of thought was interrupted by Graham opening the back door. He took one look at her and hurried to turn off the taps. Bubbles dripped onto her shoes. “Steady on, love. You’ll flood the kitchen.”
“You’re back early.”
He took off his coat and hung it on the peg next to the front door, talking over his shoulder. “I’m not. It’s after eight.”
“Is it?” Michelle glanced up at the clock. “I must have dozed off standing up.”
Graham relieved her of the cup she’d been washing. “You’ve rubbed the pattern off this, you daft cow.” He placed it carefully in the drying rack. “What’s got your beef today?”
“Shirley bloody Burbridge.” Michelle picked up the tea towel to dry her hands and turned to lean against the counter top. “She came for a tea leaf reading and booked a seance for tomorrow.” She looked Graham in the eyes. “No going gallivanting. She wants it at her house so I need you to give me a hand.”
“If you say so.” He opened the fridge and took out a two-liter jug of milk, twisted off the cap and gulped at least a quarter of it down. “The usual? Spooky moans and the like?”
“Yes. Shame you can’t case the joint to put in some wires and bellows.”
“Shirley Burbridge.” Graham frowned over the milk jug. “Why does the name ring a bell?”
“Enfield House? Ten bedrooms and a wrap-around drive?”
“The place where we all try to guess the number of cars parked? Brilliant. She must have a bob or two.”
“More than that.” Shirley crossed to the kitchen table and sat. “I looked her up in the internet when she made the appointment. Her husband died recently and left her everything.”
“That’s good. We’re going to siphon some of it our way are we?”
“Better than that. Her husband was Eddie Burbridge, the East End millionaire. Rumor has it he converted all his assets into bullion when he moved here. It’s hidden somewhere in the house.”
“And you’ve just got an invitation.” Graham’s grin would have embarrassed the Cheshire Cat. “Clever girl!”
“I figure the wife must know where it is. If I can convince her Eddie wants her to put it somewhere different we can watch where she goes and help ourselves to the lot.” She looked around the kitchen. “Then we can finally get shot of this dump.”
“What’s wrong with this place?” Graham followed her gaze. “I bought this when it got repossessed in the nineties.”
“And that’s the last time it was decorated. It’s no wonder people swallow the whole spiritualist thing. They think the ghosts all live here because it reminds them of home.” She rolled her eyes. “Look, I’m not saying I don’t like living here, just that it’d be nice to move up in the world, and Shirley Burbridge is our meal ticket.”
“Will she fall for the act?”
“I’m sure of it. She’s a few crackers short of a Christmas party, that one. The mother’s taken to the whole spiritualism thing like it was manna from Heaven. We’ve just got to watch out for the kids.”
“Yes?”
“Grown up kids. A son and a daughter, both older than Shirley. There’ll be resentment there, you mark my words. With a bit of luck we can get them all blaming each other while we top up our tans on the Costa del Sol.”
“Magic.” Graham grinned and rubbed his hands. “This calls for a celebration, I reckon. Are you up for a takeaway?”
“I reckon I am.”
“Right. Let me get my coat.” He went into the hall to fetch it and came back while he was still pulling it on. “What do you fancy? Chinese? I fancy Chinese.”
“Yeah, if you like.” Michelle stared at him.
“What?” He looked behind him. “What are you looking at?”
“What have you got on?”
“Me coat. You’ve seen it afore.”
“What’s it made of?”
He pulled one side out to display the lining. “It’s sheepskin. I was wearing this the first time we went out together.”
“Yes, I’d forgotten.” Michelle sat back in the seat. “You could say wearing it you were like an enormous sheep.”
“Ha. I suppose.” Graham shook his head. “Just don’t ask me to follow anyone.”
“No, you’re missing not letting me finish. When I read Shirley Burbridge’s tea leaves I told her she was going to come into contact with a great big sheep.”
“Magic.” Graham checked his wallet. “Maybe you really do have the gift.”
Chapter 4
Eden woke to David’s alarm going off. It was better than the phone ringing, but she’d rather sleep herself out. She tried to remember the last time she had a lie-in and couldn’t. Was it on their honeymoon six years ago? She rubbed sleep from her eyes and reached over the gentle snorer to cut off the sound. Rain thrummed against the window outside.
“David?” She shook his shoulder. “Time to get up.”
“Whaaa?” He took a long breath and let it out in a whoosh of air. “Five more minutes, I was having a lovely dream.”
“It’s a quarter to seven already. I have two funerals today and you have court.”
“Court? I don’t have court until Tuesday.”
“It is Tuesday.” Eden hoisted herself into a sitting position and leaned over to kiss his cheek. She felt under the covers, following the trail of chest hair over his stomach to his groin. “Oh! You’re up already.”
“Uhhh.” She couldn’t tell if it was a groan of pleasure or a longing for more sleep. “Morning wood, darling, you know that.”
“But morning wood can become so much more.” Eden lifted her leg over to straddle him, shifting him onto his back in the process. “After all, it’s my job to work with stiffies.” She spat on her hand and slipped it below, rubbing it over his cock as an ad-hoc lubricant.
“You generally cremate them, though.” He hissed as she lowered herself onto him. “Mind my foreskin.” A series of shallow breaths ended in one long one. “You temptress. I can never resist you.”
“Nor I you.” She began to rotate her hip, squeezing her vaginal muscles to coax him further into temptation. “How does that feel?”
“Like I’ve found my own little piece of heaven with an angel to look after it.”
“Please! I should stop right now to save the world from schmaltz.” Eden concentrated on manipulating his cock inside her. He’d always joked she could crack walnuts with her vagina.
“Nearly there.” David’s voice had gone up almost an octave. She could usually gauge how close he was to orgasm by the pitch of his moans. “Moan for me a bit?”
Eden obliged. He was funny like that. It was a vestige of his Catholic upbringing. He couldn’t orgasm unless he thought she was having one too. It would have been perfect if it mattered if she was faking or not. Despite knowing the moans were fake, it was enough to trick his mind into release.
“Ow-ow-ow.” David’s eyes snapped open, Despite the orgasm his penis was still hard. “Now it hurts because I need the bathroom.”
“Okay.” Eden reached to the bedside table for a handful of tissues and eased herself off his miniature flagpole, using her thumb and forefinger to guide his shaft out safely and allow his foreskin to flip over the ridge of the neck to