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 way,

revenge

“You got it right the first time. I wanted you as a substitute for

he saying all

Admitting this?

face 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

poking a

something in 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

for an excuse

flash sidelong, fury glittering there. Just for a

The monster…

a more normal expression; apparent

Apparent meekness.

Apparent obedience.

All fake.

What’s going on?

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

what I just saw, but

each other. After long

something about my mother?” There’s pleading

head inclines, eyes unfocusing, seemingly looking into some far distance.

What

mean, she liked butterflies. She had a small tattoo on the back of her shoulder, just there.” He reaches back, tapping behind himself. “And she’d painted one

artistic? A painter?

his teeth. “Almost eerily so actually.

her, then continues, “She always seemed to be wearing butterflies on herself somewhere... slippers,

in her chair.

his cheeks, looking

a bit. “Didn't have it down as a pyjamas kind

tone like

eyes lift to his. “Would you

next time

sets. “Why not

encourage you to visit

“Oh… What else?”

again. “She wore a necklace with one too, a butterfly that is. A little

for her bag, scrabbling inside. Klempner watches the performance with

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

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

file on my

then he turns his attention back to the

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

it under the grill

Something precious?

sits staring

the necklace you were talking

as

him in

“Yes, that’s Conners.”

you still

But the monosyllable lacks

doesn’t seem to notice. “When was it?

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

then swallows. “It's the only

flesh is icy. “It's a copy of the original. James can make you

to James. “You're sure?” He nods

if you want it,

still have that necklace you

trembles. “Why do you

your mother. Since she's not here, I suppose

thought they didn't let you

don't. I didn’t say I have it here. But I can have it sent to

upright, dragging her hand from mine. “Why would you

back, chews at a lip. “I used

had

He stalls then holds up the photo. “Quid pro quo. You give

really it?” asks

his arms, a sneer flirting

James stares back.

try to out-stare a

I hear

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

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

“Couldn’t what?”

shrugs. “Mitch was

supposed to

no capacity

blade. “While you do? You

sits back, folding his arms.

my father

tilts. “I’m

“But she married him?”

not actually necessary to love

want to marry

far. But yes, I wanted her. I wanted her to be

didn’t want you.” Her

of that either. There was something else.

deduce that she had

she have left you

sucks air through his

had you. She knew where

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

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

truth

whatever

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