In the privacy of his own apartment, Bech, beer in hand, he cracks off the cap against the edge of the table then, leaning back on the chair, swings his boots up onto the top.

A swallow of the beer and then he riffles through the card index, brows rising at some of the names: Taking a card at random, he reads:

Alex Bergerman

Accountant. Interested in stocks. Wife 2 kids boy + girl

Likes corsets, big hair. Gets off on dirty talk

A pencilled note at the bottom of the card: Ask him about the Planet Levanti merger. Good investment?

Flipping the card over, Bech checks the back: a list of a dozen or so dates about a month apart. Each partnered with a money amount.

Payments to the whore?

He sucks in his cheeks, then digging the filofax from his pocket, checks the most recent date. Then the previous one. He grins.

He takes another random card,

Daimon Crevier

Banker. Unmarried. Nerd: model trains. Talker. Likes flattery and head

With a smile that has nothing to do with humour, he puts the card back in its correct place, then taking the frontmost card first, starts methodically to work through. Occasionally, he draws in a whistle as he reads a name…

*****

Some hours later, several more bottles have accumulated on the table top and have now been joined by a coffee pot. Several cards have been removed, paper-clipped to attached notes. Bech tugs at his lower lip with thumb and forefinger.

What to do with the information?

The great and glorious of the City…

Journalists…

Judges…

Celebrities…

Doctors…

The Police Commissioner…

Quite a client base…

All those dates…

Payments made…

All that written evidence…

of the cards, set apart from the

Larry Klempner

Businessman. Travels. Not local

threesomes, conversation. No

note -

he drums fingernails on

‘Likes conversation’…

much

he hasn’t completely lost

And then another card:

Conners. Real estate. Finder for Larry

Likes threesomes.

Thinks he’s funny.

*****

bitch in interview, a suit in the next chair. Bech watches from behind

doesn’t look so good now: makeup streaked,

shut her

gut grinds

going to miss one

to get rid of

Worry about Klempner later?

He shudders.

Not that suicidal…

his teeth with the end of a pencil. “It’s all very well Mitch, trying

arms, juts

The Novel will be updated daily. Come back and continue reading tomorrow, everyone!

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