"Was all that really necessary?" Laura wiped the sweat from her brow. The afternoon was warm, and the uneven path on the edge of the wheat field made walking an effort.

"You're the one that was afraid of the neighbours seeing us," said Christmas. "No point in advertising our presence. Besides, I wanted to see what was out back here, just in case."

Laura surveyed what was back there. The field stretched half a kilometre or more to the east. A hedgerow blocked the view of what lay beyond , probably another field. A hundred metres to the north stood a small copse, looking invitingly dark and chill. Running the border of the field stood a collection of mismatched fence panels, each change of style or colour marking a new property boundary. The panels they stood by now were six feet high.

"You sure this is our house?"

Christmas nodded. "Shame there's no gate, though. Oh well. Want a leg up?"

"We're climbing over the fence? Perfect. No, I'll manage, thank you."

"Okay. I offered."

Christmas stepped back then launched himself forward. Despite herself Laura had to admit it was a graceful ingress. He vaulted onto the fence, lifting himself easily up until his waist was level with the top of the fence, arms locked straight, then he swung forward, pivoting on the fence top, swinging his legs over and disappearing. The whole manoeuvre took no more than three seconds.

Laura stepped back as far as the wheat allowed her, then sprinted forward. She managed to get partway up the fence on her first jump, arms folded across the top of the fence, the wood digging sharply into her armpits. Christmas appeared, impossibly tall on the other side. He reached over, grabbed her belt at her back and heaved. Laura tried to straighten her arms to help hoist herself over. Once balanced, arms straight, supporting her weight, she leant her weight onto her right arm and attempted a swipe at Christmas with her left to force him to let go. Instead she fell forward, Christmas still hauling on her belt, and she fell in a heap on the other side. Only his grip on her belt prevented her landing on her face.

She turned, striking his hand away as she did so. He was standing on the cross-support of the fence, one hand gripping the top of the fence, his infuriating grin plastered over his face.

"I said I could manage."

"You're welcome," said Christmas, dropping to the lawn. "Come on."

He jogged over to the back of the bungalow, Laura stalking after him. The single story building was brick-built. On this side of the building windows flanked a uPVC door. Christmas examined the lock.

"You're an experienced burglar as well as a car thief?" asked Laura.

"Mm-hmm. Every crime in the book. In fact, I co-authored it. Damn, I was hoping for something a little simpler."

"Maybe we should phone the other guy."

"What other guy?" Christmas spoke with a distracted tone as he gave the door handle a pessimistic twist.

"The other guy that wrote the book."

Christmas moved onto the window to the right of the door. "Yeah, except I killed him researching the murder chapter." The window didn't seem to make him happy.

"Not funny, Christmas. Not even close."

He stepped back and took in the whole building. "Hmm? Oh, your detective friend? Yeah, sorry, you're right. Looks like we might have to smash a window. The front door's double deadlocked, a decent lock, not like yours. This one too, and the windows are all double glazed. Shit, that's going to make some noise, and I was rather hoping to avoid that. Let's see if any of the other windows are insecure."

They did a circuit of the house. It was all locked down.

"Damn. Okay, I'm going to kidnap Norman the Gnome from the front garden and put his pointy little head through a window. Nip over the back fence and be ready to run if a neighbour calls the police."

"What if I can get us in?" said Laura.

"You?"

"Yes, me. What, do you think I can't, just because I haven't been to spy school?"

"I checked under the mat and stuff. There's no spare key."

"I saw."

"So how are you going to get us in?"

Laura smiled. "Oh, you're all smug and look-at-me when you've got a secret plan. You can dish it out, but you can't take it, can you. Watch and learn, and when we're in, you can thank me."

Laura led him to the front of the house and down the drive. She felt exposed as she reached the front gate, expecting a neighbour to run screaming for the police, but the street was empty as she opened the mail box and brought the letters back out of sight from the road. She quickly sifted through them, opened one and grunted with satisfaction.

"You've got a lot of IDs, Mr. 'Warrington'. Where'd you get them?"

"It's not difficult, if people don't check too closely. Kept a couple from when I was in the firm, but I don't want to use them if I can help it. They'd show up. Pretty much any laminated card with what looks like a chip in it will convince people. I have a mini cold laminator in my bag, with some blanks. Why?"

"You look like an Ethan Schroeder to me, that's all. Think you can knock up a photo ID, I don't know, a gym membership card, a works ID, something like that? Something with a picture that says you're Ethan Schroeder?"

"I expect so."

"Well, chop-chop. Go do it. You've got twenty minutes."

"It's in the car."

"Well, you'd better hurry, then. Oh, and leave your phone. I saw you buy a throw-away at the petrol station."

"Who are you going to call?" he said as he reached into his jacket. Laura smiled enigmatically and tapped the side of her nose.

"That's for me to know. Now run along. You've got your errand to do. And you'd better bring the truck round to the front, for the look of things. Yes, that would be best."

Fifteen minutes later Christmas returned to find Laura sitting on the porch. He showed her a small card with a flourish.

"That do?"

