Jennifer did her best to talk to me during the nearly three-hour journey from Shropshire to York. I wasn't in the mood to talk. My rumbling stomach soon alerted her to one of the reasons why I was fairly uncooperative. She took pity on me after an hour or so and we stopped for a late breakfast which made me feel a good deal better, but not enough to engage in anything other than a casual conversation with her. I wanted to know more about why she and her colleagues thought that I could be useful in their investigations.

These past months had changed me from a pretty extrovert sort of person into someone who is pretty introverted and very comfortable with my own company. A lot of it is down to trust. I’d learned the hard way about trusting people on the road.

When someone betrays your trust in them, you lose most if not all of your ability to trust others for a long, long time. It is going to be a long time before I trust anyone anywhere near as much as I’d trusted my wife. I'd trusted 'her'. If you can't trust your wife then who can you trust? The fact that she earned the megabucks when compared to me hadn't been a problem for most of our marriage. She earned the money while I managed our home and did most of the cooking. She could come home and there would be food ready for her if she wanted it. That trust is worth a lot but it and many other things became nowhere near enough for her.

The prospect of strangers digging deep into my past did not please me one little bit. Eventually, 'it' would come out. It was something that I'd always been very private about but that wouldn't last very long if their investigators were anywhere close to being half-decent. Given how easily she’d found me was a big hint that she had access to some top shot investigators.

The very thought of ‘it’ coming out could make my future very bleak. I’d had to promise ‘her’ that I’d never tell anyone about ‘it’. She’d lose a lot of face or that is what she’d told me in no uncertain terms when we parted. Even though she was no longer directly in my life I’d promised her certain things when we split up. Despite everything, I was going to do my best to honour those promises. That’s who I am. Naive? Probably but that was the least of my worries at the moment.

I audibly sighed as I realised that my life as I currently had was over.

“Did you say something?” said Jennifer.

“Sorry,” I mumbled.
“I was just wondering what disaster would happen to me next. This year has been one disaster after another and it isn’t over yet.”

“What could happen?”

“Oh… the earth could open up and swallow me whole. That would put an end to my own ‘anus horriblis’.”

Jennifer laughed.
“Somehow, I don’t think that will happen. It can’t be that bad can it?”

“Worse. Much worse.”

Wisely, she shut up and let her Sergeant carry on driving. I did see him chuckle. At least my demise as a human being was providing some entertainment.

---

“Here we are,” said Jennifer as the car drew up outside an identikit factory unit on the outskirts of York.

It was identikit because it looked like all the other seven units in this small industrial estate on the eastern outskirts of the beautiful city of York. None of the cars that were parked outside this unit shouted ‘Police’ which pleased me no end. If this place was being used for an undercover investigation, it seemed perfect.

“Grab your rucksack and follow me,” said Jennifer.

She held the door open for me. For a moment, I wondered where her bags were but that wasn’t my concern. I was more concerned with getting a shower or even better, a long hot bath in a tub where I could stretch out but neither of them would happen in the short term. I felt that I’d be here for a long time before they’d let me go so that I could return to the streets.

I went inside and stopped still. The entrance looked like any other small business. A reception desk with a receptionist who was filing her nails just like many others did around the world.

“Hello Sandra,” said Jennifer to the receptionist.

“Go on through Jennifer. They are expecting you,” replied Sandra.

“Thanks.”

Jennifer turned to me.
“You can leave your pack here.”

"I'll keep it with me if you don't mind. Force of habit I'm afraid."

She just shrugged her shoulders and opened the door that led into a corridor.

I followed her into the depths of the building. I could hear people talking but all the doors were both solid and closed tight. Jennifer stopped almost at the end of the corridor.

She punched in a code onto a keypad. The door clicked open and we went inside.

Six people were sitting around a large table. One of them hurriedly covered up some documents and charts that were being worked on.

“This is Craig Scott. He is here to help with our problems.”

“I’m Detective Chief Inspector Eastwood,” said the man sitting at the head of the table.
“Glad you could make it. Please take a seat.”

“Sorry DCI, I really didn’t think I had much choice.”

“DCI?” asked DCI Eastwood.

"Sorry, Sir. I know how important is to get Mr Scott on board."

"Welcome, Mr Scott. You will get to know the rest of us during your stay with us."

"Chief Inspector, I don't know how I can help you that won't get me locked up. If I was in the USA, I'd be asking for my lawyer and pleading the 5th but we aren't. As I am sure that you are well aware, it is my name on some of the company documents."

