The Lover's Children

Chapter 86 – Solstice – Part 19

JAMES

It’s late. From beyond the lounge, the front door bangs open, then closed. Footsteps echo down the

hallway.

The lounge door slams wide and Klempner strides in, glances around, gives me a short acknowledging

nod, then heads for the drinks cabinet, helping himself to a malt.

A large malt.

Glass in hand, he knocks back half of it in two gulps, then sags into an armchair, staring at the walls.

Bad day at the office…

“Mind if I join you? I rather enjoy drinking my own whiskey.”

He ignores the sarcasm. Waves a hand, a-la Queen-of-England-and-our-subjects. “Be my guest.”

I don’t truly want the whiskey, but I’m seeing a man who clearly does. Pouring myself a finger, I resume

my armchair. “Anything I can do to help?”

He raises the glass to his lips, gulps and swallows. “Not really.”

The tick of the clock is loud against the silence.

“I’m sorry, but my leg’s giving me gyp. Would you mind stoking up the fire.”

He doesn’t speak. Just nods, rises, pokes the ashes to a glowing bed then adds a couple of logs. As

the logs catch, he pokes some more, then throws on another before returning to his armchair to gaze

gloomily into space.

“Rough day?”

He grunts.

“Rough enough that you come here rather than going back to Mitch’s place?”

Klempner’s eyes rise to meet mine. He finishes his glass, gives a micro-nod.

“Help yourself to another.”

The eye-flash again. “Thanks.”

What’s bothering him?

Ahhhh….

Of course….

“If you don’t mind me asking, your hunt for The Surgeon… It’s been a while now. How’s it going?”

Klempner props his cheek in a palm. Looks away. “It’s not.”

“Nothing at all?”

“Nothing at all. The pimps are happy enough to talk to me. Mostly. But they lose interest when I tell

them I’m not in business anymore. And the street hookers, they won’t talk to me at all. One or two of

them knew who I was. Half a day later, they all knew who I was. I tried in a different areas over some

days, and it was much the same result.”

“The women won’t have any dealings with Larry Klempner?”

“That’s about the size of it.” He blows out his cheeks. “It seems it’s not going to be easy to leave my

reputation behind.”

“Trust has to be earned. And sometimes re-earned. It’s a lesson we’ve all had to learn at some point.”

“Oh.” Interest flickers across his lean features. “When did you have to learn it?”

Crap…

“Perhaps you should ask Charlotte about that.”

Klempner’s face hardens. He straightens up, faces me. “I’m asking you about it.”

I prevaricate. “You know what kind of relationship I share with Charlotte. There has to be trust with that

kind of… connection.”

His head tilts, eyes narrowing. “It’s more than that. What happened that required you to re-earn Jenny’s

trust?”

For the first time in some time, I remind myself who I am dealing with. Klempner’s attempts to lead a

normal life are entirely due to his love for… His undoubted devotion to… Mitch. And the years have

demonstrated that devotion crosses the boundaries into obsession.

This is the most dangerous man I know.

Ice splinters, cracks radiating out from under my feet.

I buy myself some thinking time with a sip of whiskey. “It was in the early days. Michael and I had not

known Charlotte long. Charlotte didn’t deserve it, but I… I became jealous. I was entirely in the wrong.

She’d done nothing to earn my jealousy. But I… reacted badly, violently, toward her… And Michael

failed to support her against me in the way he should have because he was jealous too.”

I expect Klempner’s aggression to grow. Instead, it recedes, his brow creasing. “What happened?”

I raise spread palms. “She left us. Simply vanished into the night. In the morning, when Michael and I

found she was gone, we panicked. Went after her. She’d hiked nearly twenty miles by the time we

found her, asleep in a roadside cafe. She still refused to have anything to do with either of us, but we

persuaded her to let us drive her into the City rather than hitch a lift. And she simply walked away from

us into the rail station. Never looked back.”

Klempner props his chin on a fist. “Go on. What happened next?”

“Michael and I went our separate ways. It almost destroyed our friendship. I… fell apart…” Klempner

raises brows… “When Michael sought me out, it was only so that we could go look for her together. He

didn’t think Charlotte would return just for him.”

“So you and he made up your friendship again?”

“Not at that stage. We tracked her down to the university. She was living in complete squalor. I’d

forwarded money to her bank account, but she’d not used any of it. The conditions she was living in…”

My stomach churns uneasily at the memory… “When we showed ourselves, tried to speak to her, she

ran again. Simply walked out into the night. It was freezing. She had no jacket. No purse. No money.

