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!

wanted me as

it that

To take your revenge on

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

he saying all

Admitting this?

for the barrier. “You imagine 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? It’s been over twenty years. You’re obsessed. You’re

poking a baton between his

something in the guard's stance;

He dislikes Klempner?

Really dislikes him?

Something personal?

And Klempner’s face…

you’ll not be getting

excuse

sidelong, fury glittering there. Just

The monster…

a more normal expression; apparent passivity…

Apparent meekness.

Apparent obedience.

All fake.

What’s going on?

he murmurs.

to think about what I just saw, but my

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

drains from her. “Will you tell me something about my mother?” There’s pleading in

head inclines, eyes unfocusing, seemingly looking into some far

A thing? What

butterflies. She had a small tattoo on the back of her shoulder, just there.” He reaches back, tapping behind

was artistic? A painter?

at his teeth. “Almost eerily so actually. She could have made a living as

regards her, then continues, “She always

in her

cheeks,

have it down as a pyjamas kind of

a tone like

eyes lift to his. “Would you

the next

face sets. “Why

will encourage you to visit me

“Oh… What else?”

butterfly

opening and closing. Then she dives for her bag, scrabbling inside. Klempner watches the performance

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

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

file on my father.” Her hand is shaking. “Is that it? The necklace she’s

his attention back to the

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

slides it under the grill and Klempner takes

Something precious?

then sits staring

necklace you were talking

is quiet as he looks up. “Your father gave

him in the

“Yes, that’s Conners.”

you still friends

But the monosyllable

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

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

swallows. “It's the

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

to

want

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

Charlotte's voice trembles. “Why

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

didn't let you keep things

I can have it sent to you. Perhaps at

hand from mine. “Why

at a lip. “I used to hate

had

photo. “Quid pro quo. You give

that really it?” asks

a sneer flirting over his mouth, staring him

James stares back.

try to

did I hear

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

her eyes 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 damaged

that supposed to

had no

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

sits back, folding his arms.

my

tilts. “I’m

“But she married him?”

not actually necessary to love someone to marry

you want to marry

that far. But yes, I wanted her.

she didn’t want you.” Her

of that either. There was something else. Something

you deduce that she had no capacity to

have left

sucks air through

knew where you would be.

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

happened. Do you want the truth or

truth

seems to drain from him. “And whatever led

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