MayhemforTwo

eBooks are not transferable. They cannot be sold, shared or given away as it is an infringement on the copyright of this work. This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.

Samhain Publishing, Ltd. 512 Forest Lake Drive Warner Robins, Georgia 31093 The Amorous Adventures of Sarah: Mayhem for Two Copyright © 2007 by Emy Naso Cover by Vanessa Hawthorne ISBN: 1-59998-370-2 www.samhainpublishing.com All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. First Samhain Publishing, Ltd. electronic publication: April 2007

The Amorous Adventures of Sarah: Mayhem for Two Emy Naso

Emy Naso

Chapter One—Lady Beware

His eyes searched over her body as she stood at the end of the bed and pushed her long auburn hair back behind her head, roughly tying it with makeshift string. Then she looked at him. Her feline dark windows to erotic consciousness widened to intensive round orbs as they absorbed the vision of his erection. It was going to be her pleasure, her timing. This muscular naked man was secured by his wrists to the top of the bedstead, and ankles roped and hogtied to the foot of the plain divan. She licked her lips and inhaled the longed-for taste of her submissive partner. The woman knelt over his lower thighs, spreading her legs, knowing this willing captive would gain hardness in his visual excitation. She leaned forward, taking his stiff and spicy manhood in one hand, stroking it between her breasts until his hips responded with a rhythmic jerking. In an accent thick with bad dubbing and even worse dialogue, she said, “I love you, Dick. I want to be your cuddly pussy.” Sarah Greene screamed with laughter and nearly choked herself on the mouthful of popcorn she’d just shoveled most unladylike into her beautiful mouth. “What are you watching?” Billy Fields asked, shaking his head, looking up from the chair in the corner of their lounge where he was idly watching the neon lights along the marine parade. Sarah threw him the cover of the hired video. He read it and again shook his head. “Hard Riding.” He scoffed. “I thought it was a western.” She giggled outrageously and did a little wiggle as she sat on the sofa to impersonate a cowboy in the saddle.

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Titan, the tiny pooch, took this as an invitation for a game and jumped up to lick Sarah’s face. “Looks like the dog’s got excited as well.” Sarah grinned. Billy’s reply was cut short by a persistent ringing at the door. “If it’s Hopalong Cassidy, ask him why he’s got a limp,” Sarah said, continuing the cowboy theme, while giving Billy a look which said, you answer the door. “Limp what?” Billy retorted suggestively, and Sarah roared with laughter in that way she had that made it sound like someone was gargling with molasses and honey whilst having an orgasm. Descending the flight of bare wooden stairs from their apartment over the corner of the Atlantic View arcades and casino, he shrugged affectionately at her humor. Sarah gave Titan another cookie and her mind idly wandered to the last six months. Her flight from debts and men, meeting Billy here in the seaside resort of Malmouth, their odd partnership, which for complicated reasons had become an investigation agency called Greene Fields—the dreadful pun being a combination of their surnames. She heard stomping on the stairs and made another mental note to try and get hold of the landlord and ask for carpeting on those treads. Billy walked in, his fingers running through his curly sandy-colored hair. He nervously adjusted his Buddy Holly thick-rim spectacles, which was a trait he had when trying to find the right words. The lady behind him quickly became an impatient woman in front. “Who’s top dog? The name’s Elisha Heavenly.” The speaker was a lady of around thirty-five years with a body ten years younger. The hair had an open account with the hairdresser, and the face was stunningly attractive. Sarah just stared in amazement. Titan, fascinated by her reference to canine superiority and getting a nose full of expensive perfume, went to investigate. The lady’s expression showed her disinterest, not to say loathing, of inquisitive mutts. Billy stopped and looked at her, swept

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Titan up under his arm and with the free hand waved the woman into a seat. She slipped the fur wrap from her shoulders, sat down and folded her legs. The deep cleavage and super-structured bosom was a compliment to engineering, and the short, tight skirt showed more available suntanned thigh than you could whistle at in a high-class bordello. “Elisha Heavenly,” she repeated, as if the name should conjure up an immediate image. Billy smiled in a polite way. Sarah was still eyeing up the lady, trying to get a handle on her type. She rapidly thought Elisha of the heavenly body and name was the kind who men wanted to worship and other women would prefer to sacrifice. “This is Greene Fields investigating agency, isn’t it?” Divine Thighs asked haughtily. “Certainly is,” Billy piped up. Elisha turned her breasts at him and pointed them like a fully loaded bazooka. Sarah smiled to herself and thought if the lady knew Billy’s inclinations were attuned to dark-eyed male waiters, she’d put the safety catch back on that bosom. “If it’s business, why don’t you tell us how you think we can help?” Sarah drew Heavenly’s attention, then added, “And there’s no top dog here. Me and my partner share everything—including the lipstick and eyeliner.” The last sardonic remark went over Elisha’s head. “Okay,” Heavenly said through her practiced pouting lips. “I’ll cut to the chase. I’ve lost my husband.” “Is that a bereavement or absent-minded carelessness?” Sarah asked with a poker face. The lady looked, and then decided a response would not be necessary. “You must have heard of Heavenly Antiques? We have a renowned showroom on the outskirts of town.” Sarah gave the lady a “go-on” look. Her own mind flashed back to her involvement with a guy called Ryan who was into antiques—that was, when he wasn’t trying to get into her panties. “Two weeks ago my husband, Bingham, went missing.” “Why not go to the police?” Billy asked. 6

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The lady paused and said, “I do not want to involve the authorities because of the possible publicity. You see,” again a pause, “some very valuable jewelry given to me by my family has also gone missing.” “And do you want us to find the gems or your husband…or both?” Sarah said through a nibbling of her lips in reaction to a curious feeling about the lady. Elisha Heavenly was programmed to ignore sassy remarks. “Whatever your fees are, I will double them and pay all expenses.” “Sounds the sort of deal that could drag us away from a busy schedule,” Sarah said seriously, then grinned privately at Billy, knowing they hadn’t got any urgent work. There was one. A demented client who insisted aliens had captured his cat. Apart from that, their diary was as bare as a monkey’s ass. Elisha Heavenly flicked an imaginary particle of dust off her blouse and asked, “So, will you take the case?” Billy and Sarah nodded in unison. Titan gave a deep yawn. “Good,” Heavenly crisply said. She got up, dabbing at her hair as she noticed a mirror on the wall and handed Sarah a file. “There’s all the background info in there. And a note I have received from my husband, which might give you a clue to his whereabouts.” She turned the super-tanker mighty breasts toward the door, gave Billy a stare which commanded him to open it, and left their apartment with a regal flourish of expensive clothes and perfume. “Very strange,” Sarah at last said when she’d heard the door at the bottom of the stairs slam. “Who, the lady?” Billy asked. “No, her story. Why would a husband do a runner with his wife’s family gems…and then send a note to give her a clue where he was?” Seeing Sarah flick through the file, Billy leaned over her shoulder. “Not trying to look down my blouse, are you, mister?” Sarah mockingly asked. “If you have decided to take an interest in the female

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anatomy, then I reckon Elisha Heavenly’s bosom would be a place to start. Mind you, we’d have to send a search party in there to find you.” Billy ruffled Sarah’s hair and affectionately kissed his best friend’s head. “What’s the note say?” he asked. “It’s as clear as mud.” Sarah sighed. “Listen to this. ‘Where baptism, a Dane and Maud meet, the lighthouse and lifeboat come together at the church and cornfield.’” “Is that it?” “Afraid so,” Sarah said with a scratch of her ear. “Not sure if the weird client with the abducted cat is less crazy than this case.”

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The Amorous Adventures of Sarah: Mayhem for Two

Chapter Two—Punish Me Over the Cabriole Legs

Mesby, five miles north of Malmouth, was the sort of village where the locals had long ago been driven out by high property values. In a largely rural area, Mesby had middle-class pretensions written all over its houses and shops. A cluster of antique establishments were huddled around a village green and grackles, as the locals called tourists, were window browsing with very little appreciation that the prices were inflated more than a weather balloon. Sarah had suggested to Billy that it would be useful to know about the antique trade if they were going to take on Elisha Heavenly’s missing husband enquiry. He’d agreed and then remembered an arranged afternoon out with a certain come-to-bed doe-eyed young man he’d met at the nightclub, Alba Palace. Dressed in a smart charcoal gray two-piece trouser suit, Sarah weighed up the three shops and decided to pick the one in the middle, Alanby Antiques. Her long black silk hair, which she usually wore sexily down her back, was tied up in a curled bun, giving her a severe appearance. Her true nature was flamboyant, nomadic, possessed of liquid sensuality and with a fiery, passionate approach to life. She felt a fraud, got up in this respectable garb of conventionality. Inside the shop were rows of display cabinets, stuffed with the silver, gold, pewter and precious glass of bygone ages. A few potential buyers gathered in little tight-knotted groups, discussing the desirability of going into yen, dollar or Euro debt in order to acquire a piece of old England. A

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young female assistant flitted between them trying to extend her limited knowledge of languages to the situation. Sarah wondered what the Japanese or German was for, Fuck me, you must be joking. “Be with you in a minute,” the young woman called to Sarah with a smile that looked as expensive as the antiques. She was a blonde, blueeyed, wafer-thin lady, with about as much meat on her as a well-chewed barbecue rib bone. Sarah considered her own figure to be very shapely, a view endorsed over the last ten years by the men chasing her. She felt positively plump around this stick insect. “What were you looking for?” the blonde simpered to Sarah, keeping her eye on the target clients who were trying to sidle out without purchasing. The young pipe cleaner saw her commission going home to Tokyo, Cologne and Seattle. “Furniture,” Sarah winged it. As if by sound osmosis, a man stuck his more-than-attractive face around the edge of an open door at the rear of the shop. “A true believer,” he enthused as he rapidly approached Sarah. She scanned the guy, taking in his well-proportioned chest and thighs, dolphin-adorable eyes, sleek black hair and tight pants that barely hid the excitement in his crotch. “Let me introduce myself. Alexander Alanby, owner of this establishment and a lover of anyone who appreciates fine furniture.” He reached Sarah, took her arm and guided her, not unwillingly on her part, to the far and private end of the shop. “What about this George III Secretaire bookcase? Just look at the narrow apron and splayed feet,” he avidly regaled her. “Once had a schoolteacher fitting that description,” she playfully patted back, hoping he would respond to the first moves in a flirtatious approach. He smiled in a bemused fashion. Sarah liked being close to the man and decided to ask for the real assistance she wanted.

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“Alexander,” she began, and let her dark pools of loving eye contact hit him hard, “my interest in antiques has a hidden agenda. I’m trying to trace Bingham Heavenly. Can you help?” His languid eyes lit up and he whispered conspiratorially, “Come with me, I have something very interesting to show you.” “Better be good, mister, I’ve seen most things that men boast are interesting,” Sarah bantered. Alexander Alanby walked her through the open door, closed it and stood back as if he were about to perform a magic trick. “You are just the person I have been looking for,” he said, giving her a look that would get you arrested if you let it loose within five miles of a nunnery. “What is your name…no, don’t tell me. Let me just imagine.” “You going to let me in on this private fantasy?” Sarah smiled. Alexander made a body movement like a man who was contemplating an enjoyable time. “I know a lot about Bingham and of course that femme fatale wife of his. What is your interest?” Sarah handed him her business card. “As I said, I’m trying to find him. Now what do you know, Alexander?” He studied the card and said something to himself, then repeated it louder. “Sarah. Sarah the private eye. Are you strict, beautiful Sarah in your immaculate suit?” “I can be many things, Alexander. But what has this got to do with information on Bingham Heavenly?” “Because you want something…and so do I.” There was a pause while they considered each other. Sarah noticed the slight beads of perspiration on his brow and the flexing of his fingers. She was intrigued, and there was a pulsing in her loins. “I want info on Bingham that’s going to be really useful. What do you want, Alexander?” “A little game.” “I get the impression it doesn’t involve dice,” she said, trying to sound casual.

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“No, pretty Sarah.” “So, what?” “Submission,” he said in a voice hoarse with growing anticipation. Sarah wondered how she constantly got herself in these types of situations. Then she remembered. Sexual encounters of the stimulating kind were more thrilling than conventional life. “Not sure I know you enough to surrender myself—and my body— into your power, Alexander.” “I’m the one acquiescing to you, Sarah.” Again they stood and contemplated, both of them letting the images and senses favor the situation. This wasn’t even the game. It was the exploration of the rules. Sarah licked her tongue across her lips. It was meant in two ways. Firstly as an encouragement for him to go on with the explanation for the proposed entertainment. And secondly it was an instinctive reaction to her growing passion. Alexander at last found the words. “I want to be dominated.” Now that the floodgates were opened, he panted out his secret dreams. “Not just by anyone. But by you, Sarah, in your suit, with its suggestion of severity mixed with promised wantonness.” Reason told Sarah to turn and walk out. But the guy was pleading, desperate…and gorgeously made. “What’s your fantasy?” She gulped and felt her hands involuntarily rubbing against her thighs in a movement which betrayed the inner hotness of her sensual mind. “Punishment with elegance is such a turn-on,” Alexander whispered in her ear, and the closeness of his handsome face made her breathless. “You’d better tell me about it,” Sarah purred back, “before we both lose the desire.” Alexander went back to the door and Sarah heard the mechanical click of a lock. He had a possessed look in his eyes.

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“This is such a stylish piece of furniture. A refined Queen Anne walnut dining chair with its heavy seat frieze and cabriole legs. Just imagine the respectability of its previous owners. It would add a certain wicked frisson to indulge ourselves in this chair.” His voice was gasping for control. Alexander and Sarah stood in the thrall of ecstasy. He quickly unbuttoned his vest, slipped it off with his jacket, undid his tie and shirt and sat, bare-chested. “Over there, Sarah. In that drawer. You will find rope to bind my wrists and arms.” She felt her heart skipping and dancing. Her fingers were twitching as she secured Alexander by tying his hands behind his back and then to the upright frame. “How do you like your punishment?” she asked. “You are the mistress, Sarah. It’s your decision. Strip me first then let the discipline commence.” Sarah knelt in front of the man. She took his shoes and socks off as a very minor preliminary. Letting her hands climb slowly up his thighs, she undid the chic and expensive buckle of his belt. Easing his pants down, she noticed the bulge inside his shorts. It was the immediate riveting center of her focus. Her mind was filled with a duality—prolonging his almost complete exposure so she could savor the thoughts and desires, or impetuously seeing the full glorious nature of his nakedness. Appetite got to her action button first. As his shorts came off, the rock-hard rod sprang up. This was no antique. It was a freshly erected, spellbinding wand. Her hand gently touched and stroked it, feeling the heat and pulse in its core. “What was the low-down on Bingham?” she simpered, letting him see her tongue ready for action. Alexander groaned and his eyes rolled in pleasure. “Take a close look at any antiques the Heavenlys offer for sale. They are not kosher. Very good fakes…but…” His words trailed off as he struggled with the crazy sensation in his loins. “Don’t forget to chastise me first before I get relief,” he pleaded.

