Michael
Mitch drives home. I'm exhausted. James and Klempner don't look much different. From the back, it sounds as though Finchby has woken up. If he were still out, I don't think he'd be squealing like a stuck pig.
After a while, Klempner speaks. "I need a little chat with Finchby there. Where would you like me to conduct his interview?"
There's a thump from the trunk and he looks back then to Mitch. "It needs to be somewhere the women won't hear. Is there one of your outbuildings I can use perhaps?"
Mitch glances sidelong. "Don't worry about upsetting me. I'll hold your coat."
James, his expression savage, breaks in before I can reply. "We can do better than that."
"Where?"
"Downstairs."
It takes a moment for James' meaning to sink in. "Downstairs? You mean...?"
"Yes. That's what I mean."