one.”
Before Trey had a chance to say anything to Ahmet about why he really wanted to go to the shop, Ahmet was the other side of the street and the next moment had disappeared through the
shop’s door; Trey glanced nervously at the building his father had gone into, half expecting to see him come striding out and get an extra knot in his tie because his driver wasn’t
where he was supposed to be. If there was one thing he knew his father hated it was being kept waiting.
“I make note, through window.”
Trey jerked round to find Ahmet getting back into the driving seat. “You did what ?”
Ahmet looked over his shoulder, smiling as he held up his right hand, a folded slip of paper gripped between the two fingers. “You want number of car, no?”
“You are the best!” Trey reached over and took it.
“But can’t make note in book without this.”
Trey looked up and saw that a brand-new pencil had appeared between Ahmet’s fingers.
After copying down The Man in the Grey Suit’s car licence plate, Trey found absolutely nothing else to put in his notebook on the drive back to the hotel; with his father
lost in his paperwork he was free to observe all he liked, and with the late afternoon traffic slowing their pace down to a crawl it was a perfect situation for careful observation. But, as hard as
he looked (trying his best to make it look as if he wasn’t looking hard) he even lost sight of the one car he knew had been following them.
Glancing at his father, sitting next to him making occasional notes on the papers he was reading, Trey found it hard to believe he could possibly be involved in anything that might make him the
kind of person who got tailed. But he had been a bit distracted recently, so could he be tied up in some shady deal or other? Surely not...and then it occurred to him that, from what he’d
seen today, they must appear to be very, very rich indeed; back home he’d never really thought about how they lived, or how much money they had. So could this all be leading up to a
robbery? The thought gave him the jitters.
Trey sat back, frustrated and vexed that, though he was sure something really was up, he had no evidence whatsoever. And evidence, as any gumshoe worth his pay cheque knew, was
everything. So a day which had started with so much promise ended on a rather flat note as Ahmet pulled their car up in front of the hotel and a doorman rushed to assist in his father’s exit.
Trey realized that that was it – tomorrow would be entirely different – no chance for any sleuthing. He got out, aware that his father was organizing for Ahmet to pick him up
first and deliver him to the Stanhope-Leighs. He slouched into the lobby, the truly awful prospect of what was in store for him the very next day hanging like a thundercloud over him...
10 FROM BAD TO WORSE
T rey stood in front of the house and looked from the imposing brass door knocker to the polished bell-pull, not knowing which one to use...not
actually wanting to use either and wishing he was still in the back of the car that Ahmet had just driven off in to go and pick up his father. In the end he didn’t have to choose as
the double doors swung open on well-oiled hinges to reveal a smartly dressed older man in a black suit, starched shirt, wing collar and neat black bow tie standing in the gap, looking down his nose
at him. These people had a butler ?
“May I be of assistance?”
“I’m T. Drummond MacIntyre III.”
“Ah, just so...you’ve come to play with the children.” The butler stood back and indicated that Trey should enter the house. “Do come in, sir, and I will go and fetch
their governess, Miss Renyard.”
Play? With the children ? Trey, momentarily lost for words, watched the man, whom he now noticed was wearing white gloves, walk away. What kind of nightmare had his father cooked up for
him? Visions of spinning tops, dolls, construction sets and even sand pits flashed before his eyes. He
Before Trey had a chance to say anything to Ahmet about why he really wanted to go to the shop, Ahmet was the other side of the street and the next moment had disappeared through the
shop’s door; Trey glanced nervously at the building his father had gone into, half expecting to see him come striding out and get an extra knot in his tie because his driver wasn’t
where he was supposed to be. If there was one thing he knew his father hated it was being kept waiting.
“I make note, through window.”
Trey jerked round to find Ahmet getting back into the driving seat. “You did what ?”
Ahmet looked over his shoulder, smiling as he held up his right hand, a folded slip of paper gripped between the two fingers. “You want number of car, no?”
“You are the best!” Trey reached over and took it.
“But can’t make note in book without this.”
Trey looked up and saw that a brand-new pencil had appeared between Ahmet’s fingers.
After copying down The Man in the Grey Suit’s car licence plate, Trey found absolutely nothing else to put in his notebook on the drive back to the hotel; with his father
lost in his paperwork he was free to observe all he liked, and with the late afternoon traffic slowing their pace down to a crawl it was a perfect situation for careful observation. But, as hard as
he looked (trying his best to make it look as if he wasn’t looking hard) he even lost sight of the one car he knew had been following them.
Glancing at his father, sitting next to him making occasional notes on the papers he was reading, Trey found it hard to believe he could possibly be involved in anything that might make him the
kind of person who got tailed. But he had been a bit distracted recently, so could he be tied up in some shady deal or other? Surely not...and then it occurred to him that, from what he’d
seen today, they must appear to be very, very rich indeed; back home he’d never really thought about how they lived, or how much money they had. So could this all be leading up to a
robbery? The thought gave him the jitters.
Trey sat back, frustrated and vexed that, though he was sure something really was up, he had no evidence whatsoever. And evidence, as any gumshoe worth his pay cheque knew, was
everything. So a day which had started with so much promise ended on a rather flat note as Ahmet pulled their car up in front of the hotel and a doorman rushed to assist in his father’s exit.
Trey realized that that was it – tomorrow would be entirely different – no chance for any sleuthing. He got out, aware that his father was organizing for Ahmet to pick him up
first and deliver him to the Stanhope-Leighs. He slouched into the lobby, the truly awful prospect of what was in store for him the very next day hanging like a thundercloud over him...
10 FROM BAD TO WORSE
T rey stood in front of the house and looked from the imposing brass door knocker to the polished bell-pull, not knowing which one to use...not
actually wanting to use either and wishing he was still in the back of the car that Ahmet had just driven off in to go and pick up his father. In the end he didn’t have to choose as
the double doors swung open on well-oiled hinges to reveal a smartly dressed older man in a black suit, starched shirt, wing collar and neat black bow tie standing in the gap, looking down his nose
at him. These people had a butler ?
“May I be of assistance?”
“I’m T. Drummond MacIntyre III.”
“Ah, just so...you’ve come to play with the children.” The butler stood back and indicated that Trey should enter the house. “Do come in, sir, and I will go and fetch
their governess, Miss Renyard.”
Play? With the children ? Trey, momentarily lost for words, watched the man, whom he now noticed was wearing white gloves, walk away. What kind of nightmare had his father cooked up for
him? Visions of spinning tops, dolls, construction sets and even sand pits flashed before his eyes. He
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