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

put it

revenge on me? Because she left

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

is he saying all

Admitting this?

imagine I would have wanted you?” she hisses. “Fallen in love with you? Is that what you mean? After the way you treated

Klempner, poking a baton between his shoulders. “Behave yourself,

something in the guard's stance; something in his

He dislikes Klempner?

Really dislikes him?

Something personal?

And Klempner’s face…

upsetting your visitors, you’ll not be getting any more

for an excuse

eyes flash sidelong, fury glittering there. Just for

The monster…

before he schools his features to a

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

I just saw, but my thoughts

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.

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

What do you

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

A painter?

teeth. “Almost eerily so actually. She could

continues, “She always seemed

back in her

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

it down as a pyjamas kind

a tone like a

his. “Would you

he muses. “Perhaps the next

sets. “Why not

will encourage you to visit

“Oh… What else?”

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

she dives for her bag, scrabbling inside. Klempner watches the performance with a raised brow. He glances at me with a questioning eye. I

it up to the grill.

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

missing persons file on my father.” Her hand is shaking. “Is that it? The

turns his attention back to the photo.

at the photo. Charlotte passes it to him. He

grill and

Something precious?

sits

the necklace you were talking

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

in

“Yes, that’s Conners.”

still friends

But the

seem to notice. “When was it? Where

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

then swallows. “It's the only one

hers. Her flesh is icy. “It's a

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

you want

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

Charlotte's voice trembles. “Why

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

wavering, “I thought they didn't let

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

bolt upright, dragging her hand from mine. “Why would you take that kind of trouble? You

at a lip. “I used to

something I had

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

that really it?” asks

arms, a sneer flirting

James stares back.

to out-stare a

I hear

then, “Why did it fail? Between you and my mother? Because she

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

“Couldn’t what?”

shrugs. “Mitch was

supposed

had no

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

his arms. “No, she

loved my father

“I’m not convinced

“But she married him?”

actually necessary to love

you want to

I wanted

you.” Her voice drips

There was something else. Something stopping her from…

that

have left

air through

I had you. She knew

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

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

want the truth to be a fairy

whatever led you to think life

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