Masters & Lovers Box Set Three
Chapter 47
Michael
Klempner is, as usual, waiting as we arrive. From his seat, behind the barrier, he watches me enter with Charlotte. He looks rough; shadows under his eyes and he's lost weight.
The guard, Hartland, is there. He leans down, whispers close by my ear. “If it looks like trouble, just say the word.”
“I will.”
Then he straightens up and levels his baton towards Klempner. “Behave yourself, Larry.”
Klempner looks up, just barely tilts his head in acknowledgement. But I remember the look he gave Hartwell the last time we were here…
The monster stirring…
Klempner watches as James follows us in, letting out a barely audible sigh as he sits.
“That leg giving you trouble?”
James reply is curt. “Cold, damp weather.” But I hear his surprise at the question lurking behind the words.
Klempner fingers a long white scar on his hand. “It can't have been pleasant when Bech shot you. Tell me, do you remember it happening?”
James’ eyes shoot arrows. “What's it to you?”
“If you had just discovered you have a daughter, don't you think you would want to know something about the man she answers to?”
James shifts. Not much and perhaps not visibly to those who didn't know him, but I see it.
Unsettled?
“I didn't remember it at first, no,” he says. “The memory resurfaced after a few months.”
Klempner raises a flat, mirror gaze to him. “The memory was repressed?”
“Apparently.”
Klempner has a plastic cup of water by him. He takes a long mouthful, then sets it down again. “Interesting,” he says, “how the mind protects itself.”
What the hell’s he talking about?
Between me and James, Charlotte sits, shuffling awkwardly. Klempner chews at his upper lip. The pair regard each other in silence for a long minute then Charlotte finally speaks. “Thank you for sending the necklace.”
In restrained tones, “You’re welcome.” His eyes dip to her collar bone. “It suits you. As it did your mother.”
Charlotte swallows and lapses into silence again.
This could take a while…
After another long pause, Klempner says, “Are you going to ask me about your mother? That’s what you usually do.”
Charlotte fidgets then blurts, “I don’t even know what to call you.”
Klempner blows air. Looks down. Looks up. Then, “I suppose Dad is too much to hope for?”
James huffs and Klempner levels a stare at him. Then, “What do you want to call me?”
Charlotte’s voice would cut glass. “Don't tempt me.”
He coughs a laugh with no humour in it. “They know me as Larry around here. You can call me Larry.”
“What's your real name?”
“What?” He seems genuinely taken aback by the question.
real name? I don’t think it’s Klempner. I think you've probably gone by a lot
I left that behind when I was fourteen. Klempner works as well as
“And Larry?”
“That was what my
“Your mother?”
did have
“I wanted to ask you about
taps a fingernail on the
“What was she like?”
a basilisk.
“If you’re my… father… then she's my grandmother. I’m trying to find out who my family were… are…. You told me that your father beat you. I wondered
eyes. “No, she
He looks haunted…
“Tell me about her.”
“I barely remember her.”
me what you
swallows. “Perhaps one
What going on?
“You said you killed your
was a violent man.
“He beat you?”
small, he used my mother as a punch-bag. Later, it was
her attention. As though painted into place, Charlotte sits, frozen as he speaks. Klempner jerks his chin up. “It’s not a pleasant story. You sure you want to
“Yes.”
kitchen table. He was drunk. Throwing punches. Not caring what part of me
the dinner plate. Nothing special. Not a bread knife or a meat knife. Just the kind you’d use to eat your eggs or scrape butter onto bread. But it’s what was in my hand. I stabbed him. I sank it into his chest. It went between his ribs and he dropped like a
rises and falls; rises and falls. “Did you enjoy it?”
I was shocked; in pain from
“Where to?”
You know the kind of thing.
jailed you. Not for
run a knife into a man and watched him die at my feet. I thought they’d lock
Charlotte’s face goes slack…
Jenkins…
of what happened to her
thought she’d
She ran…
And she kept running…
on the cargo ships. There’s destinations where they don’t ask too many questions so long as you pull your weight. And it was easier back then. They didn’t have the kind
leans forward.
a lot. Congo, Chad, Central
sits back again. “Those were dangerous places to be. And dangerous times
voice is languid, almost bored, but his gaze holds
in. “What were you
then
shrugs. “There’s always a war to be found in that part of
blanks over for a moment, then
“I was. Yes.”
you do
“It’s a living.”
“But it’s so dangerous.”
head tilts.
She holds…
leans forward, resting on folded arms. His voice is almost gentle. “A piece of advice, for what it is worth to you. If you find yourself in a dangerous
me. You wouldn’t have said all that
the run,” he says, a touch of asperity in
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