The Recoverer (2).
by
Angharad.

Following the successful recovery of Sir Louis' daughter, his gratitude meant that he doubled my fee which I had already priced at an exorbitant rate. Perhaps, he recovered it from the firm that was supposed to be guarding her, or perhaps his guilty conscience triggered it, or even his wife nagging him. I didn't really care, he paid over the odds so my donation to a police charity was generous too, It helped keep the plod on side. So my relative generosity, and my success rate enhanced my reputation. I had been offered jobs abroad but I didn't have the same degree of support from various sources that I had in Britain, though I had had to go to both France and Germany to clear up the odd case.

On a personal level, I had taken several courses of oestrogen and was now possessed a small but very lovely pair of breasts. It just made dressing as a male a little awkward at times. When doing so I wore a sports bra and looser tops with a jacket. It was a pain but necessary at times. I had my own personal gym in the basement and used it most days trying to maintain my strength while keeping musculature down, making me fit but not masculine as I wanted to maintain an attractive female figure.

I had bought myself a new dress and coat from the generosity of Sir Louis both designed by Vera Wang and of course shoes and a bag as well. I got a few comments from Mike but generally he ignores which of me he works with, not speaking until he sees which edition is present. Of late, it's been more Eve than Adam.

I've spoken to my doctor about doing something with a certain appendage that I no longer use. He thought I meant having surgery but I told him not at the moment but I would like it better disguised and out of the way. He phoned a friend while I was there to make an appointment to discuss the options. When he had given me the appointment he informed me that his friend was a plastic surgeon, and very good one. My appointment was next week because I was going privately and my GP told me that he was off to the States soon and to count myself lucky he was seeing me at all.

We were working on several small cases which kept us busy but I felt no great incentive to work on them because they were boring; they were mostly for insurance companies, and concerned jewellery thefts. I had been around most of the fences who handle such property and let them know if it came to them, I was interested.

I had worn a suit, a skirt suit while doing this as the items were women's jewels that had been stolen, frequently from nice houses with safes and alarm systems to protect them but which hadn't been up to scratch. The police were investigating but seemed even less interested than I. With so much violence about they decided that baubles purloined from the wealthy were best left to others to investigate and some of that came our way led mainly by insurers trying to recoup their losses.

I had a good network of information from the police and forces of so-called law and order to fences and other handlers of stolen valuables and most of them were familiar with my company and our reputation. In fact, the day I went to see the plastic surgeon I had received a call from a thief who offered me some stolen jewellery at twenty five per cent of their stated value. I just had to inspect the items and see my surgeon as they were both in the same area of town.

I had learned that I don't do business in hotel rooms unless it is one of the public rooms. The bad guys can be violent and while I can usually handle it, the first time I did it I had a gun pulled on me, an experience I didn't want to repeat. Some of the thieves are professionals and are realistic about values of things and that I need to have a cut as well, in acting as the middleman to whom they and the insurance companies were slightly beholden. I have learned negotiating skills and the ability to tell a fake from the real thing. In fact, I was trying to make it harder to tell me from a cis-woman for which I was seeing this bloke in an hour, so I didn't need any aggro before it.

The thief was largely unknown to me but had called me on spec, as my reputation went before me. He demanded more than the item was worth to me and after a very excited discussion, I turned him down telling him I couldn't work within the parameters he'd tried to set, so to try someone else. He lost it and threw a punch at me. I was nicely dressed and didn't want to break a nail extension or ladder my stockings. I stepped inside his punch, smacked the heel of my hand under his jaw and pushed him backwards over a coffee table. He went flying and I went out the door after collecting my handbag, brushed myself down checked my hair and makeup in the ladies' loo and went to my appointment.

The doctor was charming and for what he was charging I think it went on the bill. I have mentioned before that I am agonadal and he gave me two options but not to take too much time as my sac was shrinking, I had declined plastic testicles. His options were - using surgical adhesive to wrap the sac around my member and glue it in place, it could come undone eventually and fall apart or to have him wrap my member again but to stitch the skin around it, giving me what resembled an artificial pudenda with labia created by the excess skin.

"I don't know why you aren't going for a complete rebuild with vagina and clitoris, you certainly make a rather attractive woman."

"It suits me to still call myself a man at times, admittedly, not as often," I replied and he shrugged.

"If ever you change your mind I have a colleague who will do a super job for you and I know a psychiatrist who'll help too, you really make a very pretty women, Mr Bright."

I opted for the stitch up job which he would do on Saturday, it was still costing megabucks but I dreaded to think what a full vaginoplasty plus clit would cost; he didn't do those but he could enhance my boobs or facial features. I thanked him and left, I didn't want big boobs or facial surgery. In fact, I thought he was a creep, but he came very highly recommended by my GP, so I accepted the appointment. I had to see about removing all my pubic hair as a hygiene precursor and I drove home shuddering to think about the discomfort of stitches surrounding a place that within days would be like a hedgehog, even though I didn't have much pubic hair to begin with.

I told Mike about my fracas in the hotel and that I'd hit the bloke after he tried to hit me. I left him sprawled in the coffee lounge and walked out. "You're getting slap happy for a woman."

"He started it and if he had connected I might have had a black eye or lost some teeth, so I didn't give him a second chance. The look on his face when my hand connected with his jaw, was something else. Anyway he wanted too much for what he was offering and I didn't see any of it to value, so he was pushing his luck. Where has all the 'honour amongst thieves' gone?"

"I think that ended back in the fifties and sixties, boss lady." Mike commented.

"I wasn't born then and I'm sure I've met nicer villains who want to negotiate. Oh, I'm busy on Saturday so don't commit me."

"I wouldn't dream of committing you boss, you may be weird but I don't think you're mad."

"Remind me to cancel your latest bonus." I threw at him as I went to change into something more comfortable, my shoes were starting to pinch. I changed into jeans and a sweatshirt, although both were women's clothes because my body shape would look silly particularly in men's jeans. In short, the hormones I'd taken over the last few months gave me a rather large arse - I wasn't complaining. Together with the disguise in my crotch, my lower body looked decidedly female. That evening, I wondered if I should go the whole hog and have the full surgery, but then I'd be out of action for a few weeks and the pressure of business would have prevented me doing so, I pushed it to the back of my mind.

For the previous two weeks I had worn skirts or dresses and done most of my business on the phone. I have already said that my voice has never broken and during one conversation with an insurer I was told to get my boss to speak to him because I was obviously his secretary. My initial reaction was to call him all sorts of unflattering names, male chauvinist arsehole, being the least offensive, instead I calmed down or chilled and told him in no uncertain terms that I was the boss and if he didn't want to do business with a woman, I'd be sure to tell his wife unless of course, he was gay. That shut him up and he almost apologised.

My main domicile was the small flat above my office, it wasn't that small and it had two bedrooms, as well as two ensuites, a kitchen and a sitting room. However, my parents had left me their cottage. It had apparently been my grandmother's and was deep in the countryside near Okehampton. Okehampton is a weird place, near to Dartmoor. It has a funny feel to it, although the town itself is quite pleasant except that it is a bit damp. Dartmoor, reminds me of wild places in this country in North Wales or the Lake District or even parts of Scotland. The weather can be as wild as the places and it blows, rains, snows, sleets or thunders as it wants and you have to sit it out. Dartmoor is also quite high in terms of altitudes, with rocky tors and several nationally important ancient sites. It's also quite large and despite being popular with tourists, walkers and campers, you can still be alone if you desire it - I usually did. Reading is quite important in my life and as long as I had a good book, solitude was no problem, unlike being surround by chattering people who didn't have a synapse between them.

The local police had phoned to say they had noticed signs of a break-in in my gran's cottage, the intruder had broken a window and helped themselves to anything of value, could I let them have a list. They had shored up the window with a plywood cover.

It was enough to shake my apathy and I packed a case and set off for Devon the next morning. I had packed jeans and sweatshirt in case I had to repair anything, but by the time I'd got there, the glazier I'd requested to view the property, had repaired the damaged window. He also suggested that one or two others needed some work or I'd have more uninvited guests. I thanked him, agreed and asked him to continue.

Once inside, I saw that several antiques, the television, and a few more electrical appliances had departed with the intruders. I had some milk with me, at least the kettle was still there, as was the fridge freezer, although they had emptied the latter. I hoped they enjoyed the food before they all choked to death, such was the scale of my largess, I made us a cuppa and after a quick chat with the glazier, who tried to chat me up, I drove off to Okehampton and bought a boot load of food and drink and returned to stock my fridge and pantry. I didn't bother with telly, I had my laptop with me and I had reasonable wi-fi to watch anything I wanted; they hadn't spotted the router..

The glazier finished and I had my tea, then wandered down the local pub to enquire If anyone had seen or heard anything of my break in. As a single woman, I attracted attention, where a man wouldn't, so there are some things to be considered before swapping genders, although in fact, I had got to the stage where I couldn't profess to be male and be believed.

I sat at the bar and had a white wine before setting-off back to my cottage and settling down for the evening. The thieves had searched my cottage quite thoroughly, though they didn't find the safe I had installed for Granny ten years ago. I was quite devious and fitted it behind a panel I installed in her wardrobe, so there was no obvious sign of anything there. I could remember the drilling and excavation I had made at the time before covering the panel with plaster and having a switch which enabled the panel to be removed quite quickly.

To open the safe one needed the key, so even if you found the safe, it would take a lot of strength and brute force to open it without the key. I removed the panel and inserted the key. It was full of documents, official things like passports and birth certificates. There was also at least a couple of thousand in ten pound notes. As everything now was owned by me, at least the money, which was still legal tender, would pay for the repairs and my short holiday.

The glazier had added a mortise lock to the aging front door, so I felt a little safer but I was going to have an alarm fitted to the house, the presence of which may deter casual thieves. I woke having slept reasonably well, showered and breakfasted, toasting some of the bread I'd bought the day before. A couple of poached eggs added to the toast made a good meal together with two mugs of tea; after this I used my makeup and dressing in a skirt and top went off to Okehampton again with the list of things I made of the stolen property from the house.

You never think it will happen to you, sadly it does and I put in an insurance claim to get the cost of a replacement telly if nothing else. I had to visit the police station to get a crime number to validate my insurance claim. Like many old towns in the UK it wasn't designed for the infernal combustion engine or the morons who drive them, most of whom are either blind or learner-drivers, so I had to park some distance from the cop-shop. As I wandered through the town, looking at shop windows as I walked, I spotted, in an antique shop, a figurine of a shepherdess, that was amazingly similar to one that had been taken from the cottage. Granny was very fond of it.

Surreptitiously, I looked around the shop and looked at the ornament. It had a small chip out of the base that I had caused as kid when I nearly dropped it as it was heavier than expected. I still remembered my parent's anger although Granny, hadn't been too perturbed herself. The asking price was several hundred pounds. I gave it back to the shopkeeper, looked around for anything else that had been purloined and saw a Victorian pendant, with rose gold and a pearl, that been my great grandmother's, Gran was proud of it, but rarely wore it as it was so old fashioned. Again, the shop was asking several hundred pounds for it. I left the shop and hurried to the police station.

I showed them my list, told them of the improvements or repairs I'd had made and of the alarm system I was going to be having installed, I also said that an antique shop down the road had two of my stolen possessions in the window. That created an interruption to the copper's spiel that they rarely recovered any stolen property. Of course that required more than paperwork, so they didn't do it if they could, too much effort.

"Tell me, Ms Bright, what is your occupation?" coming after they had told me of probable negative outcomes regarding recovering the stolen property, my answer caused some red faces.

"My job, nothing much, I recover stolen property for insurance companies or negotiate for the same."

"Oh, well, you probably have more time and less pressure than the force does."

"Probably, I only work about ten days a week, twenty six hours a day, but then, I'm only an amateur compared to you overworked professionals." He coloured up again but agreed to come with me to the antique shop.

Neither were visible when we entered the shop and the shopkeeper denied ever having them or that I had recently viewed them. The copper was unsure of what we did next. I took him to one side, "You call CID and get a search warrant, for all I know my Gran's mantel clock is here as well." I refused to budge from the shop until we had gone through it.

An hour later a harassed-looking detective arrived and asked to look at the shop's stock. The owner declined to let him, so he produced a piece of official paper which proved to be a search warrant. Together we looked over the shop's stock, the shop being closed while we did so, the owner complaining all the time that it was costing him money. In a back room, hidden in a box we found both the shepherdess and my gran's pendant, we also found her clock and a few other things that were on my list. The owner was arrested and accompanied down to the police station.

He was charged with receiving property he knew to be stolen. He denied it saying a punter had visited his shop saying his mum had just died and he was clearing the house. I challenged him, usually such dealers are invited to value the property before offering to sell it for the heirs. He asked how I knew that and the copper said, "She recovers it for a living, she works for the big insurance companies."

He stuck to his story and was released on bail. I watched his shop for a couple of days in case it led me to the thief who broke into the house. The house was being fitted for an alarm system. I wanted one that either electrocuted intruders or fired lasers at them, preferably both. They sighed and told me neither was available and I had to accept what they could do. All the same it was costing a fortune, although my insurance would be slightly cheaper, but I left them to it and went back to my surveillance. I rented a car so mine wouldn't be too obvious, and was fortunate to see the antiques dealer had a mobile phone. I had a scanner that could record what he said. It was all totally illegal but so is theft.

The thief who had broken into my cottage contacted the shopkeeper for his cut of the money they were making. "There ain't none, stupid bitch who owns the place saw her stuff in the window and although I removed it to the back, the plod came with a search warrant. They took all the good stuff and I've been charged with receiving."

"Oh shit, I need that money, George."

"Well don't look at me, I 'aven't got it," claimed the shopkeeper.

"'Ow about if I tells them about one or two other things what we done togevver."

"You wouldn't, you bastard."

"Not for a consideration, of course, call it a loan until I gets back on me feet."

""'Ow much?" asked the rattled shopkeeper.

"Oh, say a couple of big ones."

"Two thousand, where am I supposed to find that, the shop barely meets its overheads."

"Vat's your problem, George, just bring it round tonight, or give the filth an anonymous call."

An hour later, George walked to his car and drove off. He wasn't expecting a tail and he drove casually out of Okehampton into one of the nearby villages and pulled into a near derelict farm house. There were lots of outbuildings which I suspected would be interesting to search. They obviously had words because George stormed back to his car and drove off at speed as if in a bad temper.

I knew where he lived, in the flat above his shop, so I stayed hidden behind some trees and a hedge and a little later the other one emerged and I followed him to a pub, where he bought himself a beer and whisky chaser. I suspected he was going to be there for a while and I wanted to look in his sheds and barn.

I drove back to the old farm and hid my car where I had before, well the rental car. I crossed the road and snuck into the farmyard. The outbuildings were in surprisingly good condition compared to the house and the doors were heavily padlocked. Of course, padlocks are not infallible, and I soon picked the first one and looked around inside. It was as interesting as I had suspected, the police had to see this place, it would probably clear up a few cases that they had.

I was still photographing items on my phone when I heard his car pull in. I hid in a corner hoping there weren't too many arachnids about. I don't mind them but get quite girly when they get in my hair. He noticed the door was unlocked, opened it, cursed but didn't see me and locked the door again. Now, no matter how clever I may be at picking locks I can't do them from the inside while they are on the outside, a bit of wood tends to get in the way.

I looked at my options in the gloomy barn, there were probably thousands of pounds of loot here, I photographed a few more and then tried to call the police. I couldn't get a signal - wonderful, just bloody wonderful.

In the gloom I could see a staircase, I wondered if I should try it or could it be as ropy as the house, in which case it could be a death trap, but then so could the loft. I stepped carefully on the steps and once I could see more clearly, I noticed they were relatively new. They were okay and I got to the top, where I could just about see that the floorboards were in good condition. There was more swag up here and I took several more pics, my cameraphone flashing away. It was that he spotted and as I heard him undoing the lock again, struggling a bit more as the booze made him fumble-fingered. I looked at my phone, saw I had a signal and phoned the police. I told them where I was and mentioned a firearm. That usually means they may come the same day.

I slipped down the stairs and hid in the corner again as the thief got the door open and shouted for me to come out. Why do we always say stupid things when under stress, the most common asking someone who's just had some sort of trauma - are you alright. If their head has just fallen off, they obviously aren't but we still ask it,

"Come on, I know you're in 'ere." I stayed where I was trying not to breath heavily but I was sure he could hear my heart trying to escape my rib cage by beating its way through. He shone a torch around and my blonde hair showed in its beam. "There you are," he shouted and walked towards me.

I stayed where I was until he almost got to me and then jumped up and stepped around him. He grabbed at me and nearly caught my coat, I ripped it out of his hand and leaped for a couple of yards. He dived after me, was more agile than I thought he'd be and my high heels meant I was slower than I should have been and he caught my ankle as he fell. I tripped and fell against the wall, pushed myself up but he was up and on me. All I wanted to do was escape and all he wanted was to prevent me.

I pushed him away but he was too strong and held onto me. I hit on the muscle in his upper arm and he pulled his arm back and swore at me, rubbing it. "You're gonna pay for that, you bitch." I readied myself for his next onslaught. I didn't have to wait long, he threw himself at me and I sidestepped and he hugged the wall. He jumped up as I made a step for the door and he threw himself at me again. I picked up a bit of timber and waved it at him but he ignored me and dived at me once again, I stepped out of the way again, he hit the wall just after I had hit him on the head and lay there groaning.

I brushed myself down as I walked out of the door and was nearly hit by a police armed response SUV. Boy, the aggro I got for solving the case for them, no wonder the police have such a poor public relations record.

They arrested me and threatened to charge me with grievous bodily harm, wasting police time and breaking and entering. For a moment all they were interested in was making the site safe. I said I called them because I thought he had a shotgun. It was a lie but many country folk have them. I claimed he'd left the door unlocked so I went to see what was so valuable, I explained that I'd followed George here and all the items looked like stolen ones.

The 'gun club' were snotty because I'd interrupted them watching the X-factor or something but the ordinary CID were delighted. From the lists of stolen property they had so reluctantly collected, they were able to solve half a dozen cases. No one asked if I was alright or anything else. As the adage says, "No good deed goes unpunished." It was certainly correct as far the plod were concerned, then a few days later I received a letter informing me of some reward for discovering all the stolen property, it wasn't much but it paid for cleaning my skirt and coat, next time I do a stake-out I'll wear jeans and trainers, if I had this time I'd have been able to escape but I still like high heels.

The Recoverer (3).
by
Angharad.

The money from the reward of the Devon stolen property was a few hundred in the end, which meant I had to declare it because it's what I do for a living. It was paid into Eve's account which is separate from Adam's though Eve is acknowledged as one of the two owners of the agency. Life continued to be busy, the economy was almost flat-lining so with less opportunity to make honest money. The population seemed to be doing so dishonestly, faking thefts and claiming insurance, or actually stealing someone else's property and then selling it. So instead of a nation of shopkeepers we seemed to be nation of fraudsters and thieves. Retailers have been complaining about the flagrant attitude of many who think they have a right to shoplift, while others are doing it because they can't afford to buy, and in places it appears to be organised crime based or certainly organised with gangs of shoplifters. The police weren't that interested until politicians became voluble about it, then suddenly they were interested.

I know we are mainly funded by insurance companies and once they were paying out significant sums for claims of theft, we were asked to take a look at it. We were authorised to detain shoplifters we caught but to keep the violence down; some were known to intimidate shopkeepers or security people with violence, carrying large knives or hammers, so they were often allowed to leave unchallenged. I went undercover as a shop detective and saw the problem for myself. I'd never seen myself detaining someone over a tin of corned beef, but it had -partly come to that.

