Masters & Lovers Box Set Three

An hour later, he accompanies her to the offices of Hofferman and Partners.

At the main door, uniformed guards stand. Theo displays ID, offers his briefcase for search to one guard. The other points to Mitch’s bag. “That too please, miss.” Then he waves across a woman in dark blue uniform.

“Arms and legs apart, please.” Mitch stands as hands frisk up and down, patting at arms, legs, hips and torso. Theo gets the same treatment from a male guard.

“Is it always like this?” she asks as her bag is returned.

“Romani case. High security.”

In the reception, secretary nods Theo through to an office, then with a chill glance at Mitch, points her to a seat. “Wait there, please.”

After only five minutes, the phone buzzes. The secretary answers then, “Go through please, Miss Kimberley. Mr Devlin is waiting for you.”

The office is huge, plush and darkly traditional. Theo sits to one side, ankle cocked onto a knee, poised with notebook and pen.

Max Devlin, whom she normally meets in less formal circumstances, sits behind an acre of green-leathered desk, face propped on thumb and forefinger. He doesn’t look friendly.

“Miss Kimberley. I have agreed to see you because what you have said to Mr Aldred here suggests a link to organised crime. That is the only reason. You have ten minutes of my time.”

She sucks inside her cheeks, trying to raise saliva. “Max… Mr Devlin… You see… I met a man; a client… Lawrence Klempner…

*****

Devlin relaxes back into the studded leather of his seat. “On your honour, Mitch, is all this true? If I take you at your word on this and follow it up to find you’re lying to me, I’ll throw you to the dogs.”

Considerably more than the ten minutes has passed. The secretary has served coffee which Mitch drinks as her porcelain cup rattles against its saucer. Theo puts down his pen, stretching aching fingers open and closed.

promise you, it’s

didn’t you report

I didn't want to go to the police because...” She curls in on herself, turns

hangnail. “Because the police are

like Blessingmoors running… so large, so prominent, Larry must know someone. Maybe someone important…” Max nods slowly… “I was trying to decide what to do when the police arrived. I’d already thought I might call you. Ask your advice…” Her voice splinters. “Max, I was so frightened. I still am. They just kicked my door in and…” Her fragile veneer cracks and the tears come. The shakes come. Face

the two men watch

sighs, thumbing towards

again, Max moves from behind his desk, perches a hip by Mitch and takes her hand, weaving his fingers between hers. “Mitch, I’ll help. The

head swings. “No.

the clients of courtesans don’t like photos…” His brow cocks,

ghost of a

get you out of sight. Book you into a hotel. I’ll get you taxi’d there, then you keep your door locked. Don't let anyone in unless you are very sure

***** 

Michael

Book-keeping and accounts…

bloody hate the

few hours a week to do the day-to-day work; booking in receipts, sending out invoices and quotes, all that stuff. But once a month, like it or not, I

and the City centre, there’s twice the

*sigh*

pass through my brain, not just my eyes. So, I

fire, laptop propped on my knees, I work through

My own

which

Calculator…

feat of magic that will conjure up the object if I