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Authors: Matt Drabble
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somewhat unnecessarily he couldn’t help but think, but it seemed like the proper thing to do in the circumstances.
“I’m well aware of you, Mr. Dinkins. My name is Gilbert. Gilbert Grange.” The man smiled.
“Can you help me?” Marshall asked, having no idea why he would ask this stranger, but at the same time instinctively knowing that the man could.
“I must confess to giving it serious consideration,” Gilbert Grange replied. “But I am very selective about my clients, Mr. Dinkins.”
Just then, the large spotlights on the stairwell came on, banishing all darkness all the way up to the top of the walkway. Marshall found himself standing alone and talking to no one.
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Delores Fiorentino watched on strictly as the men trooped by on their way out of the door, no doubt off to drink away their pay checks. She was a proud and stern woman of 63 - straight-backed and chin up was how she faced the world, as though demanding a challenge to her authority.
She had bought and run the boarding house ever since her husband had passed away, brought down by a premature heart attack. Thomas had been a large man of voracious appetite with little time for doctors or their advice. Delores had married young, latching onto a man with a head for business and a desire for a wife to run the home and raise the children. Unfortunately, there had been no children for them, not for the lack of trying. Delores had lain with her husband, as was her duty at the time, enduring his sweaty weight and panting breath, but all to no avail. There had been no sired heir and after a while they had mercifully stopped trying. Delores needed no poking and prodding by intrusive young men in their white coats to tell her where the problem lay. She knew in her heart that it couldn’t possibly be with her. She was a strict woman who moved through life like an arrow, indivertible from her course. The idea that there was something wrong with her internal system was simply ludicrous.
Thomas had left her alone in the bedroom department and she had been grateful for small mercies. Instead, he had slaked his thirst with a revolving office door of secretaries that Delores knew about but took no real interest in. Their door had never been darkened by a bastard offspring and so she cared little for his nocturnal activities.
When he’d finally passed away, she had been mortified to discover that, despite her careful managing of their finances, Thomas had been far more deceitful and resourceful than she’d given him credit for. She knew now that she should have realised that such an ugly man wouldn’t have been able to slake his thirst on looks alone.
The accountancy business that he’d run for over 20 years had been riddled with debt. She’d found, to her horror, that there had been multiple loans secured on the business and two remortgages that she’d known nothing about. Thomas had used his drinking buddy connections to secure financing on their home without her knowledge, forging her signature and faking bank statements. She had been forced to sell their large impressive home to service the debts that Thomas had run up. She had been forced to purchase a large but rundown property in one of the worst areas of town, but she had done so with an interminable spirit and an iron will. She had never let any problem stand in her way and she had merely tightened her grim expression and pushed forward.
The boarding house had now almost finished off clearing her husband’s debts. There had been other money men who had tried to tell her that there were ways to avoid paying what she owed, but it was not her way. She was a Fiorentino and Thomas’ debts were in her name also.
She ran her business with an iron fist that accepted no drop in standards of her boarders. They abided by the rules or else they were out of the door. She cared little that the majority of them were hardened miners, thick with a seemingly permanent coating
“I’m well aware of you, Mr. Dinkins. My name is Gilbert. Gilbert Grange.” The man smiled.
“Can you help me?” Marshall asked, having no idea why he would ask this stranger, but at the same time instinctively knowing that the man could.
“I must confess to giving it serious consideration,” Gilbert Grange replied. “But I am very selective about my clients, Mr. Dinkins.”
Just then, the large spotlights on the stairwell came on, banishing all darkness all the way up to the top of the walkway. Marshall found himself standing alone and talking to no one.
----------
Delores Fiorentino watched on strictly as the men trooped by on their way out of the door, no doubt off to drink away their pay checks. She was a proud and stern woman of 63 - straight-backed and chin up was how she faced the world, as though demanding a challenge to her authority.
She had bought and run the boarding house ever since her husband had passed away, brought down by a premature heart attack. Thomas had been a large man of voracious appetite with little time for doctors or their advice. Delores had married young, latching onto a man with a head for business and a desire for a wife to run the home and raise the children. Unfortunately, there had been no children for them, not for the lack of trying. Delores had lain with her husband, as was her duty at the time, enduring his sweaty weight and panting breath, but all to no avail. There had been no sired heir and after a while they had mercifully stopped trying. Delores needed no poking and prodding by intrusive young men in their white coats to tell her where the problem lay. She knew in her heart that it couldn’t possibly be with her. She was a strict woman who moved through life like an arrow, indivertible from her course. The idea that there was something wrong with her internal system was simply ludicrous.
Thomas had left her alone in the bedroom department and she had been grateful for small mercies. Instead, he had slaked his thirst with a revolving office door of secretaries that Delores knew about but took no real interest in. Their door had never been darkened by a bastard offspring and so she cared little for his nocturnal activities.
When he’d finally passed away, she had been mortified to discover that, despite her careful managing of their finances, Thomas had been far more deceitful and resourceful than she’d given him credit for. She knew now that she should have realised that such an ugly man wouldn’t have been able to slake his thirst on looks alone.
The accountancy business that he’d run for over 20 years had been riddled with debt. She’d found, to her horror, that there had been multiple loans secured on the business and two remortgages that she’d known nothing about. Thomas had used his drinking buddy connections to secure financing on their home without her knowledge, forging her signature and faking bank statements. She had been forced to sell their large impressive home to service the debts that Thomas had run up. She had been forced to purchase a large but rundown property in one of the worst areas of town, but she had done so with an interminable spirit and an iron will. She had never let any problem stand in her way and she had merely tightened her grim expression and pushed forward.
The boarding house had now almost finished off clearing her husband’s debts. There had been other money men who had tried to tell her that there were ways to avoid paying what she owed, but it was not her way. She was a Fiorentino and Thomas’ debts were in her name also.
She ran her business with an iron fist that accepted no drop in standards of her boarders. They abided by the rules or else they were out of the door. She cared little that the majority of them were hardened miners, thick with a seemingly permanent coating
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