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!

“You wanted me as

put it that

what? To take your revenge on me? Because

the grill. “You got it right the first time. I wanted you as a

he saying

Admitting this?

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?

behind Klempner, poking

the guard's

He dislikes Klempner?

Really dislikes him?

Something personal?

And Klempner’s face…

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

excuse to cut

flash sidelong, fury glittering there. Just for a

The monster…

features to a more normal expression; apparent passivity… “Yes, Mr

Apparent meekness.

Apparent obedience.

All fake.

What’s going on?

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

to think about what I just saw, but my thoughts are

Klempner eye-ball each other. After long seconds he says, “So what would you like to talk

something about my mother?” There’s pleading

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

What do

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

was artistic? A painter? A good

“Almost

of words. Klempner regards her, then continues, “She always seemed to

back in her

his cheeks, looking

have it down as a pyjamas

a tone like a desert, “Long

lift to his. “Would you tell me about

next time you come to

face sets.

you to

“Oh… What else?”

that distant look again. “She wore a necklace with one too, a butterfly that is. A little silver thing.

her 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 a questioning eye. I shrug. He avoids James’

the photograph, holding it up to the grill. “Is that it? The necklace. That she’s wearing

stiffens, looking more closely. “Well, what are

it in some old records… The missing persons file on my father.” Her hand

narrowing, then he turns his attention back to the photo. “I'd

the photo. Charlotte passes it to him. He gives it

the grill and

Something precious?

sits staring

the necklace

quiet as he looks up. “Your father gave it

in

“Yes, that’s Conners.”

you still friends

the monosyllable

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

the end, before... before...” He

then swallows. “It's the only one

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

mine. She swings to

you want it, you

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

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

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

didn't let you keep things like that

I have it here. But I can have it sent to you. Perhaps

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

back, chews at a lip. “I used to

I had nothing

then holds up the photo. “Quid pro quo.

that really it?” asks

sneer flirting over his mouth, staring

James stares back.

to

I

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

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

“Couldn’t what?”

shrugs. “Mitch was

that supposed

had no

gives him a look like a blade. “While

back, folding his arms. “No, she

loved my

“I’m

“But she married him?”

actually necessary to love someone to

want to

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

want you.” Her voice drips

not convinced of that either. There was something

deduce that she had

she have

air through

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 would. But

I take her hand again, curling warm fingers around

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

the truth

“And whatever led

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