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

put it

To take your revenge

his face almost touching the grill. “You got it right the first time. I wanted you

is he saying all

Admitting this?

in love with you? Is that what you mean? After the way

stand behind Klempner, poking a

guard's stance; something in his

He dislikes Klempner?

Really dislikes him?

Something personal?

And Klempner’s face…

your visitors, you’ll not be

an excuse

glittering

The monster…

schools his features to a more normal expression;

Apparent meekness.

Apparent obedience.

All fake.

What’s going on?

down,” he murmurs.

about what I just saw, but my thoughts

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

something

into some far distance. “She had a thing

thing? What do you

mean, she liked butterflies. She had 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 of

was artistic? A painter?

her work was very good. Very realistic.” He sucks at his teeth. “Almost

continues, “She always seemed to be wearing butterflies on herself

sits back in her

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

bit. “Didn't have it down

a tone like a desert,

to his. “Would you tell

muses. “Perhaps the next time

face sets. “Why

you to visit

“Oh… What else?”

“She wore a necklace with one too, a butterfly that

the performance with a raised brow. He glances at me

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

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

my father.” Her hand

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

Charlotte passes it to him. He gives it a

under the grill and Klempner takes

Something precious?

then sits

necklace you were

voice is quiet as he

in

“Yes, that’s Conners.”

still friends

the monosyllable

seem to notice. “When was

before...” He holds

“It's the only

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

to James. “You're

yes, if you want

Klempner sits silently gazing at the image. “I still have that necklace you

trembles.

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

voice wavering, “I thought they didn't let

didn’t say I have it here. But I can have it sent to you. Perhaps at those Haswell offices where you spend so much

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

at a lip. “I used to hate

I had nothing to

the photo. “Quid pro

really it?” asks

sneer flirting over his mouth,

James stares back.

to out-stare

did I hear

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

pause before speaking. “It ended like that, yes.

“Couldn’t what?”

“Mitch was

that supposed

no

a look like a blade. “While you do?

his arms. “No, she

loved my father

“I’m

“But she married him?”

not actually necessary to love someone to marry

want

far. But yes, I wanted her. I

you.” Her voice

There was something else. Something stopping

that, you deduce that she had

she have left you at

sucks air through his

you. She knew where you would be. But she never came for you. I believed

again, curling warm fingers around her cold ones. “You don't believe in softening the blow

happened. Do you want the truth or do you want

“I want the truth to be a fairy

drain from him. “And whatever

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