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!

Shock ricochets over her face. “You wanted me as a substitute for her? Is that

could put it that way,

revenge

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

he saying all

Admitting this?

with you? Is

moves to stand behind Klempner, poking a baton between his shoulders.

in the guard's stance; something in

He dislikes Klempner?

Really dislikes him?

Something personal?

And Klempner’s face…

go upsetting your visitors, you’ll

excuse to

flash sidelong, fury glittering there. Just for

The monster…

schools his features to a

Apparent meekness.

Apparent obedience.

All fake.

What’s going on?

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

just saw, but

and Klempner eye-ball each other. After long seconds he says, “So

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

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

What

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

A painter? A good

Very realistic.” He sucks at his teeth. “Almost eerily so actually. She could have made a living as

regards her, then continues, “She always seemed to be wearing

sits back in her

cheeks,

bit. “Didn't have it down as a

a tone like

eyes lift to his. “Would you tell me

next time

face sets. “Why not

will encourage you to

“Oh… What else?”

a necklace with one too, a butterfly that is. A little silver thing. Just

dives for her bag, scrabbling inside. Klempner watches the performance

the photograph, holding it up to the grill. “Is that it?

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

some old records… The missing persons file on my

turns his attention back to the photo. “I'd

fingers at the photo. Charlotte passes it to him. He gives it a

grill and Klempner

Something precious?

sits staring at

necklace you

it is.” His voice is quiet as

him in the

“Yes, that’s Conners.”

still

But the

to notice. “When was

slow. “Towards the end, before... before...”

swallows. “It's the only one

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

to

yes, if you want

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

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

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

let you keep things like that in

I didn’t say I have it here. But I can have it sent to you. Perhaps

mine. “Why

back, chews at a lip.

I had nothing to do

stalls then holds up the photo. “Quid pro quo. You give me

really it?” asks

a sneer flirting

James stares back.

to

did I

then, “Why did it fail? Between you and my mother? Because she was afraid

long pause before speaking. “It ended like that, yes. But... there

“Couldn’t what?”

“Mitch

that supposed to

had no capacity to

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

back, folding his arms. “No,

my

tilts. “I’m not convinced

“But she married him?”

necessary to love

you want to

that far. But yes, I wanted her. I wanted her to

didn’t want you.” Her voice

There was something else. Something

that

would she have left you

air through his

on the counter. “She knew I had you. She knew where you would be. But she never

I take her hand again, curling warm fingers around

came to talk; to ask me what happened. Do you want the truth or do you want a

whispers. “I want the truth to be a

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

The Novel will be updated daily. Come back and continue reading tomorrow, everyone!

Comments ()

0/255