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Sarah leaned forward and kissed the tip of his manhood. Then she stood up and shrugged. “I think I prefer my men with more pizzazz.” She grinned. Leaving him, she turned and added, “Don’t go away, Alexander. I’ll send in the blonde to get the measure of you…about six inches and growing, I reckon.”

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The Amorous Adventures of Sarah: Mayhem for Two

Chapter Three—Skinny-Dipping to View

Billy swung the car into the space next to Betty’s Best Café. It was designated a parking lot for the owners of the seafront promenade entertainments but he reckoned they ate so much that he’d paid his dues. Sarah was hungry, so she jumped out and left Billy behind in her dash to order a large cooked breakfast. She beat Titan to a window seat by a short black nose—his, not hers. “Thanks for waiting,” Billy sarcastically puffed as he sat opposite her. “Stop complaining. You gay men are all the same. Next you’ll be wanting me to hold doors open for you.” She grinned and ducked as he threw a mock punch at her. “So, you never did tell me last night what you learnt at that antiques shop,” Billy asked through a mouthful of toast that the young waitress had slid across the table. “I discovered something thick and hard…and it could keep both of us happy.” Billy looked quizzical, but as the breakfasts had arrived, he let the comment pass. The waitress brought them coffees and then the owner, the eponymous Betty, arrived at their table. Sitting next to Billy, she shuffled her bulky frame into the bench seat, pushing Billy and sending a portion of sausage off the plate and in the grateful direction of Titan, snuffling down on the floor. “So what are you two working on?” She infectiously grinned and stole a fry from Sarah’s plate.

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“Carrying out a missing husband investigation,” Billy muttered. “Mine’s been missing for five years.” Betty shrugged. “But I wouldn’t pay you to find him. Anyway, it’s a dead cert he’s shacked up with that woman who used to be at the casino over on Duke Street. She worked in the hatcheck cubicle. Seems taking people’s coats for the evening wasn’t good enough for her. Now it’s husbands. Mind you, I’d been trying to get rid of Jack for years.” She grinned and added, “Who are you searching for? Anybody I know?” Sarah fed Titan the last of her bread roll and looked over at Betty. “Some guy called Heavenly. Seems he has disappeared with his wife’s jewelry.” “Not Elisha Heavenly?” Betty exclaimed. “Do you know her?” Billy asked. “Know is not the expression,” Betty said and bit her lip. “The stuckup bitch wouldn’t speak to the likes of a café owner. More ‘know about’.” “Well, you going to tell us?” Sarah said with her interest aroused. “It’s said the lady has devoured more men than a bad-tempered alligator. And one in particular was an important cog in government circles.” “Seems the lady hasn’t been totally honest with us,” Billy mused. “And I learnt yesterday that their antiques were fakes,” Sarah said. “You didn’t tell me that.” Billy frowned in an assumed hurt manner. “Tantrums later,” Sarah teased. “Hey, by the way, Betty, take a look at this nonsense clue. Mean anything to you?” She showed Betty the piece of paper. “‘Where baptism, a Dane and Maud meet, the lighthouse and lifeboat come together at the church and cornfield,’” Betty read aloud. “Don’t mean a thing.” She shrugged. “Village signs.” The voice came from the passing young waitress. Sarah put out her arm and grabbed the pretty auburn girl, who was working on a Saturday to earn money for a new dress. “Put down those coffees and explain, young lady,” Sarah demanded.

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“We’ve been studying local history at school…and that sounds like a description of some village sign. But don’t know which one.” Sarah let the kid go and muttered something about being too clever by half. An hour later Sarah, Billy and Titan were back in their car and motoring idly out of town. “Anywhere in particular?” Billy asked. “How about a bit of peace and quiet,” Sarah said as she lounged against the side door. “Head up toward the sand cliffs at Somerton.” Ten miles north of the large summer resort of Malmouth was the almost deserted village of Somerton. Two hundred souls hunkering down against a North Sea determined to erode away their houses. However, today was mild and benign with a flat expanse of sea all the way to Scandinavia, and only a few gray seals bobbing about. Their usual perplexed faces and myopic-looking eyes were scanning the horizon for the inshore fishing fleet. It was a form of ocean-going shopping for the seal colony. “Last one on the beach buys the drinks tonight.” Sarah giggled. Titan took up the challenge and raced across the sand dunes, got to the sea, tasted it, pulled a doggy version face of disgust and scampered back to Sarah. “It’s beautiful here…but bloody hot for autumn.” Sarah looked around knowing she wouldn’t find any shade across the dunes with the sparse grass covering and miles of flat beach going from Malmouth in the south all the way to the lighthouse at Hazington, another eight miles to the north. “The water looks cool,” Sarah said with a glint in her eye. “Have you got your costume with you?” “No.” Her grin got broader. “You don’t mean swim in your underwear?” Billy grimaced. “No.”

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“Sarah. You’re not going skinny-dipping, are you?” “No. I’m not. We are.” Billy’s face got redder. It wasn’t just the sun. “Don’t look so bashful, Billy. You may have something I’d like to get to know, but surely my naked body doesn’t excite you?” With a smirk, Sarah lifted the top she was wearing, pulling it over her head, then slipped her shoes and casual slacks off, standing in a mock pin-up pose in front of Billy. “Do you want to see more? You hum the theme music to The Stripper and I’ll give you a show.” Billy stood dumbfounded as Sarah did her own accompaniment, and with gyrating hips, wiggling ass and bouts of hysterical laughter took her bra off, swung it around her head a few times, tossed it into the air with a whoop and finally stepped seductively out of her panties. The concluding flourish was to let her panties hook on her right foot’s toes, run her hands over her breasts and loins, and with a sensual banshee shout, kick her panties whirling into the air. She took a parody bow to a non-existent audience and inclining her head to one side said, “Well, see if you can get a better reaction from the seagulls, Billy. It’s your turn now. Or shall I come and help you get undressed?” Billy decided it was better to go along with Sarah’s impishness. Besides, it was part of the reason she had become his best friend. He slipped his shirt off, bent and removed shoes and socks, then quickly slid out of pants and shorts. Sarah whistled and let her dark jet eyes become perfectly round, pretending innocence. She stretched out her hand and took hold of Billy. Running together toward the sea, they whooped and shouted in unified bravado, like two parachute jumpers psyching each other up. They hit the waves with a cry of childlike happiness and plunged into the brine. After they’d swam around for a while, Sarah surfaced and hollered, “Blow this for a stupid game, I’m going to get dressed.”

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Kicking seawater at each other in the shallows, Sarah jumped up at Billy, hugged him around the neck and kissed his cheek. Sliding down his naked, salt-encrusted body, she giggled and gave his cock a squeeze. “Lucky fellow who’s enjoying that.” He chased her up the beach and they fell in a heap by a crumbling sandcastle which had been made, enjoyed and then deserted by children the previous day. Resting and letting the sun dry their bodies, Sarah sat half up on her haunches, shielded her eyes from the glare with her hand and poked Billy in the ribs. “Reckon they are organizing Peeping Toms now?” He looked toward the high dunes. There were four men in dark business suits standing by the derelict lifeguard’s shed. Then he sat up with a start. “Don’t reckon they are out on a voyeur’s convention. Not unless revolvers are a standard issue.” “Jeez, they’re coming our way…and they don’t look friendly,” Sarah said as she stood. The four men started to run toward them. “You go that way and I’ll divert them this way,” Billy urgently called. Sarah picked up her clothes, hugged them close…and ran for her life. Across the lapping water and over the zigzag line of seaweed and driftwood, her feet pounded into the damp sand, leaving indentations of her flight to safety. The headland curved around the low tide sandbank and in the far distance she could see the caravan park. Heading frantically toward the line of the sea defenses with their solid rocks and metal stanchions, Sarah looked back to see if the two men were gaining on her. Clambering over the red and yellow lichen-encrusted old crumbling seawall, she breathed more easily as there was no sign of her pursuers. The metal stairs and railings to the concrete walkway had long eroded, so Sarah carefully climbed them. Her fingers made a final grab for the top…and were held by two powerful male hands.

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She froze in terror and stared up. A tall and well-built man looked down at her and rolled his eyes at the naked swell of her breasts, barely concealed by the clothes she hugged to herself.

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The Amorous Adventures of Sarah: Mayhem for Two

Chapter Four—What Now, My Love?

Sarah wondered why her pursuer was smiling so kindly. She wasn’t sure why he was chasing her, but it couldn’t be to look at her with hazel eyes and a broad sensuous mouth. Those strong arms brought her up to the walkway and put her down. Sarah shivered, slightly in fear, partly in a kind of torrid expectation, as the man placed a warm hand on her shoulder. She watched his lips form words and waited for her fate to descend. “Hi. Anything the matter?” Her mind went blank. That was not what she’d expected. “I’m Teron. Teron Morgan. You look worried.” She gulped and at last tested her vocal cords. “You were chasing me.” “Not me. But if you want me to, I think…” He smiled and let the idea hang between them. Sarah feasted on the man, becoming aware he was charmingly, and with obvious appreciation, taking in the delights of her body. “There!” she shrieked, and saw the real hunters coming along the path. Teron turned, looked, glanced back at Sarah and said, “Those two giving you trouble?” She nodded. He pulled her over to his old beaten-up truck parked by the edge of the cracked concrete walkway and the beginning of the dunes. “You stay there,” he commanded. Leaning into the back of the trunk, he picked up a double-barreled shotgun, slung it casually over his shoulder and walked slowly back toward the two men. www.samhainpublishing.com

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They stopped, weighed up the damage a weapon like that could cause, and did an about-turn. At first they strolled away, but when Teron took the shotgun up to a firing position, their nonchalant and arrogant retreat turned into a flight for their lives. “Interesting friends you have.” He grinned at Sarah when he got back to the truck. She smiled a thanks. “As much as I’d love you to sit there in your birthday suit, perhaps on a first meeting it would be better if you put your clothes on.” She mouthed a silent embarrassed gesture…but in her mind she liked him looking at her. Ten minutes later, Sarah was dressed and they sat in the old truck drinking coffee Teron had produced from a flask. She’d given him the quick version of the story so far and was about to listen to him and admire those juicy lips when a sudden scream came inside her head. “Billy! Jeez, I’ve forgotten Billy.” “What?” “Just motor, Teron. I left him along the beach heading south.” He surprised her by taking the quick route, over the drifting sand dunes and down on the flat expanse of beach. Wheels whirled, trying to grip on the shifting silicon, spraying pebbles and particles in all directions. “Stop!” Sarah shouted, grabbing Teron’s arm and nearly sending the truck into a roll-over spin. Two men stood staring out to a small anchored boat. They saw Teron get out of the truck with his shotgun and decided, like their comrades, that discretion was the better part of having a backside full of elephant buck-lead. Sarah shouted for Billy…and up popped a head from the small boat. He looked around, dived in and swam for the shore. Sarah ran to greet and hug her best friend, oblivious to the fact that his soaking naked body was dripping seawater all over her. When Billy came out of the embrace, he looked over at Teron, standing by the truck, and whispered, “Who’s your gorgeous friend?” 22

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“I saw him first, Billy. So keep that thing under control.” She slapped his hardening cock. “Anyway, where’s your clothes?” “I left them over by that rock when they were chasing me, and swam out to the boat anchored out on the sandbar. Luckily they weren’t keen to get their threads wet.” Billy gave Teron a smile and ran over to his clothes. A few minutes later he returned and the three of them looked at each other. “Can I offer you two a meal? Simple, but homemade,” Teron said, breaking the silence. “What did you have in mind?” Sarah shrugged a question. “Nothing elaborate. My farm is about two miles inland. You’re both welcome. And perhaps you can tell me more about yourselves.” “I’ll pass on that,” Billy jumped in. “Must get back to town.” Sarah walked with Billy to their car while Teron waited. “What’s so darn urgent?” she gently asked. “Look, honey, that guy likes you…I’d only be in the way. Trust me, I know.” “I do trust you, my Billy,” Sarah said as she kissed him and held him close. “Now take care. And don’t do anything I wouldn’t.” Billy smirked. “Which means you’ve got a wide choice…including the rosemary hand cream and sticks of celery.” They both shrieked with laughter. Sarah watched Billy drive off. She turned, walked to the truck and gave what she hoped Teron would take as a friendly smile…very friendly smile. *** The countryside beyond Somerton was beautiful. They passed isolated thatched cottages with lemon-colored washed walls, long wooden barns, small fields where nature balanced the agriculturally diverse use

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of the land, and magnificent churches, from Romanesque to early Gothic Perpendicular, far too large for the communities they now served. Approaching Teron’s farm, Sarah thought how small it was. She expressed the opinion to him. “It’s really just a hobby in self-sufficiency. I used to be in advertising. Made enough money to come and find solitude and try to write a book,” he explained. “Sold anything?” Sarah asked as they stopped and got out of the truck. “Oh, heaps. Sold a few articles the other day. My watch, best coat…and…” Sarah playfully hit him and instantly loved his sense of humor. Fun can be a great sexual turn-on, she mused. “Hungry?” Teron asked as they walked into the house. “Food?” Sarah replied with a question in her voice. She wanted him to understand the meaning. Her need for him, her desire to give herself, had been instant. She sat on a sofa and patted the pillow next to her. “Come and tell me about yourself,” she said. He eased his glorious body down and her eyes took in his eyes to reflect love; his mouth to kiss and taste her body; hands to touch her; torso to be above her as his hips pumped and he groaned into her open legs. She got to his loins, and the imagination of his manhood made her bite her lips. Sarah wanted to feel it, run the growing hardness between her fingers, stimulate its erection until it entered her. “Sarah?” She shook her head of thoughts and looked up. “Are you okay?” Her control was near fraying. She suddenly took his hand and put it on her knee. Anxiously she watched for his reaction. “What do you want to know about me?” he nonchalantly said, not ignoring her move, not withdrawing his hand, just smiling and gently letting his fingers stroke the back of her knee.