Not even enough for a coffee…” My throat tightens. It’s hard to get the words out… “She was

attacked…”

His tone is dry. “Jenny can defend herself.”

“Yes, but there were two of them. And she was upset, not thinking straight. I think they jumped her from

behind. They were dragging her into an alley. Michael and I heard her screams. We fought them off, but

during the fight… Charlotte was hurt…”

The memory surges, a great black cloud, threatening to overwhelm. “One of her attackers, when

Michael and I appeared, he slung her aside, threw her against a wall. I heard the crack of her head

against the brick. She went down. Just dropped.” I press a finger to the bridge of my nose, squeeze my

eyes. “I thought she was dead. I believed they’d killed her…”

Klempner sits back, arms folding, his expression intense. “Keep going.”

“We got her to a hospital. As it turned out, the injuries weren’t critical, but she needed to be confined to

bed for several days. We… took her back to where we’d been staying…”

His brows rise. “How did she react to that?”

“Not well. But she was too weak to do anything about it, and we made it clear it was a no-strings

arrangement. We asked simply that she remain with us long enough to recover her health, and for us to

make arrangements so she would have a reasonable quality of life. Not to return to the slum where

we’d found her.”

He clicks his tongue. “That’s all very well, but it doesn’t sound like enough to me, to rebuild the

relationship.”

“It wasn’t. Charlotte only… gave herself… to me again, and then to Michael, when I made it plain that I

understood I’d been in the wrong, that she was free, and that I would help her to have the life she

wanted, regardless of whether or not I was a part of it.”

Klempner looks at me, looks away, a finger pressed to his lips. “I never heard any of this before. Not

from Jenny. Not from Mitch.”

“I’ve never told the story before,” I say. “Nor Michael, I think. Neither of us is proud of the episode. And I

don’t know if Charlotte ever told her mother.”

“But you chose to tell me.”

“The conversation started on the subject of trust re-earned.”

He inhales. “So it did. It seems it will take me some time to earn trust. I’m not sure I’ll get anywhere

trying to help Stanton in his search if I don’t succeed in that first.” He pauses to drink, but now he’s

sipping, not gulping. “Pure idle curiosity, but what did Jenny do to cause you jealousy? She’s devoted

to you. I can’t imagine what…”

Double crap…

My face heats. “She met Richard for the first time.”

For a moment, his face blanks, “Richard?” Then, “You mean Haswell?”

“Yes.”

Klempner cracks out laughing. Shaking, he drops his face into a hand.

He comes out wiping his eyes. “Christ, that’s the funniest thing I’ve heard in a long time. It puts my

problems into perspective.”

The shaking dies down but humour still tugs at the corners of his mouth. “I’ll say one thing, even if she

left you, Jenny must still have felt something toward you. You say you were violent toward her? Two

thugs together might have taken her down, but she’s perfectly capable of beating ten shades of shit out

of you if she wanted to.”

I chuckle… “Oh, I know it…” … then pause. From beyond the door, there was a definite creak…

Klempner’s gaze flicks to mine. Pressing a finger to his lips, he stands, then flings the door back on its

hinges. Charlotte stands outside, her guilty expression immediately wiped away by defiance.

*****

KLEMPNER

James snaps, "Charlotte, what part of the phrase, private conversation, don't you understand?"

Chin lifted, she scowls. "If I'd not listened in, I wouldn't know what's been talked about, would I? This Property © of NôvelDrama.Org.

search for the killer, I can help too."

James, expressionless, props an ankle on one knee. Folds his arms. "How?"

She slides in, pulls out a chair...

“Was that an invitation to sit? No one said..."

But Jenny is already speaking, blithely ignoring James, addressing me. "You said you need to talk with

some of the street girls. Even if they won't talk to you, they'll talk to me.”

“Your mother won’t want you to do this,” says James.

Her reply is cool. “She might. And anyway, what’s Mom to do with you?

James morphs to his Bad Bastard face. “Your mother is part of this family now. She’s as much under

my protection as you are. And she displays considerable common sense.”

Jenny’s chin tilts up. “Have you asked her what she thinks?” She turns, faces me. “You’re very quiet.

Are you going to say no too? You refused to do it yourself at first, because you thought Mom wouldn’t

want you involved. But when she saw the photos, she told you to help.”

“I’ll turn your question back,” I say. “What is that to do with you?”

She ducks her head, blinking. “He’s targeting street girls. Some of them were my friends.” She lifts her

face again, meets James in the eye. “And that puts them under my protection.”

James shows no sign of relenting. I opt for political silence. Jenny shifts, her voice turning meek. “I can

help. I want to help.”