I was still in Eve guise, feeling more comfortable by the day, and I thought I'd be less visible than as a man. That wasn't probably quite true but as a rather androgynous man, I would probably have been quite noticeable and also I thought I might encourage violence if male shoplifters felt able to threaten me.

The shop had displayed notices saying that store detectives were operating and that shoplifters would be detained for the police, and anyone threatening violence would mean that the perpetrator would be charged with robbery with violence or armed robbery if they produced a weapon. It also said that the shop detectives had the right to defend themselves if they felt threatened. They had been warned.

The first I caught was a young woman stealing formula baby food, not just one tin but several. I nicked her and despite her tears and accusations of false arrest, they found her with the stolen goods and the police were called. It was upsetting until you knew that women thieves can turn on the tears faster than CS gas. They are more accomplished actors than you see in the West End and will lie and swear like street girls. Once you realise this may happen, it inures you a little.

The men were a different category, especially the professionals. They were flagrant and when challenged they tried to play innocent and then to try and intimidate. I spotted a bloke pocketing some expensive perfume, so not so poor he couldn't afford food. He was also relative well dressed, so the proceeds of crime can obviously pay.

I challenged him and he went through the usual gamut of excuses, then he tried to act bigger and stronger than I was. He was without any doubt of that, but he didn't know how I'd respond. Most female store-detectives are advised to let the police deal with it or to let them go if in any personal danger. I hadn't been told this even if the thief had been. I told him to accompany me to the manager's office and he pulled his arm from me and was going to run for the door. I wasn't in heels this time and as he dashed off, I did the same and beat him to the door. He pulled a knife and flashed it at me. I made sure the security cameras caught his actions on film, told him I was detaining him, so he flashed the knife again. I then told him that I was allowed to defend myself so he ought to come quietly. His reaction was to laugh, he soon stopped.

He slashed at me I parried then pulled his wrist behind him possible dislocating some joint in doing so. He dropped the knife, yelled and tried to punch me but by this time he was on his knees and I was threatening to break his wrist if not do more damage to him. It was painful for him, I made sure of that, and I held him for the police who had been summoned when the knife appeared and arrested him. I was commended for taking him down but told that I had put myself at risk and not to do it again.

I replied that I never considered myself in any danger except damaging my attacker to the point of nullifying him. The copper wasn't impressed but I smiled at him. By teatime that day, I had caught five criminals including one I suspected was working with accomplices. He went off via cop car and I was warned to be careful when I left. The warning was correct, his friends surrounded me in the car park. I hoped that it was being filmed on cctv by the security people.

There were six, all men and they were using jibes to frighten me. Six against one is quite intimidating. I tried to show I wasn't scared and warned them that they were being filmed and they were likely to pay for their crimes with jail sentences. I advised them to fold up their tents and go, because my company would prosecute to the highest punishment.

I backed against my car. They looked at each other first before deciding who was first. One lunged at me and I grabbed and threw him over my hip and he landed hard on the tarmac. Two more thought to attack together. I managed to run them into each other kicked one in his kneecap and elbowed the other in the throat, they both went down. Three left, one ran for it, another pulled a knife, he got close and I broke his arm, the other rushed at me with a hammer swearing his friends would be avenged, but not by him. He swung his hammer and I sidestepped, he hit my car and damaged a side window. Now I was angry, he lunged again and I threw him and his hammer over my shoulder. He landed on his head. One of the others stood up to attack me again and I used a flying kick which caught him under the jaw.

By now the police had arrived and again warned me of violence, I asked them what would they do if surrounded by six thugs intent on doing them damage. I had used restraint, next time I would badly injure them. "What do you call this then, a verbal warning?" asked the police sergeant. I told him to look at my car, that window was going to cost, next time I would take it out of the attacker's nose, as the expression goes.

I got home two hours later, by then my car window was repaired. I was again warned about excessive violence and was I a martial arts practitioner? I wasn't registered as one but I borrowed moves from various ones, including the judo throws and the tai-kwon-do kick.

They cautioned me, but had seen the film of the car park episode and I had let them make the first move. There was no doubt it was self-defence, plus I got a copy for my brief, and would sue all my attackers and demand maximum sentencing and if the police wanted to make anything of it other than the obvious, I'd sue them as well. I hadn't made any friends but I wasn't going to be intimidated by anyone including the local constabulary.

In the end, I had just finished my dinner and telling Mike all about the two scuffles I'd had when a senior detective called me. I agreed to meet him in a local pub the next day. I wasn't sure if he intended to read the riot act or what. I supposed I'd soon find out. The store were surprised to see me the next day but there I was, large as life and twice as beautiful - okay the last bit was an exaggeration. It had gone around the local grapevine that Wonder Woman was at the store catching crims, so they all seemed to go elsewhere. I only caught one all day, so I had quite an easy day for a change.

I wore a suit to my meeting with DCI Crambourne, along with sandals with four inch heels. I always carry spare shoes in the car in case I'm doing lots of walking or getting physical although I have learned how to dance in heels and also to handle myself if attacked. If our hammer holder had managed to land a hit, it would have hurt, if the hit had been my head he could have disabled me for life or killed me. These morons are usually driven by impulse rather than rational thought. If they think at all it's all about how they are going to share the loot or get revenge. The planning is spontaneous not thought-out, so with minimal racking of brain cells they can be intercepted and caught. From an insurance point of view, I am only interested in recovery of the lost or stolen property not the detention and prosecution of the felon, that becomes the police responsibility. I was however required to show my evidence to the police or courts if they asked for it. Very often they didn't, neither did the insurance companies. Like banks they are only interested in money, the accumulation of it with minimal pay outs. The whole of British and American society is built on taking money off the little man, at least in the higher echelons, the higher you rise or richer you become, it's still the same except you pay others to get their hands dirty rather than doing it yourself. I therefore have a very jaded view of society especially the rich and famous, who are basically all arseholes.

We met at the pub by the river, which is also called by the same name. Its main lounge has brass markers on the wall to demonstrate how high the river was last time it flooded. It is a very nice pub and does a roaring trade most of the time except when the river is in spate. Then it hits the insurance companies, although if it has been flooded before they load the premiums. So unless you are rich you can't afford them so you don't bother, and take the risk. On the bank of a river it makes it very popular but very expensive to run; next time you go to such a pub, ask the landlord how much his insurance is.

Anyway, we sat ourselves down in the garden, protected from the sun by a large parasol, which kept off some of the rain as well, but not when it's being driven by gales. Fortunately, we only get such weather for 360 days a year in England, 370 days a year in Scotland and Wales and Ireland can also be rather damp. It was suggested that the British Empire controlled half the known world as the natives tried to escape the weather. I was enjoying watching the ducks on the river while Crambourne got the drinks and the menus, it was close enough to lunch. He returned and I told him I'd have the risotto while he settled for the lasagne, both great British pub dishes - only joking. I'd have settled for a ploughman's but it can lie heavy on the tum and all I'd want to do afterwards was sleep.

I don't drink much except fruit juice, especially at lunchtime, but you don't save anything because the pubs charge exorbitant prices for all the drinks they carry. I have even been asked for money for a glass of tap-water, the landlord reminding me that he had to pay for it. Unfortunately, I dropped the glass taking it back so we were quits and I vowed to never return to that pub. It closed a year or so later and was developed as executive housing. When will governments and developers realise it's housing for poor people we need, executives can usually afford the cost of a house in all but the most desirable parts of London or Edinburgh.

We talked about our most unusual cases, his were much more hair-raising because the police deal with everything from litter-bugs to murder. In fact he had just finished a murder case recently. He hoped the courts were lenient. I asked why. He said none wants to convict a ninety-year old man who killed a twenty-year old after years of harassment by the younger one and on whom the older man blamed the death of his wife a year before. She was eighty nine and he reckoned she fell going down the steps of their tower block because it had a trip wire.

He thought the old man was right in his accusation but you can't get fingerprints off a piece of wire and they couldn't get enough DNA for a conviction, but then as the gang leader, he may have ordered someone else to do it. He's still guilty, but unlikely to be convicted. It must be very frustrating to be able to prove what you feel sure is the case. Mine was about an heiress who complained someone in a hotel had stolen her silk knickers. It turned out to a spurious case of the rich demanding satisfaction from an insurance claim for something that had never happened. I was only involved after the local police couldn't prove anything, but my research showed she had a history of spurious claims and the insurance company rejected it.

"How much did you get for that one, fifty knicker?" asked my lunch companion.

"No, but I realised that my own were much nicer," we both laughed, but I did rather enjoy expensive lingerie.

"So, is there good money in recovering property or is it all one big scam?"

"It depends on the item you're trying to recover. A Vermeer is worth a bit more than a Banksie, so I get 20% of what they want back, and remember they don't send for me until after you lot can't get it for them."

"Why wait so long?"

"It's all about money, it doesn't cost them much if you recover the item within a few days of it being stolen, but if it's a year later, your methods may not be suitable, so they send for me."

"We don't close cases because they're old ones."

"Where's Shirgar, then?" I asked about the never recovered super race horse, that they suspect was taken by the IRA.

"You didn't find it either did you?"

"No, it was before my time but 20% of the twenty million it was valued at would have paid the mortgage for a while."

"Didn't I hear you were involved in a kidnapping case resolution, a little while ago?"

"Yeah, I did tell Sir Louis to call the police, because you are the people who should have dealt with it."

"So, why didn't he?"

"He believed the abductors when they said they'd kill her if he did."

"They always say that."

"I told him that and we did need your lot to make the arrests in the end."

"Glad we're good for something, then." He shrugged as he said this. "What's 20% of a kid then, an arm or a leg?"

"I don't know, I don't usually deal with perishables." He roared with laughter although we both knew it could have ended in tragedy. "So why did you invite me for lunch?"

"Because you couldn't do breakfast."

"No I prefer to eat my cornflakes while I wake my brain up."

"I can't believe that."

"I'm not human until I've had two cups of tea."

"I'm sure that's not true." He flattered me.

"So this wasn't just an attempted pick-up then." I asked him straight out what I suspected, he was after those expensive knickers, or at least getting inside them. He'd have had a surprise wouldn't he?

"Nice idea but my wife would kill me." He blushed, it may have been a partial motive, "You're a nice looking woman." Now it was my turn to blush.

"Sorry, I'm spoken for, too." I lied and I blushed but I think he believed me.

"Thought so, all those 20%s." He smiled.

"Ain't it the truth." I declared and we both laughed.

"Look this business with all the thefts from shops, we're getting a bit of aggro from the Home Secretary."

"The insurers aren't too happy with it either, it's costing them money." We discussed this for a while and what we were going to do about it. "The organised crime element is worrying although I only encountered a localised form of that with gang of half-wits."

"Still, six against one, especially one woman, is quite frightening, even if she is Wonder Woman. Weren't you terrified."

"No, because if you have to deal with violence, never think you're going to lose, because you will. At the same time, keep telling the other guy, what if he does? It unsettles them. Mind you one of them damaged my car."

"A Jag F type, I heard."

"You heard right, my own fault I should have used the Renault." I had a couple of cars which were especially useful when working under cover, the Jag does tend to draw a bit of attention and tends to indicate I am as valuable as the car I drive. "It did annoy me, didn't the bastard know how expensive glass for them is?"

"So you fractured his skull."

"I wasn't thinking too much of outcomes, he came at me with a hammer, missed and hit my car. I just wanted to deal with the threat as quickly as possible, so he went over my shoulder using his momentum to help it."

"If a copper had done that, he'd a been in big trouble."

"Most coppers would have tazered him or hit him with their baton. If I'd had one I'd have used it."

"You took care of six attackers, you were like James Bond out there."

"So, I keep myself fighting fit."

"I'll say, no copper I know can fight like that, where'd you learn, the SAS?"

"No, they don't take women, but the guy who taught me could have been one when he was younger. He taught me to expect to win, the opponent is disposable and to use them as weapons if the potential arises, but also to never fight if you can run away. When you're surrounded you can't, so you have to fight and hope you don't meet someone who's been trained."

"What if one of them had had a gun?"

"Then I become scared, it's only happened once. I nearly killed him. I don't like having to face that level of threat."

"So I heard, they described your victim as looking like a train had hit him."

"I must admit the fact that I expected to feel a bullet hit me at any moment caused a new incentive to make sure it didn't. He hesitated, I didn't and I hit him a few times after disarming him."

"Why did you go on hitting him?"

"That was reaction, the adrenaline thing." I still remembered the fear I felt that day and I managed to control it and move faster than I had in my life to knock the gun from his hand and then to knock him a few times, so he'd be in no position to threaten me again. I didn't care how badly I injured him, he was trying to kill me. All I thought about was how I'd avoid that, being dead or badly injured, guns are for killing things. I hated them before, I did doubly so now and believed passionately that no individual should be allowed to possess one unless they were in the armed services or police and even they frightened me a little.

I once spoke to a retired SAS soldier, who was the weapons man, they operated in teams of four, one was the medic, one did ordnance - mainly explosives, one was a marksman and the fourth did the weapons and radio. He thought a copper with a gun was scary because they're as nervous as a kitten and as likely to shoot too early or shoot the non target. It's different in America because everyone there thinks they're John Wayne and they all carry guns, still they are even worse with cars or should I say more dangerous as they all drive round in tanks.

"Maybe we could work together on the shop lifting thing?" said the copper.

"If it saves the company money, then I get a commission. We both know that putting them away doesn't stop them and they'll only get fines or community service which they won't complete or pay the fines."

"I see that day after day, we arrest and convict them and courts discharge them, it's one of the reasons coppers resign so early."

"Now you can see why I didn't become a policewoman, apart from the sexism, misogyny, racism, bullying and corruption - wasn't worth it, besides I had just spent four years in university, so I needed to get some money, it was just luck that they needed insurance investigators. I did that for a couple of years, got beaten up a couple of times, learned how to fight, 'total street fighting' and went on my own. No one has beaten me up since. It works and I don't look like the Incredible Hulk."

"I thought you'd look nice in green."

"The last man who told me that, swallowed some of his teeth."

"Sounds like you have anger control issues."

"Only when someone annoys me."

"Okay, I am forewarned. What about this organised crime stuff?"

"I'll share what I have if you do the same, equal partners or we do nothing." I had been stiffed by coppers often enough in having solved thefts, who did me out of my commission. They get the collar, I get the 20%.

"Okay with me, got to get the top brass off my back," he admitted and I suddenly realised they had more jewellery on their hats as they worked up the ranks than I found when I got the loot back from an Asprey's robbery. I think in the services they called it scrambled egg, or that might just be the RAF, they tend to have a good line in their slang.

We ended up at his office, I showed him the photos I'd taken of shoplifters and he showed a few mug shots. I recognised one or two because I'd seen them elsewhere not in the store I'd been working in. We pooled our information and we would work in a store that had more items the gangs were interested in and the level of theft was frightening.

We had two ordinary coppers in plain clothes who stood out like sore thumbs and they were bit wooden. Doubtless if anyone had parked illegally in the store, they'd have nicked them. In the end I had one working with me, so when I spotted someone half-inching the stock I pointed them out and my young colleague grabbed them, until he did so to the wrong person and got a Glasgow kiss for his troubles. Unsurprisingly he went down and before the thug could put the boot in, I tapped him on the shoulder then smacked him in the throat then kneed his family jewels, he went down as well and we arrested him. The thug had just dropped a copper so what I did short of killing him, they blind eyed it.

An hour later we caught another pocketing an iPhone and in case he wanted to play rough one of the coppers said he was police and I grabbed him wrenched his arm behind his back and we handcuffed him. If only I had that authority all the time... I could by joining the plod, nah, not for me, too much of a maverick.

"By the time we had three of them in custody we were able to make a few connections and made a raid and got some of the gang leaders. After that I left it to the police and they took out a whole group. I was invited to dinner with Crambourne and met his lovely wife. He thanked me for my assistance especially in spotting shoplifters. I asked after the young copper who got himself a broken nose and learned he was okay and would be more aware another time. I got a nice commission for saving them thousands and a bouquet from the store, and I now had another copper with whom I could liaise if I need help. That's how we all work after all, by sharing info and helping each other, networking, is I believe the term used.

On a personal level, I realised that there had been no sign of Adam for a few months, I was still taking oestrogens and Mike did ask me when I was going to do something about it. I shrugged. Did I want have sex with a man? I didn't know and until I did, did I need the wherewithal to do so? I shrugged and went back to my paperwork.

The Recoverer (4).
by
Angharad.

Like the popular wartime song, I had something in common with Goebbels, I was a gelding, no balls at all. It's supposed to make various male animals quieter and less aggressive. It hasn't worked in my case insofar as I am still capable of being the aggressor, however, it makes me appear to be more feminine and womanly. I seem to enjoy it, I'm not sure why. Am I transgender? I suppose to some degree but I'm still a chick with a dick, albeit one stitched up into my abdomen. I am one of those who seem to threaten women's only spaces, yet I have no interest in doing so which makes a certain well known author, with dogmatic opinions, look extremely stupid. I mean there is a possibility an asteroid could hit the moon and cause damage to Earth, should she be campaigning against that?

Insurance is based on probabilities, the percentage chance that your house will burn down or your car be stolen. When the risk is higher so is the risk to the insurance company and the premium is also higher. I don't know if my charges are included if I have to get your property back, maybe so. I don't know, part of the problem is why your property was taken in the first place. In 9 out of 10 cases, it's taken to sell on, for its resale value. If it's a rare item its value is much greater but so is the difficulty of selling it on. If someone pinches a famous painting by a well-known but deceased artist, it may be worth millions, because it cannot be replaced, but to sell it on is virtually impossible unless you know an unscrupulous collector who happens to be rather wealthy and who risks imprisonment and ruin for an obsession, if they are found out. it's a crazy world we live in, but we have to survive and that means earning a crust to do so. My means involves doing the finding out and recovering the item in good order for a commission which is about 20% of its value. In the case of an old master, that could be a significant amount of money but one of those only comes around once in a lifetime. But with stuff that is nicked and then found I do alright out of it. I live reasonably comfortably and my staff of one is well remunerated too, no matter how much he grumbles; he pays the higher rate of tax and grumbles about that as well.

I pay Mike a salary for which he is expected to work and he works quite hard. It is the agency that collects the commission, all staff are paid, whether full time or part time or whatever. My pay come from the degree of profits at the end of a particular month, it's usually about the same most months but now and again something bigger happens. That might take us months to finish and require lots of research, viewing sites, interviewing people (half of whom are probably lying), testing statements and lots of other stuff. By the time we receive the award, we may have spent much of it, it's only when something happens quickly we can save time and money and retrieve the item for the insurer, then our overheads are less, profit is greater and everyone is happy. Mike's bonus at the end of the year depends upon profits, so instead of encouraging him to think of working for me to make a profit, I tend to suggest he's working for his bonus. I suppose I benefit as well, but then I'm taking all the risks and doing a lot of the work as well - I don't work office hours unless we're very quiet.

It was upon such a day that we cracked a case wide open in very short time, improving the profits and his bonus. If people ask why the boss earns more than others I just refer them back to their own boss. After one such argument, we received a call from EQ Saunders Ltd, one of the insurers that cover jewellery and gems. Many of their clients are either landed gentry type, film stars of models, you won't find ordinary folk because they can't afford million pound gems or operate in the places where women do wear them, top restaurants, galas of different sorts, award ceremonies and other jamborees too many to mention. In most big cities at least every weekend, there is at least one woman wearing megabucks on her body. There is supposed to be security, the vendor is liable otherwise, but the weak points are when she leaves home, walks up to the event before going in, or leaves it. I also learned a new one this time, the toilets.