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“Anybody special in your life?” she purred. “Not at the moment. But I’m open to offers.” Sarah couldn’t wait. She played her hand over his and slid them both up her jeans to her inner thigh. “Is that an offer?” He gave her a smile that could melt a mother superior having a bad hair day. “More an invitation.” He leaned over and put his other hand on the side of her face and kissed her lips, not hard but with lingering sparks. “Polite, aren’t you,” Sarah murmured. “Is that your RSVP?” He chuckled with a bass note that made Sarah lose restraint. Her fingers pitter-pattered up his thighs and with her palm, lightly rubbed around his bulge. The reaction was immediate. Inside his pants, there was a stiffening as his pleasuring rod awoke. Sarah kissed him back. She felt his hand move and reach the tight crotch of her pants. Their caressing became intense. Sarah traced the upright firmness of his cock, held it and moved her fingers until his breathing indicated she had found the right rhythm. Teron’s fingers sought her clitoris, and Sarah lifted her legs slightly so she was made available to his exploration. She felt the thin cotton of her panties being rubbed into the dampness of her vagina. His mouth buried itself into the nape of her neck and bit gently in response to Sarah’s expert massage. Teron’s finger work was sending pulses through her body and she gyrated on its sexual inquisitiveness. “Is this all right?” he said through deep breathing. “Suck my nipples.” Sarah moaned, rapidly pushing her top up and undoing the front clasp to her bra. The swell of her breasts shone alluringly; Teron gorged on this added delight. Talking stopped. Panting took over. Two hot bodies communicated passion and fingers elated with the dexterity of their willing toil. “Soon,” Teron pleaded. “Faster,” Sarah avidly countered. www.samhainpublishing.com

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She could feel the juices from her arousal flowing and soaking her panties and knew that even through her jeans, Teron must have known this. A spark of ecstasy took hold of her and she wildly wriggled on his electrifying probing. His gorged manhood possessed Teron. His face came up and Sarah saw that lost, fierce look as his climax ejaculated the inner energy pent up in his mind and loins. They held tight, savoring the moment, reveling in their joint release. “Okay?” he croaked. “Far better than most fucks.” She sighed and let herself fall into his arms.

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Chapter Five—Dead Man’s Chest

“So, do we have to spend an afternoon in this stuffy library?” Sarah said too loud for comfort and got a look of disapproval from two women sitting at a table, half-hidden by a pile of books. “It’s research,” Billy whispered. “It’s bloody boring,” Sarah snapped grumpily. “You wait here and I’ll find out where they keep the back copies of the local newspaper,” Billy reassured her. “You’re only interested in the librarian with the come-to-bed eyes and pert little ass. Yes, that’s the guy. He keeps looking over at you, Billy. I bet he’s willing to loan out more than the books.” The two women looked up again and although they gave Sarah a disapproving glare, they leaned forward to hear more of the conversation. “And he looks real strict. I reckon he could give you a good spanking if you ask nicely.” This last comment was made by Sarah in a strident voice. The two women’s eyes almost popped out. Billy shook his head at Sarah and then went up to the male librarian at the deck. They chattered but Billy dared not look over at Sarah as he just knew she was pulling faces. When he came back, Billy had a large folder in his arms. “Move over and let’s go through the back copies of the regional paper.” “What are we looking for, Billy?”

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“Anything remotely to do with our client…or her lost husband.” With dagger looks from the two women, Billy took the last six months’ copies and Sarah another bundle from earlier times. “Now that’s interesting,” Billy muttered. Sarah shoved his head out of the way and read the news item. “Get it?” he asked. “Look, partner, just because I ain’t got a dick between my legs don’t mean I haven’t got a brain in my head.” More tuts and frowns emanated from the two women. This time it was too much for them. They packed away the books on their table and left. Sarah gave them a single finger salute, then turned to Billy. “So, Elisha Heavenly made her way from humble beginnings,” she mused out loud. “So how come this poor, working-class family handed on our lady a stack of gems?” “My thoughts exactly,” Billy said. “Who’s that lurking in the background with Elisha in that picture?” Sarah pulled the newspaper cutting back in front of her. Billy shrugged. He got up and went over to the librarian. A few minutes later they both came back. “This is Adrian.” Billy did the introductions. Sarah curbed her sassy remark. “That’s the mayor presenting Mrs. Heavenly with an award for Business Woman of the Year,” Adrian said in a superior fashion. “Not him.” Sarah rolled her eyes. “That sniveling-looking guy standing at the back as if he suffers from halitosis.” “Oh, that. He’s a private investigator in Malmouth. Name of Rigby Jones. Known as Rigby Digby. Get it, digs up the dirt for his clients.” Adrian gave a look that would make a lemon appear cuddly. “Never heard of him.” Sarah shrugged. “You’re not the only gumshoes around, you know. Seems to me anyone can put up a sign and say they are private eyes.” Adrian’s sneer 28

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made Sarah wonder what he would look like with his face squashed by a heavy book. She also contemplated kicking him in his pride and joy and smiled to herself. What would an arch stud do at the gay bar with a bruise on his cock? “What was he doing around Elisha Heavenly?” Billy asked. “Why not go and ask him? He has an office over at Southtown on the road out of Malmouth, just opposite the new DIY depot.” “Thanks, Adrian,” Billy called as Sarah dragged her partner out of the library. Southtown was not the most desirable part of the district. At one time, the two towns of Malmouth and Lewinton were important ports, based on the nineteenth-century herring fishing industry. The fish were so fed up with being hauled in by the trillion that they got together— what few were left—and decided to swim away to more friendly waters. The dock areas had been in decline ever since and Lewinton with its predominance of old terrace houses for the workers had become rundown and seedy. And that was a generous description. Malmouth, being a vacation resort with innocent slot arcades increasingly becoming heavy gambling casinos, had its share of the growing sex trade. But it openly displayed them as shows and lapdancing clubs. The Southtown area of Lewinton still peddled its raunchier amusements in back parlors and suggestive small adverts. “Scandinavian massage, guaranteed to get you up straight away,” Sarah read out loud. “Experienced blonde will come to your home and do anything.” She chortled. “Wonder what she’s like with clearing a blocked sink?” she added sassily. “And what about that one in the food store?” “What one?” Billy frowned. “Special cucumber sale. Sounds like an environmentally friendly dildo.” She laughed in a deep, rasping sound like cracking ice in whisky. Billy lightheartedly clipped her head and looked around at the people staring at this smoldering beauty with the outrageous sense of humor. www.samhainpublishing.com

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He was proud to be gay, but sometimes regretted not being able to enjoy her sexually. He imagined she was a barrel of awesome fun in bed and the best screw any man would ever get. Sarah was made to be sensual and rejoiced in this gift to life. “Number twenty-seven is over there.” Billy signaled and stopped at the side of the road. The offices of Rigby Jones were situated over a shop selling adult toys. Sarah gawked in the window and Billy dreaded what coarse and raucous comment she was cooking up. “Hey, Billy,” she called. “If you wore that tight thong it could raise the pitch of your singing voice two octaves.” He ignored her attempt at embarrassing him and pulled her toward the door marked R. Jones Investigations. They climbed the narrow stairs, the footfalls echoing on the bare treads. At the first landing were three doors, a sales company that looked about as pyramid-shaped as anything outside of the Valley of the Kings, an insurance agent and then Rigby Jones. His was the only closed door. When Billy turned the handle he discovered it was also locked. “Well, that’s it, then,” Sarah huffed in frustration. “Just a minute,” Billy said. He took out a nail file from his top pocket and ran the point decisively in a semi-circle in one corner. “What are you doing, Billy?” “Just watch.” He took out a handkerchief, wrapped it around his hand and tapped the glass sharply. It shattered into a thousand shards and splintered in a mass. “Oh, wonderful,” Sarah sardonically said. “Well, it worked in this movie I saw,” Billy crestfallenly replied. “You really must stop watching those kid’s cartoons, Billy.” A woman appeared from the sales company. “What’s going on?” “Greene Fields repair service,” Sarah answered and flashed a card at her. “We had reports that the door had been vandalized.” 30

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The woman looked disinterested and went back in her door. “What was that you showed her, Sarah?” “My credit card. Nobody reads anything these days.” They walked into the offices of Rigby Jones. It was furnished in the throwaways of someone who didn’t have any taste when the items were new. Now they were past their sell-by date and looked positively antediluvian. Or perhaps with the mold on the walls it was after the flood. “Well, Rigby Jones and Elisha Heavenly certainly didn’t share a taste for fine antiques,” Sarah puffed. “You look around here and I’ll try the other room.” She wandered into the inner office. Billy called out, “What are we looking for?” He heard an audible gulp and a subdued Sarah said, “I think I’ve found it.” Billy joined her and saw Sarah staring white-faced down at the floor behind a battered desk. He followed her gaze. The face from the newspaper cutting was looking up, open-eyed. Rigby Jones had a short-handled knife sticking out of his chest.

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Chapter Six—Love on the Water

“The police ask such absurd questions,” Sarah grumped and switched the television off. “Had we any knives and other implements at our apartment? I ask you. Who the hell do they think I am? Lizzie Borden?” “They are only doing their job,” Billy consoled. Then silence. Eventually Sarah looked up at Billy as he studied a local atlas, still trying to trace the village from the mysterious puzzle given to them by Elisha. She got up, stood behind him and hugged his neck. “You’re such a wonderful partner…and friend. You are so lovely I could eat you, Billy Fields.” “So what do you want?” he quietly asked. “What makes you think I want something?” she said, but her indignant reply carried little conviction. “I know we should be working on the case…but I’ve been invited out for the day.” Sarah stroked his sandycolored hair. “Hot date?” Billy said. “Fire brigade variety,” she breathed spicily into his ear. *** Teron was as gorgeous as Sarah remembered from the finger-lickin’ session. She’d gotten a taxi so that Billy was left with the car, and as she paid the fare, Sarah was as excited as a young teenager, not a woman of almost twenty-six. It was her birthday in three days. Now Teron 32

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unwrapped and spread out as a treat, that would be the perfect present. She grinned to herself. He leaned casually on that old beaten-up truck and amongst the many things about him cruising around her senses were those seductive hazel eyes and the broad, strong smile. His lips were made especially as a delightful sexual extravaganza. One kiss and she would melt; one nibble and Sarah would scream with joy; one bite and…she shook her head and tried to look calm. “Hi, Teron, been waiting long?” “It seems like a lifetime for you, Sarah.” From most men that would have been a cliché, and a sugar-coated one at that. From Mister Sex On Two Legs, it sent a thrill through her body. Teron leaned down and kissed her cheek. Sarah stroked his face and kissed him back. A full, spacious, open-mouth smacker with her tongue wiggling about in his mouth. She stepped back. “Peppermints.” “What?” He looked puzzled. “You taste of peppermints. What do I taste of, Teron?” “Let me savor you all over and I’ll tell you.” They giggled and got into the truck. “How far do you want to go?” He watched her earnestly. “Don’t rush a girl,” she said, putting on a simulated ruffled face. Teron roared with laughter, started the engine and they trundled off in the shaking, quaking truck. Sarah pretended to watch the passing scenery, but really kept studying this man. She was a lady who had seen it all in her time. A modern miss who wasn’t some swooning, delicate flower who thought men were superior. So why was this guy making her feel so girlie and how had he got to her right from first sight? “How are you on the water?” His voice interrupted her thoughts.

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“Normally I float. It’s difficult to sink when you’re built with breasts like mine.” She winked at him. He didn’t gawk, but his glance of admiration said he agreed. “I meant in a boat, Sarah.” She shrugged an okay and within a few minutes they’d parked the car and were onboard a sporty little cruiser, chugging down the slowmoving water of a reed-lined river. “This your boat, Teron?” He smiled. “No. A friend who’s got more money than an amateur farmer and aspiring writer.” Teron sat by the wheel, which was positioned in the front of the galley, with another room connected by a sliding door at the aft. The autumn day had a chill in the air so they kept the removable roof in place. As the summer season had come to an end, the river was quiet, all the families on vacation having left to go back to the metropolis. The flat landscape showed the occasional windmill breaking up the horizon with their circular arms brushing the breeze. Most were now converted into summer homes but they would have once been used as pumping stations to drain the wetlands. “Can I drive, Teron?” “I think it’s called steering.” “Just move over and let the captain in,” she sardonically said. “Any subordination from you, mister, and I’ll have you flogged before the mast.” “Two answers to that,” he whispered in her ear. “First, I might like a good flogging. Second, we have no mast on a motorized cruiser.” He kissed her cheek and ran his hand over her breasts. “Taking liberties with the captain, aren’t we?” “Weigh anchor and I’ll take a few more.” She turned and kissed his astonishing lips. “What you waiting for then?”

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Teron helped her bring the cruiser into the bank, went out on deck, tied the side of the cruiser using irons and pushed the mud anchor over the edge. When he came back, he walked over to Sarah and their embrace was long and immediate. “Love in the galley might sound like a good title for one of your novels, Teron, but I prefer to be more comfortable.” He took her hand and they walked to the aft, slid the door open and went into a small, dark and intimate sleeping cabin. “Is this more to the captain’s liking?” “Much better. So where’s the rope?” “What rope, Sarah?” “I told you not to be so familiar with the captain. I need to teach the deckhand a lesson.” Teron smiled but not with great certainty. He adored this lady of the wild, dark Romany eyes, feisty ways and delectable figure…but he couldn’t completely decide if she was a tease, a kidder or just an uninhibited, unconventional lady. She stood on one leg, curling the other foot around the metal pole that formed the support to the rear door. Teron gazed into those liquid eyes and saw passion. He wanted to be part of her. “Not sure, but I guess that wire twine over there on the cupboard might be okay.” Sarah picked it up. “Stretch out and take what’s coming to you. I won’t have the crew insulting me.” Was it a game? he pondered. There was only one way to find out. Sarah knelt on the bed and leaned over him with the twine. She was wearing a primrose-colored low cut top. The full majesty and alluring shape of her breasts fell forward. He started to sweat as the impact of those two peaks formed a delectable sight in front of his eyes. She wound the twine around his wrists, securing them to the bracket of a shelf at the head of the double bed.

