A piano. A pianist. And a con man. Dangerous company.





‘I think I’m going to have to get into her pants to get at her money.’


After every new client contact, David would assess the prospects succinctly, if bluntly, at the debriefing session he always had with his wife, secretary and well-known amateur pianist, Janet Baker, who had always retained her maiden name, despite the fact that they had been married for over twenty years.


Janet feigned surprise. ‘Careful David, I know sleeping with old ladies for their money is part of your job description, but don’t forget that Mrs Chan has connections. And we wouldn’t want to cross them, would we?’


David shook his glass and stirred the ice cubes with his finger as he looked down from their high balcony at the harbour below. A gentle breeze fluttered down from the mountains taking any noise from the distant shipping lanes far out to sea. 


‘Jeezus, darling, you should see her. Old, fat and ugly. And obviously pots of money. So I think I’m going to need lots of chemical help to make her happy in bed.’


‘Careful David, where there’s smoke there’s fire. Please take care. You know they say her husband had connections. Dubious ones. People who make the mafia seem like amateurs.’


‘Don’t worry darling, I know how to play this game. I’ve been at it for years. You know I’m very professional.’ David was quite right. He knew his role well, he’d had years of practice, and he was adept at the role, so he just got on with the job. Which was to extract money from old ladies in return for sexual favours. Large sums of money. Very large indeed.


But professional? Well, perhaps not, because in most people’s eyes he was just a gigolo. 

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