Chapter 92: Chapter 92: The Girl Who Was Hunted - Chapter Eight

CHARLOTTE “Er… How Richard and Beth met. Er…. Beth…”

Richard holds up his hands. “Spare my blushes. Wait until I’m not around before you tell him. Elizabeth and I need to be going anyway. Do meet up with her and her friends in the City next week, Charlotte.

Get yourself a change of air.”

We see him out to his car, where Ross is sitting, eyes closed in the driver’s seat, listening to music.

Michael and Beth join us after a minute or two, Beth looking as fresh and beautiful as a newly picked daisy. As they drive away, we wave them off.

My Master swivels to me, eyes crinkling. “Spill the beans, Charlotte.” Michael frowns in puzzlement.

“Um.… Beth was working as a maid in the hotel, cleaning the rooms. I think it was the one where you had the apartment. It was hot one day, and she used the shower in the Penthouse, where Richard was staying. He’d gone out, but he came back early and caught her in his shower, um, naked…. then….

er…. he tied her to the shower and um…”

My Master creases up with laughter. “I get it. No wonder he was so relaxed about you and me.”

“There’s a bit more to it than that.”

“Really?”

“Er…. He offered her a contract, and she accepted. She was um… at his beck and call, if you know what I mean, and in return, he funded her through college and trained her up.”

My Master sobers up. “You’re kidding? So, when he knew that I’d bought you….”

“Yes, he was comfortable with it once he knew that I went into it willingly. Because he did essentially the same thing with Beth.”

Michael is shaking his head, arms folded, a broad grin on his face. “I definitely think you should cultivate your friendship with Beth.”

*****

“Charlotte, can we talk about something?” My Master’s face is serious. Michael is here too, and I can see by his unhappy expression, that he knows what my Master wants to discuss.

“Is something wrong, Master?” My heart sinks. “Have I done something to upset you?”

“Oh, no. No.” he says hastily. “No, nothing like that. But…. we wanted you to have a couple of days here, relaxing before we mentioned this to you.” He swipes a hand through his hair. “Um, why don’t you sit down.”

He waves me to where Michael is patting the seat of the chair next to him. As I sit, he takes my hand, holding it tightly.

Beginning to feel really anxious, “What is it? What’s wrong?”

“It’s about that home you were in as a child, Blessingmoors ….”

My throat tightens, and I stare at the ground.

My Master hesitates, but then, “The Police still have the inquiry open from the original events there.

They are trying to collect evidence on some of the original gang-members that ran the operation, but who they never succeeded in convicting at the time.”

Michael, holding my hand, is all but squeezing the blood out of my fingers.

Breathe……

“Okay, so….?”

“They would like to interview you; ask you some questions about events there, have you look over old photographs to see if you can identify any of the people involved…. Could you do that?”

Collecting my scattered thoughts, “Why are you asking me this? Instead of the Police?”

“Haswell is friendly with the Police Commissioner, who knows that he has a personal interest in you.

And of course, he asked me. Everyone thought it would be better coming to you this way, rather than your getting a phone call out of the blue from some stranger. I said…. Michael and I said…. we would ask you, on condition that it waited until after your exams, and once you were back here so you have some moral support.”

Breathe……

“It’s Richard who is asking me to do this?”

“Yes.”

Breathe……

“What happens if I identify someone? Someone they want?”

“If it comes to it, and they have enough evidence, they’ll ask you to stand as witness in court.”

“What do you think, Charlotte?” asks Michael softly. “Could you do it….?” His beautiful blue eyes are soft with concern. “……Stop the same thing happening to someone else that happened to you?”

Yes, that’s the clincher, isn’t it….

“Yes, I’ll do it,” I say.

My Master voice is startled. “You’re sure? I thought you might want to think about it for a while?”

“No. Michael’s right. It needs to be done. If I can help, I’m in. Now…. Um…. ‘S’cuse me.” And I dash out, to throw up, outside, into the bushes.

