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 a substitute for

put it that way,

take your revenge on me?

leans forward on folded arms, his face almost touching the grill. “You got it right the first time. I wanted you as

is he

Admitting this?

“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

behind Klempner, poking a baton

the guard's stance; something in his

He dislikes Klempner?

Really dislikes him?

Something personal?

And Klempner’s face…

If you go upsetting your visitors, you’ll not be getting any more

excuse to cut

fury glittering there.

The monster…

schools his features to a more normal expression; apparent

Apparent meekness.

Apparent obedience.

All fake.

What’s going on?

on Charlotte’s. “Calm down,” he

want to think about what I just saw, but my thoughts are cut

eye-ball each other. After long seconds

rage drains from her. “Will you tell me something about my mother?”

looking into some far

thing? What do you

back of her shoulder, just there.” He reaches back, tapping behind himself.

artistic? A painter?

of her work was very good. Very realistic.” He sucks at his teeth. “Almost eerily so actually. She could have made a living

her, then continues, “She always seemed to be wearing

sits back in

cheeks, looking amused.

“Didn't have it down as a pyjamas

a tone like a

“Would you tell me about

the next

sets. “Why not

you to visit me

“Oh… What else?”

distant look again. “She wore a necklace with one too, a butterfly that is. A little silver thing. Just a

bag, scrabbling inside. Klempner watches the performance with

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

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

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

glances at her, his eyes narrowing, then he turns his attention

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

slides it under the grill and

Something precious?

then sits staring

necklace you were talking

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

in the

“Yes, that’s Conners.”

still friends

the monosyllable

doesn’t seem to notice. “When was

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

flushes then swallows. “It's the

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

to James. “You're sure?”

you want it,

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

have it?” Charlotte's voice trembles.

it to your mother. Since

voice wavering, “I thought they didn't let

it here. But I can have it sent to

her hand from mine. “Why would you take that

back, chews at a lip.

something I had nothing to

holds up the photo. “Quid

that really it?”

folds his arms, a sneer flirting over

James stares back.

try to

did I

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

that, yes. But... there

“Couldn’t what?”

shrugs. “Mitch was damaged

supposed to

had no capacity to

a blade. “While you do? You

back, folding his arms. “No,

loved my father

head tilts. “I’m not

“But she married him?”

actually necessary to love

you want to marry

far. But yes, I wanted her. I

you.” Her voice

either. There was something else. Something stopping

that, you deduce that she had no capacity to

she have left

air

on the counter. “She knew I had you. She knew where you would be. But she

white-faced, could be carved in stone. I take her hand again, curling warm fingers around her cold ones. “You

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

want the truth to

whatever led you to

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