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Her body stayed pressed against his. Sarah kissed Teron, wriggling against his stomach and lower abdomen. There was a strong movement inside his pants and the emerging hardness of his cock made her hot for the man. Raining kisses on his mouth, she let her tongue trace the sharp contours of his jaw and search for the veins of his neck. “Lucky for you I’m in a nautical mood and haven’t become a sister of Dracula.” His response was muffled in deep and animated breathing. As the attention of her lips went south, she slowly undid the buttons of his shirt, reveling in each new portion of exposed chest. Over its broadness her moist lips dipped into the valley of his bellybutton and then lower, to where she could almost sense the animal at Teron’s loins baying to be released. Her hand went down inside his pants…and her fingers touched the hungry head of his manhood. Her other hand dexterously undid the button at the top of his zip and let the gently grating sound of it being pulled down dwell in her ears. She rested her head on his stomach and inch by sensual inch eased down his boxer shorts. The panting, one-eyed demon cock showed its head, then the body of its girth appeared with its curly mane of hair at the base. Her hand held it cupped and the throbbing from within its core spoke of Teron’s desires. While teasing and watching, Sarah pulled her top off and with a single unclipping of the clasp let her bra fall away. She could feel Teron’s eyes looking. She wriggled closer so that the length of his erection ran over her nipples. With loving care, she slipped his cock between her breasts and moved so that the stimulation of her body massage made him groan. “Do you like music?” she suddenly asked as she sat up and kissed his chest. “Yes,” Teron replied with a bewildered look on his face. She glanced around. “Over there.” He nodded in the direction of a small portable stereo player. 36

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She languidly got up and deliberately teased him by thumbing through the collection of CDs. Putting on a selected disc, she went back to him. “See, you’re still keen.” She smirked and licked her lips at the sight of his erection. Sarah pulled his shorts and pants completely off, slipped out of her own dark tan jeans, removing her panties with a wicked grin. The first bar of the music filled the small cabin. She knelt over his lower legs and put both her hands around his stiff wand. The orchestra got into the second refrain and Sarah sat over the fiery rod, let it tickle her clit, and as she came down so it entered into her the first great thunder of the cannon from the 1812 overture crashed out a loud bang. More bangs as she banged. The volume hit them and the crescendo flowed over their writhing bodies. The advancing, triumphant cavalry rode on as Sarah sat in her saddle with the scent of victory in her heart, her mind, her vagina. Bells rang out and in her head. As Teron’s mighty cock capitulated, Sarah fell forward and held him close. “Can you flog me like that again, captain?” he hoarsely said. “You just wait for the mast to be raised, mister, and I’ll run up more than a flag.”

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Chapter Seven—Posh People

“Hungry?” Sarah asked. “What for?” “Stop boasting, Teron. Twice at sea is enough.” “This is a river, not the ocean.” “Keep your mind on food. There’s a lovely looking pub coming up along this side. Show me your skills and park this thing.” “Moor.” “Is that a request for sex?” He burst out laughing, came alongside the wooden jetty, tied up the cruiser and, hand in hand, they strolled happily into the Wayfarers Inn. The cozy bar area had low, wooden, dark black beams and everywhere was decorated with memorabilia, horse brasses and ancient farming implements. They tucked themselves into a quiet corner and ordered what the waitress called a Ploughman’s Lunch. As it consisted of cheese, a pork pie, dried-up lettuce and a portion of relish, Sarah was moved to comment to the waitress who brought it to them that, “The Ploughmen around here must be skinny buggers.” In the far corner, a group of two men and two women were playing darts. Sarah watched and was egging Teron on to go over and challenge them to a match. She had her head stuck above the high-back bench seat, giving him a running commentary on the progress, when she ducked down and gulped, “Jeez, guess who’s over in the other corner?” Teron shrugged.

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“It’s the painted lady herself. Malmouth’s answer to Jean Harlow,” Sarah said with wide eyes. “Could you talk plain English?” Teron asked. “It’s Elisha Heavenly. And get this. She’s with some city slicker who looks like he’s up for best-dressed-man award.” Teron joined her in peeking over at them. “And who are the heavies drinking at the bar? Don’t usually see dark suits around here.” “We need a picture of that guy,” Sarah said and grabbed the cap Teron was wearing. She pushed it on her head, even though it was a few sizes too big, pulled it down low over her eyes, picked up her camera and hustled a surprised Teron into the middle of the bar. “Okay, honey, this one is for the folk back home.” She chewed out the words in a mangled strange accent that didn’t belong anywhere—except in the vaudeville theater. Teron stood, a silly grin on his face, while Sarah snapped away, chattering in the same assumed and ridiculous way. Then she got hold of him and rushed from the pub as the bemused people around her shook their heads at the mad lady. Elisha Heavenly turned to her beau and said, “I’m sure I know that woman from somewhere.” Outside, Sarah bundled Teron back onto the cruiser. “Are you always this bossy?” He smiled benignly. “I was getting a picture of that guy. With any luck he’s in the background of one of these shots.” She held the camera up. “Anyway, I thought you liked bossy and strict women. I certainly didn’t hear any complaints when I had you tied up. Moans, yes, but no complaints.” “So where to now, Sarah?” “Billy used to be a photographer and has got the developing equipment back at the apartment. So, weigh anchor you scurvy crew and let’s hit the high sea.” She grinned, assuming another awful accent. Their journey back along the river took longer than planned. The temptation to play another sensual version of Mutiny on the Sexy Bounty

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was too great, so it was almost three hours before they arrived at Malmouth and bound up the wooden tread stairs of the apartment. “I’m home, Billy. Are you decent?” Sarah called out. Billy put his head around the kitchen door. It was followed by the face of an adorable guy, wrapped in a bathrobe and with tantalizingly damp and ruffled hair. “Didn’t expect you home till late this evening.” Billy sheepishly grinned at her, then added a nod to Teron. “We’ll do the introductions later. Right now I want you to get out your equipment…and before I get any saucy remarks, I mean photographic.” Sarah shoved Billy reluctantly toward the large walk-in cupboard that he graced with the name of darkroom. “We’ll be back in a minute,” she called over her shoulder to Teron and Billy’s friend. “You two entertain yourselves.” Then she did a double take and added wide-eyed and innocently, “Oh no, you haven’t got the same interests, have you?” Fifteen minutes later Sarah bounced into the lounge and sat on Teron’s lap. “Miss me, lover?” she simpered in a wonderful parody of a B-movie over-acting style. Before he could answer she waved the photos in front of him. “That face mean anything to you?” Teron looked and then shook his head. “Men. You’re only good for one thing.” “Ask Guantone,” Billy offered. “Guantone! Guantone! What sort of name is that? Sounds more like a South American landlocked country.” Sarah turned to the young man, approving of Billy’s discriminating and excellent tastes in men. He was a beautiful specimen, and the lady of the dark eyes momentarily thought of him naked in bed. Shaking her mind of erotic pictures, she handed him the photos. “Okay, Guantone. Billy has given you a recommendation. Recognize anybody?”

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“Guantone is a sub-editor with a big newspaper in London,” Billy said by way of explanation. Guantone gave Sarah the sort of smile that could melt her bra strap in five seconds. But she knew it was only politeness. “Where did you see this guy?” the young man asked. “You know him?” Sarah leaped off Teron’s knee and pounced on Guantone. He looked to Billy for protection. “Better answer, Guantone, or she’ll have your pants off and do unspeakable things to your manhood.” Billy smirked. Guantone tried to see it as a joke, but wasn’t sure. “That’s Richard Haylingbury. He’s someone you don’t want to mess with,” the frightened young man offered, and looked even more petrified as Sarah climbed all over him. “Give, pretty man, or you could lose your virgin status,” Sarah said with a menacing glare. Guantone took a deep breath and began. “In government circles, some departments don’t even show up in the official reports or audits. They move, shall we say, secretively and provide ministers with the sort of information that borders on…espionage.” “Secret Service, you mean,” Sarah said. He nodded and continued. “If he is mixed up in one of your cases, I’d give the client their fee back.” “That explains the heavies sitting around the bar. They were his minders,” Teron mused. “But what the hell is Elisha Heavenly doing with this guy?” Sarah asked to no one in particular. “Perhaps you’d better take Guantone’s advice and get out now,” Teron added. Billy stood quietly and thought, This guy Teron may be the new love in Sarah’s life and the new cock in her vagina, but he doesn’t yet understand her. Tell her Genghis Khan and Jack the Ripper were involved and she’d bloody-mindedly want to get to the bottom of the mystery.

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Chapter Eight—Capital Idea

The train journey from Northwich to London was a tedious two hours thirty minutes. Sarah huffed and puffed, sometimes reading, other times looking out of the window in a bored fashion. Being made to sit still didn’t suit her personality. Being required to do anything sat ill with this live wire. Billy tried not to look at her as he knew she would begin to moan and complain. Telling Sarah it was her idea to go down to London to follow up the Richard Haylingbury contact was not going to do any good. They crossed the concourse at Liverpool Street Station and disappeared down the subway, letting themselves be swallowed into the bowels of the earth under the city of London. It was surprising how hundreds, even thousands of people could occupy a platform and then a bullet-shaped metal cartridge, and yet contrive not to make eye contact. The nearer humanity was pushed together the more they pretended no one else existed. The visit to London had been a spur of the moment decision. There was no plan, so they decided to get off the subway at Piccadilly Circus and look around the West End of the Capital, which Sarah hadn’t visited for a few years. Billy didn’t want to appear a country hick so he kept quiet. He’d never been there before. “Last time I was here, there was a sweet little restaurant in Wardour Street. Are you hungry, Billy?” He nodded…and wished he hadn’t.

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Their walk took them along the streets of the Soho district and for Billy it was a revelation. In the space of twenty minutes, they were importuned for sexual favors, offered any variety of delight that might tickle their fancy and almost forcibly dragged off the streets to witness, participate in, and enjoy every variation of sensual enjoyment known, invented or imagined. “If the detective agency business doesn’t pay the bills, Billy, you’ll have to spend your nights selling your body here.” “What about you, Sarah?” “Nope, wouldn’t be any good. I’m much too expensive.” “So it’s okay for me, then.” Billy pouted petulantly. Sarah hugged him, grinning cheekily. “You’re a promiscuous budgerigar, Billy, always going cheap.” He grimaced at the dreadful pun. Like a couple of giggling kids, they settled down in the chosen restaurant, drank coffee and ate a late morning brunch. Watching the free parade walking up and down the streets, they had no idea that they were, in turn, being watched. They sauntered out into respectable Regent Street and idly did a bit of window-shopping and at last discussed how they would approach Richard Haylingbury. “Where was that address Guantone gave us?” Sarah asked Billy. “We mustn’t say anything about that, Sarah. Giving out secret locations for offices of clandestine agencies would get him in trouble.” “Keep your boxer shorts on, Billy. I ain’t going to shout my pretty mouth off and ruin your love life with the scrumptious Guantone.” She thought about adding a sexy rider to the statement, but instead gave Billy a kiss on his cheek. “It says Dulby Mews. The map gives it as just off the main Whitehall thoroughfare,” Billy said, extraditing himself from Sarah’s sloppy embrace. She peered at the page and said, “Looks walkable—let’s go.”

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Number 3 Dulby Mews could have passed for an expensive small town house in this desirable central London location. All the rows of terraced houses had identical dark gray blinds and Billy guessed they were occupied by the same shady government espionage set-up. “So what do you suggest, Sarah?” “How about we go in as Batman and Robin? Did you bring your cape?” “Be serious.” “What about telling them we’re from the newspaper? Government is always polite to the press so they get a good image. What do you think, Billy?” “I think we shouldn’t be here and you are leading me into a lot of trouble.” “I’ll take that as a yes, then.” Sarah knocked at the oak inlaid door, with its Georgian escutcheons and polished brass plate, which read one word, Private. There was a long wait while they had the uneasy feeling that eyes were scrutinizing them. Footsteps could be heard inside. The door opened and a tall, muscular man filled the frame. “May I help you?” he asked. The question was polite and urbane. The look intimidating and just about the right side of mayhem. “We’re from the Sunday Globe. I’m Sarah Laurel and this is my colleague, William Hardy. We’re here to interview Mr. Haylingbury.” Sarah smiled ingenuously at the doorman. Billy tried to stifle a giggle under his apprehension. “Come in and take a seat in the waiting room,” came the instructions from the man with the facial menace. As they entered, the man who had been trailing them since they’d arrived in London slipped away. They sat down. The guy with the threatening face left the room. “What the hell did you go and use two ridiculous names like that?” Billy said as soon as the click of the closed door was heard.

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Sarah got up, walked over to Billy and messed up his hair with a mimicked, “That’s another fine mess you’ve got us into.” The door opened. In walked sensuality on two legs. And the legs were balanced precariously on stiletto heels. The legs only stopped displaying a long way up beautiful thighs, where a short miniskirt took over. If the material from it had been presented to a tailor, he’d have had a hard job finding enough cloth to make a necktie. The hourglass hips and rounded ass swooped in to a slim, trim waist and then made its way out to sumptuous breasts that could feed the seventh army. The makeup was immaculate on the impassive face of a stunning blonde, who only just about needed all her fingers and toes to count to her next birthday. “Not regular government issue,” Sarah muttered audibly to Billy. “You wish to see Mr. Haylingbury?” the blonde bimbo asked. It was a total letdown. With a figure and a face like that, a husky Lauren Bacall voice would have been expected. The blonde had a nasal whine which was slightly less irritating than running your fingernails down a blackboard. “We’re from the Sunday Globe.” Sarah made her reply slightly exasperated for effect. “Nothing in the diary,” the grating voice came back. “Trust the PR department to fuck it up,” Sarah huffed. “Well, you’d better come and see Mr. Haylingbury. Can you walk this way?” “Sister, if I could walk that way I’d get so many propositions I’d have to become a nun.” Sarah gulped. The blonde took no notice and swayed out of the room and up the corridor. Sarah and Billy followed. “Most men would go blind watching that ass and hips rock and roll,” Sarah said, then quickly added, “Lucky it has no effect on you, Billy.” At the end of the corridor, the blonde opened a door and with a glance over the shoulder last seen in a Playboy centerfold, she beckoned them to come in.

