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

could put it that way,

your revenge on me? Because she

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

is he saying

Admitting this?

in love with you? Is that what you mean?

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

the guard's stance;

He dislikes Klempner?

Really dislikes him?

Something personal?

And Klempner’s face…

your visitors, you’ll not be getting any

for an excuse to

sidelong, fury glittering there.

The monster…

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

Apparent meekness.

Apparent obedience.

All fake.

What’s going on?

“Calm down,” he murmurs. “It’s past.” It’s the first thing he’s

what I just

in her chair. She and Klempner 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 pleading in her

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

What

a small 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

“Almost eerily so actually. She could have made a living as an artist had she chosen that

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

sits back in her chair.

cheeks, looking amused.

it down

a tone like

eyes lift to his. “Would you tell

next time

face sets. “Why not

will encourage you to visit me

“Oh… What else?”

one too, a butterfly that is. A little

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

holding it up to the grill. “Is that it? The necklace. That

“Well, what are

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

at her, his eyes narrowing, then he turns his attention

who snaps fingers at the photo. Charlotte passes it to him. He gives it a cursory

the grill

Something precious?

sits staring

that the necklace you

quiet as he looks up. “Your father gave it

him in

“Yes, that’s Conners.”

still

But the

to notice. “When

before...” He holds up the photo. “Can I keep

“It's the only one

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

tighten into mine. She swings to

want it, you can

image. “I still have that necklace

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

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

thought they didn't let you keep things like

it here. But I can have it sent

bolt upright, dragging her hand from mine. “Why would you

at a lip.

had nothing to

the photo. “Quid pro quo.

that really it?”

sneer flirting

James stares back.

try to

I

between the two of them then, “Why did it fail? Between you

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

“Couldn’t what?”

shrugs. “Mitch was

that supposed

had no

look like a blade. “While you do? You mean she didn't love

back, folding his arms. “No,

loved my father

“I’m not

“But she married him?”

necessary to love someone

you want to

I wanted her.

want you.” Her voice drips

of that either. There was something else. Something stopping her

that she had no capacity to

have left

sucks air

arms resting on the counter. “She knew I had you. She knew where you would be. But she never came

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

happened. Do

whispers. “I want the truth to be a fairy

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

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