Her name was Freda, and she had a son about the same age as Geraint. She was a mousy little woman, married to a Royal Artillery staff sergeant. I didn...t like to ask Freda where Ffion was, but managed to find out, from Geraint, that she was making one of her overnight trips to get orders for her firm.On every football training night for the next two weeks I was on tenterhooks in fear of getting caught in a compromising position with Ffion Probert. I knew I was courting disaster but I was. "It's clean, quiet and the shower works." The owner emphasized the word "shower". Well, at least he smelled the part.Once in his room, Al unfolded the map of the house to look at it once more. He really didn't need to look; the private investigator had a photographic memory. Still, his army training had taught him to be thorough. "Piece of cake," he said to himself lying down on the bed. Less then 10 minutes later he was sound asleep. ***Gerald was furious. His car, his brand new Mustang. More

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