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The desk at the other end of the room was large, mahogany and purely a status symbol. Lounging back on a swivel, black leather chair was the man they’d seen with Elisha Heavenly. Richard Haylingbury was sartorially elegant. It went through Sarah’s mind that even when he was in full humping mode, he’d still look immaculate. The door closed behind them and the muscular ape who had answered the door leaned against it with the type of Spartan look which said, none shall pass. The blonde sat on the arm of a chair, displaying about as much of her upper thighs and loins as she could without decently showing the onlookers whether her golden hair was natural. “Laurel and Hardy,” Haylingbury scoffed. “Is that the best you could do? Now, would you two dummies like to tell me what you want? Don’t bother to explain who you really are. Remember we are…let’s say a special agency…and everybody, but everybody, is on a file we have.” Billy began, “Perhaps it is you who needs to explain, Mr. Haylingbury, after all it was—” “Was a mistake to come here,” Sarah barged in verbally and cut Billy off in full flow. He gave her an indignant look. She made a face that said shut up. “A mistake.” Haylingbury shook his head in disbelief at the answer. He got up and walked toward the blonde. For one moment, Sarah thought he was going to ignore their presence and screw her over the chair. Haylingbury placed a hand on her shoulder and let his fingers play some tune that was probably dancing around in his head. It was the sort of touch that suggested the blonde wasn’t just his secretary. It was more like an erotic fondle a man would give a bordello tart after concluding the financial arrangements. “And was it a mistake when you cavorted around in the pub with that ridiculous cap on, taking pictures and acting like a country idiot?” Haylingbury swung around to confront Sarah and Billy, letting his hand rest on the exposed thigh of blondie. He walked over to Sarah and looked into her dark pool eyes with what he probably hoped was a come-on expression.

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“A pretty lady like you with such exquisite assets shouldn’t be kicking around with a no-hoper like that,” he whispered and gave Billy a contemptuous glance. “Is that an official offer or is this a private matter?” she said to encourage him. He leaned closer to her. “Women that are nice to me find out I can do a lot for them, Sarah.” “Like pass on a dose of the clap,” she said, putting him down with a wicked grin. He stepped back and looked at the ape-man. “Throw them out, and don’t be too gentle about it.” Two minutes later, Sarah and Billy were staggering outside. “Next time pick on someone your own size…if you can find any gorillas in central London,” Sarah bawled defiantly at the doorman as he closed the front door. They walked out into Whitehall and Billy turned to Sarah and asked, “Why did you stop me telling him we were just working for his lady friend?” “Didn’t want to divulge information…and don’t you think it strange that he seemed to have no knowledge that Elisha had hired us to find her husband? Seems the lovers don’t share pillow talk much.”

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Chapter Nine—Love Leads

Autumn had begun with rain, moved into sun, switched back to a deluge, and now, once again flipped a cog and went to a balmy day of pleasant watery sun. “A picnic,” Sarah said and puffed out a fractious hiss of air. “Last time I went on one of those was when my teeth were held in with a brace and a ten-year-old called Johnny Wilkinson kept trying to interest me in his collection of butterflies. I got so bored I poured orange juice down the inside of his pants.” Billy let Sarah have her rant and then calmly went on making the sandwiches. She disappeared into the bathroom, two minutes later coming back still moaning and stark, unabashedly naked. Billy looked up from his fourth peanut butter spread and even though women were not for him, still had to admire her body. Long black hair, when not combed and tied up, hung from her head to the top of her rounded and beautifully protruding rear. The skin was light olive color, muscle tone superb, curved well-proportioned hips, and breasts that although large, stood upright and proud. The walk was a sashay poem to sensuality. When it was slow you could see the grace of a majestic waltz; when quick, it became an erotic samba from hot climes. Every movement contained the hint of promised passion, the eyes a wild suggestion of transport from ordinary life. Yes, Billy could see why men were entranced, captured and intoxicated by this woman. Sarah put on her pouting, childlike face and leaned against Billy.

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“Sorry, my sweetie,” she purred. “Is Sarah a naughty girl?” “Yes.” Billy shrugged. “Do I deserve to be spanked?” Billy grinned and put his arm around Sarah, letting it rest and pet the plumpness of her ass. “You happy with Guantone?” “He’s good.” “Good as in give him a halo, or good as in bed?” Billy didn’t answer. “Funny name, Guantone?” Sarah said, changing the subject. “His father was Burmese and his mother came from Chile.” “Sounds like a family with itchy feet. Hope he don’t get continental drift with you, Billy.” He gave her a gentle smile. She turned and faced her best friend, put her arms around his neck and kissed him many times on his cheeks, his forehead and finally, like a sister, on his wet lips. *** An hour later, with the autumn tints blazing in the first glow of fire, Billy and Guantone sat in the back of the truck, while Teron attempted to drive unmolested by Sarah’s fingers tickling his upper thighs. They journeyed northeast out of Malmouth, along the coast road. It didn’t follow the sea continuously, but darted in, out and around the many little rivers which cut into the shoreline and meandered into a land of lakes, reeds and secret hamlets. The small farms were now stripped of their summer crops and the round bales of winter forage neatly stacked, waiting to be stored in barns and then eked out over the harsh winters, when the north winds started to churn a fury in some frozen Scandinavian country, migrate across a gray sea and lash out at the flat terrain of East Anglia. “Where are we going?” Guantone eventually asked. www.samhainpublishing.com

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“I thought we would go up through Wesley and then out to the wild coastal cliff,” Billy answered. Sarah pulled a face. “Sandwiches and coffee from a flask is bad enough…but sitting on top of a crumbling cliff watching out for seagull crap is not my idea of a day’s fun,” she said, more in provocation than a genuine moan. “Compromise,” Billy offered. “A picnic first, then we’ll find the nearest pub and warm you up with a few drinks.” “Done.” Sarah chuckled and turned around to shake Billy’s hand to seal the deal. The sandwiches were as inedible as Sarah had feared. The coffee tasted like a mixture of leftover dishwater and diesel oil. She didn’t care. Teron was sprawled out beside her. He was good enough to eat and she could tell his hazel eyes were feasting on her body. She liked that; catching him looking at her rear as she leaned over to pour the coffee; watching her breasts and licking his lips. His thoughts were already over her body. Sarah grinned at her man and snuggled up to him, confirming that his loins were inflamed with the hard shape of his arousal pressing into her. Sarah rolled on her back and encouraged Teron to nibble her neck and play furtively with the swell of her bosom. His mouth bit gently into her skin. She saw Billy hold Guantone’s hand. They were sitting together twenty yards along the cliff. Guantone ruffled Billy’s hair and he responded to the affection by running his fingers along the cute little nose of his lover. Teron’s ambitions took his hand down into Sarah’s cleavage, his cold fingers tickling seductively at the edge of her lace bra. He was undoing the buttons on her blouse and endeavoring to subtly unclip the clasp to her bra. She smiled and wondered why men were so bad at that. She let him struggle, turning again to Billy and Guantone. The sandy hair of her best friend was tousled with the attention from his lover. She watched them enjoy each other and as they kissed, she closed her eyes and was happy for Billy.

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Teron managed to undo her bra and sucked at her receptive nipples. The picnic and the loving had to stop. The autumn skies unzipped the gathering clouds and the rain fell like soft droplets from heaven. Billy was secretly glad. Minutes before, he had sensed Sarah was suggesting a skinny-dipping session for them all. Now they sat in the truck, looking at the drips streaking down the panes of glass. “Look, bet that drop there will get to the bottom of the window first,” Sarah said, trying to whip up enthusiasm. “Any takers? Put your money down, guys.” “Why don’t we go and find that promised pub?” Billy groaned. Teron took the hint, started the engine and headed toward the coastal village of Hazington. The village was a divided community. Not by any enmity but because of the ravages of the sea. The old part of the village had slowly fallen into the sea as the soft sand cliffs eroded. This had been going on for over a hundred years and gradually a newer village grew up two miles inland. “What’s that?” Guantone said as he rubbed the mist away from his side window. Billy looked toward where he was pointing. It was a tall structure, striped red and white with a glass dome on top. “That’s the Hazington lighthouse,” Billy offered. “Not in use anymore. This is a dangerous stretch of coast for sailors. There’s even a famous lifeboat station down by the beach.” “Stop.” Sarah’s shout made Teron slam on the breaks. “What’s up?” He looked concerned. “Go back. Go back and up the lane to the old village center,” she instructed. “The pub’s not…” “Just do it.”

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Teron turned and looked at Billy. He shrugged back. The truck went up the lane. “Slower,” Sarah insisted. “Now stop. Look.” They all stared out of their windows. There was a desolate village green, the old fourteenth-century church and graveyard on one side and a sign on the other warning motorists not to continue along the lane because of road erosion. “Give up,” Teron said with a resigned look on his face. “Anything I should be looking at?” Billy asked warily, knowing how volatile Sarah could be. She sighed the sort of sound which said, men! “I don’t believe it. Do you men have sex on the mind so much you are blind to everything else? Over there. Now I know it’s not in good condition, but…” They desperately searched around. Still, their expressions were blank. “My God,” she huffed. “Think about it. Lighthouse. A lifeboat…and now a church. Put that all together and then we find the village sign in the old part of the area. So…do you see it now?” Billy’s eyes lit up. “Yes, see, the sign’s over there.” They all got out to inspect more closely. Sarah gave them a satisfied smile. “See. A minister baptizing the congregation, a Danish warrior and a lady. I bet her name is Maud. And right there you have the outline of a lighthouse and lifeboat.” “Eureka!” Billy shouted. “Don’t know where that is…but this is Hazington,” Sarah replied. Billy was going to explain when he saw the wicked grin on her face.

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Chapter Ten—Cut to the Chase

There was nothing outstanding about the center of Hazington. Even The Feathers was an ordinary pub. Sarah was a buzzing ball of excitement and insufferable boasting about tracking down the village riddle mentioned in the note given to them by Elisha Heavenly. They had their drink and walked from the pub, being led by the lady of the dark eyes. “I don’t want to dampen your pride,” Billy began tentatively. “But what do we do now the village has been revealed?” “Have a look around and find a connection with this case,” Sarah answered crisply as if it had been a silly question. The three men stared at her. She tutted and huffed. “Look, you and Guantone go up that way, and me and Billy will wander through the side streets.” Teron looked at Guantone, realized these were orders and strolled off with him. “Come on, Billy.” Sarah took her partner’s arm and walked briskly up the street. “Do you think Maud was a clue?” Billy asked. “Search me. The whole thing is screwy. First, the lady who asks us to find a missing husband. Then the two have a reputation for dodgy antiques; and finally her lover is not only a bigwig in the secret service but doesn’t seem to know we have been hired by his out-of-town fuck.” “So what does it mean, Sarah?” “Only one thing is clear. We’re not being told the truth.” Billy was about to answer. Sarah put her hand up over his mouth. www.samhainpublishing.com

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“What do you reckon?” Billy looked at where she was indicating. “A burglar alarm on a wall?” he queried in puzzlement. “Not just one burglar alarm. Four spread along each window; windows with iron grills and a padlock on the outside of the front door.” “And that means?” “Bloody obviously someone is using that old house to store something valuable.” “Maybe the person inside is nervous?” “You don’t go inside a building, Billy, and lean out to padlock yourself in. The house is empty…and my guess is the valuables are large, that’s why a house is being used. How about a place to store antiques?” “But the Heavenlys have an antique shop at Mesby.” “Perhaps this is where the main stock is kept…or maybe a tucked away place to doctor fakes?” Sarah smiled at Billy. His eyes lit up. “I think you’ve got it, Sarah.” “Look, mister, ever since my breasts started to make peaks in my blouse, I realized I’d got it.” Billy grinned at her delicious sense of humor. “How do we get past those burglar alarms?” she mused out loud with a pensive look at the locks and grills. “Follow me,” Billy said. They walked to the end of the house and down a small side alley where the trash cans were kept. This led to a small backyard, stacked with throw-outs from food to furniture. “Untidy bugger, whoever lives here,” Sarah said. Then she saw Billy pushing at the back door with a piece of discarded wood he’d picked up out of the yard. “What the hell are you doing? Didn’t you see the place is wired like a mini Fort Knox?”

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He turned and smirked. “In my varied career, I’ve been a short-order cook, waiter, photographer and now a private eye. And some time ago a door-to-door salesman. Lasted all of four months. One of the lines was a replica burglar alarm. Cheap, and deters the amateur house-breaker.” “And you reckon those alarms are bogus?” “If yes, we’re in the house. If not, we’re in big trouble.” He grinned and hit the glass panel in the door with the wood. There was a shattering sound…but no high pitch whine or clanging bells. “Come into my web, pretty fly,” Billy said and gave Sarah a mock bow. Two paces inside and it was obvious Sarah’s hunch was right. The house was stacked with antiques. Or perhaps they were fakes, Billy thought. Sarah must have read his mind. “They look genuine enough to me. But then what would I know,” she said, darting off into another room. “Billy, come in here.” “If it’s another dead body, I don’t want to see.” “No, it’s more interesting.” He followed her in. This room wasn’t full of antiques. It was more like a workshop. A bench had tools on it and around the room were shelves with jars, brushes and boxes. Sarah opened one of them. It was filled with handles, knobs and other escutcheons. “Looks like we’ve stumbled on the instant antique factory.” Sarah whistled as she rummaged through more boxes. “But no sign of the elusive Bingham Heavenly?” Billy replied. “But he, or someone else, hasn’t long gone,” Sarah said. “How do you know that?” “There’s a cup over there half-filled with coffee. And it’s not congealed. I’m no expert in forensic coffee remains,” she joked, “but I’d say the drinker has been gone no more than thirty minutes.”

