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... sir!"Red faced, Hannah took off his ankle boots and pulled on the pumps. "A perfect fit!" the assistant said."Thank-you, we'll take them won't we Hannah?" I said, "Tell the nice assistant what you think of them!" I ordered him.Not wanting to defy me Hannah did as I said, "I think there wonderful!" Hannah said, going a bright red."Thank-you, I just wish more men had as good taste in shoes as you!" she said, making several nearby girl's giggle.We got ready to take the shoes as well as the clothes to the checkout, "Won't these cost you quite a bit mistress?" Hannah asked."Me?" I asked, "You're buying them!" I said, handing him his credit card."But they'll know...," Hannah protested.I just waked my mobile phone in front of him and he meekly headed for the checkout. "I'm sorry Miss, this credit card is for a Mr. Max Marshall," the assistant said."Go on Hannah tell her!" I ordered, "Otherwise you might get arrested for credit card fraud!"Hannah reluctantly spoke, "I'm Max Marshall!" I. "Is anyone home?"He reached out and gently pushed the door open further. He stuck his head inside the house. "Hello? Ms. Franklin? Are you here?"Peter picked up his briefcase and stepped into the dark house. He waited until his eyes grew used to the darkness and then closed the door behind him. There was a tiny click as the lock engaged itself. The living room was cluttered with old boxes and stacks of books and newspapers. The furniture was old and tattered. The walls were covered with photographs, many of them yellowing with age. Peter walked across the carpet worn to the color of dust. On the other side of the living room, there was a small dining room. A crystal chandelier hung over a large antique table surrounded by six straight-backed chairs. Peter trailed a line in the dust on the table as he passed. He smelled cooking coming from the kitchen at the back of the house and thought he heard someone moving around back there, the sounds of pots and pans, forks and knives.Peter.
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