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 substitute for her? Is that

could put it that way,

what? To take your revenge on me? Because

almost touching the grill. “You got it right the first time. I

he saying all

Admitting this?

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.

to stand behind Klempner, poking a

is something in the guard's stance; something in

He dislikes Klempner?

Really dislikes him?

Something personal?

And Klempner’s face…

your visitors, you’ll

an excuse to cut

fury glittering

The monster…

a more normal expression; apparent

Apparent meekness.

Apparent obedience.

All fake.

What’s going on?

down,” he murmurs. “It’s past.”

just saw, but my thoughts are cut

other. After

something about

head inclines, eyes unfocusing, seemingly looking into some far

What do you

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

artistic? A painter? A good

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

her, then continues,

sits back in

cheeks, looking amused. “What’s so surprising about

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

a tone like a desert, “Long

“Would you

“Perhaps the next time you

sets.

encourage you to visit me

“Oh… What else?”

necklace with one too, a butterfly that is.

bag, scrabbling inside. Klempner watches the performance with a raised brow. He glances at me with a questioning eye. I shrug. He avoids James’

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

what are the chances?

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

glances at her, his eyes narrowing, then he turns his attention back to the photo. “I'd like a closer

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

grill and

Something precious?

then sits

necklace you

voice is quiet as he looks up.

him in

“Yes, that’s Conners.”

you still

the

to notice. “When was it? Where

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

“It's the only

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

to James. “You're

if you want it, you can

the image. “I still have that necklace you

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

it to your mother. Since

let you keep things like that in

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

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

chews at a lip. “I used to hate you.

had

photo. “Quid pro

really it?”

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

James stares back.

try to out-stare a

did I hear

looks between the two of them then, “Why did it fail? Between you

like that, yes. But... there was something about her well

“Couldn’t what?”

shrugs. “Mitch was

that supposed

no capacity to

like a blade. “While you do? You mean

back, folding his

my

“I’m not convinced

“But she married him?”

actually necessary to love someone to marry

want to marry

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

didn’t want you.”

There was something else.

that, you deduce that she had no capacity

have left you at

air through his

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

could be carved in stone. I take her hand again, curling warm fingers around her cold ones. “You

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

the truth to be a fairy

aggression seems to drain from him. “And whatever

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