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!

over her face. “You wanted me as a substitute

it that way,

revenge on me? Because she left

almost touching the grill. “You got it right the first time.

he saying all

Admitting this?

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

stand behind Klempner, poking

in the guard's stance;

He dislikes Klempner?

Really dislikes him?

Something personal?

And Klempner’s face…

go upsetting your visitors, you’ll not

an excuse to cut his

fury glittering

The monster…

his features to a more normal

Apparent meekness.

Apparent obedience.

All fake.

What’s going on?

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

just saw,

shuffles in her chair. She and Klempner eye-ball each other. After long seconds he says, “So

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

looking into some far distance. “She had a

A thing? What do

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

was artistic? A painter?

“Almost eerily so actually. She could have made a living as an artist had she chosen

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

in her

in his cheeks, looking amused. “What’s so

mumbles a bit. “Didn't have it down as

like

his. “Would

next time you come

face sets.

you to visit

“Oh… What else?”

distant look again. “She wore a necklace with one too, a butterfly that is. A little silver thing. Just a trinket, but she was fond of

inside. Klempner watches the performance with a raised brow. He glances at

to the grill. “Is that it? The

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

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

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

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

slides it under the grill and

Something precious?

sits

the necklace you were

voice is quiet as

him in the

“Yes, that’s Conners.”

you still friends

the monosyllable lacks

notice. “When was it?

before...” He holds up the photo.

swallows. “It's the only one

hers. Her flesh is icy. “It's

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

you want it, you can

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

have it?” Charlotte's voice trembles. “Why do you

But your father gave it to your mother. Since

voice wavering, “I thought they didn't let

say I have it here. But I can have it

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

at a lip. “I

had nothing to

photo. “Quid pro quo.

really

folds his arms, a sneer flirting over his

James stares back.

try to out-stare

did I

did it fail? Between you and my mother? Because

that, yes. But... there was something about her

“Couldn’t what?”

“Mitch was damaged

that supposed

no

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

his

loved my father

tilts. “I’m not convinced

“But she married him?”

actually necessary to love

you want

wanted her. I wanted her to be

didn’t want you.” Her

was something

you deduce that

would she have left you

sucks air through his

I had you. She knew where you would

take her hand again, curling warm fingers around her cold ones. “You

what happened. Do you want the

whispers. “I want the truth to be a

aggression seems to drain from him. “And whatever led

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