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!

ricochets over her face. “You wanted me

put it that

what? To take your revenge on me?

“You got it right the first time. I

is he saying all

Admitting this?

hisses. “Fallen in love with you? Is that what you mean? After the way you treated me when I was little? It’s been over twenty

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

the guard's stance; something in

He dislikes Klempner?

Really dislikes him?

Something personal?

And Klempner’s face…

you’ll not be getting any

for an excuse

fury glittering there. Just for a

The monster…

his features to a

Apparent meekness.

Apparent obedience.

All fake.

What’s going on?

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

think about what I just saw, but my thoughts are

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

you tell me something about

seemingly looking into some far distance. “She had

What do

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

A

saw of her work was very good. Very realistic.” He sucks at his teeth. “Almost eerily so actually. She could have made a living as an artist had she chosen

Klempner regards her, then continues, “She always seemed to be wearing butterflies on herself

back in her chair.

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

“Didn't have it down as a pyjamas kind of

tone like a desert, “Long

his. “Would you tell me

muses. “Perhaps the next time you come to

face sets. “Why not

encourage you to visit

“Oh… What else?”

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

closing. Then she dives for her bag, scrabbling inside. Klempner watches the performance with

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

then stiffens, looking more closely. “Well, what are

missing persons file on my father.” Her

glances at her, his eyes narrowing, then he turns his attention back to the

Charlotte passes it to him. He gives it a cursory inspection, then

the grill and

Something precious?

sits staring at

the necklace you were talking

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

in

“Yes, that’s Conners.”

you still friends

the monosyllable

notice. “When was it? Where

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

flushes then swallows. “It's the only one I

“It's a

tighten into mine. She swings to James. “You're sure?” He

you want

at the image. “I still have

it?” Charlotte's voice trembles.

father gave it to your mother.

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

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

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

a lip.

had nothing to do

photo. “Quid pro quo. You give me something. I give

that really it?” asks

sneer flirting over his

James stares back.

to out-stare a

I hear

it fail? Between you and my

long pause before speaking. “It ended like that, yes. But... there was something about her well before then.

“Couldn’t what?”

“Mitch was

supposed to mean.

no capacity

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

his

my

head tilts. “I’m not convinced

“But she married him?”

to love someone

want to

I wanted her. I wanted her to

she didn’t want you.”

that either. There was something else. Something stopping

that, you deduce that she had

have left you at

sucks air through his

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

again, curling warm fingers

to ask me what happened. Do you want the truth or do you want

truth to be

seems to drain from him. “And whatever led you

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