A pair of boobs like Ingrid’s didn’t come in every bra! Too bad her older brother was a Gendarmerie officer! She had reassured him right away, though:
“There’s a gendarme and a gendarme. Oscar doesn’t always confide in me, but I know he’s, well, broad-minded. You need to be broad-minded when you have expensive tastes! You, for example, if you want to keep a chick like me…”
“Melons like yours you mean? ‘Oscar’! What a name. What got into your parents?”
“I’m sorry, but ‘Achilles’…”
“That was my grandfather’s name. He was an artist. He taught me to pick my first locks. He just shouldn’t have been a boozer, that’s all.”
“You mean your gramps, his heel was his liver?”
“?”
Achilles was better at burglary than general knowledge. Ingrid had to explain to him that the ancient Greeks—he didn’t want to hear about the modern ones—celebrated a guy by the name of Achilles. “A kind of Marvel superhero, as it were. When she’d plunged him into the Styx, a river that made local bathers immortal (provided they were completely immersed, his mother had had no choice but to hold him by the heel.”
“As long as she didn’t hold him by his willy…” In addition to her legendary breasts, Achilles found it flattering to sleep with an intellectual. Not to mention that over the years, his collaboration with her Oscar of a brother had proved more than fruitful for both. At first, of course, Oscar had been discreet about his extra activities at the barracks. But between brothers-in-law or almost, sooner or later, secrets come out. “You’re a broad-minded gendarme, I’m a thief who’s anything but ungrateful. Why not explore the coincidence in our respective best interests?”
Read more? Download Commissioner B. goes south
