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

it that

To take your revenge on me? Because she

on folded arms, his face almost touching the grill. “You got it right

is he

Admitting this?

too, her face almost meeting his save for the barrier. “You imagine I would 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

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

something in the guard's stance;

He dislikes Klempner?

Really dislikes him?

Something personal?

And Klempner’s face…

If you go upsetting your visitors, you’ll not be

an excuse

eyes flash sidelong, fury glittering there. Just for

The monster…

he schools his features to a

Apparent meekness.

Apparent obedience.

All fake.

What’s going on?

down,” he murmurs. “It’s past.” It’s

what I just saw, but my thoughts are cut

eye-ball each other. After long seconds he says, “So what

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

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

What do you

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

A painter?

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

Klempner regards her, then continues, “She always seemed to be wearing butterflies

back in her

He sucks in his cheeks,

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

tone like a desert, “Long

“Would you tell me

“Perhaps the next time you come

face sets.

you to visit

“Oh… What else?”

a necklace with one too, a butterfly that is. A little silver

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

purse she pulls something; the photograph, holding it up to the

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

The missing persons file on my father.” Her

his eyes narrowing, then he turns his attention

the guard who snaps fingers at the photo. Charlotte passes it to

it under the grill and Klempner takes it

Something precious?

then sits staring

that the necklace you

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

in the

“Yes, that’s Conners.”

you still friends

the monosyllable lacks

doesn’t seem to notice. “When was it? Where

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

“It's the only

flesh is icy. “It's a copy of the original. James can make

swings to James.

yes, if you want

“I still have that necklace you

voice trembles. “Why do you have

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

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

I didn’t say I have it here. But I can have it

sits bolt upright, dragging her hand from mine. “Why would you take that kind

a lip. “I used to hate

had nothing to

stalls then holds up the photo. “Quid pro quo. You give me

that really it?”

sneer flirting over

James stares back.

try to out-stare

did I hear

it fail? Between you and my

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

“Couldn’t what?”

“Mitch was damaged

supposed

had no capacity to

a look like a blade. “While you do? You mean she

sits back, folding his arms. “No,

my father

tilts. “I’m not convinced

“But she married him?”

not actually necessary to

you want

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

want you.” Her voice drips

that either. There was something else. Something stopping her from… from

that, you deduce that she had no capacity

would she have left you

air through his

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

warm fingers around her cold ones. “You don't believe in

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

the truth

to drain from him. “And whatever led you to

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