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!

recoils. Shock ricochets over her face. “You wanted me as a substitute for

could put it that

your revenge on me?

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

is he saying all

Admitting this?

would have wanted you?” she hisses. “Fallen in love with you? Is

poking a baton between his shoulders.

is something in the guard's stance;

He dislikes Klempner?

Really dislikes him?

Something personal?

And Klempner’s face…

visitors, you’ll not

for an excuse to

glittering there. Just for

The monster…

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

Apparent meekness.

Apparent obedience.

All fake.

What’s going on?

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

think about what I just saw, but

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

you tell me something about my

looking into some far distance.

thing? What

had a small tattoo on the back of her shoulder, just there.” He reaches

A painter? A good

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

Klempner regards her, then continues, “She

in her chair.

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

“Didn't have it down as a pyjamas

a tone like a desert,

his. “Would you tell me about

next time you come

face sets. “Why not

you to

“Oh… What else?”

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

holding it up to

what are the chances? Where the hell did you

on my father.” Her hand is shaking. “Is that it? The necklace

eyes narrowing, then he turns his attention back to the

photo. Charlotte

under the grill and Klempner

Something precious?

sits staring

necklace

it is.” His voice is quiet as he

in

“Yes, that’s Conners.”

you still

But the

notice. “When was it? Where was

end, before... before...”

“It's the

“It's a copy of the original. James

mine. She swings to James.

want it, you can have

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

Charlotte's voice trembles. “Why

your mother. Since

thought they didn't let

it sent to you. Perhaps at those Haswell

sits bolt upright, dragging her hand from mine. “Why would

a lip. “I used to hate

something I had nothing to do

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

that really it?” asks

flirting over

James stares back.

try to out-stare

I hear

“Why did it fail? Between you and my

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

“Couldn’t what?”

“Mitch

that supposed to

no

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

his arms.

loved my

head tilts. “I’m not convinced

“But she married him?”

to

want to

yes, I wanted her. I wanted her to be with

she didn’t want you.” Her voice

not convinced of that either. There was something

from that, you deduce that she

would she have left you

air through his

She knew where you would be. But she never

again, curling warm fingers around her

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

whispers. “I want the truth to

seems to drain from him. “And whatever led you to think

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