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!

over her face. “You wanted me as a

could put it that way,

To take your revenge on me? Because

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

is he saying all

Admitting this?

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 the way you

stand behind Klempner, poking a baton between his shoulders.

something in the guard's

He dislikes Klempner?

Really dislikes him?

Something personal?

And Klempner’s face…

you go upsetting your visitors, you’ll not be getting any

for an excuse to cut his

eyes flash sidelong, fury glittering there. Just for a

The monster…

his features to a more normal expression; apparent passivity… “Yes, Mr

Apparent meekness.

Apparent obedience.

All fake.

What’s going on?

he

about what I just saw, but

each other. After long seconds he says, “So what would you like to talk

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

unfocusing, seemingly looking into some

A thing? What do you

she liked butterflies. She had a small tattoo on the back of her shoulder, just there.” He reaches back, tapping behind himself.

was artistic? A painter?

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

to run out of words. Klempner regards her, then continues, “She

back in

his cheeks, looking amused.

it down as a pyjamas kind of

like

his. “Would

“Perhaps the next time you come to

sets.

encourage you to

“Oh… What else?”

wore a necklace with one too, a butterfly that

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 James’

it up to the grill. “Is that it? The necklace. That

what are the chances? Where the hell did

file on my father.” Her hand is

turns his attention back

at the photo. Charlotte passes it to him. He gives it

the grill and

Something precious?

then sits

that the necklace you were

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

him in

“Yes, that’s Conners.”

you still

the monosyllable lacks

“When was it? Where

words are slow. “Towards the end, before... before...” He holds up the photo. “Can I keep

flushes then swallows. “It's the only one I

over hers. Her flesh is icy. “It's a copy of the original.

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

yes, if you want it,

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

have it?” Charlotte's voice trembles. “Why do you

mother.

they didn't let you keep things like that in

can have it sent to you. Perhaps

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

chews at a lip. “I

something I had nothing to do

photo. “Quid pro quo. You give me something. I

really

folds his arms, a sneer flirting over his mouth,

James stares back.

try to out-stare

I

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

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

“Couldn’t what?”

“Mitch was

supposed to

no

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

back, folding his arms. “No, she

loved my father

head tilts. “I’m

“But she married him?”

not actually necessary to love someone

you want

But yes, I wanted her. I wanted her

didn’t want you.” Her voice drips

something else. Something stopping her from… from

that, you deduce that she had no capacity

have left you at

sucks air

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

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

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

the truth to be a fairy

to drain from him. “And whatever led

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