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The search continued, but they found nothing to give them a clue to the whereabouts of Bingham. If indeed the coffee leaver had been Mr. Heavenly. As they went into the last small room, Billy went through a desk drawer and found the proof. “This is definitely the Heavenlys’ antique storeroom,” he said and handed Sarah a bundle of business cards. “Heavenly Antiques. Bingham J. Heavenly,” she read. They endeavored to put everything back in the same place, and went out into the side alley. But there was no way out. A mean-looking man blocked one exit and his companion stood at the other end with an even-meaner-looking gun. “You were told to stay out of matters which don’t concern you,” the man with the gun sneered. “By anyone in particular?” Sarah unflinchingly replied. Billy admired her courage, but thought it ill-placed. He looked back at the man blocking the other exit. Even without a gun, he was a fearsome sight. Built from a mold last used in the remake of King Kong, he had the type of expression which suggested he enjoyed inflicting pain. “Why are you looking for Bingham Heavenly?” the gun-toting man in the brown worsted suit asked, contemptuously ignoring Sarah’s sassy remark. “Don’t you know? We got the impression you people knew everything. Haven’t you got a file on us?” “You are the sort of foolish lady who doesn’t seem to recognize the dangerous predicament you are in,” the brown suit said, then moving toward Billy, put the barrel of the gun to the temple of Sarah’s best friend. “Perhaps peril to others might curb your tongue? And if you think death will be a quick release, let me assure you how we obtain answers is left to our weird discretion. Now, I would use pure brutality. But my comrade”—he indicated the well-dressed mountain gorilla—”has this penchant for sexual cruelty. Do I make myself clear?” There was a silence in the alley. Billy felt he should do something— anything—to defend Sarah. The two men just stood and waited for 56

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capitulation. They held all the aces and their targets didn’t even have any idea what game was being dealt out. To Billy’s amazement, he saw tears in Sarah’s eyes. “Not so brave now, are we, lady?” the brown suit derided. “No need for tears. Just tell us your reasons for hunting Mr. Heavenly and I’ll spare you the degradation of letting my friend here have his way with you.” Sarah sniveled, even managing a smile at the gunman. She shuffled up to him and the look she gave him made the man feel his luck was in. She dipped into her shoulder bag and took out a handkerchief, blowing her nose. As the brown suit smiled, Sarah instantly took out a hair spray canister and squirted it directly in his eyes. He shouted and screamed as he sought to see. Reaction was not the gorilla’s strong point. He stood frozen; Sarah grabbed Billy and they ran past the blinded gunman, out of the alley and into the street. They didn’t stop running until they’d found Teron and Guantone. “What’s up with you two?” Teron tried to ask. “No time. Where’s the truck?” Sarah bellowed. “Can you…?” Teron again. “Later. Run,” Sarah said impatiently. “And you, Guantone.” This time Billy, grabbing hold of his latest lover. They reached the truck, started the engine and as it sped off out of the village along the coast road, Sarah breathlessly gave a panting commentary on why they were fleeing. The explanation was reinforced as Teron saw a black limousine in his driving mirror. “We can’t outrun that machine?” he said almost as a plea for an answer. “Take the old road through the marshes,” Billy directed.

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The lane was narrow, with hedges on either side. Its potholed surface and twisting bends cut down the power advantage the chasing highperformance car had. But not enough to stop them gaining on the truck. Taking a sharp corner, the truck came out on the open lane toward Shenan Mere. The stretch of lane was straight and the hedges gave way to steep ditches either side as the countryside was crisscrossed with small rivers and boggy fens. The pursuing car accelerated and was directly behind them. Metal hit metal and the truck lurched and jerked to one side. The gap was seen by the limousine driver. He hit the gas and came flying alongside. There was a terrible clash…and then, human panic shrieks. The vehicle flew over the ditch, somersaulted and hit the peaty bog. It slowly sank into oblivion before finally sealing the occupants’ fate. There was an almighty explosion.

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Chapter Eleven—Is It Something I Said?

It took the ambulance almost thirty minutes to reach the scene. It got there just after the two police patrol cars. Both had been summoned by the lock-keeper at the Shenan Mere crossing. A small crowd of boat owners gathered to watch the macabre panorama. The fourth body was being extracted from the vehicle as the winch they’d commandeered from the local farmer dragged the wreck from the marshes. The police constable shook his head and wondered why these people were driving so fast on a notorious stretch of road. “You sure you’re okay, miss?” he asked Sarah as he looked back at the occupants of the other vehicle. She nodded and saw another policeman questioning Teron about the incident. They’d all agreed to stick to the same story. They’d witnessed this speeding limousine skidding off the road, but they didn’t know anything else. Guantone and Teron had been a bit dubious about concealing information from the police but Sarah had told them if they got involved at this stage it would take the regional squad weeks to investigate. Billy sidled up to Sarah. “They must have had another two in the car. We only saw the two in the alley.” “I wonder if the county police are going to find out they were secret agents?” Sarah replied, then added, “That’s assuming they were acting officially and not freelancing for the slimy Richard Haylingbury.” “Wonder if they were following us or if we accidentally bumped into them when they were searching for Mr. Heavenly?” Billy whispered in

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case the police officer overheard their conversation. The question hung in the air as Teron and Guantone joined them and looked anxious to be away. The drive back to Malmouth was subdued. The crash had shaken them up. The truck was showing the signs of the impact on the righthand side. Fortunately for the validity of their story there were so many scratches and minor prangs on the vehicle that the police didn’t notice the large gash and ask how it happened. Driving into the outskirts of the town, they passed the small regional racecourse. Teron glanced over at Sarah. “Bloody foolish thing to do back there. If those guys had a gun I reckon you are in something too big. Give it up and pay Mrs. Heavenly her money back, Sarah.” “What do you think I am? Some fair damsel that needs protection?” Her dark eyes flashed a warning. Teron didn’t see it. He was now concentrating on driving. “I’m only trying to help.” Teron’s tone had notched up a degree of aggression. “I didn’t ask for it.” “Then don’t accept it.” Billy sank down in the back and tried to think of something pleasant. “Stop here,” Sarah said firmly. “What?” Teron sounded angry. “Don’t you understand the word stop?” The car came to a halt. Sarah was out and the slamming of the front passenger door could be heard all over Malmouth. Vehicles behind were honking at the truck standing still in the middle of a main road. Teron drove on. After a few minutes, Billy said quietly, “You’d better let us out here. Don’t worry, she’ll get over it.” Teron didn’t reply. Billy and Guantone stood on the sidewalk watching his truck drive away. 60

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“What now?” Guantone asked. “When she gets this mad, she’ll usually head for Alba Palace Casino and take her temper out on the slots and a few drinks. You go home and I’ll give you a call tomorrow.” Billy lightly touched Guantone’s hand, but held back from kissing his friend in public. He didn’t know why. He was proud to be what he was. Gay and content. *** The wheels whirled around. “Two lemons and a joker.” Sarah looked down at Titan, who she’d collected from Betty at the café, and smiled wistfully. “Not my lucky day, little doggy. First, I get a gun thrust in my guts, then blow my big mouth off and send a gorgeous lover running for cover…and now I’ve got through a bucketful of money on these stupid machines. So what sort of day have you had, Titan?” “Could you do with some company, or do you and the hound prefer to be alone?” Sarah swiveled around on the high stall, her feet resting on the foot bar. The voice belonged to a man in his early thirties, eyes as blue as a Mediterranean sky and with trousers so hugging tight that it flashed through her mind any erection inside them would cause a serious sensual diversion. He leaned an elbow against the slot machine next to her and casually watched. “No luck, eh?” he drifted the question nonchalantly her way. She gave him a smile back. Not a full wow-factor grin but a stay-a-little-while number that was appealing enough to keep him interested. “I’m Luke,” he said. You’re hot, she thought, but replied, “That’s nice for you.” He smirked at her sassiness. Sarah turned her ostensive attention back to the

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gambling. Her eyes may have been forward but her thoughts were on the hunk next to her. The loneliness and ache within her body became focused on Luke. “Do you have a name?” he asked. “Sarah.” “Can I get you a drink from the bar, Sarah of the gorgeous eyes?” “Okay, I’ll just drop the last few coins into the black hole of gambling.” She could sense his gaze running over her body. His breath quickened as the glance lingered on her rounded breasts, his hands fidgety in a telltale sign as the visual inspection went down to her ass and into the heat of her loins. Teron had thrown her over, why shouldn’t she taste other fruit? And this Luke had the appearance of a man who could reach inside of her and quench her fire. His silent approval continued to rake over her body. Sarah kept feeding the machine. Her mind was already imagining Luke’s naked body. The last coin dropped into oblivion; her dream was of him kneeling before her and inflaming her clitoris with his tongue as she held him in sexual suspense before allowing his cock to penetrate her. “Love the dog, Sarah. Can I pat him now…and then stroke your pussy later?” The spell was broken. What the fucking hell was she doing? She wanted Teron. Not this chat-up merchant who had no finesse. Jeez, she smoldered, he’s only known me for a few minutes and he comes out with some corny line and description of my sexual delight. Sarah got up from the stall and looked down at Titan. “Come on, my friend, let’s get out of here. I need some fresh air.” “Hey, what about that drink, Sarah?” “Go find some other moggy to flatter, Luke. I’m a feral that doesn’t like some guy immediately putting a collar on me.” She swept out of the casino with as much aplomb as a feisty lady could put together in an impromptu display of disdain. As she hit the

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street, she looked down at Titan and thought the dog had more allure than Luke. “Sarah.” She stopped. It was Billy. For some reason, she needed him. “Billy,” she shouted and when he got near threw her arms around him. A few people stopped and watched as she held on tight and kissed his cheek. “Your Sarah has been a very silly little girl. I think I want to go home so you can smack my ass. Real hard, mind you. Panties down and at least six whacks across my bare rear.” Billy went red and tried to avoid the stare of a couple who had heard this outburst. The old guy looked at his prim wife and she coughed and gave him an indignant stare back which said, don’t even think about it. Walking arm-in-arm along the promenade, Sarah babbled on about how stupid she’d been. When they reached the apartment, Sarah suddenly stopped, turned to Billy and announced, “In the morning, after a good night’s sleep and a spanking session, I reckon we should give Elisha Heavenly a home visit. There’s a lot of questions we need to ask that lady. And for her sake, I hope she’s got some truthful answers.”

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Chapter Twelve—Men in Her Life

Malmouth was a down-to-earth, in-your-face, raucous seaside town. Elisha Heavenly lived ten miles away in a kitsch little village. The river ran through the center and most of the homes were palatial mansions with water-frontage, expensive cruisers, well-clipped hedges and more ostentatious displays of wealth than you could shake a begging bowl at. Sarah drove and Billy did the direction bit. They’d gotten Elisha’s address from the top of a letter left in the background file given to them for the case. Some of the villages in this area of rivers and shallow lakes were home to the vacation trade. Hire motorboats and homes on the water were their stock in trade. However, the village of Yoxham was far too posh for such vulgar matters. If visitors turned up on its hallowed streets or riverbanks they had better have a gold-edged, high-spending credit card. “There’s no bloody numbers on these houses,” Sarah complained. “Nothing as common as that,” Billy agreed. “Every home has a name. We’re looking for Regency Mansion.” “Jeez, are you kidding? What a fucking pretentious place,” Sarah spat contemptuously. “Over there.” Billy pointed. A sharp turn and burning rubber had their car skidding into a gravel drive, lined in an elegant curve with pencil-thin conifers. To one side was a massive planting of rhododendrons, azaleas and exotic bamboos. The other side of the drive had a fountain construction that looked as if it had been stolen and shipped over from an Italianate garden in Florence.

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Surrounding it were a row of statues in faux marble, representing the gods of Olympus. They got out of the car and stood gawking. “Look at the ridiculously small size of a cock on the statue over there,” Sarah sneered. “No wonder the Greek pantheon died out. That couldn’t excite a dim-witted crone, let alone a goddess and the other girls up there on the mountain.” At that moment the front door opened and Elisha Heavenly came bustling down the drive. Not at any great speed. That would be impossible in her get-up. She waddled on the thinnest, highest stilettos ever seen. Apart from the shoes, all she wore was a cut-down mini Japanese geisha’s kimono, barely covering her body and riding up those tanned thighs. Anyone could almost see the nakedness of her welltrimmed bush. Topiary wasn’t confined to the garden, Sarah thought as the femme fatale approached like a bejeweled, high-class tart. Elisha’s baubles, bangles and beads were far more numerous than her skimpy clothes. They jingled and jangled to her swaying walk. “What the fucking hell are you two doing here,” she challenged them. “Where’s the ladylike manners and decorum now,” Sarah muttered in a low voice. “I thought you’d hired us on an important matter?” Billy responded slightly indignantly. “Don’t we go with the garden design?” Sarah added acerbically. Elisha shrugged and grudgingly inclined her head to indicate they should follow her into the house. The entrance was mock Georgian, the hall over-the-top Palladian and Elisha a mixture of Bordello madam and haughty royalty of some obscure principality with more archdukes, and even archer duchesses, than sense. “Have you any news to report?” Elisha launched into an aggressive mode, adjusting her kimono so that her formable breasts were marginally kept more in than out.

