Personal Advice to Klempner

Sample From ‘Predator’

Klempner

The cafe is cheap and nondescript, serving the kind of food where the clientele looks for quantity over quality. The waitress sets down two breakfasts and two coffees then returns with a rack of toast. “Anything else?”
“No, that’s fine, thank you.”
Hickman slices into an egg. “Pleasant holiday, sir?”
“Very pleasant, yes. But…” I exhale, regarding the rasher on my fork.
Hickman chews and swallows. “… But sometimes you want to get back to real life?”
“Quite.”
“Indeed, sir. Families can be a worry.” Hickman tips ketchup on the side of his plate then offers me the bottle.
“No, thanks. Can’t stand the stuff.”
He shrugs and nods.  “Family time is all very well….”  He swipes a rasher through the sauce and engulfs the result, speaking through his mouthful…  “… but it doesn’t achieve anything.”
I absorb that. I’d never considered the personal life of this classic ‘heavy’. “You have a family, Hickman?”
“Yes, sir.” A forkful of mushrooms dipped in egg yolk go the way of the bacon. “A wife and three children. Two boys and a girl.” There’s pride in his voice.
Am I supposed to respond?
“Congratulations. They… live here in the City?”
He beams, then winces. “No, sir.” He hovers, fork in mid-air. “No offence meant, Mr Klempner, but like yourself, I lead a life liable to attract the attention of the unfriendly. I prefer not to reveal the whereabouts of my family.”
“Ah… yes. I can understand that. Do you… see as much of them as you would like to? If you don’t mind my asking?”
Hickman relaxes again, slicing a sausage in two. “I don’t mind at all. I generally stay with my wife for several weeks or months at a time.” He grins. “When we start getting irritable with each other, I know the honeymoon’s worn off and it’s time for me to get back to work.”
“And your wife is happy with that arrangement?”
“Oh, yes.” He dips the other half of the sausage in the ketchup. “She’s an intelligent, independent woman. Perfectly capable of running her own life when I’m not around. I think after the novelty’s worn off, I’m rather under her feet.”
“So, you leave her for several months at a time? She doesn’t feel you’ve abandoned her?”
He eyes me. “Are we discussing my situation, sir? Or your own?”
I don’t reply, instead sliding a tomato over my plate.
After a moment, he continues. “My wife knows that just because I am not there, I have not abandoned her. She knows that I would never do so. She…” He sucks in his cheeks… “… She has a good idea of how I make a living and what pays to put gas in the car and our children through school. I send her money; enough to easily cover the everyday expenses and for both her and the kids to live well. But I also send extra. And I encourage her to invest it for the long term.”
I stare at him. “Invest?”
“Yes, sir. Bonds, property, whatever’s making a profit. I prefer her to spread her portfolio. It’s safer that way.”
I am lost for words.
Hickman pauses, sets down his cutlery and, arms folded on the table, regards me. “Sir, I am a professional hitman. The chances of me dying of old age in my bed are remote. I prefer that, should that happen, my wife and children not be left paupers.”
Mitch…
“I see… And…”
How do I ask this?
His voice is dry. “And?”
“When you leave your wife alone for so long… Her… affections…”
His mouth quirks. “I don’t ask.”
“And you…?”
“She doesn’t ask either.”
He takes a long draught of his coffee, half draining the cup. “Is this… giving you some insight?”
“It is, Hickman. It is. Thank you… I‘ll admit, it’s a surprise to me. I suppose I had you down as the stereotyped…um… hard man.”
He shrugs. “Even a ‘hard man’ can fall for the right woman.” He eyes me meaningfully.
“Point taken. Hickman, listen, if I have to leave unexpectedly, and I may have to… I want you to keep an eye on my own family. And let me know if you hear anything untoward.”
“I was taking that as read, sir.” He folds another rasher in two onto his fork, bites, then, raising his eyes to meet mine, “May I ask what has become of Finchby?”
“I slit his throat, after he’d told me what I needed.”
“Good.” He chews and swallows… “The world’s better off without that bastard.” He inclines his head, smiling slightly. “Now, sir, what else would you like to talk about? Baxter, I imagine?”
“Of course. You seen or heard anything? Anything at all?”
“No, and I’ve been looking. Of course, with Christmas and the New Year, no one is where you expect them to be…”
“Who have you asked?”
“Mainly old contacts that would understand why I’m asking. Word’s gotten around of what happened at Finchby’s place, even if the police haven’t gotten the whole story… or at least, proof of the whole story…”
He flashes brows… “As luck would have it, Finchby was almost universally disliked, so no one’s holding it against you, especially when I let slip what Finchby’s plans were for your grand-daughter…”
“So…?”
“So… people are being helpful and talkative, but no one has actually seen Baxter. Oh…” He swallows hard and raises a forefinger. “… I should mention that I spoke with Vince Caproni. He’s not entirely happy that you’re around. Asked if you would drop by to have a word.”
“Vince? Is he asking just for a courtesy call? Or is there more to it?”
“I don’t think it’s anything to worry about. I think he’d just like some reassurance you’re not here to tread on his toes.”
“I’m not. Didn’t you tell him that?”
“Course I did, but I think he’d like to hear it from the horse’s mouth.”
“Fair enough. I’ll pay him a visit. Hmmm… Do you know Mickey Miller?”
Hickman grins. “In fact, I do. I’ve been looking for him too.”
“You have? Why?”
He shrugs. “If you know Mickey, then you know that gossip’s his currency in trade. Thought I’d buy him a beer and see if anything slipped out of the glass. But…” He wipes his mouth with a napkin. “…it seems he’s not been seen either, since before Christmas.”
“What? Mickey? He’s disappeared? He had no involvement with any of what went on…” Then the obvious flags up at me. “I was talking to him myself before Christmas. Could someone have taken offence at that?”
Hickman laughs. “No… No, it’s nothing like that. Apparently, he met some girl at a party. They vanished into her apartment and they’ve not come up for air since.” He drains his mug. “Unlikely sounding, I know, but apparently true.”
He cocks an eye at me. “You sound concerned about him? Is Mickey a friend of yours?”
“Ach…. he’s harmless. But he’s useful too…” I give the tomato another stir around my plate. “… When I spoke to him, I just wanted to ask him a question or two. He didn’t even have anything to tell me. I’d not like to think I brought something down on him.”
“You didn’t. He’ll appear again when he’s ready. But of course, if he’s spent Christmas banging this girl, it’ll mean he doesn’t know anything else that’s happened.” Hickman looks down at my plate. “You gonna actually eat any of that?”
I poke at the plate. “I’m not really hungry. ”
“Fine. D’you mind?” And he pushes his own plate aside and replaces it with mine.

*****

Extract taken from ‘Predator’ – Part Five of ‘The Master’s Child’.
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