Masters & Lovers Box Set Three

Chapter 23

Michael

“Think he’ll be talkative?”

James shrugs. “Who can guess with that bastard?” He casts down. “Charlotte?”

She’s tight, controlled, hands shoved in the pockets of her jeans. “It’s okay. I’m alright.”

Mmmm…

The guard at the counter goes through the usual rigmarole…

Got to have their procedures I suppose…

… sliding the daybook across the counter. He taps a cracked fingernail on the bottom row. “Name and signature there, sir. And some ID, please.”

I hand over my driving license. “I’ll just be a moment.” The guard scans the license, stapling the copy to the rest of his paperwork, passes it back then turns to James. “Now you, sir.”

He repeats the performance with James and Charlotte, then “And your car keys, please.” I hand them over and he hangs them on a keyboard at the back of the reception area. “Thank you, sir. You can go through now.”

The interview room is as dismal as ever…

Can’t they ever give these places some fresh paint?

And a couple of extra light-bulbs…

Footsteps have trailed a path over worn linoleum and the reek of cigarette smoke competes with stale cabbage.

Klempner’s waiting, sitting behind the barrier. His gaze flicks between me and James then settles on Charlotte as she takes her seat facing him. “Thank you for coming.” His expression is schooled flat but polite, his tone just as much so.

She flushes. “You’re welcome.”

The prison-issue clothes are shabby, but well pressed, immaculate, his hair well cut, fingernails trimmed and clean.

He sits with his hands on the counter, fingers interwoven, thumbs circling each other as though this were no more than a job interview or perhaps a niece visiting a favourite uncle.

Ignoring me and James, “And what would you like to talk about today?”

I push the paper up to the barrier. “Does that mean anything to you?”

His gaze flicks to mine then to the paper. He leans in, looking more closely. “An address? Should it?” He radiates boredom.

Faked?

“I found it in the police files. Supposedly it was the last known address for Charlotte’s mother.”

Klempner’s cheek twitches...

… Yes, faked…

“I’m guessing you visited?” he says. “What did you find?”

“We tried to visit, but the address no longer exists and hasn’t for a long time. There’s a supermarket and a car park on the site now.”

Klempner sucks his teeth. “It may have been a dead end to begin with. Bech was fairly creative about muddying the records. It was a good part of what he did; keeping the dogs sniffing in the wrong direction...”

A shudder runs through Charlotte, seated next to me. Klempner’s gaze flickers to her, his face a blank. Under the counter, I lay a hand on her thigh and she settles.

“So the address was bogus in the first place?”

“I don’t know.” Klempner inhales. “It probably was. I lost track of her. And Bech…” He pauses.

“What?”

“Nothing, just thinking.”

“About what?”

His head tilts back. He regards Charlotte under lowered lids. “Bech wasn’t happy about Mitch,” he says eventually. “It’s possible he tried to misdirect me too.”

“I thought he was your reliable henchman?”

“And who told you that?”

Assumptions…?

Charlotte breaks in. “Bech… Corby as I knew him… He knew my mother? He didn’t like her?”

“No, he didn’t. But then, Bech didn’t really like anyone but Bech. He had his own agenda.”

“Which was?”

“Making himself very wealthy.”

“So why did you work with him?”

“He was efficient… most of the time anyway. He generally had good ideas and could put them into practice. It was his suggestion that I send you to that farm up north.”

She inhales sharply.

She okay?

I try to take her hand in mine, but she tugs it away.

“But why? I thought I was going to be punished for murder, but I woke up there.”

“Murder?” Klempner frowns. “Why would you think that?”

“Supervisor Jenkins…” she suddenly swallows her words.

“Jenkins was hit by a truck. Why…?”

Better stop this…

I interrupt. “So why did you send her to that farm?”

He ignores me, addressing Charlotte. “Jenkins was dead. I had to get you out of the way. Left to his own devices, Bech would almost certainly have killed you. Or arranged that you died. I wanted you alive.”

“So you sent me to the farm and set a spy on me? Why there?”

He taps a forefinger, the nail click-clicking on tired formica.

“I wanted you to grow up like your mother.”

Christ!

ricochets over her face. “You wanted me as a substitute

could put it that way,

To take your revenge on me?

got it right the first

he saying all

Admitting this?

she hisses. “Fallen in love with you? Is that what you mean? After the way you treated me

guard moves to stand behind Klempner, poking a baton between his shoulders.

the guard's stance; something in his

He dislikes Klempner?

Really dislikes him?

Something personal?

And Klempner’s face…

you go upsetting your visitors, you’ll not be getting

for an excuse to

flash sidelong, fury glittering

The monster…

he schools his features to a

Apparent meekness.

Apparent obedience.

All fake.

What’s going on?

down,” he murmurs. “It’s past.” It’s the first

think about what I just saw, but my thoughts are

other. After long seconds he says, “So what would

something about my

head inclines, eyes unfocusing, seemingly looking into some far distance. “She

thing? What do you

She had a small tattoo on the back of her shoulder, just there.” He reaches

was artistic? A painter? A good

sucks at his teeth. “Almost eerily so actually. She could have made a living as an artist had

of words. Klempner regards her, then continues, “She

sits back in

pyjamas.” He sucks in his cheeks, looking amused. “What’s so surprising

mumbles a bit. “Didn't have it down

tone like a desert,

eyes lift to his. “Would

“Perhaps the next time you

sets.

you to visit me

“Oh… What else?”

gets that distant look again. “She wore a necklace with one too, a butterfly that is. A little silver thing. Just

dives for her bag, scrabbling inside. Klempner watches the performance with a raised brow. He glances at me with a questioning eye.

the photograph, holding it up to the grill. “Is that

what are the chances? Where the hell did you

old records… The missing persons file on my father.” Her hand

at her, his eyes narrowing, then he turns his attention back

to the guard who snaps fingers at the photo. Charlotte passes it to him. He gives

it under the grill and Klempner takes it

Something precious?

then sits staring at

that the necklace you

quiet as he looks up.

him in the

“Yes, that’s Conners.”

still

But the monosyllable lacks

notice. “When was it? Where was

slow. “Towards the end, before... before...” He holds

“It's

hand over hers. Her flesh is icy. “It's a copy

into mine. She swings to James. “You're sure?” He nods without

want it, you can have

still have that necklace you know. If you like,

trembles. “Why do you have

story. But your father gave it to your mother. Since she's not

“I thought they didn't let

have it sent to you. Perhaps

dragging her hand from mine. “Why would you take that kind of trouble? You

a lip. “I used to

I had nothing to do

the photo. “Quid pro

that really

sneer flirting

James stares back.

try to out-stare

did I hear

between the two of them then, “Why did it fail? Between you and my mother? Because she

eyes for a long pause before speaking. “It ended like that, yes. But... there was something about

“Couldn’t what?”

“Mitch

supposed to mean.

had no capacity

look like a blade. “While you do? You mean she didn't love

sits back, folding his arms. “No,

my father

tilts. “I’m

“But she married him?”

to love someone to marry

want to

wanted her. I wanted her to be

want you.” Her voice drips

something else. Something stopping her

from that, you deduce that she had no capacity to

have left

sucks air through

again, folded arms resting on the counter. “She knew I had you. She knew where you would be. But she never came

hand again, curling warm fingers around

you came to talk; to ask me what happened. Do you want the truth or do you want a

“I want the truth to be a

seems to drain from him. “And whatever led you

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