What are the odds of me being in the loo when a hit happens? That's what I thought, but I was. I was there as arm candy for a film producer whose wife was taken ill and who phoned me on spec the day before. I was surprised although I had been talking to him and his wife a night or so before. I agreed to help him out because I'd never been to such an event but it meant I'd have to spend a day in a beauty salon to prepare for it. He agreed to pay for that, as he has much more money than I do, so I went to my regular salon and spent much of the day there, along with umpteen cups of tea and salmon and cucumber sandwiches. My beauty therapist knows me well, including my original gender but never mentions it unless it comes up in conversation between us.

I've been living as Eve for a long time now and still taking oestradiol, so my boobs are gaining a little on the rest of my body because I am dieting there or doing special exercises to make my tummy slimmer or my hips bigger. The hormones are helping there a little and I'm wondering how long I can carry on as I am. We talked about this and how my options are narrowing, unlike my bum. Anyway, Delia, my beauty therapist made me look even better by the time I left with two hours to get dressed and be ready for my ride to the venue, one of the big West End hotels with ballrooms and god knows what else. I haven't been to one for some time, I don't usually operate in this area unless it's investigating things, but who am I to turn down such and occasion and a free dinner. Okay, I'll have to listen to a few speeches but at least I'm not having to make them. I was told that Tom Cruise was going to be there but I don't really expect to move in his circles, if I do meet him, I shall say hello, but unless he wants to pursue it, which is unlikely, that's all we'll say. He might be below average height but he is fighting fit and still does lots of his own stunts, so wimp, he is not.

I had drunk too much water, I don't drink much if any alcohol - much of the time I have to be on my guard - so tonight, I could have had a blow out, instead I preferred to hear what people are saying and to keep my balance if I have to dance - I've been learning to ballroom dance as a woman, so half look forwards to it and I know Dan, my partner for tonight, is a good dancer. His wife is too but she's gone sick so he'll have to do with me. He doesn't know what I am, just thinks I'm an unattached girl, as does his wife, she won't be disappointed in me out with her husband, because I won't do anything however much he asks, not that I think he would.

We were in between the main course, we'd had entrees and were waiting a sweet when I excused myself to go to the ladies. I was seated in the cubicle finishing off my wee, when I heard more women enter the loo. I was trying to dry myself while wearing a long dress - it can be fiddly, and was; just as I succeeded a ruckus blew up in the outer room. I could hear it alright, I was just the other side of the door from it, in my cubicle. Loud voices were heard with someone issuing fairly quiet threats against her. Someone else threatened to taser her and did. I heard her hit against my door as she writhed and fell, it truly is an evil invention. The first voice told them grab her jewellery as she was on the floor, some of these women had masses of investments wrapped up these things. I had managed to be in on a robbery but was stuck behind a toilet door and I suspect the woman victim was lying in the way of me getting out. I suddenly thought,' they open inwards, with care I can get out, even in high heels.'

I held my clutch in my one hand and pulled open the door. The one woman pointed a taser at me and I threw my bag hard and hit it from her hands, I stepped over the woman they had attacked, and hit her under the chin. They had threatened me, there was no quarter given, she went flying and crashed against the row of wash basins, she was basically out of it for a moment - I spun around just as the other woman swung the bag of jewellery at me. This was quite hard and heavy stuff and could do me injury. I step back parried her swing and managed to pull her arm from behind and momentum crashed her into a wall, then before she could recover, I threw a large pot of talcum which shattered on the top of her head - we now had a marker on her if she did escape. The one with the taser stood up on wobbly legs, I threatened to hit her again, she fired and missed and this time I did hit her, no messing. The woman on the floor was still in trouble and I had to try and get her help. The two attackers were quiet for a moment so I opened the door and called help. No messing, in rushed Tom Cruise who saw what was happening and went to his partner, I didn't realise she was. The police were called and the two suspects arrested, the injured lady was taken off by a paramedic whereas Tom and I were escorted to an office by police where we said what we'd witnessed. I admitted I had hit the two attackers because they had taser and were going to use it as they had on the victim.

The interrogation lasted about an hour when they let both of us out. Cruise had been more worried about his partner and hadn't been involved in any violence, probably just as well, if he'd hit them, they'd probably have still been looking for the bodies, with me hitting them they weren't really able to fight on. Tom and I went back to the dinner although it was long over, he thanked me for my help in saving the jewellery and for trying to help his partner. Dan, hugged me and said my break seemed more interesting than the speeches. We did have a short trip around the dance floor but I wasn't in the mood, threatening to cry as I visualised that poor woman on the bathroom floor, so he took me home, I still didn't get my sweet.

The next day Mike had a phone call purporting to be from a certain American film star who was wondering if I could come to lunch with him and his girl, Cassidy, the next day. Mike looked rather strange as I took the call and accepted the invite, it was at another big hotel. After I accepted of course he wanted to know the ins and outs, Mike that is, all I wanted to do was see if I had a suitable dress available, if not I'd have to buy one - shit, I'd need to go now for that. Yelling, I'd tell him later, I grabbed my bag and ran out to the car.

I have one boutique where I know her sizes fit me at prices I can almost afford, so that's where I went. When she asked the occasion, I just told her 'lunch with film star.'

"But who?"

"Does it matter?" I asked.

"Well, yes it does, a man could require something different to a woman, so who is it?"

"I'm not allowed to say."

"Bollocks," was her reply, I don't think she believed me, but I didn't spill the beans. I did buy a nice dress, it cost me a few hundred but should look alright tomorrow if I can get my hair right, sometime I think it's haunted by a very unhelpful spirit. Some days I do it brilliantly, the rest of the time the ghost wins, besides I still had the extensions that Delia had added last time I saw her, so had quite a bit more hair than I usually did. I phoned her when I got back from the dress shop and would go and see her before I went to lunch. Amazing, this didn't happen when I was Adam - how come? Duh!

After the hairdresser in which I wouldn't name the film star, she made me look adorable again, well, I thought so, and with my new dress, I drove to the hotel a huge one in the West End and my car was parked by valets, never had that before. I warned them to take good care of my baby and went to reception. "Excuse me, I believe I have a lunch appointment?"

"With whom?" she asked looking at the computer screen.

"My name is Eve Bright."

"Ah, yes, here you are," She rang a bell and a bus boy led me to the table, in my earlier life, I always thought they called them pages, but illiterate Americana takes all in its way, yet again. Better not think too much about it as I consider who's paying for my lunch. I was led to the table, at which I was the only one, asked what I wanted to drink and asked for low calorie still water. I do it to see if the waiter is awake. They always come back with Perrier, and tell me it seems to be unavailable in that. I despair, how many of these people know that water has zero calories unless you heat it, and that's different.

Tom C arrive a few minutes later trying to avoid photographers and autograph hunters. He came on his own and smiled at me before he sat down - perhaps this dress was worth it. He apologised for his partner not being there, she was still not well after the taser. I wasn't surprised and I'm not important. He asked what I did and I told him what I did, his agent or secretary would have found out for him. "So how come you were in the toilet at just the right time?"

I explained about my dress and how it was so tight, it was either take the time to pull my knickers up or not wear them. I'm glad I did because the delay caused me to be there as the assault was going on outside my door.

He asked me if it was staged and nearly got up and walked. "Look, you're an insurance recovery expert..."

"You're a film star but I don't see you in porn."

"How much porn do ya watch?"

"None."

"Which might explain it," he smirked. After which he and I talked freely. The jewels would have fetched well over a million pounds and some were on loan. The women we caught weren't talking, so it could have been organised by a bigger gang. They were the patsies because I'd stopped things. I told him, I wasn't working so commission didn't apply. He said differently and told me the insurers would be on to me about it, "I told 'em you saved my girl and our jewels, therefore you are due some rewards."

I thanked him, asked how his partner was and he agreed that tasers were evil things. At the end of the meal I thanked him and kissed him on the cheek, he kissed me and asked if I wanted so see Pinewood studios. Wow, what an offer. I accepted and he told me he'd have to work it in with the studio schedule but he thought some time towards the end of the week should be alright. He said he'd ring but I wondered if that was an empty promise to a fan type thing.

Two days later I got a call, not from him but an assistant and I was due at the studios on Friday. I quickly asked if I could bring Mike and they said yes. Hopefully, he would come to believe that I have met Tom Cruise a couple of times and how nice he was. He was like a six year old on Friday and he couldn't believe his eyes. I took him home totally overwhelmed.

On Monday we talked with the insurance company and I told them what Tom had told me to say to them. They offered up a 15% commission as it wasn't due to my investigating. I told them that next time I'd keep the jewellery and pay it back to them at the normal commission or keep it and negotiate with the owners, not a middle man. They upped the percentage to twenty and asked me to keep cooperating with them and other large insurance companies. We did alright, we got £150,000, not bad for a night's work, even if not intended. Once witnessing right and wrong and seeing it was very wrong, then to be staring down the barrel of a taser, survival took over. If someone points a gun at me, no matter what sort, I'll try and stop them shooting me and that goes for tasers too.

I still hate guns, that's all I can say.

The Recoverer (5).
by
Angharad.

I had been asked to do a talk to a woman's club about my job. I hadn't agreed because I wasn't sure that I had enough anecdotes to keep them entertained. When I'd asked the organiser why she wanted me, she said," Well, we like to see women running their own businesses successfully and I'm told you are successful."

"I'm doing okay, I suppose, but much of my work is boring research or long hours of watching people we suspect. It's like watching paint dry."

"I'm sure it's more interesting than that, I'm sure a pretty woman like you has lots of tales to tell." I sometimes wonder if it's too late to go back to being male or whether I should go on and have surgery and live entirely like a female, including the possibility of some intimacy with a partner - thought of which variety I hadn't decided, mainly because I haven't decided which way I swing, as they say.

It was quiet and I was able to look through some past diaries. I'd conducted 24 cases in as many months, some had been quick like the opportunist strike at the awards ceremony that I'd been able to interfere in and keep Tom Cruise's partner's jewellery safe, but it was all serendipity, I was just the right person at the right time to stop the robbery. It still niggled me that I'd hit a woman but she had fired a taser at me. I'd made my mind up a long time ago if someone aims a firearm at me, I take whatever action I deem is necessary to survive, I included tasers in that category because they can do nasty things to you, including causing heart attacks and strokes to the susceptible. That sounds pretty serious to me, so they get my aggression to minimise its effect on yours truly. I want to live long enough to retire when I get older, this is no business for old men or women.

I've done 24 different types of case in the last couple of years, often for insurance companies and sometimes after someone else has had a go and failed. We are often called after the police have had an investigation about a theft or robbery and drawn a blank. I get called in as a cold case specialist. That can involve lots of research and watching suspects. Sometimes I can continue after the police give up because the public purse limit has been exceeded. I have enough reserves to take the hit for continued investigation longer than our public servants, which is why I succeed where they don't always. Sometimes it's a question of just being patient. In my experience so far, all criminals eventually give themselves away, we just have to be patient. That is sometimes difficult because the insurer is setting deadlines and that can depend on what has been stolen as some things have greater longevity than others and some are very short. Lives can be that way

I don't discount luck, I don't believe in it but won't turn it away because we all have some luck at times, even when it's all bad. It's pure happenstance but it happens to crooks as well and occasionally they even believe it or are superstitious and if they think they are up against a winner, then they give up. My record is impressive and I tend to talk it up as do the police, because it's like any contest, you have to get into your opponent's head - then you can play all sorts of games with them, it's good fun.

So my degrees in psychology and criminology support me beyond the realms of the obvious and into those of metaphysics or so it seems to some. Are my hunches something beyond or just intuition? I don't know but I can say female intuition with my fingers crossed and people believe me - I mean what more could I want?

I look around at politicians who say the most outlandish things but people believe them or accept them - why? Do they not have common sense; when someone is telling you the most outrageous porkies shouldn't you challenge them? I see in Kent a newly won Reform council is removing all transgender books from the libraries because they say it's common sense. It's not it's persecution but fascists never see it that way - it's like evangelicals, black and white that sets the understanding of people's motives back by many years. I suspect most would have been happy during the Mediaeval period or living among the Taliban, maybe the rest of us could arrange a holiday for them?

Seems I picked the wrong time to live as a woman because apparently someone born as male can't change according to the Supreme Court. That doesn't agree with the science and they haven't admitted it's all politically driven by the money of an overpaid hack whose prose is excessive and puerile, but that's a different argument and I don't get challenged in toilets, so I shall continue to wend my way into the edges of what's acceptable legally or socially. In other words, sod off JK, I'll carry on regardless.

I was meeting a negotiator, as they like to call themselves. It's a bit posher than fence or stolen goods holder, which is what they are. I have a figure that I can go to but the cheaper the better, so it pays me to keep the money as low as possible, then the insurers pay it to me not a criminal. Easy to understand, a bit like playing poker, everyone understands the rules but few are good at it, most of us have reveals or shows which show what we're thinking and how good our hand is and give the game away.

I have no interest in poker or gambling, both are a tax on stupidity but negotiating is not, once I convince them to accept my offer and feel happy with it. I always use public areas which can allow some privacy without being dangerous, remember I'm presenting as a woman and some men feel intimidation is permissible. I do my best to inform them it isn't but some don't learn. I also announce I am leaving and will instruct my successors of the threat and make the price they'll allow, less. The insurers don't like intimidation as a tactic and will usually support me but there is the odd lone wolf operator who has no scruples and will negotiate with anyone. They get bottom prices and get us all a bad name. I'm helping the police with a case of one such operator who turned up in a river with no wallet or ID documents and rather dead.

To start with, if you are negotiating you don't carry money, the insurers will deal with that after. If you do, you might be relieved of it without achieving much at all. Which is what we think happened to our deceased colleague - I use the term advisedly. I had been involved earlier and declined the offer, it was too high with too little profit for me to waste my time, I told them so and we each left - it happens. Then I heard there was a lone wolf trying to raise the matter again. Then we heard of the river occupant. I heard it all on the grapevine, which can be inaccurate but often isn't and operates very quickly.

The police eventually suspected who the victim was and why they had been killed. Then they came to me. I do some liaison for them and they scratch my back. First I knew of it I had DC Cowan call at my office, he was lucky to find me home. "Looking good, Eve."

"Thank you, Ron," I replied, "Now as you're happily married, you've come a long way to impart a compliment."

"You forgot the two daughters, who keep me poor."

"Oh poor, Ron," I pretended to play the fiddle. "So what d'you want then?" He already had a coffee, he's a real caffeine addict.

"This punter in the Isis."

"What he rows does he?"

"No, only floats a bit now."

"Oh, so who is he?"

"Damon Arkwright."

"Can't have been much of an ark-wright then, unless he fell overboard."

"We understand he might have been one of your lot - an insurance negotiator but not one operating on behalf of an insurance company."

"You mean a free-lance or lone wolf?"

"In a word." The detective wasn't sure what to say next.

"What was he negotiating for?"

"The jewel heist where the shop assistant was shot dead."

"No one in their right mind negotiates with killers."

"I think he was trying to break into the insurance element by doing jobs you well established people won't touch."

"He left a widow and kid." My face fell, don't these people look at risks and robbers who kill, who are carrying guns, you keep away from and hope the police get them eventually.

"I'll ask for whip round for them, I hope he was insured." I made a note, we have a widows and orphans fund, people do occasionally lose their lives at it but we try to train negotiators properly. There is always one who slips through but we all feel sorry for any relatives, especially children, they have no choice, do they.

Cowan left after his third coffee and we agreed to meet again in a few days where we would both try and find anything of relevance to share, he would have visited the widow and have her take on it. I would also have visited after talking with colleagues to get her an interim payment to tide her over, we all need money - a fact of life.

I also spoke to several colleagues and got the low down on the case, although none would share with the plod unless one of theirs got killed, then there were no boundaries. My coffee jar took a hit again five days later when Ron Cowan called again to see what I had on his case. It wasn't much but he told me the labs had identified the gun that killed the unfortunate shop assistant. It had killed before.

"So we have a gun that's doing the rounds or a shooter whose killed before?"

"Yep," he replied pouring his second coffee.

"The word on the street is that it was poorly planned, there should have been no guns but one of the thugs had one. The assistant tried to press the alarm and he shot her. How much was lost?"

"About 2 Million."

"Lot of jewellery to fence."

"Yeah, almost certainly will be broken up and sold piecemeal."

"What about the bloke in the river?"

"Probably out of his depth, quite literally."

"Only an idiot would try to deal with that?"

Somebody has to."

"Not until it's been broken up. They've sent me a list, some good stones in amongst it."

"Will you be investigating?"

"Not if they have guns - I loathe the things."

"Don't we all," said my plod friend.

Just then my computer peeped I looked at what came through by email and printed it off. I highlighted a couple of items and showed it to my friend.

"What are you showing me?" he asked.

"Some of the items from the shooting. Looks like they've been made smaller."

"You sure?"

"Not entirely but once I see them I'll know. It's too quick, someone is panicking and wants to get rid of them. If there's blood on them some may see them as cursed and want to hurry, probably the best chance you have of catching them."

"You gonna negotiate for them?"

"Want me to."

"Bloody hell, yes."

"Until I see the stones I won't be certain, if it's them I'll know."

"When?"

"Hang on, I have to work a few things out with the insurers, as there is shooter involved it'll be premium rate. If you just happened to follow me and use the CCTV into the room I'll be using, you can strike as we breakup and you'll have hard evidence, I'll try and draw him for you, but I need to see the stones first. I'll probably decline, blood on them etc., then they're all yours."

It took a few days to set up, everyone was nervous and at the first sign of trouble I was out. When the meeting was scheduled, I brought along my loupe, a times ten lens which should enable me to see all I needed to identify the stones. I also had my earlier list and instructions from my insurance company on what I could bid, I suggested it wasn't my thing, involving shooters.

On the Thursday morning I arranged to meet their representative at a hotel lounge and was early, but not as early as the police. I had discussed with them how we would play it. The negotiator would not have been involved in the robbery but would have since learned things, especially as they had been on the TV and in the press. So the plan was for the police to follow him, if necessary for a few days. I would also wrap them up in a cloth which acted as a transponder and which they could use as a tracker in case they lost him. After that it was up to Cowan and his friends to net them. I had warned him that the jewels had been broken up but what they wanted was the bloke with the gun, murder was worth more points than robbery, but armed robbery with a murder was worth far more. If Cowan pulled it off it would put him in the good books of the hierarchy of the Met and wouldn't do me any harm either for cooperating with them on a sting.

The chap arrived looking more like a banker than a villain, still I suppose bankers are just sophisticated villains, I suppose he could have been a lawyer. He seemed confident and asked if I was able to negotiate, I assured him I could but I'd need to see samples of what he was selling. We had coffee and he drew out a small cloth bag and tipped things into a small glass dish. They looked the real thing the shine that was coming off them, these were good quality stones.

I spent ages examining the stones, they were the ones off my list that had been taken from the jeweller's shop along with a couple from an earlier robbery.

"You happy that they are genuine."

"Oh yeah, very nice stones but not worth someone's life."

"What'd'you mean?"

"These are part of the haul from the London jewellers where the woman was shot."

"No they're not, my client wouldn't have been involved in such a thing."

"Sorry, despite them being broken up, they are, so you'd better tell your client that, my company doesn't negotiate with murderers, so sorry to have wasted your time. But no one will negotiate with you once my report goes in."

"How can I stop that happening?"

"You have to be joking, I won't touch those stones because they have blood on them."

"Not even for a reduced price?"

"I won't touch them, goodbye." I picked up my brief case and stood up and left. There was no hand shake I refused to touch him.

