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 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 the 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 who 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. I short, the hormones I'd taken over the last few months gave 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 en suites, 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, that weren'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 I, 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 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, he 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.