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!

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

it that way,

what? To take your revenge on me? Because

the grill. “You got

is he saying all

Admitting this?

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

to stand behind Klempner, poking a baton between

something in the guard's

He dislikes Klempner?

Really dislikes him?

Something personal?

And Klempner’s face…

you’ll not

for an excuse

eyes flash sidelong, fury glittering there.

The monster…

he schools his features to a more normal expression; apparent passivity… “Yes, Mr

Apparent meekness.

Apparent obedience.

All fake.

What’s going on?

hand on Charlotte’s. “Calm down,” he murmurs. “It’s past.”

to think about what I just saw, but my thoughts

other. After long seconds

her. “Will you tell me something about my mother?” There’s pleading in

inclines, eyes unfocusing, seemingly looking into some far

What do

just there.” He reaches back, tapping behind himself. “And she’d painted one

A painter? A

at his teeth. “Almost eerily so actually. She could have made

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

in her

pyjamas.” He sucks in his cheeks, looking

a bit. “Didn't have it down as a pyjamas kind

tone like a desert, “Long

lift to his. “Would you

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

face sets. “Why

encourage you to visit

“Oh… What else?”

“She wore a necklace with one too, a butterfly that is. A little

opening and closing. Then she dives for her bag, scrabbling inside. Klempner watches the performance with a raised brow. He glances at me with a questioning eye. I

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

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

persons file on my father.” Her hand is shaking. “Is that it? The necklace she’s

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

to the guard who snaps fingers at the photo. Charlotte

under the grill

Something precious?

then sits staring at

that the necklace you were talking

is.” His voice is quiet as he looks up. “Your father

in the

“Yes, that’s Conners.”

still friends

But the monosyllable

seem to notice. “When was it? Where was

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

then swallows. “It's

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

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

if you want it, you

at the image. “I still have that necklace you

Charlotte's voice trembles. “Why do you

your mother. Since she's

they didn't let you keep things like that in

can have it sent to you. Perhaps at those Haswell offices where you spend

mine. “Why would you take that kind of trouble? You

lip. “I used

had

up the photo. “Quid pro quo.

that really it?”

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

James stares back.

to out-stare a

I

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

“It ended like that, yes. But... there was something about her well before

“Couldn’t what?”

shrugs. “Mitch was damaged

that supposed to

had no capacity

him a look like a blade. “While you do? You

his

my

head tilts. “I’m not convinced

“But she married him?”

to love someone to

you want

far. But yes, I wanted her. I wanted her to

you.” Her voice

convinced of that either. There was something else. Something stopping her

that she had

she have left you at

air through

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

take her hand again, curling warm fingers around her

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

truth to be

“And whatever led you to think

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