Michael
The Ahhh marches across Klempner's face.
Footsteps sound outside, drawing closer and James re-enters.
In a few minutes, he's changed. From the winter woollens, heavy jeans and boots he was wearing before, he changed into a fresh shirt, suit and polished shoes. His face is clean, barring the swollen eye, and he's combed his hair. And under one arm, he's carrying a wooden box. For a second, I can't think what it is. Then I realise...
To me, this is just my old friend James.
But what will Finchby see?
He flashes a glance at the still unconscious man. "How long before he wakes up?"
Klempner rocks a hand. "I didn't give him much. Anytime now. Within the next few minutes certainly."
"Good. Michael..." He snaps fingers towards the cooler. "Ice bucket." Then he aims a finger towards the table behind our dangling houseguest.
And now I know what he has in mind.
I grin. "My pleasure."