CHAPTER 174: The Virgin and the Masters, Part 67
CHAPTER 174: The Virgin and the Masters, Part 67
CHARLOTTE
The following day, Richard and Beth come to visit. “Got everything you need?” asks Beth.
“Yes, everything except the magic wand it needs to provide overnight healing for a strong, arrogant, bad-tempered patient,” comments Michael.
“That bad?” asks Richard.
Michael shakes his head. “You have no idea...”
“Um, by the way...” says Richard, rubbing the side of his nose, “Er, there’s no non-embarrassing way to put this, but when you’re um... busy... in the middle of the night, you might want to keep the noise down. The matron down there...” He cocks his head at the door. “... was laughing, but a bit indignant.”
I’ve never seen Michael blush before, but he flushes scarlet, looking anywhere but at Beth and Richard.
“Was she very annoyed?” I ask.
“Richard chuckles. “What if she was? Oh, by the way...” He fishes in his pocket. “Will Stanton asked me to give you these. They were taken off Klempner.” He holds out his hand, dropping something into mine...
… Two somethings: my rings. The two beautiful rings, in red and gold, and white and gold, gifted to me by my Master and my Lover, drop into my palm.
And as I slip them back onto my finger, to sit, interlocked as one piece again, the sun is shining, and my sky is blue.
I sit at the table, a screen dividing the room, separating us, as Klempner seats himself at the other side. His body language is all arrogance, insolence and ‘Why am I bothering with this?’
Two guards are here, one on either side of the screen, impassive but alert.
Michael stays in the background, leaning against the wall, silent, purse-lipped, arms folded, watching.
Klempner glances across at him, dismissively, then back at me. “That’d be Michael then? Where’s the other one? James, is it?”
Michael tilts his head, but impassive, doesn’t speak.
“Yes, this is Michael,” I say. “And James isn’t here because he’s recovering in hospital from when your friend Corby shot him.”
Klempner’s eyes widen.
Surprised?
“You didn’t know about that?”
He sniffs. “No, they’d not told me that.” He hesitates...
So, what do you think of that then?
“... What’s his condition?”
“He’ll live, but it was touch and go for a while.”
“And Corby?”
“Dead. The police took him down.”
He nods pensively, then the sneer is back. “And why are you here? For that matter, why am I here?”
By God, but you’re an arrogant bastard...
“Will you talk to me?”
Let him think he’s in control...
He leans back in his chair, arms folded, shrugging. “I don’t know. It depends on what you want to ask. I don’t have a lot of incentive to co-operate, do I? They’re going to lock me up and throw away the key. And you’ll be testifying against me.”
It’s all about control with you, isn’t it?
Who do you remind me of...?
Michael comes up behind me, touches me on the arm. “You want to go? You’re going to get nothing from this one.”
I shrug him off. “No, not yet.”
Klempner looks at Michael, his hand on my shoulder. “So, how does it work then?”
“How does what work?”
“You, with two of them? How does that work? Two men with one woman.” He sounds genuinely curious. For the first time since I met him, some of his naked hostility has faded. “Okay, regardless of what I said when we met before, I know you’re not a whore. So, how does it work?”
Flushing, “I don’t see that’s got anything to do with you.”
He sits back in his chair, coolly watching me. “Oh, you might be surprised... You going to answer my question?”
Why would you be interested?
“No, because I don’t see that it’s any of your business.”
His eyes glaze over, the aggressive stone-walling returning.
“What’s your grudge against me?” I ask. “You said it was because of Jenkins, but I don’t believe you. There’s more to it than that. It’s not really me at all, is it? It’s to do with my mother and father?”
“You’re going to testify against me. That hardly fills me with warmth.”
“I don’t believe that either. If that was it, you would simply have had me murdered. You wouldn’t have gone to all the trouble you have, to capture me, hurt me, make my life miserable...”
He sits back in his chair, regarding me, one finger pressed to his lips. “Alright, Jennifer…”
Who do you remind me of…?
“It’s Charlotte...”
“Alright, Charlotte. Quid pro quo. I’ll talk to you if you talk to me.”
?
What…?
“What do you mean? You hate me. Why would you want to talk to me?”
“I want to know about you, 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.”