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.

it’s true. All of

didn’t you

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

a hangnail. “Because the police are usually unsympathetic

She cringes inside. “I thought too, that to have gotten it so far; to have something 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

two men

thumbing towards

his fingers between hers. “Mitch, I’ll help. The first thing I’ll do is see what I can

head swings. “No. He was

like photos…” His brow cocks, mouth quirking… “Or if they

the ghost of

There was a lot of publicity around opening Blessingmoors. I’m sure I’ll track something down I can follow. Meanwhile…” His fingers tighten around hers. “Meanwhile, we’re going to 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 of who they are. I'll make some checks and see what I

***** 

Michael

Book-keeping and accounts…

bloody hate the

that stuff. But once a month, like it or not, I go over the figures. It’s the only way

hotel and the City centre, there’s twice the

*sigh*

some parts of it manually, ensuring the numbers pass through my brain, not just my eyes. So, I check the ratios: overheads cost per client, number of staff per client, mark-up on purchases versus

I work through it

own home.

the excellent malt which sits on the small

Calculator…

as though it’s some feat of magic that will conjure up the object if

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