CHARLOTTE
“I want to know about you,” says Klempner, “and how you make it work with two men.”
What the Hell?
Uncertain, I glance up at Michael. He shrugs. “Your call.”
“Alright. I’ll talk to you.” I say. “If in return, you’ll tell me what I want to know.”
Arms folded, face non-committal, “Okay. Shoot.”
“How did you know my mother and father? What were they to you? I know you murdered my father.”
His eyes drop.
“Did I?”
“I’m told by the police that you did. And I believe it.”
“Okay, I killed Frank Conners, yes; if you’re determined to call him your father….”
“Why?”
“He was my friend, or I thought he was. It turned out I was wrong.”
“So why did you think he was?”
“We’d go out together, drinking, chasing women. You know, the things men do.
“What was he like?”
He sniffs. “The reliable type. Solid, dependable….”
“Was he…. a good man?”
His head tilts, eyes narrowing. “What sort of question is that?”
“Did he know you were a trafficker?”
He doesn’t reply, folds his arms, stares me down.
I gulp. “And my mother? What about her?”
“She was a hooker.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“He sighs. “Jennifer….
“Charlotte….”
“Charlotte, you don’t want to believe me. But I assure you, she was a hooker, and rather a good one. She enjoyed what she did; worked at the top end of the market. Charged a lot of money.”
I swallow hard. “You said you ‘ran her’, with a string of other women….”
“Yeah, well, I lied about that. I was running women, but your mother wasn’t one of them. Frank and I were in one of the classier hotel bars downtown. Some of the call girls would hang out there, looking for rich marks. She hit on us there….”
Please let him be lying….
He sees my expression. “You still don’t want to believe me? She was very good at her job. Good enough that, at first, we didn’t realise she was a professional. We thought she was just being…. friendly. And I’ll admit, when I set eyes on her, I thought she was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen….” He pauses, looking long at me. Michael’s grip on my shoulder tightens. “…. So did Frank. We took a room for the night and…. well, you know the script from there. You’ve had two guys together often enough I’m sure….”
Don’t let him bait you….
“So, what then?”
“She was fun to be with. Not just a good fuck, but actually good company. We both liked her. And she seemed to like us…. Really to like us I mean, rather than just pretend to because that’s part of the job description. In the morning, we took her number, and later, we called her back. It went from there. We’d meet up with her a couple of nights a week. It became regular. And then.…”
Michael’s voice is soft. “And then you realised, that you’d fallen for the woman you thought you’d just bought.”
Klempner looks at him from under hooded eyes. “Which of course, is something you know about….”
Michael shrugs, non-committal, then takes the seat next to me. “So, what happened then?”
“Conners was crazy about her. Never stopped going on about her. Talked about marrying her…. She was a whore…. A high-class prostitute.”
“But a whore you were in love with too….”
Klempner’s face freezes. The arms fold again. The aggression is back. I’m not sure where to go from here. I try another tack.
“So, quid pro quo. What did you want to ask me?”
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