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!

face. “You wanted me as a substitute for her? Is

could put it that

To take your revenge

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

he

Admitting this?

too, her face almost meeting his save 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.

behind Klempner, poking a baton between his shoulders.

the guard's stance; something in

He dislikes Klempner?

Really dislikes him?

Something personal?

And Klempner’s face…

If you go upsetting your visitors, you’ll not

excuse to cut his

fury glittering there.

The monster…

he 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 the

think about what I just

shuffles in her chair. She and Klempner eye-ball each other. After long

me something about my mother?”

looking into some far distance. “She had

A thing? What do you

shoulder, just there.” He

A painter? A good

very good. Very realistic.” He sucks at his teeth. “Almost eerily

of words. Klempner regards her, then continues, “She always seemed to be

sits back in her chair.

pyjamas.” He sucks in his cheeks, looking amused.

“Didn't have it down

tone like a desert,

eyes lift to his. “Would you tell

he muses. “Perhaps the next time you

face sets. “Why not

encourage you to

“Oh… What else?”

necklace with one too, a butterfly that is. A little silver thing. Just a trinket, but she was

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

she pulls something; the photograph, holding it up to the

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

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

eyes narrowing, then he turns his attention

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

under the grill and Klempner

Something precious?

then sits staring

necklace

quiet as he looks up. “Your father gave

him in

“Yes, that’s Conners.”

still friends

But the monosyllable

doesn’t seem to notice. “When

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

swallows. “It's the only

Her flesh is icy. “It's a

swings to James. “You're sure?” He nods without

yes, if you want it, you

have that necklace you know. If you

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

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

thought they didn't let you keep things like

have it sent to you.

her hand from mine. “Why would you take

lip. “I used to hate

something I had nothing to

then holds up the photo. “Quid pro

really it?” asks

arms, a sneer flirting over

James stares back.

to

did I

“Why did it fail? Between you and

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

“Couldn’t what?”

shrugs. “Mitch

supposed

had no

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

sits back, folding his arms. “No, she

my father

head tilts. “I’m not

“But she married him?”

necessary to love someone to

want to marry

wanted her. I wanted her to be

didn’t want you.”

There was something else.

you deduce that she had no capacity to

have left you at

air

leans forward again, folded arms resting on the counter. “She knew I had you. She knew where you would be. But she never came for you.

could be carved in stone. I take her hand again, curling warm fingers around her cold ones. “You don't believe in softening

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

the truth to

drain from him. “And whatever led you to think life

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