“It was a large, red-brick detached house set back from the road in what was clearly a select part of Henley. As we stopped at the end of the Kings’ lengthy drive, our headlights shone on a blue Bentley Infiniti parked in front of a double garage. The car’s registration mark indicated that it was this year’s model. ‘You won’t get much change out of forty grand for that beauty,’ said Dave, as he parked our bottom-of-the-range CID runabout next to it. A young woman, probably in her twenties, answe...red the door. She was tall and slender with short blonde, carefully-styled hair, and all her curves were in the right places. Her blue eyes gazed at us enquiringly. ‘May I help you, please?’ ‘Good afternoon,’ I said. ‘I’d like to speak to Mr and Mrs King.’ ‘May I ask who you are?’ The request was delivered in almost perfect English, but with a slight accent that sounded vaguely Scandinavian. I imagined her to be an au pair, or whatever they call home helps these days.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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