Lacey Investigations: The Private Detective's Rulebook.

Rule Number One: Always Conduct Yourself in a Professional Manner.

'Fuck him up, Billy!' Vicky screamed as the bat swung for a third time. That time was too close for comfort, Mike would need to use all his wit and cunning to get out of this one.

'Oh my God... What's that?!' Mike yelled, pointing behind Billy. Billy looked behind him, already realising Mike's elaborate ruse, he spun back around just in time to see Mike's bare arse escaping out of the bedroom window. He was in his car, and burning rubber down the street long before a heavily panting Billy Stratton reached the end of his driveway.

It was an hour-long drive back to the office on Bushbury Lane, with a brief stop so Mike could put his clothes back on. He was just pulling off junction 2 on the M54, when his phone rang. Mike grabbed it off the passenger seat. He glanced at the screen. It was Nick.

'Yeah?'

'You've been gone all afternoon, where the hell are you?'

'I've been, uh, plugging away at the Stratton case. I'm on my way back now.'

'The Stratton case? Any luck?'

'Oh yeah.' Mike smiled.

'You can fill me in on it tomorrow. I've just left the office, how far away are you?'

'I'm on the... Jesus Christ! Where's your fucking indicator, you wanker! ...on the Stafford Road now, I'm five minutes away.'

'Are you using the phone while you're driving?'

'Well... Yeah, aren't you?'

'Hands free.'

'Tosser.'

'We'll see who the tosser is when the police take your license. Just get back to the office, we've got somebody coming in about the secretarial position.'

'My favourite position.'

'We can't afford another lawsuit, so fucking behave yourself.'

'Alright, calm down, Papa Bear, I hear you.'

'I mean it.'

'Oh, ah... About the office. We've been there for, like, forever. Maybe it's time to think about moving?'

'...
What did you do?'

'Nothing. Gotta go because I'm driving, bye.'

'Mike? Mike! What did you...'

Mike tossed the phone back onto the passenger seat. Being stuck in the office was the last thing he needed. Being interrupted with Mrs. Stratton had left him with a mad case of blue-ball. That shit needed dealing with quick.

The roar of the V8 in Mike's discreet, red Mustang matched his mood as he pulled off the island onto the Lacey Investigations car park. The building they used as an office was Mike's ex-wife's garage; the carpark of which, Nick rented out to a Romanian hand car-wash service. Joseph and his boys were waiting around for custom as Mike parked up.

'Ey, Mr. Lacey.'

'Hey, Joe. Slow day?'

'Really bad. Hand Car-wash business is... eh... too crowded. This country let in too many foreign people. They take all the work.'