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“Lots to tell you, Mrs. Heavenly,” Sarah began. Billy detected a belligerent tone and braced himself for a catfight. She then continued, “But I reckon you have a few things to tell us first.” “I pay your bills, not answer your questions,” Elisha spat back. “Mrs. Heavenly, if you want us to stop working for you, that’s fine. We’ll just collect our expenses…and then let the police know certain facts, which they should investigate. Like why is a certain Richard Haylingbury so interested in us? And before you choke on that morsel, we could also ask them to look at your connection with a corpse by the name of Rigby Jones.” Elisha’s face aged through the heavy and refined makeup. Their research had shown she was thirty-eight, although before this movement she could have been ten years younger. The composure was going. “Honey, are you coming…?” The call came from halfway up the central spiral stairs. Everyone looked. A man strolled down and stopped three treads from the bottom. He was no more than twenty-one, had a body that had everything a woman could need…and use. His black, wavy hair was tousled in a designer way. His chest and arms looked strong enough to inspire the imagination without being some dim-minded, muscle-bound, weight-lifting freak. The towel wrapped around his middle was more the face variety than the bathing type. He held two corners together with one hand. Sarah couldn’t help herself praying for him to let go. His other hand rested on his inner thigh. The thought struck the lady of the dark eyes that he was trying to contain his hidden erection. “Is this the gardener?” Sarah said, barely containing a sexy smirk. “Go back to…” Elisha began. “Bed,” Sarah supplied. The body beautiful shrugged and gave Sarah a wink. The gigolo nodded to his pay-mistress, turned, slung the towel casually over his shoulder and walked knowingly up the stairs, very slowly so that the full power of his naked ass could be totally appreciated. Then as a mindboggling finale, he got to the top of the stairs, walked along the upper 66

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open corridor and at the end before disappearing, gave them a frontal and lingering display. Elisha probably remembered the screw he’d just given her. Sarah’s eyes popped out as she gulped and wondered if the beast was that big when only at half-mast, what was it like when aroused. Billy licked his lips and felt his hands twitch and sweat. “Quite makes your eyes water,” Sarah joked. Elisha gave her a look that could kill at twenty yards with a lead wall in the way. “Richard Haylingbury is a good friend of mine…and a client,” Elisha said, suddenly changing their direction of attention. “Client for what?” Sarah asked with a straight face. “Antiques,” Elisha answered just as matter of fact, then quickly added, “as for this Digby man, I have really never heard of him.” “Even accepting your explanation of Haylingbury as a friend, Mrs. Heavenly,” Billy interjected in a polite tone, “why is the gentleman so interested in us? And that interest is bordering on the murderous.” “Perhaps he believes he is protecting me. I will have a word with him,” Elisha blandly said. “So do you want us to go on with the search for your husband?” he asked. “Of course. Now do you have any more questions? I am a busy woman.” Sarah let her glance wander up the stairs and thought of the business Elisha would soon be engaged in. She reckoned with a cock like that waiting for her, she’d be at least ten inches into more important matters. “If there is anything else you haven’t told us, please give us a call when you are free,” Sarah said sarcastically and muttered, “or the gardener is free.” They left the house and sat in the car outside the drive, thinking about what to do. Titan’s big brown eyes stared at them from the backseat. He looked guilty. Sarah turned and noticed he was chewing a

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piece of paper. She persuaded him to give it up. The wet, chewed paper was just about readable. “Well, there’s a turn up for the book.” She whistled. “What?” “It’s a message to us saying we should go to the old Roman fort ruins at Caningforth, where we will learn something to our advantage.” “How did it get in Titan’s mouth?” “I left the window slightly open as it was a warm autumn day.” “Who’s it from?” Billy asked. “Bingham Heavenly it says here.”

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Chapter Thirteen—Ghostly Fort

Yoxham was batting at the top of the snob averages. Caningforth wasn’t in the same league. Not that it wanted to be. It was a divided community that went separate ways. The whole area was a tourist’s honeypot during the summer months and Caningforth was no exception. But this was not a town of hotels, new motels or fancy vacation homes. Its accommodation was from the low-budget end of the market. Basic caravans and chalets, long ago out of date, but still attracting those who wanted a simple and cheap getaway. The homes were crammed along the sandy beach of Caningforth. At the other end of the small town was the all-year-round community. They got nothing from the tourists and were mainly elderly, once belonging to the now fast-dwindling inshore fishing business. These locals were taciturn, contemptuous of the second home incomers and doing their best to ignore the tourists. After leaving Titan with Betty for the evening, Sarah and Billy arrived at Caningforth and foolishly stopped to ask a local the way to the old Roman fort. There was a grunt, a rapid pointing in a general direction and much muttering as the old man went about his business—which was primarily being rude to anybody that looked like a tourist. They drove along a street with neat retirement homes and pretty gardens, where nothing was allowed to get out of hand. It was fastidious avenue in a boring world of geriatrics.

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“What time did that note say we were supposed to meet Mr. Heavenly?” Billy questioned. “That’s the fourth time you’ve asked that,” Sarah huffed and took a corner too fast, sending a sleeping cat scurrying into the bushes and an old lady in another direction. Billy mouthed a sorry out of his window at her. “Decimating the local wildlife with your driving better not include anybody over the age of seventy with white hair and a walking cane,” Billy muttered sarcastically. Sarah didn’t answer. She’d seen a half-hidden sign to the Roman fort. “Looks like the locals don’t like tourists,” she said and got to a rusting iron bar gate across what had become a narrow drive up to the fort. They got out of the car and walked up to it. “Notice says, open Monday, Wednesday and Saturday, eleven a.m. to three p.m.” Billy read. “Let’s hope those Romans didn’t keep such genteel hours when they built the fort.” Sarah shrugged. “By the way, Billy, you’re the studious one. Why did they build this wreck?” “I think two thousand years has made it a ruin, Sarah. They dotted a line of sea defense forts all along the eastern and southern shore of the British province to keep out the Saxons.” “Seems like the present population are keeping up the tradition in not encouraging outsiders,” Sarah scornfully replied. Billy climbed over the gate and held out a hand to Sarah. She shook her head and with one leap was over. “Thanks for the offer, kind sir, but I gave in my chastity belt and veil some years ago,” she joked. “I know you are going to hit me…but you haven’t answered my question about the meeting time,” Billy said. “That’s because it doesn’t say,” Sarah exasperatedly replied. “All it read was after dark.”

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“Well, it’s eight o’clock and in fifteen minutes I reckon you could call it dusk,” Billy snorted. “Just sit down here and wait,” Sarah said and they both sprawled out by a part of the fort’s ruined flint wall—and waited. “Can you hear something, Sarah?” She popped her head up and tried to hide between two chunks of the wall. “What is it?” Billy asked, and started to look over. “Get down, Billy. I’m tucked in but you can be seen there.” “Is it Bingham?” “Looks more like two people to me, Billy.” “Anyone we know?” “Don’t think so. Difficult to tell in this dim light. I reckon one is female.” “What makes you say that?” “The silhouette shape, dummy. Don’t know too many men with breasts like that…unless you count that Turkish Bath club you go to.” She giggled. “Stop playing the fool, Sarah. What are they doing?” There was silence. Sarah muttered to herself and gave a low quiet whistle. “Come on, Sarah, don’t keep me guessing. Are they looking for us?” Sarah paused again. “Don’t think so. Unless that guy expects to find us inside the girl’s clothes.” “What?” “Well, at the moment he has discovered the woman’s breasts and is now elbow deep in her panties. At his present speed, I reckon he’ll soon have her moaning.” More quiet observation followed. “Now what’s happening?”

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She giggled and said, “I think they’re going for the doggy position. She has just presented him with a full moon ass. Jeez, I hope she’s not getting too excited. He’s just unzipped his pants…and that small thing wouldn’t stimulate a frigid novice in a nunnery on a very deserted island.” “We can’t stay here all night. Are they going, Sarah?” “Nope…but I think he’s coming. That’s a fuck you could measure with an egg timer. Hard boiled or soft.” Sarah sat next to Billy. “Give them a few minutes. She won’t hang about. She’ll have to get home to use the dildo after that unsatisfactory screw.” She grinned. After ten minutes Billy became impatient again and whispered, “All clear?” “Yes…wait a minute.” “What is it this time?” “Have a look yourself, Billy.” He knelt up and noticed that the mist had started to roll in on a cold autumn night. It swirled and danced, skirting over low bushes and embracing the ancient stones of a past age. The blanket of damp air gave the whole scene a muted gray appearance. Beyond the first line of broken wall was a figure…a huge bulk of a figure. It moved slowly and around in a small circle. “What do you think it is?” Billy said quietly. “Could be…” Sarah started, then stopped. “Look, there’s a light coming out of its head.” “You don’t think…do you, Sarah?” “Finish the question, Billy,” Sarah said with more confidence than she felt. “A ghost.” He gulped. “What, a Roman soldier or something?”

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“Might be, Sarah.” Look, it’s got that sickly aura of light around it. Do you think we should get the hell out of here?” he added with a hardly controlled quiver in his voice. The specter moved eerily toward them. The cold seeped into their bones. Sarah felt for Billy’s hand, trying to gain courage from his nearness. She could feel the shiver in his fingers. “Whatever it is, it’s bloody big,” Sarah said and tried to back away but seemed rooted to the spot. The light swung again…came their way, advancing through the all-pervading fog. It got within five yards of them, and Sarah found her voice. “Jeez save us, it’s that sod of a policeman, Detective Sergeant Ezzard.” The bulky figure waddled out of the mist, swinging a hurricane lamp over his head. Sarah and Billy had met the massive frame back in the summer when they were working on a case. “What are you doing creeping around out here?” Sarah asked in a peeved manner, pretending she’d never been frightened. “I hardly think I could creep anywhere, miss.” “Are you following us?” Billy now collected some thoughts. “Sort of.” “As in…” Sarah encouraged a fuller answer. Ezzard put down the lamp and wiped his brow. How a man could sweat on a cold and foggy autumn night was beyond the duo’s comprehension. “We’re looking for a Bingham Heavenly, and a little bird tells me so are you,” Ezzard said. “Why?” Billy chipped in again. “We have information he might know something about the death of a Rigby Jones.” Billy looked as if he was going to say something. Sarah kicked him hard in the shin. “Well, really interesting Ezzard…but it’s a chilly night and as much as we’d love to help you, we have to protect the

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confidentiality of our client,” Sarah abruptly said, nodded to the detective sergeant and dragged Billy away. As they got to their car, Billy asked, “Why didn’t you tell him about the case? He might have helped.” “Policemen don’t give out information. They suck you dry, use you and then hang you out for the vultures.” “So do we hang around for Bingham, Sarah?” “Reckon the law has frightened him off.” She shrugged. Momentarily they stood and argued the point. A police car drove past, and through the mist they saw Ezzard sitting in the backseat. Forty seconds later, another car glided past. It was a big black limousine, with darkened windows and something sinister about it. “What do you make of that, Sarah?” “Policemen being followed by secret service; very odd. Perhaps they don’t talk or trust each other. And another thing, Billy. I would have put a bet on—if I gambled with money—Elisha being behind Rigby Jones’s murder. So what did Bingham have to do with it?”

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Chapter Fourteen—Sex Services, Mister?

Autumn was an unpredictable time. The previous night’s sea mist had blown away and the day shone as bright as a newly polished silver button. Perhaps the color should have been bronze to match the dull gold and flaming orange of the withering leaves. Sarah stood at the side of the road. She’d brushed and combed her long hair into a single crisscross plait, with a red band at the top and a matching bow halfway down its length. The top was skimpy and deep cut so her uplifted boobs were tantalizingly pushed together and the bare midriff revealed a skull-and-crossbones charm in a pierced bellybutton. The skirt was as short as possible. She had a fabulous and voluptuous body. The outfit made her look like a tart. A very expensive tart. It was the effect she’d spent all morning perfecting, Billy watching her in astonishment, but Sarah resisted all blandishments to give him an explanation. It was a quiet road. An occasional car went past were male, she got a long look, a few calls and a leaned against a post with the right pose of fully provocative jutting ass, her wanton mouth chewing packet of gum.

and if the occupants very rude offer. She exposed thighs and on the contents of a

It took almost an hour for a vehicle to stop and the man inside to interest her. He wound down the passenger window and leaned across to survey her. “Want a good time, mister?” she chewed a la an older Lolita. “Is it expensive?”

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“Depends what you want.” “Give me a rundown on the menu.” Sarah walked over to the vehicle and opened the door. She slid in and her tight skirt rode up even higher. The guy’s gaze flickered rapidly between her cleavage and the clearly visible crotch of her G-string. Sarah smiled and allowed him to peruse the sexual carte du jour. “I can give you a roadside job either with my hands or mouth.” She pouted. His lips watered and she sensed his cock hardening. “Either method gets you a nibble at my tits.” He gulped and the bulge between his legs became obvious. “If you want full sex, I don’t do backseat work. You’ll have to hire a hotel room. You can have it straight or kinky.” Sarah ran her finger down her thighs and let it hop over to his loins. “Special deal for you, mister. I’ll kneel down and let you fuck my slit or my ass. And if you’re a good boy—both.” “I’ll take an all-day, top-of-the-range session,” he said with a croaky, hot voice, and took hold of her hand, pushing it against the outline of his erection. “Is it okay if we go back to my house?” He managed the words through his excitement. “Sure thing, and for a little extra I’ll go in for bondage. I reckon you’d like that, won’t you, Teron?” It was a silent drive to the farmhouse. Both were occupied with the coming passion of their reunion. Sarah watched his hands on the wheel, remembering how they had scorched her breasts and brought weeping tears to her clitoris the last time this man aroused her to an acceptance of his entry. She was aware of his stolen glances at her body. If last time she had given deep and sensually, this time it was to be total surrender—hers and his. The truck bumped over the broken concrete drive as they reached Teron’s home. They walked to the door and went in. Sarah of the dark eyes went to the window and looked at the view across the fields and knew that over the far ridge were the plain, calm waters of the North Sea. 76

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He came up behind her and put his arms around her waist, pressing his body into hers to unashamedly declare the rigidity of his rod. She wriggled her ass to feel its reaction and erotically stimulate the beast into even greater animation. Teron kissed her hair, then her neck and finally she felt him softly bite. His hands slipped up the front of her top and cupped her breasts. Her head leaned back on him as he strove to undo her bra and release the first objects of his desire. For a while she luxuriated in his massage of her upper body— breasts, stomach and neck. When his perambulating wandering hands crossed the divide of her waist, she decided to take control for a while. Turning, Sarah took off his shirt, gently resisting his attempts to continue undressing her. She kissed down his chest and sank to her knees in front of him. Tantalizing and deftly, she unzipped his pants, slid them down and with her tongue licking at his abdomen, removed his shorts. Again she waylaid his eagerness and maintained his position, waiting for her pleasure, with that magnificent cock growing ever more upright. When her preliminary delight in his manhood was satisfied she stood and let him know with a look that he could now finish undressing her. He didn’t spend much time. Her skirt and panties were taken off, and he sighed deeply, admiring her nakedness. Sarah directed him to kiss over her body for a few moments, then took his hand and said, “If I remember the last time you paid me for sex the bedroom was first on the left at the top of the stairs.” “I can’t recall paying you.” “Oh you will, when I send you the photos.” Sarah laughed, and led him up the stairs. She deliberately walked in front, knowing he would be watching her ass sway up the treads and examining closely to catch sight of her clitoral lips. Suddenly she stopped, looked over her shoulder, grinned lasciviously and bent forward.

