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* * *
I dozed for a while, feeling very good about life
in general and myself in particular in spite of, or
more likely because of, the various tender parts of
my anatomy. I d come twice more in the night; once
buried deep in Fox, and later with him filling me.
I revelled in the memories, my overworked cock
somehow managing to struggle valiantly to half-
mast. But gradually darker thoughts began to creep
in. Like Henry Wendlow, George Baverstock to a
lesser extent, and what we were going to do about
the portraits.
Plan A was largely cobbled together in my head,
and while it had a cast of thousands - well, four or
five -bits of it were still nebulous. The important
bits, like how Jerry and/or Fox were going to get
the portraits away from Wendlow once they had
actually got inside his damned house, and without
any repercussions.Especially without repercussions.
We should have a conference. Sit round the kitchen
table and bounce ideas off each other.
The best way to resolve it would be an accident.
Or rather for Wendlow to believe an accident had
happened and the pictures had been destroyed. Yes,
that would do it, and if it could be swung so that it
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looked as if either or both of the Tweedles were to
blame then all the better.
In fact, there was a way that I, personally and on
my own, could get my paws on Adam without Fox or
anyone else being involved. Rees vs. Tweedledum &
Tweedledee. I thanked God Fox was safely out of the
way heading for Somerset. All I had to do was wait.
And think of a way to slant the blame.
* * *
It was gone ten o clock by the time I finally
crawled out of the wreck of the bed and lurched into
the bathroom. I felt about a hundred years old and
as if the marrow had been drawn out of my bones.
I ve had the occasional orgy, but last night was
something else entirely. From the mirror, my face
smirked back at me, heavy-eyed and complacent.
There were marks on my throat and the line of my
collarbone - love-bites. I could vaguely remember
giving him one or two similar ones.
But Fox was still an enigma I was no nearer
solving.Then again, did I really want to solve it? All
this trying to find out what makes a person tick, isn t
that a bit like making a commitment of some kind?
Not only had I known him for just a few days, but
he was entirely the wrong personality for a long-
term relationship. I wasn t exactly sure what the
role model was in that department, but somehow I
couldn t see Fox being very domesticated and I am
very fond of my creature comforts. On the other hand,
he was one of those people I ve known for ever. You
must know how it is -you meet a total stranger and
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it s like meeting an old friend you haven t seen for
a while. You ground me, he d said ... Furthermore,
making love with him had been fantastic. I could
feel a headache coming on so I gave up trying to
puzzle it out.
It took a large pot of tea and a plate of eggs
and bacon to begin to restore me to something
approaching my usual vitality, and I was singing
cheerfully to myself as I strolled across the yard to
the workshop to put the finishing touches to Beau s
screen. The work went well, but most of the time
I kept all ears cocked for the phone or the door-
knocker. Uncle Joe should be reporting back pretty
soon.
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 Chapter Nine
He reported back all right. Lisa delivered him
mid-morning and we retreated to the kitchen for a
tea break. She d come across Uncle Joe in Salisbury
and he d promptly cadged a lift out to the cottage.He
was fairly well-oiled into the bargain, but that was,
after all, his natural state, so he retained enough
discretion not to babble on about Wendlow in front
of her, just in case she wasn t in on it already.
Lisa, though, had no such compunction.
 I ve been making a few discreet enquiries, she
announced cheerfully as I made a fresh pot of tea
for all of us.  About Henry Wendlow. By the way,
where s Fox today?
 Out, I told her.  Don t know where. There was
the unmistakable sound of a motorbike turning into
the yard, but it wasn t the Beast s distinctive engine
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