He phoned his client and the whole conversation was recorded by the police, my tracker was in his bag and they followed him to his office and laid on a telephone tap and a screening device in case he used his mobile.

Two days later the man with the gun was shot dead by marksmen, he still had the gun, all of the gang were arrested although much of the jewellery was already sent off to the Netherlands.

The police were happy with the outcome and I got a commission for examining the stones, nothing like as much if we had actually recovered them but I was able to tell the police that the two other stones which I'd seen were from an earlier heist and so they had them for two robberies and I got a reward for that. So all round it was a success for the forces of law and order and me and something to regale this women's club next week. I might just give then what they want, I might...

The Recoverer (6).
by
Angharad.

My cousin, Jonathon Ronson, was probably my nearest living relative. I didn't often see eye to eye with him. He was a black and white man, his opinion always being right and anyone else was wrong if they disagreed. If they felt the same then, they were elevated to genius. I was anything but, usually he thought of me as a fool, yet I earned twice as much as he did as an accountant, although shades of my employment sometimes ranged into the grey, and he was opposed to that. I tried to explain that in my job, a great deal is compromise, negotiating to try and please both sides. He couldn't see that at all. He had one son who was packed off to boarding school as soon as he was able to go and he loathed the place. If you were sports mad and male chauvinist pig, you might get by, Stephen, his son, was anything but, a sensitive boy who struggled to cope.

It so happened that Stephen and I got on quite well, so when his parents wanted to do a cruise for the holiday of a lifetime, I agreed to have Stephen. Of course when Jon came to see me a week or so before, he found me in full Eve mode. I knew Stephen didn't have a problem with it because we had spoken about it. He knew his dad was anti, but he said he was okay about it.

"Oh, great, you're in tranny mode, you'd better not be next week, remember you have my son for a month and I don't want him to end up a poofter like you."

"I don't think cross-gender stuff is catchable or Mike would have caught it by now."

"It's my son, so my opinion counts."

"I hope you don't have any disagreements with the captain on your cruise."

"Don't be ridiculous, I'm hardly likely to argue with a professional."

"I think I'm considered a professional too, Jon."

"How can you be when you gad about dressed as a woman half the time, don't you realise how people think about you, as some sort of effeminate deviant."

"Does Steve have a problem with it?"

"I do on his behalf, he's only 16."

"That makes him a near adult, he could have sex with another 16 year-old without parental consent. He can't drink legally, except with a meal but he could win the lottery."

"I don't like it, it goes against all in the Bible."

"So do most things from murder and adultery down, doesn't stop people committing both."

"What's the point of arguing with you, you're too stupid to see my point."

"May be I am," I confessed, my only degrees are master's in psychology and criminology, so what do I know?"

"Exactly," he seemed pleased with himself.

"So, if you are so sure that Steve would dislike coming to stay with me like this, why don't you ask him."

"What now?"

"Yes, right this minute. I'll call him if you have a problem with that," I offered.

"Okay then, yes I will. I'll show you that he thinks you're a deviant too." I wasn't so sure and I suspect Stephen would enjoy some time staying with me and doing a few things that are different to what he does every day.

Jon rang Stephen and his question was misleading. "You know you're supposed to be staying with your Uncle Adam, he's dressed up like some drag queen at the moment, does it worry you? It does me."

"Can you send me a pickie to my phone?"

"What? I just told that he looks absolutely stupid dressed as a woman with long hair and makeup and false breasts, the lot."

"Can I see?" Steven replied.

"This is not some game, Stephen."

"I know Dad, Auntie Eve always looks really cool."

He took a photo and sent it off. Moments later my phone rang and he sent me a text, 'Lookin' good, Eve.' Then he phoned his father and told him it didn't worry him that I looked like a babe.

"Don't tell me you fancy this creature?"

"Course not it's my auntie isn't it."

"It's actually a man, remember that."

"Aw Dad, nothing's gonna happen, we're relatives. We get on fine so don't worry, besides Mike is there most of the time and we get on fine too."

"I don't know, Stephen," he took on typical dithering mode.

"Mum's gonna be so disappointed, you know how long she's wanted to go on this holiday, just the two of you." Steve was playing all the cards he had, and not making too much of a mess of it, Jon was wavering mainly because Susie his wife ruled the roost and she didn't have a problem either, she even borrowed a dress from me for the trip.

It transpired that Steve won the argument and was coming to stay with me for the holidays, I had promised him a few trip to see things he wanted that his father would never contemplate, so he was quite looking forward to his stay and I was pleased too.

A few days later the same taxi that was carrying his parents to the ferry port dropped him off at my place. I was still as Eve, his mum waved and his dad almost snarled at me, but Steve was happy to see me and kissed me on the cheek in front of his dad and then waved to them. I think it had the effect desired by the young man. "How can he tell you how to behave, you're an adult? Just 'cos he's a constipated born-again, he thinks no one should have any fun because he doesn't. When he gets back he'll spend two weeks telling me what was wrong with the cruise while Mum will tell me it was wonderful."

"Yeah, I lent her a posh dress for the dances or dining at the captain's table,."

"I know she told me, mind you I suggested she asked you, Dad is trying to make her as boring as he is."

"I rather got that idea, why can't those who catch evangelical fever keep quiet or just succumb to it, rather than having to inflict it on everyone?"

"I suppose they think it's their duty," Steve told me after a short pause.

"They think they have a divine right, even though all they do is poison things, none of it seems to filled with love, just hate limitations, whereas being in touch with the Divine should be freeing us from all that. What d'you fancy doing?"

He paused for a moment, "Anything?"

"Within reason as long as I can afford it and it's legal."

"Oh."

"That a problem?"

"Have you got a dress to fit me?"

"If your dad finds out he'll excommunicate me."

"I doubt it, he's not Catholic and neither are you."

"How about we have some lunch and then go buy you a dress?"

"And a bag and some shoes?"

I shook my head, "You get worse, do you know that?"

"No just negotiating with the expert."

I shook my head again - some expert. His hair wasn't too short to be restyled and my hairdresser is a whiz with such things, I went off to get some lunch and Steve went off for a quick shower. I'm no gourmet but even I should be able to knock up something better than a boarding school, so it was Spanish omelettes all round.

I once had to show the cook in a restaurant how to make them, it's with potato if you haven't encountered them before and they can be quite filling. After we ate them and sorted the dishes, we went off to town, Stephanie wearing a skirt and top of mine, she brought her own smalls. "Those boobs look quite real," she observed as we drove and my cleavage became more obvious at times as I worked the gears and steering of the car."

"They should be, I've taken enough mones to grow small mountains let alone these molehills."

"What you've been growing your own?" Stephanie exclaimed.

"Yes, there's no substitute."

"Now I feel very jealous," offered my ward.

"Remember, I lost my gonads a few years ago, got to replace them with some steroidal sex hormones, I just chose female ones, my doc was fine about it."

"If I asked for those at home or school, there'd be hell to pay."

" Just be patient young un', in a few years time you can do as you like, but until you're legally an adult your dad would create all sorts of trouble for both of us."

"Why would he try to cause you problems?"

"Your dad is a lovely guy unless you cross him or his strait-laced beliefs, he would assume that you caught transgenderism from me."

"But that's absurd."

"And belief in sky fairies isn't?" I threw back to Steph.

"But I've been wanting to be a girl since I was about five or six."

"I know that but your dad doesn't and he's so off target with his ideas about real people and the psychology they demonstrate, that he's likely to do something stupid to you and then to me. I respect his right to hold such views even if they belong in the dark ages."

"Mum's beginning to come on board and she feels that my staying with you for a couple of weeks or longer is a good idea, she's probably not ready to come out publicly and support me but she'll get there if I give it time. Dad of course thinks you're the devil incarnate."

"He doesn't realise that his views put him closer to that role than my liberal ones."

"Reminds me of the futility of killing doctors who perform abortions."

"Here we only get them trying to intimidate patients or staff who work at abortion clinics but it's usually funded by American evangelicals, who feel they have a duty to poison the world."

"Oh well, girls just wanna have fun." I played Cyndi Lauper's record as we pulled into the shopping centre car park and Stephanie bounced up and down to it, smiling." It certainly expresses an intent very clearly and I happen to agree with it.

We ended up buying more than a dress, bag and shoes. We bought several outfits, shoes bags and lingerie for both of us. I wouldn't be going on holiday except to my Devon cottage, so deserved a treat and Stephanie's mother gave her some money towards a holiday. When I mentioned the holiday cottage, she was all raring to go as she hadn't been on Dartmoor since she was kid. She's only 16 now so perspectives have to be borne in mind. "I don't think I've ever been to Okehampton or Dartmoor, so let's go and I want to see granny's cottage."

"You haven't got half the outdoor equipment we'd need."

"I brought some of my boy stuff, boots and Barbour and rucksack and so on."

"I don't know, though I should like to see how the windows have stood up in the different weather, we had that very wet spell then the heat wave. Have you got some shoes for distance walking."

"Not really."

"First thing tomorrow we get you some trainers or flatties, if we go to Okehampton or Exeter you'll need them."

"What's to see in Exeter?"

"The cathedral, museums nearby Exmouth which is lovely and other West country places. I'll lend you some binns if we go bird watching."

"No need, I brought my own and spotting 'scope, it's not as posh as yours but pretty good."

We made dinner and all Steph was on about was granny's cottage. If you recall I helped catch some burglars when I was there before and wasn't sure I really wanted to return so soon, but it's difficult to distract a teen who's set their mind on something, and the forecast was good for a few days. Besides the Jag could do with a run and Mike would be here for more immediate issues. He had arranged time off in September and was going to Portugal.

We opted to look for shoes in Okehampton in order to get an early start. Stephanie was champing at the bit and we set off at just after eight, she isn't shaving yet so just put on some slap and off we went. I didn't use any makeup and wondered how we compared, considering I didn't shave either and my body had been ravaged by female hormones for six months and of course my genitals had been stitched into my groin and there was no sign of them unless you made a medical exam. That doctor was expensive and charmless but he knew his stuff. I didn't allow her to see what I'd done because it would only make her feel worse. When an adult, theoretically you can make decisions about how you wish to live, it might be harder these days because we're seemingly run by arsehole politicians who have deliberately made it harder but I believe that transgender people will never disappear no matter what pathetic politicians do to curry favour with those who just make the world worse. I believe we'll win because the others will eventually find something else to complain about or grow up and realise we have to solve our own problems with compassion and consideration rather than by prayer or missiles, as far as I'm aware the former doesn't intercept the latter.

We stopped for breakfast at Honiton and had bacon and egg with toast and coffee, next stop was Okehampton and we bought some lace up Hotter shoes for Steph and a load of groceries and perishables, including milk and fruit. I was far happier eating fruit than bacon and egg for breakfast, along with some toast. Banana mashed on toast and cups of tea or coffee are fine for me and possibly better for my blood pressure and waistline.

Eventually we made it to the cottage where no one had broken any windows and the alarm system seemed to be working. Steph was impressed, "How come you got this and we didn't?"

"Different grannies, not Dad's one but my Mum's. Last time I'd been burgled and because of it I caught the crims with a little bit of help from the local constabulary, albeit initially rather reluctant. As they got some share in the glory, they said I'd always be welcome, presumably until I actually showed up." Steph thought that was hilarious.

"Wouldn't it be funny if we solved a crime while we're down here?" Steph expressed her opinion I shook my head, this is a small country town it's not London or one of the big cities, crime is relatively small beer here."

"Yeah but we're not too far from Exeter or even Bristol."

"Okay, so some of those nasty types may venture forth to rob the locals and tourists of their hard earned cash, it could be related to drugs which get everywhere, or gangs trying their luck here, I mean a few years ago we had loads of trouble with Romanians and they could still be nicking copper from the railways, apparently it's big business these days and with electric trains they use rather a lot of it.

She thought the cottage was lovely but told me that cooking was not her forte, assuming we wanted to enjoy eating. I told her if I was cooking she was washing up. I was going to say that there was no negotiation on it but she just agreed and we bought some rubber gloves to save her having washday red hands. She asked what I did for telly and I replied I didn't usually watch it or used my laptop if I really wanted to see something. But her nagging the next day meant I bought a 32" flat screen for my lounge, with which she felt very happy and I felt as if I'd been conned. So far staying at my own property seemed to be costing me as much as Jon's cruise. I suppose I had a TV now, so it would be useful for other visits. I tried to reduce my sense of being done by Steph, she hadn't really conned me, but I just don't watch muchTV.

We did some birdwatching at Exmouth and Dawlish Warren and up the River Exe and in doing so met with other birders, who always assume that women need to be shown. It was beginning to annoy my sense of feminism, that women can do everything men do but quicker and better. I made the mistake of saying so and was recommended to a site for nightjar. If you have a site then nightjar are easy to see, if it's a new site, they may not be and as their name suggests they are nocturnal. We ended up accepting the challenge - don't ask.

I was swearing as we drove home, "How could I have fallen for that stupid bet?"

"Because you allowed a dickhead to provoke your feminist principles.

"Yes, but why? I don't usually?"

"He played you like a champion fisherman."

"The bastard. Why didn't I see it earlier, you did."

"Evie, he had been stirring at you all day, you just wanted to shut him up and he posed the bet. I'm sure that you're every bit as good a birder, however, he may know the area better."

"It was stupid of me."

"It's too late now, let's get some dinner and go to the place that young chap told us, he was sure they had nightjar last year." I didn't have a better plan and we could make the new site in 30 minutes, so we had time to eat a decent meal. It was pork chops and I did a full roast dinner with them. Steph cleared up and I checked on our route. I noticed we went quite close to the railway line so wasn't too optimistic as I thought the noise of trains would frighten them off, but nature doesn't do what we consider it should, it does what it wants. There was a small moorland surrounded by woodland and the railway passed in a hollow and we hardly heard it.

As the light eventually faded we heard churring and finally saw some wing clapping both activities of nightjars, Steph managed to capture both on her phone, at least as audio, it had become too dark for pictures. We went back to the car with some optimism, at least we found the target species even if it was too late to win the bet, we were decent losers. As we were driving back out of the dip the railway was in we saw some lights on the trackside. At first we thought it might be someone lamping, where they use bright lights to startle deer and shoot them or set dogs on them, either way it's illegal. However, something didn't look right and when I saw some blue sparks I knew it was something else.

We still had binoculars so we left the car in a field entrance and walked stealthily to where we could see better what they were doing. After a few minutes we could see, they were pinching the copper wire, wrapping it around spools. I checked my phone, I couldn't get a signal but Stephanie could. We ran back to the car and locked ourselves in, she still had a signal and so we rang the police, they said they put the information through to British Transport Police. That wasn't good enough for me I asked to speak to the officer in charge. My luck held and he remembered me from before, 'the antiques woman', he called me. I told him what was happening and where it was roughly. He knew it. He called BTP while we were on the phone to him and they quickly assembled a task force to stop the theft. I suggested we went home and left it to the plod but Stephanie had never seen such action in real life. I told her it could be quite boring and the thieves often escaped. But we went back and watched the villains oblivious of what was coming to meet them very soon.

The thieves were stopping as police cars descended from all around them, transport police and ordinary plod and in twenty minutes they had manage to nab everyone. At that point, I suggested going home and Steph agreed. It took a bit longer to traverse the roads in the dark as they were in the countryside and without lights except the lights of my car. We got home within the hour and I suggested going to bed after a cuppa because we'd be out early tomorrow.

Amazingly we won our bet by fifteen minutes and the police phoned me to thank me for our help with the attempted copper theft. What I didn't realise was Steph had filmed a bit of the attempted robbery on her phone so she could brag about that. I was glad I hadn't been involved in the attempted robbery that would have been very complicated from an insurance position. Until now, I had never believed in coincidences, perhaps there was something in the occasional one after all. I didn't honestly know. But I do know that Steph had a great holiday and I have to admit so did I.

The Recoverer (7).
by
Angharad.

Although my Devon cottage was in the countryside, I was a townie through and through. Steph was more adjusted to rural settings because her school was situated in the country about ten miles from the nearest town, so they had to make an awful effort to get to town or make do with the local village. She told me they had a couple of shops, a general store and a newsagent cum post office. They bought loads on line but I found that often hid the feeling of the cost because I hadn't handed over money or my bank card to shopkeeper or assistant. I mean I could spend lots online because it didn't feel like real money and admittedly buying on credit or on cards where you handle no money felt similar but not quite as uninvolved.

We were only a couple of miles from Okehampton so here it was very different. It's not a big town but had most of what we'd likely need and if not the internet would suffice, and probably cheaper, although some places charge heavy carriage fees. Lots of places didn't charge carriage if you spent more than so much, but unless you intended to buy the larger item, you didn't save and may even have spent more. I had no illusions that retailers were out to rob me whether in shops or online and I considered only I could stop them, besides, I haggled quite a lot and usually got something off. It embarrassed Stephanie, but I saw it all as one big game. But then she was living in a community of quite wealthy peopl e, I wasn't. I moved amongst them only when I was working and they were either directly or indirectly paying my fees. If they lauded it over me, my fee went up. I could always find some previously forgotten add on and if they wanted me they paid it. I have said before that I was seen as very good at my job and usually they paid up.

We were out at a little cafe when we were spotted by some neighbours, who farmed much of the land around my cottage and its large garden. "Hello Eve, Stephanie, did you see the police up at our place earlier on?"

"No, what happened?"

"I bought a new trailer, last year, for my tractor, a flat bed sort."

"So, what happened to it, did it fall apart or something?"

"No, it was going fine as it should for twenty grand, but some bastard has nicked it last night, and we didn't hear a thing, nor did that fat Labrador of mine, who slept through it too."

"From where did they nick it?"

"By the big barn, I was going to take a load of straw to market on Monday."

"Would you expect any noise, moving the trailer?"

"Nah, not much it's all new, hardly been used, a bit like Roger's combine, across the valley, just disappeared one night and nobody saw or heard anything and the combine is worth significantly more than my trailer."

"I suppose it is, by quite a margin," Pete nodded. "Is it insured?"

"Yeah but that's not the point, it's the inconvenience and letting others down - I'd promised lots of that straw to a pony club, now I'll have to find some other way to get to town or out to them. I feel such a Nellie and I've lost that money and had some awfully embarrassing inconvenience, as well."

"We'll find it for you, Mr Simpson," chirped Stephanie.

"That's better than the plod offered, they didn't think we'd ever see it again."

"It's not really my sort of thing, I don't know that many farmers and I know nothing about farm plant."

"Shouldn't that be farm stock?" asked Stephanie.

"I thought stock was something that has four legs and eats grass." I answered her as she ordered an all day breakfast for both of us.

Pete and I got into discussions, it seemed that his insurer often used me but not for this kind of thing. I agreed to give it a go if the insurer requested it. He phoned me next day to say the insurer was interested. I then had a call from them and we discussed it being outside my usual remit but I felt like I should do my best to help him especially as the plod were so negative about it.

"I don't know Steph, it's not my usual thing is it?"

"Well, look at it this way, it's a bit easier to find a twenty foot trailer than it is a single diamond and you do that easy enough."

"Ha, you don't see the work that goes on behind the scenes. It may look spectacular when I pull off a recovery, but that doesn't show the preparation needed. Like the police say, it's all about slogging and lots of spadework."

"Never see them digging anything," she shot back at me. "I mean how can they hide a twenty foot trailer?"

"In a couple of square miles of farm, quite easily." I smiled falsely at her.

"If the wind changes you'll stay like that," she quipped.

"I'll still be prettier than you," I said poking out my tongue for good measure, she fired back with a real teen girl pout, damn she was getting the hang of this girlie stuff.

