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

it that way,

To take your revenge on me? Because she

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

he saying all

Admitting this?

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 little? It’s been

Klempner, poking a

guard's stance; something in

He dislikes Klempner?

Really dislikes him?

Something personal?

And Klempner’s face…

your visitors, you’ll

an excuse

eyes flash sidelong, fury glittering

The monster…

schools his features to a

Apparent meekness.

Apparent obedience.

All fake.

What’s going on?

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

I just saw,

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

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

unfocusing, seemingly looking into some far distance. “She had

thing? What do you

liked butterflies. She had a small tattoo on the back of her shoulder, just there.” He reaches back, tapping behind

A

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

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

sits back in her

in his cheeks, looking amused. “What’s

“Didn't have it down as a pyjamas

like a desert,

to his. “Would

muses. “Perhaps the next time you

sets. “Why

you

“Oh… What else?”

too, a butterfly that

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

to the grill. “Is that it? The necklace. That

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

old records… The missing persons file on my

his attention back to the photo. “I'd like a

photo. Charlotte passes

slides it under the grill and Klempner takes

Something precious?

then sits

the necklace you

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

in

“Yes, that’s Conners.”

still friends

the monosyllable lacks

to notice. “When was it?

the end, before... before...” He holds

swallows. “It's the only one I

flesh is icy. “It's a copy

to James. “You're sure?”

if you want

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

it?” Charlotte's voice trembles.

mother. Since she's not here, I suppose

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

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

from mine. “Why would you

lip. “I used to

something I had nothing to do

holds up the photo. “Quid pro

really

arms, a sneer flirting over his

James stares back.

try to

did I

it fail? Between you and my mother? Because she was afraid of

that, yes. But...

“Couldn’t what?”

shrugs. “Mitch was damaged

supposed

no capacity

a blade. “While you do? You

his

my father

“I’m not

“But she married him?”

necessary to love someone to

want to marry

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

want you.” Her voice

There was something

you deduce that she had no

she have left you at

sucks air through his

folded arms resting on the counter. “She knew I had you. She knew where you would be. But she never came for you. I believed she would. But

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

talk; to ask me what happened. Do you want the

truth to

from him. “And whatever led you

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