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

put it that

your revenge on me? Because

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

is he

Admitting this?

“You 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 obsessed. You’re

moves to stand behind Klempner, poking a baton between his shoulders. “Behave

guard's stance; something in

He dislikes Klempner?

Really dislikes him?

Something personal?

And Klempner’s face…

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

excuse to cut

glittering there. Just

The monster…

before he 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.” It’s the first thing he’s

what I just

eye-ball each other. After long seconds he says, “So what

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

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

What

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

A painter? A

teeth. “Almost eerily so actually. She could

words. Klempner regards her, then continues, “She always

in

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

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

like a

lift to his. “Would you tell

muses. “Perhaps the next time you come to

sets.

encourage you to

“Oh… What else?”

wore a necklace with one too, a butterfly that is. A little silver thing. Just a trinket, but she was fond of

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 me with

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

closely. “Well, what are the chances? Where the hell did

my father.” Her hand is shaking. “Is that

her, his eyes narrowing, then he turns his attention back to

snaps fingers at the photo. Charlotte passes it to him. He

under the grill and Klempner takes it

Something precious?

sits

necklace you were

quiet as he looks up. “Your father

in the

“Yes, that’s Conners.”

still friends

the

to notice. “When was it? Where was

the end, before... before...”

“It's the only one I

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

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

you want it, you can

still have that necklace

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

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

didn't let

I can have it sent to you. Perhaps at those Haswell offices where you spend

dragging her hand from mine. “Why would

back, chews at a lip. “I used to hate you. That's

something I had nothing

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

that really it?” asks

a sneer flirting over his

James stares back.

try to out-stare

I

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

a long pause before speaking. “It ended like that, yes. But... there

“Couldn’t what?”

shrugs. “Mitch

supposed to

had no

gives him a look like a blade. “While you do? You mean she didn't

folding his arms.

loved my

tilts. “I’m

“But she married him?”

necessary to love

want

But yes, I wanted her. I wanted her

want you.” Her voice drips

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

you deduce that she had no

have

air through his

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

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

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

“I want the truth to be a

“And whatever led you

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