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!

her face. “You wanted me as a

it that way,

what? To take your revenge on me?

on folded arms, his face almost touching the grill. “You got it right the first time.

he

Admitting this?

leans forward too, her face almost meeting his save for the barrier. “You imagine I would have wanted you?” she hisses. “Fallen in love with you? Is that what you mean? After the way you treated me when I was little? It’s been over

poking a baton between his

in the guard's stance;

He dislikes Klempner?

Really dislikes him?

Something personal?

And Klempner’s face…

go upsetting your visitors, you’ll

excuse to cut

sidelong, fury glittering there. Just for

The monster…

a more normal expression; apparent passivity… “Yes,

Apparent meekness.

Apparent obedience.

All fake.

What’s going on?

he murmurs.

want to think about what I just saw, but my

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

rage drains from her. “Will you tell me something about my mother?” There’s

head inclines, eyes unfocusing, seemingly looking into some far

thing? What do you

the back of her shoulder, just

was artistic? A

realistic.” He sucks at his teeth. “Almost eerily so actually. She could have made a living as an artist had she chosen that

Klempner regards her, then continues, “She always seemed to be wearing butterflies on herself somewhere... slippers,

in her

his cheeks, looking amused.

“Didn't have it

like

to his. “Would you tell me about

he muses. “Perhaps the next time you come to see

sets. “Why

you

“Oh… What else?”

look again. “She wore a necklace with one too, a butterfly

Then she dives for her bag, scrabbling inside. Klempner watches the performance

it up to the grill.

blinks, glances, then stiffens, looking more closely. “Well, what are the chances? Where the hell did you

my father.” Her hand is

then he turns his attention back to the photo. “I'd like a

Charlotte passes it to him. He gives it a cursory inspection,

grill and

Something precious?

then sits staring at

the necklace you were talking

Yes, it is.” His voice is quiet as he looks up. “Your

in the

“Yes, that’s Conners.”

still

But the monosyllable lacks

seem to notice. “When was it? Where was

before... before...” He holds up the photo. “Can

flushes then swallows. “It's the only one

over hers. Her flesh is icy. “It's a copy of the original.

tighten into mine. She swings to James.

yes, if you want it, you

silently gazing at the image. “I still have that necklace you know. If you like, you

Charlotte's voice trembles. “Why do

your mother. Since she's not here, I suppose that makes it

didn't let you keep things like

But I can have it

“Why

a lip. “I used to hate you. That's

had nothing

holds up the photo. “Quid pro quo. You give me

that really it?”

folds his arms, a sneer flirting over his mouth, staring him

James stares back.

to out-stare a

did I hear

fail? Between you and my mother? Because

ended like that,

“Couldn’t what?”

“Mitch was damaged

that supposed to

had no capacity

blade. “While

folding his arms.

my father

tilts. “I’m not convinced of

“But she married him?”

not actually necessary to

you want

But yes, I wanted her. I wanted her to

you.”

either. There was something else. Something stopping her

deduce that

she have left you

sucks air through

again, folded arms resting on the counter. “She knew I had you. She knew where you would be. But

could be carved in stone. I take her hand again, curling warm fingers around her cold ones. “You

what happened. Do you want the truth or do you want

whispers. “I want the truth

to drain from him. “And whatever

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