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

could put it

revenge

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

is he

Admitting this?

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

something in the guard's stance;

He dislikes Klempner?

Really dislikes him?

Something personal?

And Klempner’s face…

visitors, you’ll

excuse to cut

fury glittering there. Just for a

The monster…

a more normal expression; apparent passivity… “Yes,

Apparent meekness.

Apparent obedience.

All fake.

What’s going on?

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

want to think about what I just saw,

each other. After long

from her. “Will you tell me something about my mother?” There’s pleading in her

eyes unfocusing, seemingly looking into some

A thing? What do

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

was artistic? A painter?

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

Klempner regards her, then continues, “She always seemed to be

in her

in his cheeks,

“Didn't have it down as a

like a desert,

“Would you tell me

next time you

face sets.

you to visit me

“Oh… What else?”

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

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 eye. I shrug. He avoids

photograph, holding it up to

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

on my father.” Her hand

turns his attention back to the photo. “I'd

Charlotte passes it to him. He gives it a cursory

it under the grill and

Something precious?

then sits

necklace you were talking

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

him in the

“Yes, that’s Conners.”

still

the monosyllable lacks

“When

end, before... before...” He holds

swallows. “It's

hers. Her flesh is icy. “It's a copy

She swings to James. “You're sure?” He nods

yes, if you want it, you

gazing at the image. “I still have that necklace you know. If you

it?” Charlotte's voice trembles. “Why

mother. Since she's not here, I

let you keep

didn’t say I have it here. But I can have it sent to you. Perhaps at those Haswell offices where you

hand from mine. “Why

sits back, chews at a lip. “I used to hate

had nothing

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

really it?”

a sneer flirting over his mouth, staring him

James stares back.

try to

did I

between the two of them then, “Why did it fail?

“It ended like that, yes. But... there was something about her well before then. As though she

“Couldn’t what?”

shrugs. “Mitch was damaged

that supposed to

no capacity to

a look like a blade. “While you

folding his

my

tilts. “I’m

“But she married him?”

not actually necessary to love someone

you want to marry

yes, I wanted her. I wanted her

you.” Her

either. There was something

that she had no capacity to

she have left

sucks air through his

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

be carved in stone. I take her hand again, curling warm fingers around her

came to talk; to ask me what happened. Do you want the truth or do you want a fairy

want the truth to be a fairy

whatever led you

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