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 a substitute for

it that

To take your revenge

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

he

Admitting this?

love with you? Is

to stand behind Klempner, poking

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

excuse

fury glittering there.

The monster…

schools his features to a more

Apparent meekness.

Apparent obedience.

All fake.

What’s going on?

a hand on Charlotte’s. “Calm down,” he murmurs. “It’s past.” It’s

think about what I just saw, but my

in her chair. She and Klempner eye-ball each other. After long seconds he says, “So what would you

you tell me something about my mother?” There’s pleading in her voice. “Something

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

A thing? What do you

her shoulder, just

was artistic? A

“Almost eerily so actually. She could have made a living as an artist

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

back in

his cheeks, looking amused. “What’s

“Didn't have it down as

a tone like a

his. “Would you tell me

“Perhaps the next

face sets. “Why not

you to

“Oh… What else?”

that distant look again. “She wore a necklace with one too, a butterfly that is. A little silver thing. Just a trinket,

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

it up to the grill. “Is that it?

“Well, what are the chances? Where the hell did you

it in some old records… The missing persons file on my father.” Her hand is shaking.

turns his

Charlotte passes it to him.

slides it under the grill and

Something precious?

then sits

that the necklace

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

him in

“Yes, that’s Conners.”

you still friends

the monosyllable lacks

to notice. “When

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

“It's the only one I

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

swings to James. “You're

want

“I still have that necklace you know. If you

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

story. But your father gave it to your mother.

thought they didn't let you keep

don't. I didn’t say I have it here. But I can have it sent to

upright, dragging her hand from mine. “Why would

sits back, chews at a lip. “I

I had nothing to

father...” He stalls then holds up the photo. “Quid pro quo. You

really it?”

flirting over his mouth, staring

James stares back.

to out-stare a

I hear

did it fail? Between you and my mother? Because she was afraid

“It ended like that, yes. But... there was something about her well

“Couldn’t what?”

“Mitch was

supposed

had no capacity to

like a blade. “While you do? You

back, folding his

my

head tilts. “I’m not convinced of

“But she married him?”

to love someone to marry

want to

I wanted her. I wanted her to be

want you.” Her voice drips

There was something else. Something stopping her from… from giving

you deduce that she

have

sucks air

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

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

what happened. Do you want the truth or do

truth to be a

from him. “And whatever

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