We drove over to Pete's neighbour who had the combine taken, again no noise to alert the owners or their dog. Mind you dogs are dumb animals, in some cases, very dumb. Again, it was taken from a barn after being serviced for harvesting whatever crop they wanted, cereal or rapeseed, or flax. Apparently, flax seed has more Omega 3 oil than oil fish, weight for weight. Flax also has phyto-oestrogens I won't mention that to Steph, she's already scheming to stay with me again. If her father knew how she was living with me, he'd go absolutely nuts. She's been with me two weeks and hasn't worn men's clothes since day one and she seems so natural in the female role, it's going to depress her dreadfully when she goes back to school.

We drove around and she began to appreciate how like needles in haystacks, our task was. we got home and while cooking dinner, I began to plot where agriplant was held in highest amounts. After eating, I went online and decided places where they rent it out for harvest or other tasks, meant that farmers didn't have to buy it and they could hire an operator as well.

I listed all of those plant hire places within twenty miles, anything further may kindle police interest, unless it was on the back of a named trailer or being towed by one of their vehicles. Pete had marked his trailer, underneath he'd put his name and post code. Suitably addressed in jeans and sweat shirts we set off the next day with the list of these agri-hire places.

The manager of the site was reluctant to let us wander in case we got run over. I told him we were insured as we were working for an insurance company. When I said we were looking for stolen plant, he got quite shirty and it took me a while to calm him down, well, Steph did actually, she told him we knew we wouldn't find anything amongst his stock but if we mentioned to other places that he let us examine his vehicles, they should too. Stephanie stroked his ego beautifully and I set to examining combines and flatbeds. I saw Pete's trailer but said nothing not wishing to give the game away until he was ready to collect it in a police presence. Probably it was bought in good faith, except thieves don't have any.

We checked the next two on our list before I found a combine with the scrapes on it that Pete's neighbour had shown me on a photo. I photographed them with my phone and sent him a copy, he came back to me in minutes saying that was his combine. I told him to wait but to tell the police we knew where it was.

We got home quite tired, it's hard work. The next day we went to the police HQ and spoke to the senior detective about thefts of agricultural plant. It was a growing problem in the area. We told him we had found two pieces of plant at separate rental sites but felt they had bought them without knowing they were stolen. I suggested they should set up a database and share details of stolen plant, Steph said she could show them what to do and that this should be shared with the rental sites and local farmers. The police suggested marking them with special paint that only shows under UV light, to identify them easily but impossible to see with the naked eye.

The police and the two farmers were delighted to get their property back and we left them to sort out the paperwork with the rental people so they could take it back home. I spent the next day telling the two farmers what security they needed especially with cameras and alarms to prevent it happening again and also reducing their insurance costs.

The next day we awoke to discovering my Jaguar was missing. It's over £80,000 worth of delight, it goes like a dream, has more style than a Porsche (because there's fewer of them) and it was mine. So it was insured to the last nut and bolt but I was fuming. I reported it to the police and got an incident number, the copper on the phone telling me that they didn't get many of those, I already knew that.

I hired a nice Audi while we sought out the Jag. I went to the places where the agri-plant had been found and tried to get a description of the person who'd sold it to them. When I told them they had likely stolen my Jaguar, they gave a little smirk as I had caused them a little problem. One place gave me a photo of the thief. I took it to Exeter police and showed them, we ran it through the system and got a name, Brad Norman. His address was in Bristol, so we went to see him or try to. He claimed not to have any knowledge of my car and told us he was a reputable dealer, I nearly laughed in his face. I wanted to hit him but I was trying to show Stephanie how to behave as a lady, she showed me most of the time.

We went around all the Jaguar or elite car dealers, one was very helpful and circulated several of his friends in the trade, details of my car. He got a reply saying they'd been offered it. We were there half an hour later, showed him the photo of Norman, who he recognised but said he'd not bought it.

Back to Norman's in Bristol, he was out. So we bought sandwiches and bottles of water and settled down to wait for his return. He came back at six and we let him start to get his tea and then disturbed him. I asked him where my car was because he had been recognised trying to sell it. He told very discourteously to leave his property and not come back. I told him I wasn't leaving without my car or it's whereabouts and if that resulted in breaking several of his bones, so be it. He laughed at Stephanie saying, "I'd listen to her if I were you," and laughed again and tried to push me out the door. It was him who left by the door or through it as I hip threw him using his momentum. He was shaken up but came back at me and I threw him into his entrance hall wall. He staggered to his telephone table and pulled open the drawer, suspecting he had a gun or knife there, I jumped over and slammed the drawer on his wrist. He offered a punch and I caught it and pulled him into a hammerlock dislocating his shoulder, it was quite deliberate - it's rather painful and asking where my car was jerked his shoulder, after quarter of an hour he told me.

"I'm gonna phone the plod about you." He shouted and I raised my hand to brush my hair and he visibly finched.

"I wouldn't bother," I answered him, "my niece has it all on her phone and shows you started it, besides while I'm collecting my car they'll be coming to collect you. If there's a mark on my car, I'll be coming back for you too."

"Huh, don't think I'm scared of some tart like you."

I punched him on his bad shoulder and he fell down screaming. I threatened him again and he yelled his submission.

In an hour we had my car back, it was in a garage covered in tarps to keep the dust off. I had a spare key so I drove it to the police station leaving the garage door hanging off its hinges. If thieves got in there before it was closed up again, too bad.

I got consent to take my car and phoned the hire company to collect their Audi before we drove back to my cottage. we left the police with a copy of Norman's attempt to bully me and a shortened form of me beating seven shades out of him. The police were actually laughing at it, I suggested he should never show his face in Devon again or we may run him over with a combine. The copper shook his head but we knew that rats like Norman were career criminals and apart from the pain of having his shoulder reset, he'd just go elsewhere. "Tell him wherever he goes, I'll find him and I won't be so gentle next time."

"Oh, he's going down for a few years this time, we found a gun in his telephone table drawer, the one you smashed on his wrist, It has history of being used, so he could be going away for a long time. Couldn't happen to a nicer bloke."

Steph and I agreed and we still had a week to get her back to Steve before her dad saw her. She was rather unhappy.

The Recoverer (8).
by
Angharad.

Our time in Devon had been quite eventful, we'd helped the police sort out two crimes including having my Jaguar stolen but which I'd managed to recover. we'd helped round up a copper (metal) stealing gang whose activities would have impaired the railways. Stephanie had also caused me to spend time and money on the cottage and we had decorated two rooms as well as replacing carpets, curtains and furniture. It looked a lot better and much lighter. I had chosen all the replacements and discovered that I was quite good at it. Steph had done much of the gloss painting and she admitted that she hadn't done anything like it before and that she had enjoyed it. I may confess here that without her nagging I would have called in decorators because I hadn't done anything like it either. We had the curtains made up by a local shop and they did a good job and I was certainly pleased that my matching of wall colours and carpets and soft furnishings worked out better than I expected and Steph told me I obviously had a flair for it. I wondered what she was after because every time we went into Okehampton or Exeter she conned me into buying her something, usually clothes.

I was relying on Steph to remind me when her parents were coming back which she promised to do - she told me on the day. This the day after I let her get her nails done and her eyelashes tinted. I was furious but all she kept saying was, "What's done is done." I wasn't looking forward to seeing my cousin again, he gets his knickers twisted for nothing. I hadn't promised other than to keep Stephanie safe, which I'd done, sort of.

Life wasn't helping much as the washing machine jammed and we had a small flood in the kitchen, fortunately the engineer was able to come though it cost a fortune. Apparently, a panty-pad got stuck in the filter - all I knew was it was bloody expensive and I signed up to get it serviced once a year. The idiot made a pass at me and I had to remind him to keep his mind, including the little one further down his body, on the job in hand, and no I didn't want discount. This lark of being a woman is definitely harder than being a man - no it isn't, being a man didn't feel right, this does even if I get unwarranted attention from men. I was learning how to handle that not having had the advantage of doing since Stephanie's age, I wasn't doing too badly, at least I thought not. Stephanie told me I was getting the hang of it quite well - cheeky cow. We stopped in Okehampton and bought some fresh made sandwiches to eat on the way home, I also filled up the tanks on my little jet fighter, so we'd try and do it in one go.

It was alright in theory, in practice it didn't quite work out. I reckoned we'd be back two hours before Steph's parents, which gave her time to switch back, okay she'd seem more feminine than she had been, but I thought we could talk our way through that. What I hadn't considered, was how delayed we could be by an accident. I hadn't thought I'd be doing external cardiac massage (kiss of life stuff) to a road traffic accident victim.

We watched in horror as the front tyre blew and the 4x4 slewed across the road, through the crash barrier and into a head on collision with another Chelsea tractor. I managed to pull my car onto the hard shoulder and a car pulling a caravan pulled in behind me. I was out on my car in seconds, thankfully, wearing jeans and trainers as was Stephie and telling the caravan chap to call the police, ran across the road to the accident. Both cars were pretty beaten up, but the RangeRover seemed to have got the better of it. I broke windows and hauled the young woman out and we laid her on the ground and I ran through my basic training again, airways, bleeding, cardiac. She was going blue around the lips and I couldn't feel a carotid pulse. I started pumping her chest and breathing for her. Steph went to help with another victim. Another woman came up and offered to do the breathing if I continued pumping - we did. I shall never believe how hard it is kneeling and pressing quite hard on the chest compressions, otherwise they don't do any good. As they told me when I did my course, "Don't worry if you break a few ribs, dead people don't sue." I had this in the back of my mind as I tried to push her chest through her spine.

Sirens brought the cavalry, except they tell you to carry on until they get set up. That was another ten or fifteen minutes, but they restarted her heart with a defibrillator and told us we'd kept her from dying, which was a nice feeling even if one of the paramedics had to help me up, my legs were so stiff, it really pulls on the backs of the thighs. Stephanie had helped stop a nasty bleed, she was the only one small enough to get into the car and a man passed her dressings though the broken window. The victim had a large piece of plastic stuck in her chest and Steph knew not to try and remove it, the woman would have bled to death. Well meaning helpers kill hundreds if not more ever year.

A loud engine noise announced the arrival of the air ambulance and both of our patients were loaded into it and off it went. We were so busy helping, giving people drinks of water, turning off engines and giving statements to the police that we didn't realise how much time had elapsed. Three bloody hours. At last we were able to leave and despite driving the Jag above the legal limit, traffic, roadworks and the accident meant we were not going to get there in time.

I suggested that I dropped Stephanie on the way with enough money to buy some men's clothes, she shook her head. We had stopped for a coffee at some services and washed off the sweat and debris from the accident. we both refreshed our makeup and decided it was as good to be hanged as sheep as a lambs. We couldn't avoid a show down, neither could we have walked away from the accident. We didn't know if our patients had survived but at least we had tried our best, which is all you can do.

We drove up to my place and I recognised Mike's car and my cousins. I hated to think what my blood pressure and heart rate were doing, oh well if I exploded I wouldn't have to deal with my loony cousin. We had cases in the boot, some space of which is lost because of the roof closing mechanism, on the back seat and tied down to the boot lid. As Stephanie was struggling with the one attached to the boot, not helped by her painted talons, Jonathon came out and offered to help her, not recognising his own son. "When is Steve arriving, caught the train did he?" asked Jon.

"Not exactly, Jon," I said as he carried two cases into the house.

"What the hell do you lot pack into them, they're bloody heavy." A glance from me stopped Stephie saying anything but thank you, to her father. I didn't want a scene in the street. We brought the other two cases in between us and I went to make some tea but Susie, Steph's mother, had beaten me to it, "Should be interesting in a moment," she whispered to me as she took the tray through.

We all sat down and took a mug of tea, "Aren't you going to introduce us?" asked Jon - it felt surreal for a moment and Susie was desperately trying not to laugh.

"I got your dress dry-cleaned, Eve," she said keeping a straight face and I nodded a reply.

"Sorry we're late, we got held up by a nasty accident and we stopped to assist, did kiss of life to one woman who'd stopped breathing and Steph helped someone who had chest wound and it was bleeding quite heavily."

"No, I managed to staunch it," declared Stephanie.

"An eventful journey then?"

"You could say that," I replied to Jon's remark and still he hadn't twigged nor noticed Susie making all sorts of faces as she tried not to laugh.

"So where is Steve?" asked Jon, "what time are you expecting him?"

"Dunno," I answered.

"What? How can you not know?" asked Jon angrily.

"He's not coming home," said Stephanie.

"What do you mean, he's not coming home, of course he is, you stupid girl."

"Thanks, Dad" she replied.

"What do you mean?" he looked perplexed.

"What I said, thanks, Daddy."

Jon looked totally flustered. Susie took over, "Can't you recognise your own son?"

"Of course I can we weren't away that long."

"Well he's, or should I she's sitting next to you in the pink top and jeans, which look nicer than I'd have thought it would."

"What are you saying?" Jon looked doubly flustered now.

"I'm Stephanie, I was Steve but I can't go back and I'm not going back to that concentration camp you call a school."

"What, you're my son?"

"Legally, but not otherwise."

"Don't be stupid gir...boy. This is your doing," he said at me, "I knew we shouldn't have left the boy here with this pervert."

"Dad, please, it's not Eve's fault I asked to dress up and she allowed me to, you weren't supposed to see me, but I had decided that I wasn't going to go back to being a boy again."

"That is the most preposterous thing I have ever heard."

Susie called Stephie over and had her sit on her lap. "Is it preposterous? I've known for ages that Steve was struggling at that school but you insisted he went there. He was being bullied regularly because he's a small sensitive boy, which the Neanderthals don't understand, they are all testosterone dripping morons. I agree, he doesn't have to go back there."

"Thanks, Mum."

"Don't get too cosy kiddo, I haven't said what you'll have to do instead."

"If you don't go back, you'll be no son of mine." I remembered an old cartoon in which an irate father was saying to his dollybird son, 'If you go through with this sex change you'll be no son of mine.' I started giggling and couldn't stop despite the puzzled or angry faces surrounding me.

"What are you laughing at?" demanded Jon which just made the giggle fit worse and a moment later Susie joined me, that made Jon worse he stood up and stamped out of the room. I expected him to go out and stamp around the drive but he didn't, he got in his car and drove off. Oh poo, this wasn't supposed to happen.

"Where's Dad gone?" asked Stephanie.

"I don't know, I hope he didn't think I was laughing at him," I said and told them about the cartoon and they both laughed.

"He'll be back, he's off having a sulk like a big girl," offered Susie, "He does it when he can't get his own way. Ooh, I like that nail colour," she said looking at Stephanie's manicure. "You can't go back to school with nails like that, it'd be like having a bull's-eye on your back."

"I'm not going back to all that snobbery and contempt, I can't compete with them, and what's more, I don't want to anymore, I'm a girl and don't belong in such a zoo. They may be wealthy, or their families are, but they haven't got a modicum of politeness or manners in them, we girls notice such things." Susie smiled at that.

"So what do you propose doing?" her mother asked Stephanie.

"I want to go to a gender specialist doctor and be reassigned as a girl, take hormones and I suppose change my name and go to a girl's school, then work with Eve."

Susie looked hard at me then picking up her mobile phone she swept out of the house to call someone in private. I was still coping with Stephanie's last statement. She wanted to work with me, after she finished school. That's three years from now - well, it was possible but I'm not sure if it was feasible but was it a good idea? I didn't see the amount of theft and fraud decreasing, if anything it was increasing but did I want her involved, it could be dangerous and I'd never forgive myself if anything happened to her whichever gender she was presenting. Stephanie was silently sobbing to herself when Susie walked back in.

"I've spoken to Jon he's completely shocked so in no position to make any decisions so, here's what we do. You madam can stop crying and sort yourself out," she said to Stephanie, then to me she said, "And you can take me home, then you can come back and discuss what Stephanie's future is going to be. I'll be back tomorrow and the two of you had better have got some sort of plan, but I suspect she'd better stay with you for a few days seeing as you have encouraged this behaviour in her you have some responsibility. I know Jon is having trouble taking this on board, so you may have a long term lodger, the school is no loss, but education is and even a girl needs qualifications. You'd better start looking to the long term. I love Stephanie and I'm not entirely surprised at all of this but I love my husband despite his god delusions and I have no plans to leave him. I suspect he'll need some time to come to terms with all this so we need to start thinking long term, I'll happily have a daughter or a son, but you need some more definite plans and I want to hear what a doctor has to say about it plus you need to sort yourself out and decide if you're going to be an aunt or an uncle, at present I think the latter is unlikely. C'mon take me home in that speed machine of yours."

Oh boy, I've always tried to avoid responsibility except for work and now - well, it's hit me like a runaway train. I told Stephanie to tidy the place up and then herself while I took her mum home, at least I can think on the drive back, about an hour each way. I changed quickly and took off my dirty jeans and pulled on a skirt and top and flat shoes, brushed my hair, retied the ponytail and a bit of lipstick and we set off. At least we didn't have luggage, except our two handbags. I sped off and Susie who'd not travelled with me much was enjoying the ride and the performance of the car. I refrained from really opening up the speed, this car will do about 140mph, I kept it to well under half that only putting my foot down once to overtake a truck that was pouring out diesel fumes and struggling up an incline. We whizzed past it with barely any impact on us; the 3.00 litre supercharged engine just purring as we ate up the road, relaxing in the leather bucket seats while the stereo played quietly as we thought our own thoughts.

"I think Stephanie or whatever she eventually calls herself, better stay with you for the immediate future, Jon will eventually come round but it will likely take some time; that stupid church he goes to will tell him it's unacceptable for someone to change gender but I think she is as stubborn as her dad, so she's going to do it anyway. Look after her Eve and for goodness sake sort yourself out and have the op, Jon thinks your breasts are false, but they're not are they?"

I shook my head but stayed silent.

"Get her to a doctor to help her. If we can persuade Jon it's something medical he may come round quicker; he loves his child, we both do but this is quite a slap in the face for him and it's going to take some time to deal with it."

"What about you?" I asked quietly.

"I don't care if I have a son or a daughter, I mean Steve has been a bit like having both, I'm glad she's chosen one over the other but it's going to involve you more than ever. Don't let her down will you, Eve?"

"No, she's special to me and I don't want to see her hurt but this was a surprise to me too, although I suppose I should have seen it coming after a month of practice, no wonder she wanted to stay with me. How was the holiday?"

"Wonderful, I'm just ready for the next one now." She smiled as she remembered part of it, "It was lovely having people wait on me and no cooking, or housework for a whole month. How was your time with Stephanie?"

"We had fun and drama and I don't think I've ever cooked so much since I left college."

"She isn't very domesticated is she?"

"No, but I shall be insisting she learns a bit about cooking, she cleans okay and we did some decorating at the cottage, she said she'd never had a paintbrush in her hand before, not that I'm any expert, but she enjoyed making the place look nicer and lighter. So did I eventually and doing much of it ourselves it was certainly cheaper."

"Take care of her Eve, won't you?"

"Of course I will." I dropped her off and when she pecked me on the cheek to say goodbye I could feel she had been crying a little. I waved goodbye and turned the car around and set off home a bit quicker than we'd come. I stopped for petrol on the way home and got her prepared for doing any running about that was needed in the next few days. I accepted I would have a lot more on my plate of a type I'd never really experienced before. Okay, Stephanie has stayed with me before umpteen times but this last one was the longer by far and it looked like it was going to be longer still, perhaps indefinite. That would take a bit of thinking about and I decided I would sort myself out when it was quiet, after all if I'm playing in loco parentis for a while I can hardly take myself off to hospital, can I? This motherhood or even auntie-hood is going to affect my life more than a bit. Oh poo, I've got to try and get her into school somewhere, that'll be a new experience. I knew there was one near us that she could walk to, but will she survive amongst a class of teen girls, which make vultures look friendly? Oh boy, what fun we're going to have, I'd better get some groceries on the way home, looks like I'm going to be cooking a bit more in the future, nobody has died yet, although I have had the odd disaster but it was still edible - just. I pulled into the supermarket car park and tried to emerge elegantly, with my car attracting attention wherever I am, I have to, skirts are harder but high heels are the worst' Thankfully, I had flatties on today.

