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!

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

could put it that way,

what? To take your revenge on me? Because she

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

he saying

Admitting this?

leans forward too, her face almost 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

poking a baton between his shoulders. “Behave yourself,

in the guard's

He dislikes Klempner?

Really dislikes him?

Something personal?

And Klempner’s face…

you’ll not

excuse to

fury glittering

The monster…

he schools his features to a more normal expression;

Apparent meekness.

Apparent obedience.

All fake.

What’s going on?

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

I just saw, but my

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

tell me something about my

into some far distance. “She

A thing? What do you

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

was artistic? A

saw of her work was very good. Very realistic.” He sucks at his teeth. “Almost eerily

out of words. Klempner regards her, then continues,

back in

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

mumbles a bit. “Didn't have it down

tone like

to his. “Would you tell

he muses. “Perhaps the next

sets. “Why not

encourage you

“Oh… What else?”

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

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

pulls something; the photograph, holding it up to

glances, then stiffens, looking more closely. “Well, what are

my father.” Her hand is

his attention back to the photo. “I'd like a closer

photo. Charlotte passes it

the grill

Something precious?

sits staring

necklace you

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

in

“Yes, that’s Conners.”

you still friends

But the

doesn’t seem to notice. “When was it? Where

end, before... before...” He holds

swallows. “It's the only one I

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

mine. She swings to James. “You're

yes, if you want it,

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

it?” Charlotte's voice trembles.

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

thought they didn't let you

have it here. But I can have it

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

at a lip. “I used

had

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

really it?” asks

flirting

James stares back.

to out-stare a

did I

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

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

“Couldn’t what?”

“Mitch was damaged

supposed to mean.

had no

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

sits back, folding his

my

tilts. “I’m

“But she married him?”

not actually necessary to love someone to

want to

get that far. But yes, I wanted her. I wanted her to be

didn’t want you.” Her voice

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

from that, you deduce that she had no capacity to

she have left you at

sucks air through his

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

her hand again, curling warm fingers around her cold ones. “You don't believe in

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

whispers. “I want the truth to

drain from him. “And whatever led you to think life is

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