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!

over her face. “You wanted me as a

could put it that

revenge on me? Because she

got it right the first time.

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

Klempner, poking a baton

something in the guard's stance; something in

He dislikes Klempner?

Really dislikes him?

Something personal?

And Klempner’s face…

upsetting your visitors, you’ll not be getting

excuse

glittering

The monster…

before he schools his features to a more

Apparent meekness.

Apparent obedience.

All fake.

What’s going on?

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

to think about what I just saw, but

other. After long seconds he says, “So

from her. “Will you tell me something

inclines, eyes unfocusing, seemingly looking into some far distance. “She

A thing? What do you

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

A painter? A

very good. Very realistic.” He sucks at his teeth. “Almost eerily so actually. She could

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

back in her chair.

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

it down as a pyjamas kind

a tone like a desert,

his. “Would you tell

muses. “Perhaps the next time you

sets. “Why not

will encourage you to visit me

“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, but she

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

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

closely. “Well, what are the

on my father.”

at her, his eyes narrowing, then he turns his attention back

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

grill and

Something precious?

then sits staring

the necklace

His voice is quiet as he looks up. “Your

in

“Yes, that’s Conners.”

still friends

But the monosyllable

doesn’t seem to notice. “When was it?

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

swallows. “It's the only one I

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

She swings to James. “You're

yes, if you want

gazing at the image. “I still have that

Charlotte's voice trembles. “Why do

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

didn't let

it sent to you. Perhaps at those Haswell offices where

hand from mine. “Why would you take that kind of trouble? You

at a lip. “I used to hate you. That's

I had nothing to

holds up the photo. “Quid pro

that really it?” asks

arms, a sneer flirting over his mouth, staring him

James stares back.

try to

I

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

like that, yes. But... there was

“Couldn’t what?”

“Mitch

that supposed

no capacity

“While you do? You mean she

back, folding his arms. “No, she

loved my

head tilts. “I’m

“But she married him?”

not actually necessary to love

you want to

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

didn’t want you.” Her

not convinced of that either. There was something

that, you deduce that she had

she have left you

air through his

arms resting on the counter. “She knew I had you. She knew where

take her hand again, curling warm fingers around her cold ones.

happened. Do you want the truth or do you want a fairy

“I want the truth to be a

whatever led you to

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