Jean had just finished tucking the veg into the roasting pan around the lamb when Lucien walked into the kitchen, freshly bathed and shaved. He looked very handsome, but there was a strange, wild look in his eyes.

"Just in time," she said. "Would you mind moving this back into the oven for me?"

"My pleasure," he said, moving to her side. He leaned in close, and she thought he was going to kiss her cheek, but instead he whispered into her ear, "Someone broke into the house while we were out this afternoon." Then he put a finger to his lips to indicate she should not mention it.

Did he think the house might be bugged now, she wondered. She nodded that she understood. Maybe the back garden might be a safer place to talk. "While you're being so accommodating, maybe you'd consider digging out a patch for me in the garden tomorrow? I'll show you what I need."

His eyes widened as he caught on. "For you? Any time," he said. And he followed her out through the back door.

"What's going on, Lucien?" she whispered fiercely when she knew they couldn't be heard from inside the house.

"I'm not entirely certain yet," he told her. "I discovered that the metal box containing my service revolver has been stolen, and someone was in all the bedrooms."

"You're sure?" asked Jean, shuddering at the thought that a total stranger had been prowling through her bedroom and those of the children.

He nodded. "I suspect it's related somehow to the investigation of Neville Franklin's murder. Doug is convinced Jock Clement has someone in the police spying for him. He may also want to know what I'm up to, or how much Dad's told me, which is why I think he may have planted one or more listening devices inside."

"But why take your gun? If Mister Clement has a contact with the police, surely he can find a way to get a gun without stealing one."

"I haven't worked out that part just yet," Lucien admitted. "Maybe he wants to frame me for something? I don't know. In any case, I'll be sure to let Doug know the gun has been stolen."

"Please, Lucien, be careful," she begged him. Jock Clement was not a man to be taken lightly, and if anything happened to Lucien, well, that was something she didn't even want to consider.

"I will," he promised, "but the best way to neutralise him is to arrest him for Franklin's murder."

That might be so, she thought, but did Lucien have to put himself in the line of fire?

He paused and rested his hands on her shoulders. "Jean, I need to do this, to keep my family safe." He did kiss her cheek this time. "Now, would you mind sending the children out here, please? I'm going to need their help with all this 'digging' of yours," he said with a grin.


Lucien stood in the back garden waiting for the children, who came outside eager to help him out.

"What do you need us for?" asked Jack, practically jumping up and down at the thought of being able to help out.

"Do you remember that film we saw about Charlie Chan and the Japanese spies?" Lucien began.

All three nodded. They'd seen it at the cinema a few weeks before.

"And do you remember when the spy put that tiny microphone in Mister Chan's hotel room, and he had to find it?"

"He looked everywhere," Li remembered. "Why are you asking about Charlie Chan, Daddy?"

Lucien kissed the top of her head. "That's right, he looked everywhere. Well, I think there's a possibility that someone put a microphone in our house. We need to find it, and that's why I need your help."

"Wow! Let's go!" said Jack.

"Just a moment," said Lucien. "We need to remember that it's a microphone so whoever put it there could be listening to it. So," he held a finger to his lips. "If you find one, don't say anything, just come and get me to show me where it is, understood?"

"Understood," said Jack, while Li and Christopher nodded.

"All right, let's go. Very quietly."

Lucien held the back door open, then followed them inside. The four of them spread out, looking over all the furniture just as Charlie Chan had done in the film they'd seen.

Christopher found the first one, planted behind a stack of plates in the kitchen cupboard. Lucien exchanged a glance with Jean, who was wide-eyed with amazement. She reached for it, but Lucien put a hand on her outstretched arm to stop her. He shook his head, and mouthed, "Not yet." He wanted to speak with Doug first. They might be able to use it to set a trap.

Jean was not happy with the idea that anyone, be it Jock Clement or someone else, could listen to their private conversations, but Lucien decided it would just be for a few more hours at most. He had no intention of allowing anyone to hear what was said between Jean and himself in their late night talks over a last cuppa.

