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!

ricochets over her face. “You wanted

it that

To take your revenge on me? Because

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

he

Admitting this?

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

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…

If you go upsetting your visitors, you’ll not

for an excuse to

eyes flash sidelong, fury glittering there.

The monster…

features to a more normal expression; apparent

Apparent meekness.

Apparent obedience.

All fake.

What’s going on?

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

I just saw, but

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

“Will you tell me something about my mother?”

seemingly looking into some far distance.

thing? What

back of her shoulder, just there.” He reaches back, tapping behind himself. “And she’d painted one on the wall of her

artistic? A painter? A

teeth. “Almost eerily so

seems to run out of words. Klempner regards her, then continues, “She always seemed to be wearing butterflies on herself somewhere...

in her

He sucks in his cheeks, looking amused. “What’s so surprising about

a bit. “Didn't have it down as a pyjamas kind of

a tone like a desert,

to his. “Would you tell me about

“Perhaps the next time you come

sets. “Why not

you to

“Oh… What else?”

one too, a butterfly that

back, 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. He

purse she pulls something; the photograph, holding it up to the grill. “Is that

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

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

narrowing, then he turns his attention back to the photo.

the guard who snaps fingers at the photo. Charlotte passes it

under the grill and Klempner takes

Something precious?

sits staring

necklace you

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

him in the

“Yes, that’s Conners.”

still friends

But the monosyllable

“When was

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

swallows. “It's the only

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

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

if you want it, you can have

at the image. “I still have that necklace you know. If

Charlotte's voice trembles. “Why do you

it to your mother. Since she's not here, I suppose that makes it rightfully

voice wavering, “I thought they didn't let you keep things like that in

it here. But I can have it sent to you. Perhaps at

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

sits back, chews at a lip. “I used to hate you.

had

photo. “Quid pro quo. You give me something. I

really it?”

flirting

James stares back.

to out-stare a

I

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

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

“Couldn’t what?”

“Mitch was

supposed to

had no

gives him a look like a blade. “While you do? You mean she

sits back, folding his arms. “No, she

my father

tilts. “I’m not convinced of

“But she married him?”

actually necessary to

you want to marry

But yes, I wanted her. I wanted

she didn’t want you.” Her

There was something else. Something stopping her

you deduce that she had no

have left

sucks air through

again, folded arms resting on the counter. “She knew I had you. She knew

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

ask me what happened. Do you want

the truth to

from him. “And whatever led you to think

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