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!

wanted me as a substitute for her?

it

To take your revenge on me?

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

he saying all

Admitting this?

almost meeting his save for the barrier. “You imagine I would have wanted you?” she hisses. “Fallen in love with you? Is that what you mean? After

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

the guard's

He dislikes Klempner?

Really dislikes him?

Something personal?

And Klempner’s face…

you go upsetting your visitors, you’ll not be

an excuse

flash sidelong, fury glittering

The monster…

before he schools his features to a more normal expression; apparent

Apparent meekness.

Apparent obedience.

All fake.

What’s going on?

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

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

her chair. She and Klempner eye-ball each other. After long seconds

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

looking into some far distance. “She

thing? What

back of her shoulder, just there.” He reaches back, tapping behind himself. “And she’d painted one on the

A painter? A

saw of her work was very good. Very realistic.” He sucks at his teeth. “Almost eerily so actually. She

then continues, “She always seemed to be wearing butterflies on

sits back in her

cheeks, looking amused. “What’s so

have it

like a

eyes lift to his. “Would you tell me about

“Perhaps the next

sets. “Why not

will encourage you to visit

“Oh… What else?”

look again. “She wore a necklace with one too, a butterfly

the performance with a raised brow.

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

stiffens, looking more closely. “Well, what are the chances? Where the hell did you get hold

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

narrowing, then he turns his attention back

snaps fingers at the photo. Charlotte

it under the grill and Klempner takes it

Something precious?

then sits staring at

necklace

is quiet as

in the

“Yes, that’s Conners.”

still friends

the monosyllable lacks

to notice. “When

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

then swallows. “It's the only one

flesh 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 can have

silently gazing at the image. “I still have that

have it?” Charlotte's voice trembles.

story. But your father gave it to your mother. Since she's

thought they didn't let you keep things

it sent to you. Perhaps at those

her hand from mine. “Why would

at a lip. “I used to hate you. That's

had nothing to do

father...” He stalls then holds up the photo. “Quid pro quo. You give me something. I give you

that really it?”

flirting over his

James stares back.

try to out-stare

I

“Why did it fail? Between you

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

“Couldn’t what?”

shrugs. “Mitch

supposed to mean.

no capacity

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

sits back, folding his

loved my

head tilts. “I’m not convinced of

“But she married him?”

not actually necessary to

want to

wanted her. I wanted her

you.”

something else. Something stopping her from…

deduce that she

would she have left

air through his

counter. “She knew I had you. She knew

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

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

truth to

him. “And whatever led you to think life

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