She stared at him for a long moment, reading his thoughts, he was sure, then she nodded her acquiescence. He gave her a quick kiss in appreciation of her trust, but then Li appeared and tugged on his hand. She had found another microphone hidden in a candlestick in the dining room. And a few minutes later Jack found a third one in a lampshade in the parlour.

Lucien himself searched the surgery and the waiting room. Thankfully there were none in either room; no patients' privacy had been invaded. There was one in the study, however, but no more were found.

Jean pointed up the stairs, wondering if there might be more in the bedrooms or bath, but Lucien shook his head. He had searched the second floor thoroughly before coming downstairs.

"We should get these three washed up if we're going to have company for dinner," Lucien announced. "I'll oversee that, Jean."

"Thank you," she said. "I'll just check on dinner."

He escorted the children upstairs, and while they were washing, he explained, "I'll be removing the microphones after dinner tonight, but until then, we won't talk about them, will we?"

"So the bad men don't know we found them?" asked Li.

"That's exactly right," said Lucien. "We'll just have a normal dinner with Violet and her father."

He saw the little smile on Christopher's face at the mention of Violet.

"Now then, hands are all washed. Let's make sure our hair is nice and neat before our company arrives."

Jack giggled. "Your hair is always neat, Dad. It's that goopy stuff you put on it."

"Shall I put some of it on your hair?" Lucien asked.

Jack covered his dark curls with both hands. "No! Yuck!"

Lucien and Li laughed at his antics, but Christopher said softly, "Can I use some on my hair?"

Immediately Lucien stopped laughing. "Yes, of course. Jack and Li, if you're all set you can go down and see if your mother needs any help. Chris and I will be down directly."


Jean was just starting to set the dining room table when Jack and Li came downstairs giggling together. "What's so funny?" she asked.

The two glanced at each other then giggled again. "Christopher is putting Dad's goopy stuff on his hair," said Jack.

"Hair cream? Many gentlemen use cream on their hair," she pointed out.

"Chris wants to look like a gentleman for Violet," Jack continued. "He likes her."

"Then your brother has very good taste. Violet is a lovely young lady. Now would you two please finish setting the table for me? I'll just get the roast out of the oven to rest before your father carves it."

They were still laughing as she returned to the kitchen. A few minutes later Christopher appeared, looking very handsome and grown up. "Anything I can do, Mum?"

She couldn't help but smile at him. "Thank you, Christopher. You look very nice. Could you make sure the table is set correctly?"

He nodded and went back to the dining room. Jean was well aware of the crush he had on Violet Ashby. While she didn't encourage it, she didn't discourage it either. The two of them weren't even teenagers yet, and after all he'd been through in his very young life, it was comforting to Jean that Christopher was experiencing the type of things most boys his age went through.

She turned her attention back to dinner: slicing bread and making custard to serve with the pie for dessert. She was putting the veg into serving dishes when Violet came into the kitchen.

"Hello, Mrs. Beazley. Is there anything I can help with?" the girl asked.

"Hello, Violet. Don't you look pretty. Where's your father?"

"He's outside talking with Doctor Blake." She lowered her voice, and Jean was afraid the children had told her about the microphones, but she continued, "He has the football tickets Doctor Blake wanted, to go see the Big V."

"Oh, lovely, Jack will be so excited. Now, if you'd like to put the basket of bread on the table for me, I'll call them in so Doctor Blake can carve the meat."

She wiped her hands on her apron and went out onto the porch. As she had suspected, Lucien and the Chief Superintendent were discussing Neville Franklin and Jock Clement.

Upon seeing Jean, Doug removed his cap and nodded in greeting.

Lucien spoke quietly. "Jean, I've told Doug about my gun being stolen and the microphones being planted."

"Yes," said Doug. "We're going to provide whoever's listening some information about the case."

"A setup?" asked Jean.

"That's right. And hope it will drag him out into the open. After dinner I'll take care of the microphones."

"Won't they be suspicious, whoever they are, if you remove all of them? Won't they realise you're feeding them information?"

"As it turns out, I'm familiar with this particular type of equipment they're using," Lucien explained. "Those microphones have a weakness that makes them prone to shorting out, so that's what I'm going to do - short them out."

