‘OK.’
She opened a door to a small en-suite bathroom, went in and closed it. Jeff stood and indulged in a quick snoop around the room, the woman’s home. It was not much bigger than a small suite in a hotel, and Mia was the head guide. How long had she been living this life? he wondered.
There was a wardrobe made of canvas and wood and he saw a small collection of clothes: khaki shorts, shirts and trousers on one side, and on the other a pair of jeans, some blouses in earthy tones and a token sundress with flowers on it. The shoes beneath were two pairs of boots, a pair of sneakers and a couple of pairs of sandals.
On the bedside table of cheap unfinished pine was a faded colour portrait of a woman with long straight hair wearing a crocheted top, maybe from the seventies. In a similar pl
