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!

recoils. Shock ricochets over her face. “You wanted me as a

it

take your revenge on me? Because she left

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

he

Admitting this?

forward 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

poking a

something 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 be

for an excuse to

glittering

The monster…

features to a more normal expression; apparent passivity… “Yes,

Apparent meekness.

Apparent obedience.

All fake.

What’s going on?

“Calm down,” he murmurs. “It’s past.” It’s the

want to think about what I just saw, but my thoughts are cut

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

me something

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

thing? What do

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

was artistic? A

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

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

back in her chair.

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

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

tone like

to his. “Would you tell

“Perhaps the next time you

face sets. “Why

encourage you to

“Oh… What else?”

too, a butterfly that is. A little silver thing. Just a trinket, but

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

she pulls something; the photograph, holding it 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

missing persons file on my father.”

eyes narrowing, then he turns his attention back to the

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

slides it under the grill

Something precious?

then sits staring

the necklace you were

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

in the

“Yes, that’s Conners.”

you still friends

the

“When was it? Where

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

swallows. “It's the

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

She swings to James. “You're

if you want it, you can have

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

voice trembles. “Why do

gave it to your mother. Since she's

let you keep things

here. But I can have it sent to you. Perhaps at those Haswell offices where you spend

bolt upright, dragging her hand from mine. “Why would you take that kind

at a lip. “I used to hate you.

had nothing

He stalls then holds up the photo. “Quid pro

that really

arms, a sneer flirting

James stares back.

try to out-stare a

did I

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

that, yes. But...

“Couldn’t what?”

“Mitch was

supposed

had no capacity

blade. “While

back, folding his arms. “No,

loved my

“I’m not convinced

“But she married him?”

to love someone to marry

you want

wanted her. I wanted her to

want you.” Her

that either. There was something

from that, you deduce that she

she have

air

the counter. “She knew I had you. She knew where you would

take her hand again, curling warm fingers around her cold

talk; to ask me what happened. Do

whispers. “I want the truth to be a

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

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