The Recoverer (9).
by
Angharad.

The supermarket was the easy bit of the day, I bought a boot full of food including some easily made meals but not quite ready-made, may as well have takeaways as those, though they are slightly cheaper if you heat them yourself.

I looked up the local schools. As I thought, there was a girl's school just down the road but it was private. I looked up its website, its fees were pretty horrendous so I then wondered what Eton's would be, apart from out of my league. Nothing ventured nothing gained (or lost, my mind kept telling me). This is not my child why am I signing up to pay for education, isn't that the parent's job? I wondered if it was some way of them saving on school fees by having muggins here pay for it. I probably earn more than Jon does but I don't have a need for private education, I had no children. If this situation became different, I could have one child for whom I was newly responsible - oh poo.

Stephanie came in while I was looking at the website of St Margaret's Girls' School. "Is that where you're going to send me, Eve?"

"Why? You fancy it?" I threw back at her.

"It's gotta be better than the other place was."

"You don't know that, in fact we know very little about it and do you realise that you're going to have to survive as a girl amongst a whole school full of them?"

"Well, I assume all of them manage it so it can't be that hard," she replied and I nearly burst out laughing.

"Most of them have been practising since babyhood, you have had a month, I think I see some disparity there, don't you?"

"You seem to cope with slipping into femininity easy enough," was her glib response.

"Just because you can look okay in a skirt and use a bit of makeup doesn't make you a girl."

"I know, it's the bit between my ears does that."

I felt a conflict between wanting her to be right and also trying to make her understand just how large an adventure she was embarking on, one that she doesn't even have a clue about how vast it is, it's effectively teaching her to learn an entirely new way of life. I don't think I have it completely and I've been venturing forth as female for maybe ten years or so. It's not the big things that catch you out but myriad little ones that show you up as a fraud. Just one could get the girls looking more closely and if they spot a second, Steph's cover would be blown.

We made an appointment for a look at the new school and found that although it was expensive - tell me what isn't - she suggested she was ready to go there. Then she suddenly had to sit an entrance exam - this was worse that Cambridge, at least there you were going to a very prestigious university, here, just somewhere to hide until A-levels, poo she hadn't done GCSEs yet, not the best time to change schools with them due at the end of this year.

She agreed to come in and do the entrance exam which looked at core subjects and some desirables as well, we had to list those. She would face English, Maths, Science, History and Geography with French and Computing. The last, I suspected she knew most about rarely being without a device of some sort in her long fingered paws. I also wanted to take a summer job with a shop or office somewhere to see how other women deal with each other, I don't think It's something you can teach but it has to be learned by experience.

we also went to see a solicitor friend to do a statutory declaration for a change of name and then to a friend who manages the local department store to get Stephanie a temporary job. It was harder than I expected as she had no previous experience. He agreed he'd give her two weeks probation and then give us his decision. I couldn't argue so was left high and dry. we explained that she had an entrance exam the next day and while she dealt with it and did some paperwork for my own business, not the most enticing or exciting part of the job, but I saw we had a few unclaimed fees which made the prospect of school fees a little gentler on my pocket.

Sue came to visit after Stephanie had gone to work at the department store. Like the school they didn't know what she could do, so she expected to be moved about the place, which can be very tiring but she seemed to enjoy seeing how other people lived and after detailing all the drama of shop life to her mother and I, she went for an early night and was asleep quite quickly. By the end of the first week she was going to the cinema with some girls from work all of which went to her school, so she seemed to be making friends. Perhaps, she was going to survive in the school but she still faced the ordeal daily. Both her mother and I tried to warn her that her friends may be the hardest to convince she was female and she could betray herself so easily, but she carried on regardless and seemed to be better integrated than we thought, so how long she had been watching girls and women may have been a lot longer than she ever let on.

Despite my concern for her, I still had a living to earn and I spent some long days investigating insurance cases as required by the various companies. I wasn't an assessor, so I wasn't responsible to valuing claims, I was more of a deal maker when things were damaged or stolen and then offered back to the insurance company at a fraction of the cost, sometimes because they were fakes and sometimes because they were damaged or too hot for collectors. Whatever, there seemed to be plenty of work at present but I was happy that Steph integrated further with her friends. Her exam results were of an acceptable level to the school so they had accepted her, so that was one headache dealt with and also my bank account took quite a hit as we were charged for the whole year, not by the term.

I also received a list as her guardian, of all the uniform stuff she'd need from gym kit to hankies and all parts in between. Why did she need three pairs of dark navy knickers although she didn't worry about it and I got the same doctor who did my pudenda disguise to do a similar thing for her, which mean she could use changing rooms for gym and games, all the showers were individual and she knew well enough not to linger in the changing rooms.

I was visited by a chief inspector of the local plod. I had heard of the case in the local media, radio and newspapers but hadn't gathered the details. Apparently, the police were investigating but had very little idea of who the perpetrator was. In fact, one could say they didn't have a clue and the insurance companies were chasing them.

Apparently, not too far away, there lived an old man who was very wealthy and being wealthy he liked to flaunt it a little and one day someone went there, beat him up quite badly and stole many of his paintings and other objet d'art. A sizeable truck was required to carry all the stuff away and their owner was conveyed to hospital with some uncertainty as whether or not he would survive. The police wanted me to review their data and see if it gave me ideas which I could pass on to them. One of the major insurance companies offered me a fee to investigate with a promise of doubling if the items were replaced and another bonus if someone was convicted of the crime.

I wasn't sure it was my sort of case but the money being offered was good and working with the police at an early stage was a novelty. Okay, I had to prove I was a help and for that I needed all the facts, the police seemed to be testing me, as if they didn't really approve of amateurs, except that I was such an amateur I'd earned fees of several million last year and access to better forensics, which I paid for, than they did. After seeing what evidence they would allow me to view I began to ask awkward questions which they found embarrassing. At one point I flounced off and sent an email to the insurance company chairman saying that the police couldn't catch colds let alone felons and were holding back major amounts of evidence. If they wanted my help it had to be as equals, otherwise, I no longer wanted to work with such a bunch of novices.

I believe the local police commissioner became involved as she was seeking re-election later that year and the chief constable was told to sort it. Hence my visit from a DCI who came asking for my help and this time nothing was to be hidden or privileged information. I told him that I would collaborate with them but if I thought they were back to their old tricks, I was out and I would run a parallel investigation and show them up and embarrass their hierarchy as much as I could. So he was aware heads could roll and his was one of them. In some ways I was already ahead of them, tracing paintings and sculptures that had been taken, and was checking out leads I ran down. Mike was researching for me and he looked at any and everything if there was a chance of a lead.

The police could have done the same but we were probably better at this sort of online research than they were because some of it can be very slow, Mike describes it as, wading through treacle. I told him if ever I did, I compare notes with him, but I had some experience of wading through mud. I did in recovering the loot from one heist that involved me wading through waist deep mud, locating the items and also a body and a car, a discarded firearm which had been used for a murder and enabled them to solve it. But it was hard work, I got through two pairs of waders and a metal detector thing, which was specially adapted for use in muddy water plus a flotation device, because I was working so much on my own.

I only had to remind the police that I was up to their level but without their powers including bearing firearms if necessary by mentioning the case and they tended to play ball. Unfortunately, there is an element in the police who got to learn of my transgender status and they were unhelpful as well as at times actively hostile. Two of them ended back dealing with parking tickets, after that I was viewed with a wary eye as being able to affect someone's job security. My efforts had won some respect. I had traced one of the paintings and they were gung-ho to recover it. I managed to cool their ardour and through it we collected a lead which could take us to the perpetrator of the original theft.

Stephanie was building her own life and making new friends, all female and most were students at St. Margaret's as well as a good number of them being summer jobs at the department store. I let her keep all her money but she had to buy her consumables for herself including clothes. I did pay for her school uniform and paid her fees as well as feeding her, so I thought she has quite a good deal. But the case with the police was causing my time to be short especially in the evenings. We came to an agreement, she would have a substantial, subsidized meal at lunchtime and just a snack at night. If I had a chance I would eat at the police canteen and was becoming quite well known there, but all too often I was chasing up leads and out of town.

Mike found a piece of evidence we could expand upon and the whole thing was solved quite quickly, Mr Davis, the victim of the robbery died without ever regaining consciousness, so he never knew what he'd lost. His next of kin, a nephew, didn't care, he sold everything he inherited including the Victorian villa that his uncle had owned. I believe he blew lots of it on betting, a fools' game, and didn't really enjoy the millions he'd inherited, but then he was a nasty piece of work and thought no more about it. That was until I learned he was killed in a fight out in Spain, where it is thought he came across the man who perpetrated the robbery and was guilty of murder.

One of the paintings was never recovered although I had several leads, then one day it came up at a sale room, anonymously of course, but we had a lead on him. He had been in Spain for several years and after his stabbing of the nephew and a few more clues, I liaised with Spanish police and our own plod and we carried out a multiagency hit. We got him and I was able to identify other treasures he'd stolen from other private collections, in which two people died. He was tried and found guilty of armed robbery, and three separate cases of murder and I probably earned the best part of half a million because I qualified for all the bonuses plus some more that hadn't been offered at the time and it also involved six different insurance companies. I'd also made some friends in the local plod and I hoped caused on or two to respect transwomen a little more.

This happened years after Stephanie had signed up for Maggies and she seemed to be making quite good progress, so the school seemed to suit her better than the boys one had and she was relatively happy. Her mother visited about once per month and often brought new clothes or money or both. She was working again and glad to have her independence, I understood this from my own point of view and so did Stephanie. Alas, her dad couldn't get his narrow mind around any of it and her parents divorced, her mother moved a bit closer to us and her dad went off with his happy clappy friends from the church. Last I heard he was thinking about ordination. The only thing missing from his religion was Christianity, built on fear and hate like some of the churches in the States there was no love or compassion involved so had the founder come back they'd have killed him again. We stay well away and Stephanie hasn't seen him for several years.

In her second summer holiday I gave her a job with my company, she was Mike's assistant rather than mine but we discovered she was good at researching for stuff on the internet, which was his strength. I was able to offer her a weekend job after the summer was over and she has proved quite an asset. The job has become more physical, with more violence from perpetrators so I have employed some muscle, young men who are pretty bright, have some martial training and discipline so are able to stand up to these violent scum we sometimes encounter.

I have had my operation and have now nothing at my groin except a facsimile of a very realistic looking pudenda and what's more, I have road tested it and it seems to work okay. So it seems that my future is a female even though the supreme court doesn't approve, but then I don't think about a pile of old fossils or a wealthy woman writer who seems to have lots of lesbian friends but no clue about how the real world works, but then I suppose if you're rich enough, it doesn't matter.

The Recoverer (12).
by
Angharad.

The dinner I cooked that evening was spag bol, it's easy and apart from being messy to eat, everybody loves it. I'd got some Parmesan cheese, already grated, so all you had to do was sprinkle it over the bolognaise sauce. I don't bother trying to twiddle the pasta around my fork I just cut it up small and eat it normally with a knife and fork - works for me.

We had a pleasant enough evening and I'd bought some profiteroles for desert, again everyone loves the chocolate drenched choux pastry with fresh cream filling, so that went down well, too. So much of the evening was actually just digesting the riches we'd enjoyed for dinner and I'd managed to save some of the mince and bolognaise sauce and that went in the freezer in an airtight container. I remember as a kid it was all Tupperware but you don't hear it now and the parties that ladies used to host. Things change and I suspect much of the plastic pots and cookware now originates in China, because nobody makes anything anymore. All thanks to Maggie Thatcher who destroyed the British manufacturing economy which was supported by the bosses, who made even more profit by sending it all to China for manufacture while we ended up with more unemployed people who didn't have experience of computers or robots. We have never recovered probably because it's still too expensive to make things here unless they are very specialised and equally expensive. I suspect we all pay ourselves too much, the higher the post the more overpaid it is. I've always thought we could do without most chief executives because the work is done by middle managers and the actual shop floor. The big bosses just cream off the profits before it goes to the share holders. They have also had about twelve pay rises to the workers eight, so the inequity continues as does the disgruntlement of the ordinary people. Government add extra complications too and Nigel Farage sells his snake oil and the people buy it. Are they as stupid as they seem, possibly not, or at least some of them aren't, they just want to shake up the complacency and corruption in government. It's likely to be worse with Farage and his coterie of incompetents.

Enough of all that, my job is always precarious and depends upon my reputation and is only as good as my last case. My reputation is by word of mouth amongst those most likely to be defrauded, like finance companies and insurers, my name rarely gets in the press and then it is a generic, the insurance investigator proved the fraud happened and the police then prosecuted. I do the things that the police don't, they don't have time and government has them doing silly things like arresting pro Palestinian demonstrators upset at the carnage in Gaza, where no one is stopping the genocide there and Trump seems to condone it - yet another reason to despise him. Why is no one stopping the massacres?

It was the next morning my attention was taken by a particular case and that was because the general manager phoned me about a claim they had received, about which he was not happy, but I decided not to do the Snow White joke about the names of the dwarves.

While much of our paperwork is done via computer and internet, for some things it isn't safe or appropriate, this was one of them and I was asked to call at his office asap. If you want to ensure you impress the industry, you don't need to piss off the people who pay you. Brown-nosing, some may say so, I call it being tactful, he's important as he pays me at the end of the day, and this one if successful sounds like an expensive one, 20% of a lot of money is also a decent amount. Who knows, I may want to fill the tanks of the Jag this week.

The next train to the city was in half an hour and would have a few less commuters on it. When I boarded it, I had my newspaper to read for the half hour journey. It should be half an hour but with industrial action and breakdowns and people stepping in front of the train - that causes the longest delays while British Transport Police investigate. Some one's life has ended so they have to be meticulous and I was very glad that I didn't do suspicious deaths. Looking at my paper I saw that some bloke had had his wife die on their honeymoon - talk about bad luck, I hoped they'd had some of their conjugals before it happened. I read a bit more and saw that she was drunk and had fallen off a balcony on the seventh floor, that would kill you unless you were Spiderman. Poor woman, I shouldn't be so flippant and was again glad I didn't do suspicious deaths, that was for the police and I was quite happy about that.

I was wearing a good skirt suit designed by one of the Beatles offspring, though I couldn't see her sitting up all night sewing it somehow, still it cost a small fortune and it felt pretty good, I hoped showing I was a successful businesswoman, as did the hand embroidered top which plunged to show my assets, in a matching shade of plum - the suit not my assets. My high heels weren't Jimmy Choo or Manola whatever, but they were quite expensive, but relatively comfortable if you can ever say that about high heels.

By the time I had made my way via two tubes and a bit of walking, my toes were telling me how much they liked me wearing trainers, but I stuck to my task and a few minutes later entered the insurance company's headquarters. The thick carpets were much nicer to walk on than the flagstones of the London pavements. I could just visualise Dick Whittingdon's cat complaining to its master that the pavements weren't made of gold and that his feet hurt.

It was with this thought that I used the lift, or elevator if you're 'Merican, though I always thought elevators were instruments used by surgeons and dentists. I reached the top floor and stepped out into the holiest of holies. It was expensively furnished but I felt I could have done better for the same money, it was okay rather than impressive, unlike my suit. I identified myself to the receptionist, was told to go through to his p.a who thanked me for coming and told me he was expecting me.

I knocked and he bid me enter. I'd met him a few times but we still shook hands, well, my fingers, and he told me to sit down and enquired if I'd like tea or coffee. I've had coffee there before and it is delicious, so that's what I opted for and wasn't disappointed.

He saw my newspaper and asked if I had read about the honeymoon death and I said I had. "That is the case you're going to be investigating."

"But I don't do suspicious deaths, that's for the police to investigate, they have the experience and resources to do it."

"How much is 20% of three quarters of a million?"

"A lot."

"It is, prove he killed her and we'll throw in a nice bonus."

"I'm sure there are better qualified people to investigate her tragic death than me, Sir Roger."

"There are, but I want you to do it, Eve."

"How much time do I have?"

"Take as long as you need to get an accurate result. The police abroad are all bloody muppets and ours are all corrupt, so get what help you need. Remember a bonus of ten K, plus your fee of £150,000, are you going to turn all that down."

"You really think he did it, don't you?"

He handed me a file, it was nearly ten years old and the insurers involved were a different one. His wife died on honeymoon - she drowned at an isolated beach in Greece. "He's done it before and got a hundred thou for his efforts, now he seems to want enough to retire on. Get him, Eve, never mind the money, that bastard has killed two women for their life insurances, go and get him and prove the local police are inefficient, make a case that even the Met can't screw up, get a prosecution, but get him, that first wife was my niece and a nicer girl you'll never meet, present company excepted." I blushed but accepted the job, telling him I'd need other staff with me on this one, he nodded, "Use what you need, just get him." The audience was over and I saw myself out of the office with a copy of the file he showed me, his niece eh, poor kid. So did he drown her? I think I would have say, very possibly and the same for this latest case. I'm trying keep an open mind but it does look suspicious to say the least.

My return journey was spent re-reading the notes, particularly those of the investigator and pathologist. A post mortem in Greece found nothing except a small quantity of alcohol in her bloodstream. The UK home office pathologist also found minute quantities of sedatives in her nasal cavities. An open verdict was given by the coroner but she had expressed some doubts about it. The insurance was paid and apart from some celebrity for five minutes in the tabloids, it all seems to have been forgotten. I'd certainly have my work cut out for me and no protocol to follow. Oh boy I was real rookie at this type of case, you could say an absolute novice or virgin, but if I do it the way I usually work, follow the evidence and my gut reactions when I think people are lying, then I should be heading in the right direction, or I think I will be. I've worked for bigger amounts but I had something to look for, property of some sort not a recently buried or cremated body. I have a copy of the post mortem, perhaps I should try and see a pathologist and get their opinion and advice.

I felt quite unsettled as I picked up my car from an office near the station. I pay them a fee of a bottle of something for Christmas, and it's parked off the road and hopefully safely. Stephanie and Mike were both there as I arrived. She asked me outright, what was so important that I had to go up to town for. I handed her my paper and pointed at the honeymoon tragedy, "Yeah, it's very unfortunate but what do they want you to do?"

"That," was all I said.

"What a fatal accident?"

"The insurance don't think it was an accident and want me to investigate. The payout for her is three quarters of a million. He did it before but got away with it, about ten years ago. Turns out the woman he killed, or was alleged to, was the niece of the CEO."

"Oh," was all she said.

"If he's right, then it's an insurance scam, and we investigate insurance scams." I said this more confidently than I felt.

"I suppose we do, it's just usually someone hasn't had to die for us to get involved," she replied.

"I don't feel like cooking tonight, so how about you pop down the chippy and get fish and chips for the three of us." She pulled a jacket on and held out her hand for the money, it's now an expensive meal and I gave her forty quid, and she went off after asking Mike if he was staying for a takeaway dinner. He decided he would, I thought so, he loves anything with chips.

