Chapter 31: Chapter 31

James My phone dances across the table-top, vibing and ringing; Michael again. Klempner taps it on, and then to loudspeaker again.

Michael's voice shrieks out; distraught, utterly panic-stricken. “Klempner, you fucking bastard! What have you done with them?”

Klempner blinks, jerks a look to me then back the phone. “Michael, what are you talking about?”

“If you've hurt her, I'll kill you. I swear I will. Where is she? There’s blood on her bag. She…”

My heart jolting, the nausea, which had subsided, floods up again. “Michael, calm down. Whatever it is, calm down enough to tell me. What’s happened?”

His voice snatches and breaks, gulping between sentences. “I went back to the tearoom. The waitress who served them says they left with a man. I found their bags. All three of them. James, there’s blood over Charlotte’s. And more in the parking lot, as though she was dragged… Klempner, I’ll…”

But Klempner looks baffled. But he also looks concerned. “Michael, I have not harmed the women. And I don’t know where they are. I still have men out looking for them.”

I watch him as he speaks…

Is he telling the truth?

And I think he is.

And what would he gain by pretending otherwise if he already has them?

Would we be here?

No….

“Michael…” I speak cautiously. “I think Klempner’s as confused as we are. Really. Whatever’s happened, I don’t think he’s behind it.”

Michael’s voice calms a little. Not much, but a little. “You serious? But who else…?”

“Did you get a description of the man they left with?”

“The waitress said tall with brown hair. That’s about it.”

“Not much of a description. But there was no struggle? Or signs of force? Raised voices?”

“No, not in the tearoom. Apparently, Charlotte went with him first, then Mitch and Kirstie. But in the basement, the blood…”

I cut him short. “Klempner, these men you have searching? Is it possible one’s decided to go independent?”

He scowls, his head jerking back. “How do you mean?”

“If he knows you value the women, could one of your men have taken them? Perhaps to ransom them to you?”

Klempner stiffens. “If he has, he’ll wish he’d traded places with Hartwell.”

He snatches up his own phone then, jabbing a finger at mine, “Keep him on the line. Keep him listening.” He taps into his own mobile. “Marco? Where are you? And where’s Guttman? What’s going on down there?”

A voice rises above a background sound of traffic. “I’m on the corner of Port Square, sir. It gives me a view of both the taxi rank and the entrance to the bus station. Guttman’s working the restaurants. I think he’s along Main Street somewhere.”

Klempner pokes at his screen, scissors something open and zooms in. He peers close, then repeats it.

“That’s fine, Marco. The women haven’t been found yet, so stay alert.”

He disconnects. “Marco’s exactly where he said he was and so’s Guttman… And that description doesn’t fit either of them. So, the question is, who else?” He looks to my phone. “Michael, did you hear all that?”

His voice is shaking. “I did, yes.”

Kirch breaks in. “Could it be a simple mugging, sir? Three women alone at night? In a car park.”

“Unlikely,” I say. “Three of them together? And one of them is Charlotte? No random mugger is going to catch her unaware. Besides… Michael, are you still there?”

“Still here, yes.”

“What’s in their bags? Anything stolen?”

He sounds contrite. “Sorry, should have thought to look. When I saw the blood, I panicked…”

“I get that. Now go. Look.”

The phone crackles and rustles. “There’s money in all three bags. Credit cards in two of them, including one of yours. Did you give it to Charlotte?”

“Yes, I told her to get something for her mother. A present…” Klempner stirs beside me. “… Anything else?”

“Charlotte’s phone is still here... The ringer’s turned off. I can’t find Kirstie’s… Did Mitch have one?”

“No, I think it got left behind when she made her emergency exit from Conners’ place…” Klempner shifts again… “But basically, anything a mugger might have taken is still there?”

“Yes, the cash is here and so’s Kirstie’s collar. You know, the velvet choker with the pearl she used to wear. That’s good enough that a thief would have taken it.”

Klempner paces. “We’re running out of possibilities. What’s your brother had to say, Michael? Has he seen anything?”

“I’ve not heard from him for a while. I’ll call him and get back to you.” The connection cuts.

Ben…

Noooo…

Surely?

Klempner eyes me. “What?”

“What? What is it?” Klempner’s stance shifts, some aggression slipping in.

“That description… tall, brown hair. You say it doesn’t fit any of the men you have out there?”

“No. Guttman’s German and blond. Marco’s Asian. You think you know who it might be?”

Do I speak?

Jade…

“Ah… I was thinking about Ben.”

“Ben? Eye-Candy’s brother? What about him?”

“He’s tall and brown-haired. And it would explain why Charlotte went willingly. She’s far from stupid and naturally suspicious. What do you think are the chances of a stranger luring her away and then catching her unguarded? Ben’s a familiar face, even if he doesn’t like Charlotte much. If Michael sent him to her with a perfectly believable story of her hell-raiser father coming after her blood, or her mother’s...”

Klempner awards me a bland look. “You think? What’s Ben got against her?”

“Me.”

Klempner Aaahhhs… and looks up. “He doesn’t like his pretty brother sharing his wife?” Then he turns.

“What are you gawking at, Kirch?”

“Nothing, sir.”

“Go wait outside. You too, Baxter.”

“Sir.”

The door closes behind them. Klempner plucks at a lip. “Tell me.”

“Ben was fine with Charlotte, liked her even, until he reached the conclusion that she was…”

Klempner cocks a brow. “Playing away from home?”

“Yes, with me. No amount of explanation from Michael has convinced him it’s an arrangement between the three of us. One that we’re all happy with.”

“Narrow-minded?”

“Very much so, to the point of zealotry.”

Klempner considers. “So… how does Ben feel about Mitch? Does he know she was a hooker?”

He’s thinking faster than I am, and the dawning realisation must show in my face.

Klempner straightens up, legs akimbo, arms folded. “So, Ben dislikes your shared wife. And her mother. How much does he dislike them?”

My mobile flashes again: Michael sounding even more worried. “James, Ben’s not answering my calls.

I’ve tried three times and I’ve messaged. He’s not replying. I’m beginning to wonder if he’s fallen victim too.”

Klempner casts a look at the screen, then turns away, shaking his head.

“Michael,” I say, “I think you have to consider the other option.”

“What other option?”

“Michael, that description you gave fits Ben. And you told me earlier that Ben claimed he’d not seen them.”

There is a short silence, then Michael’s furious voice bursts out. “You think it's Ben? Don’t be fucking ridiculous, James.” Outrage turns to doubt, spilling from the speaker. “James, he wouldn't. He just wouldn't.”

“So find him, Michael. Or the women. Prove me wrong.”

*****