I, Spy? (Sophie Green Mysteries, No. 1) (Sophie Green Mystery)

do something for me. This is really urgent. Life and death stuff.”
    “You didn’t forget your medication, did you?”
    “I need you to go over to my flat and—”
    “How am I supposed to get into your flat?”
    How am I supposed to convey a sarcastic look down the phone?
    “I’m sure you’ll think of something,” I said heavily. “This is really important so I’ll take you through it step by step. Are you writing this down?”
    Luke sounded puzzled. “Tell me.”
    “Okay. The video control is the large grey one. It says Philips on the top. You need to—”
    “Wait, Sophie, are you telling me to set your video?”
    I shrugged. “It’s very important.”
    “What, is your mum on TV or something?”
    “No,” I said, wondering how he could not know, “it’s Thursday. Sky One. Eight p.m.…?”
    Silence.
    “ Buffy ,” I said. “You have to tape it.”
    “I thought you said this was life and death,” Luke said eventually.
    “It is! Buffy’s life and all the demon deaths… Oh, come on. I haven’t seen this one and if I don’t tape it, I’ll never see it and I’ll have to buy the videos and they’re really expensive… It’s award-winning TV,” I added defensively.
    Luke gave a great sigh. “Okay. I’ll set the video. Eight o’clock?”
    “Yes. And then set it for Friends as well.”
    “You really watch all this?”
    “Only once a week. And then Scrubs is on at ten.”
    I could almost see him shaking his head. “I’ll tape it for you.”
    I opened my mouth to tell him which tape to use, then decided not to push it. “Okay. Thanks. Now tell me how the hell I get into Wright’s room without him noticing me? I only have my uniform and it’s not exactly subtle,” I looked down at the turquoise-ness of it.
    Plus I was kind of conspicuous in it on the flight. I might have accidentally dropped a Danish pastry into Wright’s lap.
    “What time is it over there? About half six, right? Shops stay open late. Go and buy something.”
    “I’ve already got to pay for this hotel!”
    “Should have got somewhere cheaper. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
    “But—”
    He was gone.
    Swearing very colourfully, I sloshed around in the bath and used up all the free toiletries as I waited for my clothes to come back. When they did, I got dressed very gratefully, feeling dreadful for having no Euros to tip with, grabbed my bag and set off into the city.
    Within seconds I was lost. I found the hotel again, went in to ask for a map and directions for the shops. And then I found an ATM and got some Euros—which was highly confusing, since the machine was all in Italian. And then I found the shops.
    Jesus, it was tempting. Gucci and Missoni and Valentino. I didn’t dare go in. Not in my uniform. I found some cheaper shops and started searching.
    I’d noticed the hotel staff wearing navy suits with white blouses. Not hard to copy, although not cheap, either, for something I’d never wear again. But I did find an incredible Gucci dress for next to nothing, and bought that too. And then a small suitcase to carry it all home with. And some toiletries and basic make-up. And some shoes, because I might want to wear my dress, and it’d be a shame to have to clump around in my skanky work shoes. And a little bag, because it matched the shoes and because my Ace bag was huge and horrible. And then a pashmina, even though I know they’re very last-millennium, but Rome in April is not as warm as you might think.
    And then I lugged it all back to the hotel, and met Harvey in the lobby.
    “I see you found the shops,” he stared at all my bags.
    “Well, I had to buy everything I could,” I said defensively. “It took me so long to find them I may never get back there again.”
    He laughed. “Are you busy tonight?” he said. “Meeting up with your airline friends?”
    Friends? I hoped they all got crabs.
    “I haven’t decided yet,” I said, my all-purpose answer.
    “Well, if you decide not to, maybe we could have dinner? You could tell me all about the airline business and I could bore you with cell phone frequencies.”
    What was the alternative? Sitting looking at my fabulous dress and cursing Luke for all eternity?
    “That sounds great,” I said, smiling warmly at Harvey, my saviour.
    He beamed back at me. “I’ll meet you down here at eight-thirty?”
    I glanced at my watch in panic. It was already quarter-to.
    “Can we make it nine?” I said. “I have some things to do first.”
    He