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 substitute

could put it that

revenge on me? Because she left

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

he

Admitting this?

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

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

guard's stance; something in his

He dislikes Klempner?

Really dislikes him?

Something personal?

And Klempner’s face…

you’ll not

excuse

fury glittering there.

The monster…

a

Apparent meekness.

Apparent obedience.

All fake.

What’s going on?

“Calm down,” he

want to think about what I just saw, but my thoughts are cut

shuffles in her chair. She and Klempner eye-ball each other. After

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

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

thing? What do you

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 on the wall of her

was artistic? A painter? A good

He sucks at his teeth. “Almost eerily so actually. She could have made a living as

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

sits back in her chair.

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

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

like a desert, “Long

eyes lift to his. “Would you tell me about

muses. “Perhaps the next time you come to

sets. “Why

encourage you

“Oh… What else?”

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

sits back, her mouth opening and closing. Then she dives for her bag, scrabbling inside. Klempner watches the performance with a raised brow.

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

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

in some old records… The missing persons file on my father.” Her hand is shaking. “Is that it? The necklace she’s

eyes narrowing, then he turns his attention back

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

slides it under the grill and Klempner takes

Something precious?

sits staring at

necklace you were talking

His voice is quiet as he looks

in the

“Yes, that’s Conners.”

still

the monosyllable lacks

to notice. “When was it? Where

before... before...” He holds up the

“It's the only

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

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

you want it, you

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

voice trembles. “Why do

it to your mother. Since she's not here, I suppose that makes it rightfully

wavering, “I thought they didn't let you

I didn’t say I have it here. But I can have it

“Why would you take that

sits back, chews at a lip. “I used to

something I had nothing

holds up the photo. “Quid pro quo. You

that really

his arms, a sneer flirting over his mouth, staring him

James stares back.

to

I

did it fail?

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

“Couldn’t what?”

shrugs. “Mitch

that supposed to

had no capacity to

“While you do? You

folding his

loved my

head tilts. “I’m not

“But she married him?”

to love someone

you want to marry

wanted her. I wanted

want you.” Her

not convinced of that either. There was something else. Something stopping

that, you deduce that she had no capacity

she have left you at

sucks air through

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

hand again, curling warm fingers around her cold ones. “You

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

the truth to be a fairy

whatever led you to think life is

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