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!

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

put it that way,

To take your revenge on me? Because she left

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

he

Admitting this?

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

to stand behind Klempner, poking a baton between his shoulders.

something in the guard's stance;

He dislikes Klempner?

Really dislikes him?

Something personal?

And Klempner’s face…

go upsetting your visitors, you’ll not

for an excuse to cut his

flash sidelong, fury glittering there. Just

The monster…

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

Apparent meekness.

Apparent obedience.

All fake.

What’s going on?

on Charlotte’s. “Calm down,” he murmurs.

want to think about what I just saw, but my

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

rage drains from her. “Will you tell me something about

eyes unfocusing, seemingly looking into some

What

the back of her shoulder, just there.” He reaches back,

was artistic? A

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

to run out of words. Klempner regards her, then continues, “She always

back in her chair.

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

bit. “Didn't have it down

tone like a desert, “Long

eyes lift to his. “Would you

he muses. “Perhaps the next time you

face sets.

will encourage you to visit

“Oh… What else?”

one too, a butterfly that

inside. Klempner watches the performance with a raised brow. He glances at me

pulls something; the photograph, holding it up to the grill. “Is that it? The necklace. That she’s wearing

what are the chances? Where the hell did you get hold of

old records… The missing persons file on my father.” Her hand is shaking. “Is that

narrowing, then he turns his attention

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

grill

Something precious?

then sits staring

necklace you

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

him in the

“Yes, that’s Conners.”

you still friends

the monosyllable lacks

doesn’t seem to notice. “When

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

“It's the only one I

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

She swings to James. “You're sure?” He nods without

yes, if you want it, you

Klempner sits silently gazing at the image. “I still have that necklace you know. If you like, you can have

voice trembles. “Why do

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

“I thought they didn't let you keep things like that in

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

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

sits back, chews at a lip. “I

had nothing to do

up the photo. “Quid

really it?” asks

folds his arms, a sneer flirting over his mouth,

James stares back.

try to

did I hear

fail? Between

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

“Couldn’t what?”

“Mitch was damaged

that supposed

had no capacity

gives him a look like a blade. “While you do?

folding his arms.

my father

tilts. “I’m not convinced

“But she married him?”

necessary to love someone

want to

I wanted her. I wanted her

she didn’t want you.”

of that either. There was something else. Something stopping

from that, you deduce that she

have left you

air through his

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 she

stone. I take her hand again, curling warm fingers around her cold ones. “You don't

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

the truth to be a fairy

whatever led

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