“Mr Scott… Can I call you Craig?”

I nodded my head.

"That is one thing that you do not have to worry about. Those signatures look genuine at first glance but in reality, they are not very good fakes. Our handwriting people are sure about that so you can breathe easy."

I tried not to show any emotion at the good news but I failed. I smiled.

“Why don’t you tell us what you know about your wife’s businesses and business dealings,” said the DCI.

“Former wife Chief Inspector.”

There were some strange looks around the table.

“What is wrong? I signed the papers. I have my copy in my pack.”

I didn’t wait for them to respond. I dived into my pack and retrieved my stash of documents. A short search revealed the divorce papers that I’d signed to end my marriage.

“Here… Look for yourself?”

The papers were passed around the table and then back to me.

“Is there something wrong?”

“Your wife has failed to submit them to the court. Legally, Mr Scott, you are still married.”

That news knocked me for six and then some.

“Why would she do that? She was so keen for me to sign the papers almost as soon as I was… was thrown out of our home.”

“Mr Scott?” said one of the other people in the room.
“Detective Sergeant Murdoch. If I may, I think I have an explanation.”

Everyone turned to look at her. She was drop-dead gorgeous. Even with her long light brown hair up, I could tell that she'd break a lot of hearts of both men and women just by walking through a room.

“Please explain Sergeant,” said the DCI.

“Sir, one of the early surveillance reports on Mrs Scott showed that she visited the City of London offices of the Marine Life Assurance Company. If I may, I can retrieve the dates from the computer.”

“Please do Sergeant.”

She opened up a laptop and after signing in, she swiftly searched the records.

"She visited them on the 5th of February and again on the 26th of April.”

“She threw me out on the 24th of April,” I said in response.

“Sir,” said the sergeant.
“Could it be possible that Mrs Scott took out a life insurance policy on Mr Scott and once he was not part of her life, she cancelled it?”

“Or increased the sum assured?” suggested Jennifer.

“Mere supposition,” said the DCI.
“But one that needs following up.”

He turned to the Sergeant.
“Sergeant Murdoch, I think that someone needs to chase this up. As you seem to know more about this particular theory than anyone else, then put this at the top of your list for tomorrow.”

“Sir.”

I knew about the insurance policy. The policy documents had been delivered to my old home address two days before she threw me out. They were addressed to ‘Mr & Mrs’ so I opened them and saw the sum insured. For some reason, I’d kept the letter. It was buried in a plastic container in a wood near the railway tunnel where I’d been beaten up. I hoped that my wife didn’t know that I knew about the insurance policy.

Letting the Police find out for themselves would ensure that I could not be accused of lying about her intentions.

---

It was nearly 22:00 when I flopped down onto my hotel bed. I was mentally exhausted. We'd spent almost six hours going at it. I was surprised at how they'd interrogated me about things I thought I didn't know anything about but it turned out that I did. As I thought about the day, I had to tip my hat to how they were able to get lots of information out of me without me feeling that I was giving lots away. That takes skill, lots of skill.

Jennifer had ducked out at one point to get us all some food. She returned with an Indian meal. My stomach had lost its tolerance of spicy food and for the last hour or so, I had been suffering. My obvious discomfort had been the reason we called it a day when we did.

I had the distinct feeling that I was going to be up and down to the toilet all night.

In the hours that I was awake, I had the chance to think about how things might go the next day. I had to assume that it would be more of the same, a gentle interrogation with what I knew or didn’t realise what I knew coming out in dribs and drabs. There had to be a better way but what?

The ‘but what’ came to me just before three in the morning. With my mind settled, I was able to at least get some sleep between trips to the toilet.

---

After eating breakfast in the Hotel Restaurant, Jennifer and I returned to the industrial unit. I didn’t feel at my best due to the lack of sleep. I hoped that would work in my favour when I pitched my idea.

Just before 09:00, we all assembled in the same room as the day before. I wanted to ask about the other people in the building but I refrained from doing so. I didn't want to appear too nosy.

“I was knackered last night but I couldn’t sleep. I kept going over everything we covered yesterday,” I said to the others.

“Did you think of anything else?” asked the DCI.

I shook my head.
“That’s just it. I didn’t and I really can’t go through yesterday again. I had an idea. Could I float it?”

“Please, go ahead. What we discovered yesterday will take us several days to follow up,” said the DCI.

"Good. My idea is that I work one on one with one of your officers and we get my whole story down on paper. That should then provide a jumping-off point for further discussions. What do you think?"