The local chippy makes quite good chips and fish isn't too bad either, except the price of it, but we don't do it too often these days, so it wasn't too much of an ordeal to pay their prices. It was thirty quid I learned from Stephanie as she returned with our comestibles. They were good too and as soon as he'd eaten his meal, Mike shot off home. He'd left a pile of stuff for me to look through regarding other cases and while I did so, Stephanie looked over the documents I'd got from the insurance company, at the end she said, "There's no evidence of murder, but given his past behaviour when he seems to have got away with it, if he's guilty, then it's all circumstantial with a bit of forensic thrown in."

"I think I'm going to have to talk with a forensic pathologist."

"Why not the one who did the second post mortem, he seems to know what he's doing."

"Means I'll probably have to go up to town again."

"Take a book to read on the journey, I presume you'll be going by train?"

I sent the good doctor an email and received one back before I went to bed. I had to go to a London hospital where he was working tomorrow, and was I aware he charged a fee for his professional opinion.

I arranged a time and told him to send me a bill, that wasn't a problem. So for the second day in a row I was sitting on a train heading for London, carrying the file I had from the insurance company in my briefcase, along with my tablet and a book I was reading and a daily paper. I had plenty of toys with me and had arranged for the two of my employees to gather what information they could from wherever, including the foreign press. I pondered my meeting, what would this doctor be like, how helpful would he be and would he resent talking to a woman and an insurance investigator rather than a cop?

Even with the Tube, which had been on strike, it took me half an hour from the railway station until I stepped from the tube-station and made my way to St Thomas Hospital, it hadn't changed that much since I interned here as psychology post grad while doing my master's degree. I was told to make my way to the mortuary. Was it the dead centre of the hospital? "No," replied the receptionist, it was in the basement. She phoned ahead for me so I was expected.

Dr Stone was a very pleasant and quite good-looking chap in his early forties. His blond hair was beginning to recede but he was very helpful. He actually remembered the case and said he wondered if someone had got away with murder, but he only had a suspicion that the poor woman had been drugged and pushed, though he could find no sign of bruising other than the marks inflicted by the fall, from seven floors up - that's going to be somewhere between 20 and 30 metres. It would make quite a mess of the victim.

He wondered if she had been drugged with just enough for her not to realise what he was doing so she'd be compliant without much recognition of the risk. After all, on a honeymoon, probably she was more worried about becoming pregnant that being pushed off a balcony.

We discussed scenarios within the evidence we had and he said, he'd only seen a photo of the balcony and thought it looked pretty safe, unless you leant over and didn't hold onto the rail. We had lunch together in the hospital canteen as he was doing another post mortem that afternoon. It looked as if I was going to Greece to have a look at the balcony to see if it brought anything to mind, but then, if was a theft I'd be visiting the scene of the crime, so why not with this?

The next day I spent half an hour arranging a room in the same hotel and open return flights to and from Gatwick to Athens for Stephanie and myself. She was quite excited and I reminded her we were working not on holiday.

The Greek police were unhelpful, given I was an insurance investigator rather than a police officer. I was doing the same job, but they refused to see it that way. The hotel was equally unhelpful too. In fact, the manager was downright rude. Steph retaliated giving it zero stars on social media saying they were as welcoming as dentist's waiting room, although my dentist is rather dishy - the hotel manager wasn't, flabby, balding and had halitosis worse than my cat.

We had booked there, in the hotel, so they couldn't throw us out, but the manager said Mr Swinburne, him of the honeymoon tragedy, asked him not to let anyone else bother him. I did point out that the insurance company needed to see my report before they paid him anything, so he agreed to an interview with me, but away from the hotel. It was still very warm, so we were able to sit in a nearby botanic gardens which was more pleasant than Swinburne who was at best evasive and at worst lying his arse off. You get to tell when people are being truthful and he wasn't.

I asked him about the sedative found in his wife's body and he pretended he knew nothing about it. I asked him if he murdered his wife which he denied with indignation verging on outrage but he paled significantly when I asked him if he'd drowned the first one and again denied it, saying they were fully investigated, I asked him if that was the case why was the coroner unconvinced? His reply that she was an extreme feminist, left me scornful of the whole process of the law, which he seemed to know much more about than an ordinary person. He knew his way around the Greek law much more than I did, although Stephanie had downloaded quite a bit off the internet which I scanned before the interview and was rather glad I had.

We spent ages discussing the case but without access to the crime scene, we couldn't say it was a thorough investigation. However, something unexpected happened that played into our hands. Swinburne had never seen Stephanie, he usually had his meals in his room, under the guise of working through his grief, though guilt was more likely, but he continued to stay there because the insurance company wouldn't pay up. This particular day, Stephanie had gone down to reception for something or other when Swinburne happened to call in to ask if any mail had come for him.

Now, Stephanie is a very pretty girl with a body that was growing in all the right places. She recognised him but said nothing when he asked her to dinner that night. When she told me I was astonished but she told me to let her do it because she might be able to get into his room and view the balcony, which was a level directly beneath ours. I only agreed when she consented to wear a wire - microphone, with wi-fi connection to my computer, which I would have just above them on the balcony.

She went on her dinner date, and I listened to the conversation, him claiming the grieving spouse and Stephanie expressing her sympathy, claiming not to have heard about it. He complained that the insurance company had sent some stupid bitch to interview him, but she didn't have a clue what she was doing, just asking irrelevant questions. Stephanie laughed at that, and continued to provoke more insults towards me. If she went on like that for much longer, she was going to find just how far it was to walk home.

Her girly skills had been developing and she sounded like an ingénue flirting with an older and thus more experienced man. I was quite impressed as the talk became more flirty as the night wore on. Eventually, he invited her up to his room for a nightcap, which she accepted and I was shaking my head no, don't do it. But she did and while he was making a drink, she wandered out on to the balcony, saying that it was such a beautiful evening. he hesitated suggesting that he didn't go out there since his wife's fall and Stephanie suggested she was sure that his wife wouldn't want him to live like a Trappist monk. He apparently, reluctantly agreed, even showing her where he thought she had fallen. Stephanie immediately examined the spot and looked down, saying that from this height it had to be instantaneous. Then she made me see red alarm bells, by suggesting that she felt rather woozy. He said it was probably too many drinks and she agreed. He told her to sit down and she asked him if he doctored her drink. He shushed her and told her in a little while she would sleep if off and have no knowledge that he'd made gentle love to her. Then Stephanie angered him by asking if that's what he gave his wife before he pushed her off the balcony. He yelled at her and I dashed down the stairs to his room and tried to smash open the door. It works in the movies but not for me.

I heard Stephanie scream and so did a passing rugby-player-type and together we smashed open the door and I ran through his room as he was holding Stephanie over the balcony. I ran to them and pushed him off her and pulled her back to terra firma. He came at me looking to hit me, realising we were together, "You bitch," he called at me and swung at me. What he didn't see was two hundred pounds of my escort who lamped him and he went down like a sack of coal.

The police were called and Stephanie's glass was taken for analysis and while Swinburne was incommoded as in dealing with a suspected concussion, I had a good look at the balcony and there was no way she could have fallen over it without help. I took several photos with my camera and spoke to the copper who had before spurned me, but now he was rethinking the case.

Stephanie recovered the next day and I treated my hunk to a dinner for playing my knight in shining armour and saving my niece. Swinburne was arrested for an assault on a woman and was kept in custody for a couple of days. They searched his room and found the drug he had administered to Stephanie and probably to his wife. He was charged with murder, the drug proving it was premeditated. After giving evidence which they showed Swinburne, he changed his plea to guilty, he also said he had drowned his first wife for the insurance. We set off back to Gatwick when it came up on the news that he had asked to go back to his hotel to collect his things and settle his bill, when they took their eye off him and he jumped over the balcony to his death, like he had killed his wife.

I was still shocked that he chose death to life imprisonment but from a technical aspect the insurance company were pleased, he'd confessed to the murder of both wives and they didn't have to pay out except to me, including the bonus they had promised. It was too late to reopen the murder of his first wife seeing as no prosecution could happen as the perpetrator was now also deceased, but the insurance company were going to see if they could recover the payout from his first wife's death.

I gave Stephanie a stern warning that he could have killed her but she just smiled at me and murmured, "It worked didn't it?". She was obviously far ahead of me in the use of 'sexuality to manipulate men' game but I did get to lay my hunk the next day, and he was as big somewhere else as he was muscled everywhere else. She can't do that yet, but I agreed to pay for her op as a reward for her help, without which, I don't think we'd have got Swinburne. C'est la vie.

The Recoverer (10).
by
Angharad.

It seems years since Stephanie emerged from her chrysalis but it's only two or three. She has completed her A-levels and also achieved the age of majority. I said rather stupidly a couple of years ago, if she did well in her A-levels, I'd pay for the operation as she'd be over eighteen. With the stupid ruling by the Supreme Court, she would no longer qualify as female despite having the same as I do, a functioning labia and vagina which means I can have sex like a woman but can't call myself one legally. The justice system seems run by TERFs and obscenely wealthy writers and takes no account of the number of lives of ordinary people it has destroyed; the government seems as transphobic as the Reform party, who actually brag about being transphobic. Nigel Farage is every bit as much a liar as the orange bully in the big white house in America. It seems neither has any idea what truth is and it seems to be spreading to other political parties.

I read an interesting article in the i Newspaper which suggested all Chancellors of the Exchequer since the time of Thatcher's, Lawson, tell lies about the economy, which explains why no matter how much it improves, we are always in debt and deficient in some way, so they can't relax things and pay benefits unless we're approaching an election when they find a few quid tucked in the back of a drawer in No. 11*, so can buy off the offended group.

I have come to the conclusion by bitter experience that all politicians lie whenever they say anything, and the public most of whom lack the equipment to have a functioning synapse, believe them. They are especially good creating scapegoats, the current one being illegal migrants, not telling the public how they are actively recruiting from abroad because we lack so many skills in this country. We are told they will build so many affordable houses, but we lack the builders to create them, and those we have would rather build executive ones because the return is greater, and money is the driver of all things, religion is dominated by the banks, who are closing branches everywhere so they can pay directors even more obscene bonuses, but you try cashing a cheque if the post office is closed - and remember they closed most of those a few years ago.

Back to scapegoats - when they run out of new ones, they revert to minorities who can't fight back and remember that transwomen are the greatest threat to cisgendered women and spend most of their time planning or carrying out attacks on them in public toilets. That they only become 'women' to undermine the women's movement and attack and rape natural women whenever they can. Why these lies are believed by ordinary people astonishes me, why they are spread by TERFs and obscenely wealthy women bullies who write very poor children's novels or verbose whodunits is again another mystery. TERFs, I know hate men and everyone else who isn't a man-hating lesbian, and are more dangerous to women than transwomen are, especially in small, enclosed spaces. So why are these lies propagated?

Anyway, there are two more modified transwomen, in my house these days who will continue to quietly try and change the law which makes the UK a transphobic state, which it would hate to have publicised but it is fast becoming the truth, and governments of either hue, don't seem interested in sorting it, who lie in opposition but do nothing when in power. It would be good to see them turned into non-persons, yes I could quite enjoy that, then they'd know what it feels like.

It seems even though my status is lower than illegal immigrants, I still find plenty of work from insurance companies and other seekers-after-the-dosh, as the level of crime is always rising according to politicians and police, apparently if this doesn't frighten Joe Public enough, they suddenly announce aliens from outer-space who we all need protection from, so vote for them alone as, no one else can do it. It's laughable to people with a functioning synapse but they are increasingly scarce through the dumbing down of all forms of education and the media and the total abandonment of climate change legislation, to which they all signed up and then reneged upon. It appears that the presence of a house-sparrow is something to grace the front page of newspapers while continuing theft and lies by politicians is buried deep inside, probably in tiny announcements. Bread and circuses, first mentioned by Tacitus, in ancient Rome now becomes football and bread-free diets.

So how is work holding up? As I said before, there is plenty as people collect their treasures and others will try and steal them without paying, it was ever thus but it seems to have had a resurgence in recent years, which means insurance companies are paying out more to bereft victims, who weep crocodile tears over their losses until they receive the insurance compensation. I had a stand up row with one supposed victim who claimed that the theft of his priceless antique had no real victim, as the insurance companies were rolling in it. I pointed out that they had shareholders who pay the loss and also customers who pay extra premiums while trying to protect their properties against fire and flood, which seems increasingly common these days. He asked me if I was going to arrest the weather. I told him no, and knowing he was an executive of a well known oil company, I said I was building a foolproof case against several American and European oil companies who had caused climate change and were going to be sued by the 11 billion of us who have been the innocent victims of their mendacity. It's funny he seemed to become rather hostile before I left. I sat in my gas guzzling car and laughed at his expression.

It is my one indulgence, unless you count my gender expression as another, that and being warm when the weather is cold and having a full stomach and as long as the insurance companies continue paying for my services, I don't intend to change either my Jaguar or lifestyle. Stephanie eventually conned me into buying her a car, though the insurance cost is ridiculous; she had a Mini for a year or so until she swapped it for a Mazda MX-5. I only agreed when she coughed up half the insurance costs. She gets a small reduction because her insurance thinks she is female, which we haven't remedied, because despite the legal ruling, we consider ourselves female and stuff the TERFs.

I mentioned the oil executive because apart from pissing him off as much as I could, I had a lead on his stolen antique, in fact, antiques would be more accurate, as he'd lost quite a few while he was on holiday. The major one was a Ming vase worth millions, but he also lost amongst other things a Louis XIV desk, a very beautiful escritoire, and it was on this that Stephanie found a possible lead, which Mike confirmed looked interesting. If we could recover it and the other treasures, we could be due a very large payout. It tends to focus the attention a little. Yeah okay, if the rest of the world has sold out to Mammon, then in order to survive we have to, to some extent do the same. I like to think, I do it minimally, after all, the insurance companies set the rewards or fees they pay, I just solve the puzzles and pocket the fees.

The vase was up for sale at an auction, the description was poor as was the photograph, and the value of the lot was nowhere near its true value, over a million pounds, they were selling, incorrectly as Tan dynasty and for one hundred thousand, still you'd need some pocket money to buy it and it was likely to go to an American and be exported but then that would be on dodgy documents. I went to look over the auction lots and it was our oily character's Ming, I'd try not to drop it it on the way home. Waiting my call was a police officer who would come and spoil all the fun. The desk was also there, a far prettier item than the vase, or in my eyes it was, but again, I only get paid for those recovered intact, pity, if it could have fallen of the back of a police car, it would look lovely in my study or boudoir as I tend to call it.

The police came as I called and the auction was disrupted, Stephanie, however, was hot in pursuit of the rich American who was after the vase and disappeared as the police entered. We didn't know if he had broken any laws at this point, I just has sneaking suspicion that he had and I wanted to stop him getting away without the police having had a chat with him. They told me he knew the owner who had lost the treasures and they were walking on the basis that these things were stolen to order and then 'laundered' by the auction as other items, of high value but well under the original worth or insurance valuation. There was no evidence of collaboration between the two oil men, but it couldn't be discounted at this point, as we knew they knew each other and were at least acquaintances.

Stephanie phoned me from outside Gatwick airport, which has flights direct to the US and the police I was liaising with at the auction house, contacted the airport police to pick him up if he tried to board a plane, the immigration people would do the actual stopping or Border Force or whatever they are called this week. I doubt they were paid enough for the at times unpleasant job they had to do. Stephanie had watched him hand in his hire car, a nice BMW, and we hoped he wouldn't try to escape by hiring another car. The airport police went round all the car hire firms telling them not to rent him anything because he was wanted in connection with a case being run from Scotland Yard and were to notify the police immediately if he tried. Stephanie drove back to the office then, as he was well and truly stymied and she left in case there was any violence. The police are trained for it, insurance investigators, aren't.

Although, I do recall in the early days of her transition, she was out with some school friends and coming back from the cinema when a couple of boys approached the girls and made unwanted overtures. Stephanie being Stephanie, told them to push off, when one of the boys tried to hit her for being the mouthy one, she parried his blow and broke his wrist, he didn't want to go on the ground which is where we usually put them with this particular move. Alas he resisted and she broke his other wrist. At this point I arrived and so did the police. Took me a little time to talk her out of prosecution although all the witnesses said he swiped at her first. As a punishment I made her relearn the move properly, she was usually so good, so what went wrong or could it have been a combination of a clash of personalities. He was determined to resist her, so she taught him a lesson which would have hurt.

The US oilman was arrested trying to board a plane to the States and played hell with emigration / police at the airport trying to make out he was a personal friend of the Home Secretary. I had a feeling if he had been, it was unlikely to be extant now, given he was suspected of trying to defraud and knowingly receive stolen goods.

It transpired that the auctioneers knew where some of the other items were shipped to auction them in Manchester. We also discovered the US oilman had a whole collection of things like paintings or vases or sculptures that had been stolen from all over America and Europe. British insurance companies weren't involved with the stuff abroad but I was paid a commission because it was my suggestion that the police over there checked his collection and the fake provenances for most of his collection. We did quite nicely out of that commission and it also brought the name of my firm into contact with new agencies who seemed quite impressed with my efforts.

Stephanie received a bonus at the end of it and despite my desire to drop the oilman's vase I didn't; he got all his stuff back and the insurance company got all their money back. I heard a few months later he had knocked it over while dusting it. Cost him thousands to rebuild and it would never be the same value again. I think he got something from the insurance but it was nowhere near a million. The most expensive thing I possess is my house or my car, priceless things of which I have guardianship boils down to one, Stephanie and because she used her car to track that bloke back to Gatwick, I managed to renegotiate her car insurance to about half. She was pleased with that and I suddenly became her favourite 'Auntie Eve' again. Nice to know I have some uses. She asked me why I hadn't done it before and I told her I had to time it just right and catch the senior exec of the insurance company who I saved a pile for and was feeling comfy after having a nice lunch when I asked him if he could help me with her car insurance, as she had used her car in tailing a suspect. He agreed it without checking what her car was as sports cars are usually dearer than family cars. Anyway, all's well that ends well, said the Bard and who am I to disagree with him?

*Number 11 Downing Street, the official home of the Chancellor of the Exchequer.

The Recoverer (11).
by
Angharad.

Work came in at a constant and steady stream. I was asked to look at a supposed arson or a suspicious fire that the assessor was wary of passing as a claim. The fire brigade, with their specialist investigators were unsure of too, normally they yeah or nay it within minutes unless there has been a fatality in which case they analyze it to the nth degree, helped by police forensic scientists. But for just minor building work and furniture and carpets, they just gave us a shrug.

Several Chinese carpets or Persian ones were purportedly ruined by the fire or efforts to extinguish it, water damage and so on. Now, I have some Chinese carpets or more correctly rugs and something was decidedly odd about these ones. I got agreement to send them to a forensic lab I regularly used. They agreed that there was something odd about them, they were fakes, cheap copies and one of the reasons for them being so fire damaged was the use of some plastic fibres present in the carpet. It meant I was asked to investigate while the insurance company dealing with the claim stalled settling the claim.

The claim was for forty thousand pounds, so not a trifling amount, they had claimed for antiques as well but I suggested we weren't accepting that as little or no provenance was offered other than a few photos of paintings on the wall and some supposedly antique vases on a dresser that caught fire. I went to see a friend of mine who is an expert on antiques, well he should be, he works at the British Museum. I can tell fake jewellery at a glance, well with a lens and in good light, Anton, can look at a picture and tell who is probably the painter, when it was painted and what it's worth. It cost me an expensive lunch but he confirmed nothing looked particularly valuable. He wrote me a letter to that effect and enjoyed his smoked salmon.

We were dealing with a possible fraud case and that meant the police became involved. They grumbled like mad, no one was hurt, so why couldn't I deal with it. I tried to point out that fraud is breaking the law, so worthy of their attention. Again I pointed out that it may not be important to them but it's my job to stop it and theirs to assist me doing so. Inspector Peters pointed at his in tray and shook his head, I told him my office was similar. "But at least you get paid for it."

