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!

ricochets over her face. “You wanted me as a substitute for her? Is that

could put it that

To take your revenge on

almost touching the grill. “You got it right the first time. I wanted you as a substitute for

he saying all

Admitting this?

hisses. “Fallen in love with you? Is that what you mean? After the way you treated me when I was little? It’s

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

the guard's stance;

He dislikes Klempner?

Really dislikes him?

Something personal?

And Klempner’s face…

go upsetting your visitors, you’ll not

excuse to

sidelong, fury glittering there. Just for

The monster…

features to a more normal expression; apparent

Apparent meekness.

Apparent obedience.

All fake.

What’s going on?

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

I just saw, but

her chair. She and Klempner eye-ball each other. After long seconds he says, “So what would you

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

head inclines, eyes unfocusing, seemingly looking into some far distance. “She had a thing

thing? What

just

artistic? A painter? A

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

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

sits back in her chair.

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

“Didn't have it

tone like a desert,

eyes lift to his. “Would

the next time you come to

face sets. “Why

encourage you to visit

“Oh… What else?”

a butterfly that

bag, scrabbling inside. Klempner watches the performance with a raised brow.

up to the grill. “Is

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

on my father.” Her hand is shaking. “Is that

his attention

photo. Charlotte passes it to him. He gives

under the grill and Klempner takes it

Something precious?

sits staring

necklace you were talking

as he looks up. “Your father

in

“Yes, that’s Conners.”

still friends

the monosyllable

“When was it?

before...” He holds

flushes then swallows. “It's the only one I

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

to James. “You're

yes, if you want

have that

Charlotte's voice trembles. “Why do you

to your mother. Since she's not here, I suppose

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

it sent to you. Perhaps at those Haswell

“Why would you take

sits back, chews at a lip. “I used to hate you. That's

had nothing to

father...” He stalls then holds up the photo. “Quid pro quo. You give me something. I give you

that really it?”

flirting over his

James stares back.

to out-stare a

I

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

holds her eyes for a long pause before speaking. “It ended like that,

“Couldn’t what?”

“Mitch was damaged

supposed to

no capacity

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

folding his

loved my

head tilts. “I’m

“But she married him?”

to love someone

you want

But yes, I wanted her. I wanted her to

didn’t want you.” Her voice

that either. There was something else. Something

that, you deduce that she had no capacity

would she have left

air through

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

her hand again, curling warm fingers around her cold ones. “You don't believe in softening the blow do

inhales. “I thought you came to talk; to ask me what happened.

truth to be a

from him. “And whatever

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