There was silence in the room. After a few seconds, Jennifer spoke up.
“How good are you at typing?”

She’d got me there.
“Strictly one finger I’m afraid.”

“Boss, why don’t I help Craig get it all down. It can be used as his statement.”

The DCI thought for a few seconds.

“Good idea. We’ll review things tomorrow afternoon. Let’s say at four?”

No one disagreed with him so the meeting broke up soon after leaving Jennifer and myself alone.

"Do you think that we can get it all down in time? There is a lot to tell isn't there?"

I managed a smile.
“Yes, there is. Shall we get started?

“Let me get my laptop from my desk and we can get going,” she said with a smile.

---

Jennifer and I spent all day working on my tale. We only broke for a brief lunch of sandwiches otherwise it was nose to the grindstone.

Our last act of the day was to review what I’d said and what Jennifer had captured.

“This bit about your first meeting with your wife. I’m still confused.”

“Ok, let me tell you this bit again. I was on holiday in Romania. Not the most obvious of holiday destinations but I’m not an obvious sort of person. I flew to Bucharest and rented a car. After one night in the capital, I headed for the Danube Delta where I’d arranged to stay on a converted barge for a week. This was in early June and there are millions of birds in the delta but you need a boat to even get close. Being a delta, there are only a few roads. I rented one and for a couple of days, everything was great. On the third day, it sprang a leak. Luckily, another boat was coming down the same bit of the river as me. They rescued me that was when I met Imanuela. The boat she’d been on was owned by her family. The family treated me like royalty and she sort of took me under her wing for the rest of my holiday. She showed me all the best places for birds like Bee-Eaters.

While I was being entertained by them, I learned that her family were and still are for all I know small-time smugglers. They use their knowledge of the delta to bypass the border guards and take all manner of stuff in and out of Ukraine. They were very proud that they’d evaded the Germans in WW2 and supplied the anti-fascists inside Romania. They boasted about the fact that they had been doing it for centuries even when Ukraine was part of the USSR. There was not a lot of love lost between the Romanians under Ceausescu and the Soviets. Ceausescu was a communist but wanted to do things his own weird way much like Tito in Yugoslavia. They tolerated Ceausescu as long as they didn't show too much favour towards the west. What complicated matters because they are the only country with a border on the Black Sea apart from Turkey that does not use Cyrillic Script. That is a hangover from Roman times. Imanuela's family was proud of their independence from the USSR and now Russia and Ukraine.“

“Ok,” said Jennifer.
“I got that. What happened next?”

"At the end of my holiday, I said goodbye and returned home as scheduled."

“That’s it?”

“Yep. I finished my holiday and came home.”

“But…” said Jennifer as she referred to another part of my story.

“It says here that you met again three years later.”

“I had been made redundant from my job at the Ironbridge Gorge Power Station. The thing was well past its use-by date and was slowly being closed down. I saw this ad in the paper for this Recruitment Agency. The ad said that they were looking for semi-skilled labourers. That was me so I phoned them up. As I was in the area, I dropped by with a copy of my CV. That’s when I met her again. We were married in Romania eight months later.”

Before she could respond, I added,
“I didn’t get the job but she suggested working for myself. That’s when I became a window cleaner. That’s what I did and I enjoyed it… until my world disintegrated around me.”

Jennifer spent a few minutes making changes to my story.

“That leads us very nicely to what happened to get you thrown out.”

This was the bit I had been dreading.

“You don’t strike me as a ladies man,” said Jennifer confidently.

"I had this habit. Nothing illegal but some people don't like it."

Jennifer sat back in her chair. I could tell that she could see uncomfortable I was.

“Ok, ok. I have always liked to dress up in women’s clothes. That good enough for you? I was dressed up and doing some ironing when she came home and found me. All hell broke loose and to cut a long story short, I was thrown out of the house with just the clothes on my back and the little bit of cash I had in my pocket.”

Jennifer just sat there. Slowly a smile broke out on her face.

“Yes, it funny. Well, it isn’t to me. I was born feeling like that and there is nothing I can do about those desires. It is part of me, warts and all.”

“I think that it is enough for one day, don’t you?”

I couldn’t agree more.

That evening I had a Chinese delivered to my room. The last thing I needed was to have to face her with that smug grin on her face at least until the next day.

As I tried to put the day into some sort of context, I wondered why Jennifer had not reacted to the news that I like to wear women’s clothes. The only thing I could think of was that she already knew and that the whole day had been staged just to get me to admit that I was a tranny. Something did not add up.

[to be continued]