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!

“You wanted me as a substitute for her? Is

put it that

To take your revenge on me? Because she

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

is he saying all

Admitting this?

for the barrier. “You imagine I would have wanted you?” she hisses. “Fallen in love with you? Is that what

behind Klempner, poking a baton

in the guard's stance;

He dislikes Klempner?

Really dislikes him?

Something personal?

And Klempner’s face…

you’ll not be getting any more of

for an excuse to cut his

flash sidelong, fury glittering there. Just for

The monster…

features to a more normal expression; apparent passivity…

Apparent meekness.

Apparent obedience.

All fake.

What’s going on?

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

I just saw, but my thoughts

other. After long seconds he says, “So what would you like to talk

you tell me something

eyes unfocusing, seemingly looking into some far

What do you

just

A painter? A

his teeth. “Almost eerily so actually. She could have

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

sits back in her chair.

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

have it down as a pyjamas kind of

a tone like a

to his. “Would you tell me about

he muses. “Perhaps the next time you come to see

face sets. “Why

you to

“Oh… What else?”

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

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

pulls something; the photograph, holding it up to the grill. “Is that it? The necklace.

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

file on my

he turns his attention

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

slides it under the grill and Klempner takes it

Something precious?

then sits staring at

that the necklace you were talking

His voice is quiet as

him in

“Yes, that’s Conners.”

you still

the

notice. “When was

end, before... before...”

swallows. “It's the only

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

into mine. She swings to James.

you want it, you

silently gazing at the image. “I still have that necklace you

voice trembles. “Why

mother. Since she's not here, I suppose that

let

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

“Why would you take that kind of

chews at a lip. “I used

something I had nothing to

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

really it?” asks

a sneer flirting over his mouth,

James stares back.

try to out-stare a

I hear

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

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

that supposed to

had no capacity

“While you do? You mean she didn't love

sits back, folding his arms. “No,

my father

“I’m not convinced of

“But she married him?”

necessary to love someone

you want to marry

wanted her. I wanted her to be with

you.” Her voice

of that either. There was something

deduce that she had no capacity to

would she have left you at

air through

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

stone. I take her hand again, curling warm fingers around her cold ones. “You

happened. Do you want

whispers. “I want the truth to be a

“And whatever led you to think life

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