"I see. Chief Superintendent, do you have any idea why they'd steal Lucien's gun?" Jean asked.

"Not as yet, and please, call me Doug," he urged.

"Yes, of course, Doug. Now dinner's ready, if you two are."


Early conversation over dinner centered around the children and the happenings at school. Lucien tried to stay engaged, but his attention kept wandering to the microphones planted around the house. He was trying to decide the best way to take advantage of them.

He also considered that if they wanted to convince the listener that the devices were shorting out on their own, it might seem more plausible if they didn't all "fail" at the same time.

He noted that the bottle of wine was nearly empty. He poured the remainder into his glass, then stood up. "If you'll excuse me for just a moment, I'll get another bottle," he announced.

In the kitchen, he quietly removed the stack of plates in front of the microphone planted in the cupboard. Then he drew a glass of water and poured it slowly on the tiny microphone until he heard it hiss and saw a brief spark. Not entirely satisfied that the device was dead, he dropped it on the floor and ground it under the heel of his shoe.

After a quick mop-up with a kitchen towel, he saw to the wine and returned to the table.

Thomas had not yet been made aware of the microphones, but inadvertently he gave Lucien the opening he'd been waiting for.

"You should definitely take a look for it. It could be what you need to break open the investigation," Thomas was saying when Lucien returned to the dining room.

"What's that, Dad?" he asked.

"Neville Franklin's journal. It might well tell you who had reason to want him out of the way," said Thomas. "I'm sure it's in his house somewhere."

"Doug, is someone on duty at Franklin's house?"

Ashby nodded. "Lawson's there all night."

"Good," said Lucien, knowing Clement wouldn't be able to buy off Matthew to get access. "First thing in the morning I'll go over there and take a look for it."

He saw Jean look at him sharply, so he held a finger to his lips, silently asking her to hold her objections until they could discuss the matter later in private. She didn't look happy, but she held her tongue.

The rest of the dinner passed without incident. As they got up from the table afterwards and Jean began clearing away, Lucien deliberately dripped hot candle wax onto the microphone hidden in the candlestick. When he heard it hiss and pop, he emptied it onto the floor and ground it with his heel just as he'd done with the first one. Jean glared briefly at the mess he'd made, but he could see she was happy to see the little bugger gone.

After he'd destroyed the ones in the parlour lamp and in the study, he rejoined Doug so they could speak freely.

"If Franklin did keep a journal, your father might be right, it could well be the break we need," said Doug.

"Do you have any idea who on the force Clement has compromised?" Lucien asked.

"I've narrowed it down to one of two people. It's either the desk sergeant, Russell West or Constable Bill Hobart. Or maybe both of them."

"Young Hobart? Wasn't his father on the force?" asked Lucien.

Doug nodded. "Eddie Hobart retired after he took a bullet in the knee in the line of duty. He was quite chummy with Harry MacDonald, the chief that Clement had in his pocket. I don't know for sure that Eddie was on the take, but if he was, it stands to reason his son is as well."

Lucien considered that for a moment. He'd gotten the impression Bill Hobart was a copper through and through. A bit too zealous, if anything, but hardly corrupt. Then again, Doug had been dealing with Clement's villainy for much longer than Lucien himself, so he decided to trust the man's judgment. "Right, then I think you should send them both out to stand guard at Franklin's house tomorrow morning at the same time that I go to look for his journal."

"You aren't afraid one or both of them will have a go at you?"

"No, I think they're just the eyes and ears. I think Mister Clement prefers to be hands on when it comes to eliminating, shall we say, complications."

"I suspect you're right about that, Lucien. No one to pin the actual murder on him, now that Franklin's out of the way. He won't want to make the same mistake twice and leave loose ends again."

"Which means he'll be desperate to get that journal. You might want to send some backup for Lawson for tonight, just to be on the safe side. Chances are Clement will wait until he has his own man on the scene before trying to get into Franklin's house, but I don't think we can take a chance on him getting to it before we're ready for him."

"I've been thinking the same thing. I'll just use your telephone to call the station."

"Be my guest," said Lucien. His mind was already occupied with what he might be facing at Franklin's house in the morning.