt into gales of laughter. ‘So let me get this right. You, a large male pig, are going undercover as a female PA to an international movie-director who can only be—’ She never got to finish her sentence. Before she could say any more, the door from my office, where Basili had been changing, opened and he entered the room. His entrance certainly had an impact, although not, perhaps, the one we might have expected. Gloria collapsed on the desk, laughing uncontrollably, tears of hilarity streaming from her eyes.

      ‘Is your lady assistant being most amused at my outfit?’ said a somewhat indignant Basili. ‘I am thinking that, after studying pictures of many famous directors of movies, that it is perhaps a most accurate representation.’