*****

I enter the conference room in the Haswell Building. It has been chosen for my interview to provide me with familiar surroundings, rather than asking me to attend a police station. and yes, I do feel more comfortable, knowing that my friends are only on the other side of the door. My Master, Michael, Beth and Richard, are all gathered in the next room.

A thin-faced man, with nondescript sandy hair, stands to greet me.

“Hello, Jennifer. Do sit down. I’m Officer Corby. I’ve been asked to conduct your interview today.”

I sit. “It’s Charlotte. Not Jennifer.”

“Ah yes, there was a note about that.” He pencils a couple of words into the margin.

I don’t care for the look of the man, Corby. He has an officious, I-know-it-all-and-better-than-you look about him.

“Thank you for coming in today, Charlotte, and for agreeing to this interview. I do understand that it must have been difficult for you,” says Corby.

“That’s fine. I’m happy to help if I can.”

“Of course, yes. Now, about Mr James Alexanders….”

What???

“I’m sorry.” he continues. “I know this is going to be an uncomfortable discussion for you, but we have the records from the auction house, listing him as your… buyer….”

“What’s this got to do with anything?” I demand. “I thought I was here to talk about what happened at Blessingmoors?”

“Yes, that is one of the topics we would like to discuss with you. But also, we would like to discuss Mr Alexanders’ involvement with the auctioning of young women…”

“I’m not willing to discuss that. It’s private business, between the two of us.”

“That may appear to be the case to you, Ms Conners, but the investigation into that auction house, and the circumstances surrounding it….”

“Are you trying to pin something on James Alexanders?”

“He is listed as the buyer of a young woman…you… for purposes of…”

“He did nothing I didn’t agree to. He didn’t hurt me, and he’s done nothing wrong.”

“Miss Conners. We want to take proceedings against all the buyers.…”

I stand, my chair scraping back behind me. “No! I’m not saying another word. This is not what I came here for.” Turning on my heel, I leave the room, seething with rage.

“Miss Conners….” The man’s voice trails out behind me. “Miss Conners….”

*****

ELIZABETH The door slams open from the conference room, and Charlotte, red-faced, clearly furious, strides out.

“We’re going home.” she snaps at Michael and James.

They both look baffled. “Charlotte? What’s wrong?” asks Michael.

She whirls on my husband. “Mr Haswell, I’m sorry, but you told me that this was about Blessingmoors.

Not about some kind of witch-hunt on James.”

Richard looks perplexed. “What…?”

James’ head swivels. “Sorry, Charlotte?”

“They’re trying to pin something on you, about the auction house and what went on there…”

James says nothing, lips pressed tight, staring at the floor. Corby comes into the room after Charlotte.

“Miss Conners,” he starts. “I understand that you’re upset but….”

“Upset?” she hisses. “Upset? I’ve been brought here under false pretences.” She glares at Richard.

“Nothing was said to me about any attempt to attack James. And if you think I’m going to help with that, you can all go to Hell!”

I have never seen Charlotte like this; utterly enraged, red-faced and panting. It seems so unlike her.

But is it?

The lioness defending her pride?

My husband interrupts her. “Charlotte, please accept my apologies. I did not know of this either. And I would certainly not have had any involvement in it if I had known.”

Corby breaks in, his tone officious. “Mr Haswell, I am simply doing my job…”

“No, you’re not,” says Richard, flatly. “This is not what was discussed as subject matter for Charlotte’s interview. Excuse me, I have a phone call to make.”

“I really want to talk with Charlotte here…”

“Well, you’re not going to. Now, sit down while I make my call.” He jabs a finger at a chair.

He picks up his phone, taps a key. “Francis, could you get hold of Will Stanton for me please; ask him to call me back urgently. Yes, immediately if possible.”

At the mention of the Police Commissioner’s name, Corby looks suddenly uneasy. Richard puts down his phone, addressing him.