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 substitute

could put it that way,

take your revenge on me? Because

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

is he saying all

Admitting this?

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 twenty years. You’re

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

guard's stance; something in

He dislikes Klempner?

Really dislikes him?

Something personal?

And Klempner’s face…

you’ll not be getting

excuse to cut

flash sidelong, fury glittering there. Just

The monster…

before he schools his features to a more normal

Apparent meekness.

Apparent obedience.

All fake.

What’s going on?

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

what I just saw, but my thoughts

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

tell me something about my

looking into some far distance.

A thing? What do you

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

artistic? A painter? A good

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

to run out of words. Klempner regards her, then continues, “She always seemed to be wearing butterflies on

in her chair.

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

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

a tone like a desert, “Long

lift to his. “Would you

“Perhaps the next time you come

face sets.

you

“Oh… What else?”

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

scrabbling inside. Klempner watches the performance with a raised brow. He glances at me with a questioning eye. I shrug.

the purse she pulls something; the photograph, holding it up to the grill. “Is

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

some old records… The missing persons file on my father.” Her hand is shaking. “Is that

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

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

the grill and Klempner takes

Something precious?

sits staring

that the necklace

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

him in the

“Yes, that’s Conners.”

still friends

the

to notice. “When

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

“It's the only one

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

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

yes, if you want

image. “I still have that necklace you

trembles.

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

didn't let you keep things like

didn’t say I have it here. But I can have it sent to you. Perhaps at those Haswell offices where you

hand from mine. “Why

a lip. “I used

had nothing

up the photo. “Quid pro quo. You give

really it?” asks

folds his arms, a sneer flirting over his mouth,

James stares back.

try to

I

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

pause before speaking. “It ended like that, yes. But... there was

“Couldn’t what?”

“Mitch was damaged

supposed

had no capacity to

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

folding his arms. “No, she

my father

head tilts. “I’m not

“But she married him?”

to love

want

yes, I wanted her.

want you.” Her voice drips

not convinced of that either. There was something else. Something stopping her from… from

from that, you deduce that she had no capacity

would she have left you at

sucks air through his

you. She knew where you would be.

white-faced, could be carved in stone. I take her hand again, curling warm fingers

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

want the truth to

seems to drain from him. “And whatever led you to think life is

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