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!

“You wanted me as

put it that

what? To take your revenge on me?

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

is he saying

Admitting this?

you?” she hisses. “Fallen in love with you? Is that what you mean? After the way you treated

guard moves to stand behind Klempner, poking a baton between

is something in the guard's stance; something

He dislikes Klempner?

Really dislikes him?

Something personal?

And Klempner’s face…

upsetting your visitors, you’ll

excuse to

glittering there. Just for

The monster…

he schools his features to a more normal expression;

Apparent meekness.

Apparent obedience.

All fake.

What’s going on?

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

want to think about what I just saw,

chair. She and Klempner eye-ball each other. After long seconds he says,

me something about my mother?” There’s pleading in her voice.

inclines, eyes unfocusing, seemingly looking into some far

thing? What

shoulder, just there.” He

was artistic? A painter? A good

“Almost eerily so actually. She

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

in

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

mumbles a bit. “Didn't have it down as a

like a desert,

lift to his. “Would you tell me about

next time you

sets. “Why not

encourage you to visit me

“Oh… What else?”

too, a butterfly that is. A little silver thing. Just a trinket, but she was fond

for her bag, scrabbling inside. Klempner watches the performance with a raised brow. He glances at me with a questioning eye.

photograph, holding it up to the grill. “Is that it? The necklace. That

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

persons file on my father.” Her hand is shaking. “Is that it?

he turns his attention back to the photo.

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

slides it under the grill and Klempner takes it

Something precious?

sits

that the necklace

as he looks up.

him in

“Yes, that’s Conners.”

still friends

But the

notice. “When

the end, before... before...” He holds up the photo. “Can I

then swallows. “It's the only one I

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

fingers tighten into mine. She swings to James. “You're

want it, you

the image. “I still have that necklace you know. If you like, you can

Charlotte's voice trembles.

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

let you keep things

I have it here. But I can have it

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

lip.

I had nothing

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

that really it?” asks

folds his arms, a sneer flirting over his mouth, staring

James stares back.

try to out-stare a

did I

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

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

“Couldn’t what?”

“Mitch

that supposed to

had no capacity to

a blade. “While

back, folding his arms. “No, she

my father

tilts. “I’m

“But she married him?”

actually necessary to love

you want

didn’t get that far. But yes, I wanted her. I wanted her to be

want you.” Her voice drips

not convinced of that either. There was something else. Something stopping her

deduce that she had no capacity to

have left you

air through his

knew where you would be. But she

warm

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

whispers. “I want the truth

aggression seems to drain from him. “And whatever

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