Laura peered at it. "I expect so. You work for Mutual Life?"

"No one wants to talk to a life insurance salesman. It helps prevent questions." Christmas hitched his trousers at the knees and made to sit next to Laura.

"No, not here. Over there, on the other side of the steps."

"What?"

"You heard me. I'm not speaking to you. Go sit over there, where I don't have to bear your presence."

"Really?"

"Really! Go! Just sit over there where I won't be tempted to knock you upside your head."

"Okay." Christmas walked over to the opposite side of the steps and sat, a puzzled frown on his face. "And this is going to get us inside how?"

"I said I'm not speaking to you. Just sit there like a good boy and try not to screw anything up."

"But ..."

"Ah! I'm not listening to you either. Just for once in your life shut up, there's a good little chap."

Minutes later Christmas jumped to his feet as a van drew into the driveway. He looked at Laura, who remained sitting on the porch, a furious expression on her face. A young man jumped down from the cab and made his way over to them, his notebook in his hand. Laura rose and greeted him with an empty smile.

"Hello. Jackson's Locks?"

"Yes. You called us? What's the problem?"

"The problem?" asked Laura, as though the problem should have been obvious. "The problem is my idiot boyfriend. The problem is I've got myself saddled with the biggest moron in creation. My problem is he," Laura jabbed a finger at Christmas, "he was so stupid, so monumentally dim-witted, he went and left our keys in the bedside table in Cancun, along with his engagement ring, which I spent months, I mean literally months, picking out for him."

Christmas took a step forward. "Look ..."

"Shut up! I told you, I don't want to hear a word from you. You've completely ruined the holiday, you know that? And what were you doing taking off the ring in the first place? No, quiet, I don't want to hear. Of course, we wouldn't need to call a locksmith out if I had a key to the house, but oh no, you need your space, space to lock me out of your house, space to take off your engagement ring. Well, I hope you're enjoying the space out in the garden, idiot!"

"So ... you're locked out?" asked the locksmith, tentatively.

"Yes, we're locked out. We've been flying all day, then cooped up in that wreck of a vehicle sawdust-for-brains thought was such a great investment, and I would kill right now for a long bath and a long drink. You hear that, Ethan? I'm fit to kill, right now."

"Okay, well, first I have to ask for some proof of ID."

"Sure, what do you want?" Laura opened her shoulder bag and started rifling through the contents.

"Something with a photo and proof of residence."

"Oh, well, best talk to let's-not-rush-into-living-together over there, then, because apparently, I don't live here enough to have my own set of keys, I just stay most nights and pay half the bloody bills."

"I ... um ... will this do?" Christmas held out his fake work ID.

"Fine," said the locksmith, punching keys on his notebook. "Just something official with your name and address on now, like a utility bill or something."

"Here," said Laura, waving the recently purloined letter. "The electricity bill. Oh, and I see it's gone up again. How the hell do you use so much in such a tiny house? If I find you've left your study light on again, all the time we've been in Mexico, I shall stuff that bill where even you don't leave a light on."

"That's fine, fine," said the locksmith, gingerly handing the bill back after barely glancing at it. "It'll be fifty for the call-out, another fifty for opening the lock."

"Well don't look at me," fumed Laura. "I'm not so stupid as to forget my keys."

"Sure," said Christmas, reaching into his wallet. "We've got cash left over from the holiday. Cash still goes further than plastic in Mexico. Is that okay? Can you take cash?"

"Not a problem." He pocketed the money and smiled sympathetically. Christmas looked sheepish in return. The locksmith turned and approached the door.

Christmas walked up to Laura. "Not bad, as plans go," he murmured.

"I said I'm not talking to you," shouted Laura pushing him. "Get away from me. Go sit in your precious pick-up. I mean it, I'm just too angry and tired to deal with you right now. Go." Christmas went.

Laura stalked up and down the overgrown lawn, making a show of scowling and muttering to herself. The locksmith bent over the lock, tools in hand, not daring to look up. After fifteen minutes he straightened and gave the door a gentle push.

"There you go. Thought I was going to have to drill it out for a moment there. That's a tough lock. Do you have spare keys?"

"Yes, he has, or at least he had, if he hasn't lost them too. Thank you. Did you want a coffee or something?"

"No, no, thanks for the offer. I, um, I have other calls."

As the locksmith returned to his van, Laura motioned Christmas with a sweep of her arm to get in the house. Christmas left the pick-up, gave the locksmith a wave and scurried inside.

"Well?" asked Laura triumphantly, when they were both safely inside and the door closed. "Do you have something to say?"

"Not bad. Was all the scowling and ranting necessary?"

"I thought it encouraged him to finish the job quickly and not to take too long over examining your handiwork, don't you?"

"I guess it might at that."

"And do you have something else to say? A thank you, perhaps?"

"You're going to gloat over this for days, aren't you."

"Well, now you know what it's like."

"I'll tell you what, though. After that display, I'm reconsidering our life together. That act came a little too easily for my liking."

"Shut up and look for a spare set of keys."