"Only the ones I resolve, you get paid whether or not you do," he shook his head again and said he'd never thought of it that way. I told him that I had two staff to whom I paid a regular salary but my income was based on the commission I earned.

"Yeah, but you don't go short, do you?"

"No, but that's because I work silly hours and am very successful - I'm good at what I do. I have a reputation and I work hard to protect it. In my business it's important and also brings in new work. Like this one, the assessor thought he saw something which didn't look right and called me to have a look and see what I thought. We don't charge for that. When I agreed with him and sent off some specimens for forensic analysis it supported both our disquiet and suggested a fraud was being perpetrated but it's left to me to prove it."

"So you can do that by pretending to be a woman, can you?"

"I've had no problems with clients or sponsors, why does it matter to you?"

"Well, if we're investigating fraud, doesn't you being one tend to suggest it's okay? Shouldn't I arrest you if you go near a ladies toilet?" Oh dear, good old fashioned double standards and police bigotry.

"I am presenting as female because I am ostensibly one. My body is more female than male, I pee sitting down, because I have to, otherwise it runs down my leg. I have female genitalia, I have breasts, but then you know that you've spent half the morning looking at them." He blushed.

"Okay, I grant you that you seem to have a female body shape, but it's all artificial, isn't it."

"I admit I had a surgeon modify my genitals from useless male ones to useful female ones, but all the rest is homegrown, like the bit you have been giving your attention for the last hour."

"So no implants?"

"Nope, I grew them myself and it's taken me two or three years. Unless you have a baby it does tend to be slow growing, but if you have implants they need replacing in ten years and lovers can tell the difference."

"Oh, so you've done some experimenting then? Doesn't that make you gay?"

"I see myself as a heterosexual woman, and I hope anyone making love to me sees the same. If they don't then they are either a bigot like you or seem inured to feminine charms or gay."

He laughed at me. "I ain't no bigot, but apart from yer tits I 'aven't seen these so called feminine charms."

"You're not likely to, you're as big a turn on as a dead fish, and you are a bigot."

No, I ain't, give me a proper woman and I can do it as good as anyone."

I admit there are many more beautiful women than I am, but I reckon that I'd only have to suggest they were trans and he wouldn't be able to get it up and I have been told by someone I respect, that I am quite a good lay. But this circular argument was getting us nowhere and no closer to me collecting my fees.

"So are you allowing personal feelings to interfere with your work, isn't that unprofessional?" Take that you bastard. that made him blush too. "Should I ask for another officer to help me?" I knew that Peters was not flavour of the month to the Chief Inspector, he wasn't my choice either. He was lazy, old fashioned and bigoted. Otherwise he was just as good a pile of shit as any other bucket of manure.

"No, we'll work round it."

"Right, so you won't arrest me if I use the toilets?"

"Not this time." He chuckled to himself but he was laughable, risible even but he couldn't see it, still that's what they gave me to work with so I shall. Just then Stephanie, who is growing into a very pretty young thing came to us and handed me a package which had just been delivered. It was more forensics. I thanked her and hugged her, kissing her on the cheek as she left. "Now that's a cracking bit of stuff."

"That's my niece you dirty bastard. Lay a finger on her and I'll forget I'm a lady and spread you all over that wall."

"Ooh, so you got some balls after all, thought you 'ad 'em removed."

"Leave her alone, she's still in fucking school." She wasn't but she could have been. Things calmed down, him still believing he was a superior being, the fact that I could probably reduce him to a dirty mark on the floor because I train regularly, including in Keysi, a form of all in fighting developed by Spanish gypsies or so the story goes. All I know is that if someone starts anything, they are unlikely to be able to walk away unless I want them to, it's pretty bloody and my instructor makes me practice what would be lethal movements, only we pull them at the last minute.

I showed him the packet from the lab, it was an analysis of the antique vase, which was modern as some of the glazes were not developed until the last century, they gave chapter and verse of the reasons why and the chemistry involved. He read it and cleared his throat, "Looks like fraud unless they believed it was older or were sold a pup."

"I've spoken to them and they didn't suggest it was anything but an antique and very valuable, like the Chinese carpets that weren't, full of plastic fibres, so perhaps modern Chinese carpets are like that but they drew my attention because they seemed to scorch so quickly, whereas felt takes a while to catch fire unless you use an accelerant."

"Okay, you've convinced me to have a look."

"The provenance for everything seems to have perished in the fire but very little else was lost."

"Gets more and more suspicious, they seem like they are total morons or playing stupid."

"I think it may be the latter, hoping no one would notice, but it seems a bit obvious for that, perhaps they didn't think anyone could be that stupid and still breathe unaided." He laughed at my description, at last we were working without an atmosphere so thick you would need breathing apparatus if in it for any length of time. I left and told him I'd collect him tomorrow at ten. He walked me to the door and saw my car for the first time.

"Jesus, we going in that jet fighter?"

"I've got a bicycle and could probably borrow another." He laughed and told me that my car would do at a pinch and that perhaps he was in the wrong job. I agreed with him in my head, but I doubted he'd make much of a living as an investigator, he wasn't diplomatic enough and he was too stupid, how he got to inspector surprised me, but the DCI was on to him, hence he was helping me, but he still had the power of arrest, which I didn't.

"Who was the dick in the ill-fitting suit?" asked Stephanie referring, I hoped, to Peters.

"The DCI reckoned they could spare him for a couple of days, wonder why? He's a bigot suggesting he could arrest me if I used a female toilet, but he fancied you" I told her.

"See he could tell quality," she laughed.

"No, like lots of men, he fancies young teens, shades of virginity and all that."

"For a cop he sounds like a dirty old man."

'The only reason I put up with him is because he has a warrant card and can make an arrest once I've made a case, which is coming together. It seems our clients are incredibly thick, or would like us to think they were, or very shady and are trying to pull off an insurance fraud. Tomorrow, I hope to accuse them and present some of the evidence I have, so it should have a bit of excitement. Up until the last minute they can withdraw the claim, but if dopey is there, he can charge them with attempting to defraud an insurance company and I'll give him my evidence, then it's up to the CPS what they go for. Personally, I think they should be charged because if they'd succeeded they quite happily have pocketed forty grand."

Mike showed me what he'd been working on, that was another fraud case which I collected evidence months before, and he was submitting the paperwork and the evidence, the insurance company would call in the Met's fraud squad and prosecute on the case we had made. It was for hundreds of thousands, so a bit more than this one. Stephanie was looking at a robbery from a wealthy family in Hampstead and how similar it was to one in Wimbledon. I'd been offered some gems on the black market which probably came from both. The gems were genuine but the current ownership wasn't so Stephanie was liaising with police to set up a sting. I'd be involved again then, so plenty in the pipeline.

Rather than be seen with me, I'm not sure why, but Peters agreed to meet me at the client's house at 10.30 the next day. Stephanie took the call, Mike had gone home and I was cooking dinner, a paella. I make quite a good one but then that isn't too hard, the cookery not the actual paella. If that's hard something has gone very wrong. Ours didn't and we both enjoyed it, talking about our cases as we relaxed. I had changed into a velvet lounger suit, so soft after wearing fairly formal clothes all day, Stephanie who was still finding her feet, was dressed in jeans that seemed painted on, quite how she managed to cross her legs in them without doing herself an injury, puzzled me, but that's the way that youth asserts itself, I'm not that old but compared to her I am.

The next morning I arrived at the client's house and while I replaced the flat shoes I drive in with stilettos to match my rather nice Chanel suit, Peters arrived in a Vauxhall Vectra, a few years old, my Jag is less than two years old. It was an ex demonstrator with twenty thou on the clock when I bought it, it has a few more miles under it since then but is in perfect working order. My life could depend on a clean getaway after accusing people of theft or fraud, so I make sure it can go like a rocket. Maybe a Porsche 911 would catch it, but I have been trained to drive defensively, so I hope my pursuer hadn't and right would prevail, well me anyway.

Peters nodded at me and I left my car and strutted to the front door which still showed smoke damage. Peters followed me and our clients admitted us to their house. I declined coffee, I was going to shatter their dreams in a moment.

"Do you still wish to make this claim for forty thousand pounds?" they both said yes. "Is there anything else we should know about that you wish to bring to our attention." They both told us no. I looked at Peters and he knew I was about to deliver a coup de grâce. "You still maintain the fire damaged valuable paintings, antiques and Chinese carpets?" They both nodded.

"I'm sorry but I believe you are trying to fraudulently claim for items which are not as you claim and are actually worth much less than you claim. I have forensic evidence backing up my opinion from a laboratory I use regarding the carpets and the antique vases, and an expert opinion from the curator of art from the British Museum telling me the paintings were only worth a few pounds and forensically they tend to suggest very modern on rather poor quality canvases." I gave them a chance to reply but they only protested their innocence. I nodded to Peters and he stepped up to make an arrest. They just collapsed into a weeping heap, no not Peters, he was in his element. He got the collars while I had done all the work, I suppose it paid for two tanks of fuel, which Jaguars have, well it can be thirsty if you drive it fast. I give it the odd burst when I feel the conditions are safe and only for a few minutes, 140mph is double the limit so very risky, but it is a high performance engine and quite a large one.

Peters took charge and I arranged to send him the evidence while I went home to make my own claim to the insurance company and find out what Stephanie had arranged with the Met. I sometimes wonder about what I do, spoiling people's lives but when I consider it objectively, I don't spoil their lives, they do it themselves, I protect the insurance companies from their dishonesty and make a reasonable living at it. Still if everybody was upright and honest, I'd make a much poorer one and have to go back to academia and teach psychology or something, but then, there is enough dishonesty about for me to be needed, so I'll just take a bow, or should it be curtsy these days and go and celebrate another positive result with Steph, oh, nearly forgot her mother's supposed to be coming to dinner this evening, have to think what I'm going to cook and get it.

The Recoverer (13)
by
Angharad.
After my involvement with the murder and fraudulent insurance claim, I settled to work through a backlog of outstanding work while Stephanie recovered from her gender confirmation surgery. It was relatively harmless stuff, claiming our expenses, but necessary for the firm's prosperity. What was painful was consulting our accountant and paying out taxes and her bill but she keeps us out of trouble with the VAT people who require we pay it every three months. I keep forgetting that our fees do not include VAT and while some insurers try to wriggle out of paying it, we do remind them that they can reclaim it from the government as we do for all the VAT we pay on anything, things like car hire, forensic services, or legal costs - that is probably the dearest of them but I hope it means we don't get caught for court bills, costs there can be astronomic and could bankrupt us, I do pay an insurance against it, but I'm not sure how effective it would be as I'm sure there is a limit to how much they would pay, but they never tell me what it is.

My accountant send out the bills for our fees, so the VAT is never forgotten, she also banks the paid fees or sends out reminders, so she knows exactly what we earn and what income tax, corporation tax and every other bloody tax we are liable for, sometimes I think we're paying off the national debt by ourselves, but then my income seems to increase every year and salaries I pay also increase, so Mike and Stephanie do okay. Since we had the accountant deal with billing and taxes, it has enabled me to deal with money generation through dealing with cases and less paperwork.

Much of our bread and butter comes from little cases, where people are claiming for damage to property, stains from supposed accidents or other damage, these are usually seen by insurance assessors and only come to us when the assessor isn't happy with something and thinks the damage is fraudulent, ie deliberate as a way of generating income by the claimant, so I'm not having to validate claims for every broken water pipe or water damage to ceilings from leaky shower cabinets.

Any for the claim of theft of valuables or objet d'art, such as jewellery or paintings, sculpture, that sort of thing come to me almost as soon as the police have visited the crime scene and decided it's better for tax-payers if I investigate rather than them. It's a no brainer really, they aren't that interested and I solve more of them, more quickly. They do have warrant cards, arrests when fraud is detected require their cooperation for subsequent prosecution but they are so behind with everything because they are short staffed, inefficient, uninterested or lazy, and with the larger forces, corrupt. The number of bent coppers is increasing, we have also discovered but not resolved, tip-offs from the internal investigations team warning them to clear away the evidence, dump objects and check their bank accounts. If they start off with anonymous bank accounts or offshore ones, we know they were planning this criminal activity with a view to obscuring or evading detection. It makes it much harder and only the police or government have the resources to investigate foreign bank accounts. They are also undermanned or womanned if they want real progress, during which some very unsavoury activities come to light, including prostitution, people trafficking, drug running , intimidation and occasionally actual physical harm and murder, not to mention sexual assault and full-blown rape.

Coppers are not angels, they suffer the same stats of disreputable characters as the overall population, perhaps they mix more often with the nastier side of life because of the work, and temptation must be very inviting, after all they don't earn that much legally, so bribery is very real if evidence becomes lost or invalidated, DNA is easy to spoil, or a blind-eye is turned at an opportune moment. It's impossible to root out completely because so many of us are dishonest if the rewards are big enough, but I report suspicion of it every time, because it can affect my own investigations and therefore, my livelihood. It has me on several nasty people's list of persons they'd like to do harm to either physically, psychologically or financially. Receiving threats of what someone would like to do to you is not nice, especially as a woman. I know women politicians and those in the public-eye receive them all the time because a significant proportion of the population are sick, perverted or just plain nasty and misogynist, sending anonymous emails or social media smears or accusations is relatively easy and only become investigated if violence or a definite threat is recognised. It's still disgusting and such people should be treated by the full force of the law, which often is too lenient because of the cost. So, we accuse accountants of spoiling everything but this is one area where I suspect they actually do.

While corruption shouldn't be tolerated neither should misogyny, why should half the population be subject to all sorts of abuse purely because they are female, if it was men, misandry would be stamped out pretty quickly. Men won't tolerate things that we as females have to suffer, such as inappropriate sexual approaches, I think the approacher could end up missing several teeth before finishing his chat-up line, so why do women. Because men are bigger, stronger and more violent and while not all men are violent, they are generally more so than women. I'm preaching to the converted, I know but if we say it often enough, perhaps things will change.

The reason this came to mind was that I had an encounter with an amorous male who I was investigating and who thought if he gave me a good seeing to, I'd be less interested in looking at his claim. He was wrong on both counts. He obviously had an inflated idea of his' god's gift to women' ego but was actually a middle-aged balding drip of a man, who I wouldn't sleep with if he was the last man on earth, he obviously didn't know my history but I was glad it was me who met him and not Stephanie, who is more naïve than I, and less able to defend herself.

He started by pushing past me and then 'accidently' stroking my bum. I complained accusing him of inappropriate touching. He tried to sound indignant over it, then he said, "Come on, I know you're dying for it."

"Being dead is probably the only way you're getting near my body," I almost spat at him.

"Don't talk rubbish, you know you really want it," he sounded even more slimy than before.

"What I want is to demonstrate that you are a liar and attempting fraud on this claim, and you have all the sexual attraction of a jelly-fish, not that I have anything against coelenterates personally, it's just you." With my riposte he became aggressive and as he made a move towards me I stepped back, grabbed his wrist and dislocated his shoulder, goodness did he squeal - well it is painful, I suppose. I immediately rang the police and they sent a woman constable to us. He was still groaning but she told me that he had been accused of several unsuccessful sexual approaches to other women in the last couple of years. She was sympathetic to his pain but not his ardour. I offered to put his shoulder back but she stopped me, probably because she knew it was very painful, she took him off to hospital leaving me in his house. Naturally, I searched the place and found enough evidence to show he was a fraud as well as a sex-pest.

After about half an hour a woman let herself into the house, she asked who I was and I told her, she told me that she was his wife. On asking where he was I told her the truth that he was down the hospital with a woman copper because he had tried it on with me and I dislocated his shoulder. She shook her head mumbling something that sounded like 'not again' She told me he had assaulted several women and she was seriously thinking of leaving him. She said she'd better get down the hospital to see what was happening and I left, went back to the office, scanned the evidence I had and sent it through to the insurance company. I got a very positive reply back. It would mean that I had to involve the police but fraud is a crime and they need to see about prosecuting him. I emailed them and a day later the same female copper came to see me, "You know he is talking about charging you with common assault?"

"Just as well I recorded it all on my phone, isn't it."
"I played it to her she shook her head and said, "We've got him on two counts now, attempted sexual assault and fraud." He's going to wish he'd stayed in bed. He certainly yelled when you grabbed his arm."

"I took defence classes in Keysi, or a development of it; it's designed for close contact fighting, I have my own version of it which you can see is quite effective."

"Would you say you have martial arts training?" Knowing that this would be stupid to declare, I simply told her, no, just in self defence.

I told her that, "I will defend myself but I'm not interested in play-fighting in fancy clothes, if someone attacks you, do you have to ask them if you can go home and get your karate-gi before you set to?" She laughed at that and said she was glad I didn't martial arts because it would have counted against me. I didn't tell her any more about myself, I didn't want her to know that my instructor taught me how to kill if it was necessary, but also taught me how to assess whether it was necessary. Apparently, you don't do it unless fearful for your life, and once decided upon, you don't relent. Pretty frightening stuff, eh?

I have only been in what I consider was life-threatening situation, it was a few years ago and I was investigating a case of suspected fraud, and I didn't know also concerned illegal drug importation and distribution. I had talked my way into a warehouse that had claimed a forklift had damaged a load of goods and shelving. The original insurance surveyor called me because he considered something wasn't quite right and also they were claiming £100k plus. I was left alone for a few minutes when the phone rang for the bloke who was showing me round, and I began to explore things that he would probably have stopped me doing, I found some white powder, managed to gather a small sample in small sealable plastic bags I carry in my handbag. They sell them in craft shops for people who use them for keeping small baubles in but I believe they are also used by drug pushers for things like coke and heroin. If they were supplying drugs, I could be in danger and I just wanted to leave while I was in one piece.

I had just stood up after collecting my sample when he came back and looked at me and saw the small quantity of powder. He suggested they damaged a bag of dental plaster of Paris and that's what it was. I knew he was lying and when another man came into the warehouse, both of whom were much bigger than me, I was almost shitting bricks and I was planning which to try and take out first, if I put them down, they'd have to go first time and stay down. The damage to the shelving was pretty bad and it would probably run to many thousands so I used distraction, suggesting me that they got a builder to price the repairs and send it to the insurers. I did ask why the damage was so extensive and they suggested the man who was using the forklift had a some sort of mental episode and he lost control of the forklift. He was now in hospital and they seemed to understand they would have to submit medical information if that was the case.

"We told all this to first guy who came, so why are you here."

"Because if we settle with you the size of the claim is above his authority."

"So they send a woman to do it, ha, no wonder the world is in such a mess, fucking women."

I stepped back from him before saying, "I resent your sexist view of the world, but the evidence tends to suggest you're wrong and that most of the problems are caused by men." He laughed aggressively at me and I was relieved when his colleague grabbed him and steered him away from me. I escaped a few minutes later suggesting they send in all the details the insurers requested.

I drove straight to the nearest copshop and handed in the white powder giving details of it's provenance. A detective from the drug squad who was in the building came out and tasted a few grains, "It's coke, I'm almost certain." when he saw where it came from, he shook his head and said ,"We've been trying to get something on them for ages." I showed him my photo on my phone of the spilt powder, he nodded and said to his colleagues, need a warrant and get there before they clean it up.

Needless to say the claim was disputed, the police got their warrant and found enough evidence to prosecute, also the forklift driver with problems was found to have high levels of cocaine in his blood, so the claim was disputed further for the firm allowing someone who was under the influence of intoxicating substances access to a large forklift.

I saved them thousands, probably many and they rewarded me appropriately. I have seen since then the warehouse has been demolished and hoses built on the site.

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