The Lover's Children novel Chapter 86

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?”