The Air Officer Commanding was an athletic, upright chap in his middle fifties, called Bradley, with hair greying at the temples and a thick, dark bro...n handlebar moustache, clearly a veteran of the Royal Air Corps of the Great War. He greeted me tersely, while ignoring Mrs Jones’ presence entirely.“Quite honestly, Inspector Onslow, I think you may have had a completely wasted journey, what? As I explained during our telephone conversation yesterday, I was only appointed to the squadron for the. " That's from what I'm wearing underneath. What used to be called a girdle. I can hardly breathe in it." Well, take it off. What's wrong with a few curves?" It's more than a few." You're in great shape, honey." For my age? Is that what you meant?" Did not." Well, I'm not one of those twentysomethings at your office. They're not big enough to cast a shadow." Mere slips of things. They live on bottled water and salad." Was I ever that thin?"He laughs. "Did I ever have a full head of hair?" Here's. More

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