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 for

put it that

what? To take your revenge on me? Because she left

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

he saying

Admitting this?

wanted you?” she hisses. “Fallen in love with you? Is that what

guard moves to stand behind Klempner, poking a baton between

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

an excuse to

glittering there.

The monster…

before he schools his features to a more normal

Apparent meekness.

Apparent obedience.

All fake.

What’s going on?

he

I just saw, but my thoughts are cut

other. After long seconds he says, “So what would you like to talk

something about my mother?” There’s

looking into some far

thing? What do

tattoo on the back of her shoulder, just there.” He reaches back, tapping behind himself. “And she’d painted one on the wall

A painter? A good

his teeth. “Almost eerily so actually. She could have

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

sits back in

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

have it down as a

like a desert, “Long

his. “Would you tell me about

the next time you come

sets. “Why

encourage you to visit

“Oh… What else?”

wore a necklace with one too, a butterfly that is. A

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

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

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

on my father.” Her

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

the photo. Charlotte passes it to him.

slides it under the grill and Klempner

Something precious?

sits staring at

that the necklace you

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

him in the

“Yes, that’s Conners.”

still

the

seem to notice. “When was

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

swallows. “It's the only one I

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

She swings to James. “You're sure?” He nods

want it, you can have

still have

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

your mother.

thought they didn't let you keep things like that

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

“Why would you take that kind of

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

had nothing to do

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

that really

arms, a sneer flirting over his mouth, staring

James stares back.

to out-stare

did I

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

ended like that,

“Couldn’t what?”

shrugs. “Mitch was

that supposed

no

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

his arms.

my

tilts. “I’m not

“But she married him?”

not actually necessary to love someone

you want

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

didn’t want you.” Her voice drips

that either. There was something

from that, you deduce that she had no capacity

have

sucks air through

I had you. She knew where you would be. But

stone. I take her hand again, curling warm fingers around her

thought you came to talk; to ask me what happened. Do

the truth

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

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