And we got the door glass etched and everything:

LAZLO WOODBINE PRIVATE EYE

And we sat, me on the chair and my brother on the floor.

Because a toss of the coin had decided that I would be Laz for the first week, and we awaited the arrival of our first client. And also the arrival of the blonde lady with the big bosoms who would hopefully be answering the ad upon a postcard in the newsagent’s window.

And, in that bizarre and unexplained way that buses never arrive separately but always two or three at a time, it turned out that our first client and our secretary arrived at precisely the same time. And in the person of the same person. So to speak.

And we had the first of our Big Adventures.

And one Big Adventure it was.

Her name was Lola.

And she was a showgirl, she assured us. Although not until later.

Andy was the first to see her coming. A single iron staircase led up to our offices from beside Uncle Ted’s greengrocery, and light reflected from that staircase and onto the glass panel of our door. And Andy and I were playing hide and seek for want of something better to do, and I was hiding under the desk, which was the only place to hide in the room and made the game rather pointless in my opinion, so Andy, who was counting, saw her first.

Which showed, in my opinion, that he must have been cheating, because you are supposed to cover your eyes when you count.

‘A client,’ cried Andy.

‘We’re playing hide and seek,’ I told him, ‘not I-spy-with-my-little-eye. ’ And then I explained that you have to spy something that you can actually see with your little eye.

‘Someone’s coming up the steps,’ said Andy. ‘It must be a client.’

‘It might be a potential big-breasted secretary.’

‘I haven’t put the card in the newsagent’s window yet.’

‘A client!’ I rose from beneath the desk.

‘So that was where you were hiding,’ said Andy. ‘Very clever.’

I didn’t say ‘right’. I had been trying really really hard not to say ‘right’ unless it was absolutely necessary.

A knock came at our office door and we both beheld the silhouette of the knocker. It was curvaceous. It was an hourglass figure.

‘It’s crumpet,’ said Andy. ‘Now be on your best behaviour.’

‘Me?’ I said.

‘Well, don’t go all silly. You know how you are with girls.’

‘I’m suave with girls, me,’ I said. ‘I’m suave and debonair.’

‘You’re rubbish and silly with girls,’ said Andy. ‘I’d best do all the talking.’

‘Oh no you don’t.’ And I snatched up the fedora from where it lay on the desk and slotted it onto my head at that angle known and loved as rakish. ‘I am Laz this week. You, if I recall, are Andy the Wonder Dog.’

‘I’ve been meaning to have a word with you about that,’ said Andy. ‘I don’t want to-’

But there were further knockings. And I called, ‘Please come in.’

And in walked Lola.

And it was love at first sight.

She was beautiful, was Lola. A vision. An angel in human form. She didn’t have blonde hair and big bosoms though. She had short dark hair and quite small bosoms, but she did have the most stunning green eyes and one of the sweetest noses imaginable. So, no huge bosoms, but curvaceous indeed, with an hourglass figure. She wore a tight white sweater, a tight white miniskirt and tight white kinky boots.

You can ignore Andy’s foolish remarks about my way with the ladies. I was a veritable Love God back in those days and very little has changed.

Lola entered and I said, ‘Hellllooooo,’ in my finest Leslie Phillips.

‘Mr Woodbine?’ asked Lola.

‘That’s me,’ I said.

‘Don’t be silly,’ said Lola. ‘You’re a child. Where is Mr Woodbine? Is he your father?’

‘I am Lazlo Woodbine,’ I protested. ‘Behold the trench coat, behold the fedora.’

‘I am not altogether convinced,’ said this goddess, ‘but we will see where it leads. My name is Lola Perbright,’ and she smiled me a mouth-load of snow-white gnashers.

‘What a beautiful name,’ I said to Lola. ‘Will you marry me?’

My brother winced, but Lola smiled some more. And she was smiling at me!

‘I need your help, Mr Woodbine,’ she said. And then she eyed my brother with suspicion.

‘You can say anything in front of my apprentice,’ I told her. ‘He is deaf, dumb and blind and only understands Esperanto. And this only when performed in mime.’

‘Right,’ said Lola.

‘And he thinks he’s a dog. Please take a seat,’ I told Lola.

‘Where?’

I made a mental note:… and a visitors’ chair.

‘Take my chair,’ I said. ‘I can stand. And walk. And run also. And I was very good at the high jump at school. Did you ever do the high jump? The scissors? You can get very high with the scissors.’

I saw Andy rolling his eyes.

‘Please sit down,’ I said to Lola, and she tottered around the desk, because she was wearing very high heels, and sat herself down on my seat.

And crossed her legs, very slowly.

‘I’ll never wash that seat again,’ I told her.

And she said, ‘What?’ in response.

‘Nothing,’ I said. ‘So what can I do for you?’

‘It is a delicate matter, Mr Woodbine,’ said Lola, ‘and must be handled with utmost discretion.’

‘I am discretion personified, dear lady.’

‘Right.’

‘Is it an affair of the heart?’ I asked. ‘Your boyfriend, or your husband?’

‘I have no boyfriend and I am not married.’

‘Splendid.’

‘Pardon?’

‘Please continue.’

‘Are you aware of the Perbright name, Mr Woodbine?’

I smiled and nodded thoughtfully. ‘I don’t think so,’ I said.

‘My family is noted for its heroes. There are certain surnames that you will always find upon war memorials, and certain ones that you will not.’

I nodded at this. Mine was a will-not, I thought.

‘The Perbrights have been renowned throughout the history of the realm for their bravery. Name a battle or a military campaign and there will have been a Perbright in the thick of it, dying for King and country. There are many medals in the family collection. Many posthumous VCs.’

I nodded at this. Professionally. ‘Where is this leading?’ I asked.

‘To my brother,’ said Lola. ‘The very last in the male line of the Perbrights.’

‘Well, I suppose that they were going to get a bit thin on the ground,’ I said.

Lola eyed me curiously. ‘You are a real detective, aren’t you?’ she asked.

‘As opposed to what?’ I replied. ‘One made out of chocolate?’

‘I think perhaps I have come to the wrong place.’

‘Oh no you haven’t,’ I said. ‘This is definitely my office. Please continue – I feel certain that you can consider the case, whatever it might be, all but solved if I am permitted to take it on.’

‘Right,’ she said once more. And I came to understand just how annoying that word can be when you are on the receiving end of it.

‘It is this way, Mr Woodbine. My family was once very wealthy. Many a grateful monarch rewarded the endeavors of their most noble knight. Posthumously, of course. But over the years the family fortune has been slipping away. And now it is all but gone. And so my brother turned to alchemy.’

‘Alchemy?’ I said, for I was not expecting that.

‘The transformation of base metal into gold. The creation of the philosophers’ stone, the lapis philosophorum. My brother said that it was the only way he could possibly restore the family fortune. You see, there are no real wars at the moment, so dying for King and country and being financially compensated by a grateful monarch are presently out of the question. So my brother sent off to America.’

‘He was sent off to America?’

‘No, he sent off a coupon, cut from a Marvel comic: Transform base metal into gold for fun and profit. Five dollars. It arrived by return of post.’