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!

her face. “You wanted me as a substitute for

it that

your revenge

his face almost touching the grill. “You got it right the first time. I wanted

is he saying

Admitting this?

the barrier. “You imagine 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 over

poking a baton between his shoulders. “Behave yourself,

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

excuse to cut his

glittering

The monster…

schools his features to a more normal expression; apparent passivity…

Apparent meekness.

Apparent obedience.

All fake.

What’s going on?

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

what I just saw, but my thoughts are cut

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

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

looking into some far

thing? What

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

was artistic? A painter? A

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

words. Klempner regards her, then continues,

sits back in her

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

it down as a pyjamas kind of

a tone like

his. “Would you tell me

“Perhaps the next time you come to see

sets.

you to

“Oh… What else?”

necklace with one too, a butterfly that is. A

back, her mouth opening and closing. Then she dives for her bag, scrabbling inside. Klempner watches the performance with a raised brow. He glances at me with a questioning

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

stiffens, looking more closely. “Well, what are

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

his

photo. Charlotte passes it to him. He

the grill and Klempner takes it

Something precious?

sits staring

the necklace

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

in the

“Yes, that’s Conners.”

you still friends

the monosyllable lacks

doesn’t seem to notice. “When was it?

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

swallows. “It's the only one I

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

mine. She swings to

you want

have that necklace

trembles. “Why

your father gave it to your mother. Since she's not

“I thought they didn't let you keep

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

from mine. “Why would you take that kind of

at a lip. “I used to hate

I had nothing

the photo. “Quid pro quo. You give

really

his arms, a sneer flirting

James stares back.

try to out-stare a

did I hear

did it fail? Between you and my mother? Because she was

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

“Couldn’t what?”

shrugs. “Mitch was damaged

that supposed to

no capacity to

a look like a blade. “While you do? You mean she didn't

his arms.

loved my father

head tilts. “I’m

“But she married him?”

necessary to love

want to

I wanted her. I wanted her

didn’t want you.” Her

either. There was something else. Something stopping her from…

deduce that

have

sucks air through his

had you. She knew where you would be. But she never came for you. I believed she

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

what happened. Do you want the

want the truth to be a fairy

drain from him. “And whatever led you to think

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