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!

Shock ricochets over her face. “You wanted me as

could put it that

your revenge

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

he

Admitting this?

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 twenty years. You’re

Klempner, poking a baton between his shoulders. “Behave

in the guard's

He dislikes Klempner?

Really dislikes him?

Something personal?

And Klempner’s face…

your visitors, you’ll not be getting any more of

excuse to cut his

sidelong, fury glittering there. Just

The monster…

features to a more normal

Apparent meekness.

Apparent obedience.

All fake.

What’s going on?

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

to think about what I just

She and Klempner eye-ball each other. After long seconds he says, “So what would you like to

drains from her. “Will you tell me something about my

eyes unfocusing, seemingly looking into some far distance. “She had

What do

just there.” He

artistic? A painter? A

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

then continues,

back in her chair.

in his cheeks, looking amused.

mumbles a bit. “Didn't have it down as a

tone like

eyes lift to his. “Would you

muses. “Perhaps the next

face sets.

will encourage you to visit

“Oh… What else?”

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

Then she dives for her bag, scrabbling inside. Klempner watches the performance with a raised brow. He glances at me with a questioning

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

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

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

narrowing, then he turns his attention

photo. Charlotte

it under the grill and Klempner

Something precious?

then sits

necklace you were talking

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

in the

“Yes, that’s Conners.”

still

But the monosyllable

to notice. “When

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

swallows. “It's the only one I

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

tighten into mine. She swings to James. “You're

want

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

trembles.

long story. But your father gave it to your mother. Since she's not here, I

“I thought they didn't let you keep things like that in

But I can have it sent to you. Perhaps

her hand from mine. “Why would you take that kind of trouble? You

lip. “I used to

had

photo. “Quid pro quo.

that really it?” asks

sneer flirting over his mouth, staring

James stares back.

try to out-stare

did I hear

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

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

“Couldn’t what?”

shrugs. “Mitch was

supposed

no

gives him a look like a blade. “While you do? You mean she

folding his arms. “No,

loved my

tilts. “I’m not

“But she married him?”

to

you want to

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

you.”

of that either. There was something else. Something stopping her from… from

from that, you deduce that

have left you

air through his

arms resting on the counter. “She knew I had you. She knew where you would be. But she never

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

to talk; to ask me what happened.

“I want the truth to be

him. “And whatever led you to think life

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