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!

wanted me as a substitute for her? Is

it

what? To take your revenge on me? Because

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

he

Admitting this?

you?” she hisses. “Fallen in love with you? Is that what you mean? After the way you

guard moves to stand behind Klempner, poking a baton between his

guard's stance;

He dislikes Klempner?

Really dislikes him?

Something personal?

And Klempner’s face…

go upsetting your visitors, you’ll not be getting

an excuse

fury glittering there. Just for

The monster…

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

Apparent meekness.

Apparent obedience.

All fake.

What’s going on?

on Charlotte’s. “Calm down,” he

want to think about what I just saw, but my

and Klempner eye-ball 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 voice.

inclines, eyes unfocusing, seemingly looking into some far distance. “She had a thing for

What do

she 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

was artistic? A

very good. Very realistic.” He sucks at his teeth. “Almost eerily so

to run out of words. Klempner regards her, then continues, “She always seemed to be wearing butterflies on herself somewhere... slippers,

sits back in her

He sucks in his cheeks, looking

have it down

tone like

lift to his. “Would you tell me

the next time you

face sets. “Why not

will encourage you to

“Oh… What else?”

wore a necklace with one too, a butterfly that is. A little silver thing. Just

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 the grill. “Is that it? The necklace. That she’s

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

missing persons file on my father.” Her hand is shaking.

her, his eyes narrowing, then he turns his attention back to the photo.

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

the grill and Klempner takes it

Something precious?

sits staring at

that the necklace

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

him in

“Yes, that’s Conners.”

you still

But the monosyllable

seem to notice. “When was it?

before...” He

swallows. “It's the only

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

mine. She swings to James. “You're sure?” He nods without

want it, you

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

trembles.

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

they didn't let you keep things like that

it sent to you. Perhaps at

“Why would you take that

lip. “I used to hate you. That's

had nothing to

“Quid pro quo. You give me something.

that really

arms, a sneer flirting over his mouth, staring

James stares back.

to

I

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

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

“Couldn’t what?”

“Mitch was

that supposed to

no capacity

look like a blade. “While you do?

back, folding his arms. “No,

my

“I’m not convinced

“But she married him?”

not actually necessary to love someone to

want

wanted her.

want you.” Her voice drips

convinced of that either. There was something else. Something

from that, you deduce that she had no capacity

she have left you at

sucks air through his

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

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

me what happened. Do you want the

“I want the truth

whatever led you to think life is

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