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!

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

it that way,

your revenge on me?

the grill. “You got it

he saying

Admitting this?

meeting his save for the barrier. “You imagine I would have wanted you?” she hisses. “Fallen in love with you? Is that

moves to stand behind Klempner, poking a baton between his

is something in the guard's stance; something in

He dislikes Klempner?

Really dislikes him?

Something personal?

And Klempner’s face…

your visitors, you’ll not be

excuse to cut

fury glittering there. Just

The monster…

to a more normal expression;

Apparent meekness.

Apparent obedience.

All fake.

What’s going on?

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

what I just saw, but my thoughts

eye-ball each other. After long

something about my mother?” There’s

inclines, eyes unfocusing, seemingly looking into some far distance.

thing? What do you

butterflies. She had a small tattoo on the back of her shoulder, just there.” He reaches back, tapping behind himself. “And she’d painted one on

A painter? A good

was very good. Very realistic.” He sucks at his teeth. “Almost eerily so actually. She could have made a living as

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

in

cheeks,

“Didn't have it down

like a

his. “Would you tell me about

muses. “Perhaps the next time you come

face sets. “Why not

you to visit

“Oh… What else?”

a necklace with one too, a butterfly that is. A little silver thing. Just a trinket, but she was

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

it up to the grill. “Is

closely. “Well, what are the chances? Where the hell did you get hold

on my father.” Her hand is shaking.

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

snaps fingers at the photo. Charlotte passes it

slides it under the grill

Something precious?

then sits staring at

the necklace you

quiet as he looks

in the

“Yes, that’s Conners.”

you still friends

the monosyllable

“When was

end, before... before...” He holds up the photo. “Can I

then swallows. “It's the only one I

is icy. “It's a copy of the

fingers tighten into mine. She swings to James. “You're sure?” He nods

yes, if you want it, you can have

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

it?” Charlotte's voice trembles.

But your father gave it to your mother. Since she's not here, I suppose that makes it rightfully

wavering, “I thought they didn't let you keep things

it sent to you. Perhaps at those

dragging her hand from mine. “Why would you

back, chews at a lip. “I used

had nothing

“Quid pro quo. You give

really

flirting over his mouth, staring him

James stares back.

try to

I

them then, “Why did it fail? Between you and my mother?

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

“Couldn’t what?”

shrugs. “Mitch was damaged

that supposed to mean.

no

a blade. “While you do?

sits back, folding his

loved my father

head tilts. “I’m

“But she married him?”

necessary to love someone to

want to marry

wanted her. I wanted her

you.”

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

deduce that she

have left you at

sucks air through

“She knew I had you. She knew where you

take her hand again, curling warm fingers around her cold

you came to talk; to ask me what happened. Do

want the truth to be a

seems to drain from him. “And whatever led you to

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