Hot Revenge Box Set 4

Klempner

Over the next day or so, I visit a dozen establishments, all chosen for having been header addresses on invoices received, and apparently paid, by Finchby.

I find myself calling by two more bar-restaurants, a ladies’ shoe shop, a bookseller, a cut-price budget outlet, two fruit and veg stalls and a liquor store.

None of them seems even remotely likely as an export outlet for organised criminals. The only even slightly illegal behaviour I encounter comes from my last call: a jeweller.

By now, my doubts are sprouting. I’m almost out of options and I’ve found nothing that takes me any closer to tracking psycho-Juliana.

WTF’s going on here?

In the jewellery store, the proprietor skulks at the back. Then, seeing me browsing his stock, thinking I might find something for Mitch, he tries to pass off a locket, gold-plated but base metal, as the genuine article.

He cringes satisfactorily as my fingers grip his neck, squeezing just enough to cut off his air for a few seconds. I’m not serious about doing him any real harm, but I leave his store of over-priced crap whistling.

But still, my disquiet crawls…

What am I missing?

I arrived in Sao Paulo believing I had plenty of leads to track, as I first thought, Baxter, then his blood-besotted paramour, Juliana. But I’ve used up my leads and I’m rapidly running out of ideas.

Juliana’s still out there, shrieking for my blood. And she’s as likely as not to go looking for her own peculiar brand of vindictive entertainment with someone else connected if it’s not actually with me.

Mitch…

Jenny…

Think…

A quick check of my messages: a confirmation from Hickman that all’s well over there...

Wearing the ring?

A warm glow, having nothing to do with the weather, floods my chest and face.

What to do?

That’s how I

running on autopilot, letting

to concentrate on the problem in hand. Instead, letting my thoughts drift, I wait for inspiration to well up from the subconscious

one woman in a city of twenty

But nothing suggests itself.

I’m standing outside Antonio’s. The old man cracks a smile and

nothing else

to the table, then scuttles off, returning in under

throat. Slipping the skin from a bean, I chew the salty nibble, tossing the skin to a nearby pigeon Another swallow and I’m reflecting that

I’d miss the northern

That mountain…

The

Be honest…

I’m missing Mitch.

all of it. My daughter… My granddaughter… The casual camaraderie of her two

Three husbands?

Haswell fit into

?

hell do I

Mitch…

are you

with Jenny I

into my images, download one of

my files of this kind. I enjoy travelling, playing the tourist, but seldom bother with the camera. I prefer taking the time to see the places I visit:

this one is

a show of simply fiddling with

I could give her. Greener than Spring leaves. Greener

lose myself

leans across, setting a basket of bread on the table. His eyes crease, if it were possible, even

tap the phone closed, but his words warm me inside. “…

“Lady here? Sao Paulo?”

here. Far

go home to lady