I opened the envelope and counted the notes inside.  All correct, and I would make sure that the taxman would only hear about half the total my client Nola Perkins had just paid me.  That wasn't the reason she'd paid in cash of course; she just hadn't wanted her wealthy husband to know that she was paying out money to a private eye to keep tabs on him.

I shouldn't give out private information about my clients, but frankly, I've had it up to here with sleazy divorces, and from now on it's back to the criminal cases.  They pay less, but are much more wholesome to a sensitive soul like me.

I stuffed the envelope into the top drawer of my desk, and went back to patting her hand and saying how sorry I was that I'd caught old faithful screwing like crazed rabbits with a blonde, though to be honest I didn't blame him for straying if he had to come home to this sorry sight after a hard day's graft at the chain of clothing stores that he owned and ran.  Her shrill penetrating voice vied for attention with the close set suspicious eyes and the reek of tobacco smoke adhering to her too tight clothing.  She'd have kept Jenny Craig on the gravy train for years if she'd had enough backbone to do something about that flab.  The blonde was about half her size, mature but with plenty of class and the deepest blue eyes I'd ever seen, and frankly I wondered what she saw in overweight, balding Jerry Perkins.  Dollar signs maybe?

As soon as I decently could, I passed Mrs Perkins on to Julie for a cuppa and a box of tissues, after promising to forward the incriminating evidence along to her PO Box number.  My receptionist ushered her, still sniffling, from my office and I kicked off my shoes, thanked the powers that be for the end of another long day at Jess McGee Investigations, and contemplated the evening.  Not that that soothed me, as I was to meet Patrick's parents that night for the first time since we had become an item, and it would have been considered bad form for me to put off meeting them any longer.

We wouldn't have much to do with them after we'd met, as Patrick declared that he'd been swapped at birth by the gypsies.  'Look Jess,' he'd said, 'They're a couple of toffee nosed snobs who wanted to map out my whole life along their lines.  They sent me to the right schools, put me through Uni, and even booked a place in the old man's law firm for me.  I was to marry a girl of equal social standing and provide them with 2.5 grandchildren, but not until I'd been married for at least a year so there'd be no hint of scandal.  Everything that I didn't want.  Jess, I just can't be the fruit of their loins.  We're too different.'

'And now look what you're presenting them with,' I smiled fondly, 'A private eye that you met in a bar one night, and to make it worse, a bar that you are managing, instead of working behind a desk piled high with legal briefs and injunctions.  I don't think they're going to like me much!'

'My old man's about to renounce his son and heir, and the old lady should have been called Hyacinth Bucket.  She puts more stock in appearances than in my happiness.  Are you sure you want to go through with this meeting?'

'Just let's get it over with, then we can head down to my parents' place for a couple of drinks and some sanity.'

'Why did you get the nice normal family, while I ended up with the parents from hell?' Patrick demanded.

'Maybe the gypsies were in a good mood when they swapped me,' I teased.

Slipping my shoes back on, I grabbed my jacket and poked my head round the door to the reception area.  Julie was still comforting the Perkins woman, so I waved a silent goodnight, and slithered out my back door.

Twenty minutes later, I chucked a frozen pizza at my microwave while I had a hasty shower and changed out of my work clothes.  Well, I wasn't about to face the gruesome twosome on an empty stomach.  I just had time for a quick tidy up before Patrick arrived with them.  No point in making things worse by subjecting them to my usual mess.  Work clothes, wet towels, briefcase, magazines, files, etc., all thrown onto the bed, and the bedroom door firmly closed.  The place looked a little less like a junk shop, although I knew things would improve enormously when Patrick moved in.  At least his parents had housetrained him, and he despaired of ever getting me to be neat and tidy.

I'd just shut the door on the mess when a knock at the front door heralded the appearance of the Collier clan.

Pulling my composure around me like a cloak, I opened the door, then felt my jaw drop as I stared into deep blue eyes surmounted by a mop of blonde hair. 'You!'  I gasped.

Patrick's mother was equally gobsmacked.  'Mr McGee!'  she choked.  I could see we were in for an interesting evening!