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“Is that what you are after?” she purred. His hand ran over her rear and slipped fervently to the presented passion slit. Sarah let him finger her for a while, then closed her legs and said, “You haven’t paid yet, mister.” There was a race to the bedroom. Teron caught Sarah up, lifted her into his arms and deposited her on the bed, pinning her down with his body. “I suppose next you’ll be tying me up and having your wicked way when I’m helplessly bound by my wrists with my legs spread apart.” Teron stared at her. “Do I have to draw you a diagram? You know what I want and the way I want it, lover boy. So go get the rope.” It didn’t take him long. Sarah let him stretch her arms up and bind her wrists to the head of the big wooden-framed bed. All the while she studied his cock in fascination. It remained erect and ready. She wanted him first to stroke and awaken her fully with tongue, mouth and hands. But the size of his manhood intrigued her sexual inquisitiveness. Her thoughts lingered on that blood-gorged wand fitting into her, moving rapidly against her love passage. These delightful reveries were interrupted when Teron tied a length of rope around each ankle and looked to her for the needs and wishes in her expression. Sarah raised her knees and with legs up in the air, Teron pulled the ropes so she was secured in this pose and fully displayed position, tying them to the frame. He knelt in front of her legs, held aloft by the ropes. She pouted and seductively narrowed her eyes, aware he was contemplating her pudenda and all its open availability. His hands rubbed her ass, across her loins, and she felt fingers delving into her vagina. “I’m all yours, lover. Just do what you want and how you want to do it. Just remember to save something. After you’ve had fun, it will be my turn to demand you are mine in bondage. And boy have I got a vivid imagination.”

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Her panting and groaning reached near screams as his tongue, assisting hot fingers, went into her. Sarah called for him and his body covered her completely. With his lips pressing against hers, she felt his cock enter her and penetrate deep and long. It was the beginning of a long, sultry day.

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Chapter Fifteen—A Lost Husband

It was late into the afternoon. Teron smoothed the rope marks on Sarah’s wrist, licking and kissing them where a slight scratch showed. “You shouldn’t throw yourself about so much when you reach a climax,” he said with concern. “I’m nominated for an Oscar for that performance.” Sarah grinned, and then seeing his face, patted his cock, consoling his hurt male pride. “Don’t look so miffed, my lover, I was only joking. I’m sure you’re up for best fuck of the year…although just at the moment you don’t look up to anything.” She dodged his grasp and rolled over laughing. He caught her as she tried to escape the bed, forced her down on her stomach and pushed his loins against her warm ass. “I’ll show you who’s up for it,” he growled erotically. She made a mock sound of delight and tried to wriggle away. “I thought you’d had every orifice already. Going for something really kinky, are we?” With that she freed herself from his hold and walked over to the bathroom. “I need a shower. If you will keep that under control,” she said with mock sternness and pointed to his rising passion, “we can have a shower together…otherwise I’m locking the bathroom door for a bit of peace and quiet.” Two minutes under the cascading water caressing her body, it wasn’t Teron who needed to calm down. Sarah climbed halfway up his thighs and decided after all she did want him to try something different.

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*** Teron made scrambled eggs and toast. Sarah telephoned Billy and asked him to put Titan in the car and meet them at the farmhouse in an hour. It just gave Sarah enough time to eat most of the very late breakfast and play another variation of an old but ever-wonderful theme. Teron suggested in a minor key. Sarah never did anything in less than maximum volume and with the total sexual orchestra in tandem. The car drove up and Teron pushed Sarah off his lap. She’d just about made herself respectable when Titan bounded into the room and galloped across the floor on his four little legs. The dog hit Sarah in the knee in an attempt to jump up. She bent down and gave him a huge cuddle. “I won’t ask what you two guys have been up to.” Billy grinned. “Up being the operative word.” Sarah snickered. “So, why the call to come over, Sarah?” “Simple, Billy. You’re my partner and I need you when I go into that house in Hazington.” “Oh no, not there again.” Teron groaned. But he now knew better than to argue with the female fireball. The journey to Hazington took them along the road by Shenan Mere and Billy, sitting in the back with Titan, averted his eyes so as not to visually be reminded of the tragedy when their pursuers’ car crashed and killed its occupants. On to the long medieval, restored barn at Waxham, then sharp left to take the lonely coast road. The tall lighthouse at Hazington was visible ten minutes before arriving at the village. Teron drove straight to the house in the center, which they’d discovered was being used by the Heavenlys for storage of antiques. It was now gone eight o’clock in the evening. Teron looked at the house and said, “Don’t think anyone is at home. If they are, where are the lights?” Sarah got out of the truck and pursed her lips in an annoyed way. She was about to turn tail and give up the idea when an old guy toddled www.samhainpublishing.com

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along the street. He had a drinker’s gait. Three steps forward were accompanied by two steps to the right and then two back to the left. It was known as the tippler’s foxtrot. He got to Sarah, shook his head— probably to clear the beer haze—and tried to bring himself to a halt. “If you’re from North Walsing, he’s up at the Old Tomb House.” Her first reaction was to smile politely and leave him to his alcoholfueled befuddled stupor. She didn’t. Keep quiet and perhaps you will learn, Sarah thought. “How much do you charge?” he asked and tried to focus. Sarah grinned. “You’re the third one in a fortnight. One of them came out of the house with loads of chin music.” “Chin music?” Sarah repeated. “Lord, you ain’t from these parts. Chin music, my dear. Crying.” “So where did you say he was?” “Who?” “Silly old fool,” Sarah muttered. “The guy who lives here. Him who has had three of us in a fortnight,” she parodied his dialect. “Oh yes. Buying prostitutes…well I never. Him? Up in the Tomb House. You look a real pretty one. The others were half-starved, with war-paint that made them much older than they probably were.” “Where’s this Tomb House?” “No, you wouldn’t know that. You’re from North Walsing. Go up the high street and when you get to the ruined church of St. Michael, it’s on the left. Can’t miss it. If you do, you’ll be falling off the cliff into the sea.” “What’s his name?” “Who?” Jeez, the guy is thick, she thought, but said, “The man who has all these prostitutes visiting him.” “Why, don’t they give you a name when they send you along, my dear?”

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“No.” “I expect that’s these modern fangled ways. In my day, you had to have a girl’s full family history and permission from four sane relatives before you walked out with her. Now, they send you girls along to roll around in sin with some married man, and you don’t even know his name.” “Probably, old timer. But what’s his name?” “Heavenly. Now there’s an inappropriate name. That man will have a lot of explaining to do at the pearly gates.” She let him put the world to rights for a few minutes. He altered the tax system, rewrote World War II and finally staggered off muttering about these youngsters and how a dose of disease, famine and pestilence would put them right. “Okay, you two,” she instructed Teron and Billy, “leave the truck here and up we go to the Tomb House.” “What about Titan?” Billy asked. “He makes four,” Sarah replied resolutely. “And he’s probably got a better idea what we are doing,” Billy said, but softly enough so Sarah didn’t hear him. The ruined church looked eerie in the moonlight and the crumbling cliff had taken away most of the graveyard. Souls who once rested in what they thought was eternal slumber were now fighting a watery repose. To the side of the church was a house, precariously perched on the eroded face of the cliff. Lights were on inside the house, and without waiting Sarah walked up the short path to the front door and rapped loudly enough to wake the dead. With creaking slowness, the door opened. It was not Bingham Heavenly; it was not a man. A woman in her mid-twenties stood eyeing them suspiciously.

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“You looking for Bingham,” she said in an accent Sarah didn’t recognize. The woman looked scared, constantly glancing furtively over Sarah’s shoulder. “Who are they? Not the police, are they?” “Friends,” Sarah reassured. The woman didn’t seem to believe her until she saw the little dog. Titan would disarm anyone with wagging tail and soft brown eyes. “Come in,” was the snapped instruction. The house was sparsely furnished. They were led into a living room that had the appearance of being used for everything. Apart from the sofa, there was a small oval dining table, a double bed, unmade, in the corner and a two-ring electric cooking stove by a window. Sarah signaled to Teron to sit. His height and broad frame was unnerving the woman. Billy squatted on the floor and Titan curled up to him. Sarah looked around, saw an upright wooden chair and sat down. The woman was black, probably of African origin, with hair cropped short. She wore a tracksuit outfit and had a haunted beauty, with very wide dark eyes. Those mistrusting orbs darted from face to face. “I have a message for you,” the woman said in a sudden voice which seemed to startle herself. “From Bingham Heavenly?” Sarah asked. The woman nodded. “He hired Rigby Jones…but didn’t have anything to do with his death.” Sarah at first didn’t understand the woman’s pronunciation of Rigby. When she realized what had been said, she asked, “I think we knew the second part of that, but it’s news he hired Jones.” The woman shrugged as if it was no concern of hers; she was just relaying a meaningless list of words. “And those jewels were not his wife’s,” the woman continued. “Who did they belong to?” Sarah queried. That got a shrug. Sarah felt sorry for this frightened woman. “What’s your name?” “Secilta.” 84

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“Are you a friend of Bingham?” “No. But I like him. The other men think because I am paid they can treat me anyway they like. Bingham is good to me.” Teron was about to speak. Sarah waved him silent. She didn’t want any insensitive male questions. It was obvious Secilta was a prostitute…an unwilling one. Probably been coerced for some reason into becoming a tart. Sarah took the woman’s hand. “Anything else?” “Bingham said you should look closely at the sign and find the name.” “What does that mean?” “I don’t know.” “You are scared, aren’t you, Secilta?” Sarah said and squeezed the woman’s hand tight. The black woman looked, shifted and there was fear in her being. “We will try and help.” Sarah smiled kindly. After a long pause, Secilta replied, “I am illegal immigrant. I came to this country to work. They made me do these things.” Tears flooded and she fell into Sarah’s arms. Teron got up and walked over to the two women. “Let’s take her back with us. It’s the least we can do.” Secilta looked up at the big man. Then she found a faint smile. Sarah kissed her lover, took hold of Secilta again and they left the house. On the drive back, Sarah was pondering what to do about Secilta. She eventually declared her decision that they would all stay at Teron’s farmhouse. “We’ll take the double bed upstairs,” she said and put her arm around the big man. Secilta opened her eyes wide and looked quickly at Billy. In her experience that meant she was his for the night. Sarah sensed her look, burst out laughing and said, “It’s your own bed in the little attic room, Secilta. Billy can take the sofa…with Titan.”

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Chapter Sixteen—And Rachel Came Too

Sarah wasn’t a morning person. Left to her own devices, she barely made early afternoon. It came as a surprise when Teron woke up that the lady of the dark eyes had fled his bed. Struggling down the stairs, he met Billy sitting on the bottom step. “I wouldn’t disturb her.” He pointed to Sarah who was telephoning. “She came down at seven o’clock and has been nattering all morning.” Teron thought about going up and knocking on Secilta’s door but decided she was still nervous and unsure. A man arriving in her bedroom might be intimidating. “Who’s making breakfast?” Sarah called and put down the phone on its cradle. “Why not you?” Teron yawned. She skipped over to him, insinuated her hand inside his bathrobe and stroked his cock. “You know what I’m good at, lover, and it don’t happen in the kitchen. Why don’t you see if your performance with eggs and bacon is better than your efforts last night?” She laughed in that gravelly, infectious way of hers and kissed Teron. He dutifully went to the kitchen and began rustling up four portions. “So what have you been up to?” Billy asked as he stretched and scratched his head. “I’ve been busy.” “I know that, Sarah. You woke me up with your talking on the phone. But what was it all about?”

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“First I phoned our rotund policeman friend, Detective Sergeant Ezzard, and said if he gave me the lowdown on known houses of ill repute in North Walsing, I’d tell him where Bingham Heavenly was.” “Did he?” “Yep, got two names. One sounds promising.” “And then you had to cooperate with him?” “Gave him the antique storeroom address.” “But he could have got that anywhere.” “Must admit he sounded a might tetchy.” Sarah grinned. “And the other call?” Billy urged. “To your bosom friend, Guantone, at the newspaper offices. Playing a hunch, I asked him if he knew anything about a wife of Richard Haylingbury. Seems the man is married to a society highborn who has a reputation for flaunting shiny rocks at every occasion.” “And you think the stolen jewelry belongs to her?” “Yep.” “But why would Bingham steal her gems?” “Billy. Don’t be thick. I reckon lover-boy Haylingbury gave some of his wife’s glittering stuff to his lady, Elisha.” “Nothing’s simple, is it?” Billy shrugged as Teron came in with the food and Secilta appeared, walking shyly down the stairs. Once they’d consumed Teron’s effort, Sarah delegated Secilta to stay and look after Titan. The black Nigerian girl looked proud that her task was considered to be an important part of their team effort. Goodbyes were said and Billy, Teron and Sarah started for North Walsing, twenty miles to the north. *** The town was ancient and could have been a jewel in the tourist crown of the area. Unfortunately, retail therapy combined with the needs of the automobile to make North Walsing a planning mess. Hard by the www.samhainpublishing.com

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beautiful town center’s thirteenth-century market square was a twentyfirst-century concrete multistory parking lot. It was obvious to even a blind philistine that in another seven hundred years the modern structure wouldn’t be there. The best bet was seven months. They checked out the first address given to Sarah by Ezzard. It was too evident; too much a part of the scene. A sex toy establishment with a massage parlor at the rear of the premises was nothing to get excited about. Unless you were receiving the extramural services of the Scandinavian masseuse. “Is this the place?” Teron said as they came to Longhurst Avenue and stood looking at number fourteen. Just fifteen minutes standing on the opposite side of the road and watching the human traffic coming and going was enough to convince them this was what they were searching for. The men were all shapes and sizes. The women entering and leaving were young, dressed to thrill and kill, and looked bored. And it fitted the description given to them by Secilta in her brief and supervised activities there. “That’s a knocking shop,” Teron said. “Got a lot of experience, have we?” Sarah smirked. “Now what?” he said to change the subject. “Well, I can’t go in. Unless they think I’m looking for a job. You and Billy will have to pop inside and case the joint.” “Where do you get your expressions, Sarah? Cheap dime pulp novels?” “No, cheap men like you, mister.” Teron shrugged and Billy looked positively apprehensive. His experience in these places was zilch. “Okay, chief,” Teron said cheekily to Sarah. “What exactly are we looking for…apart from the women?” “Anything that links together what we already know,” Sarah said tetchily.

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“Like a naked Richard Haylingbury shagging some tart on the kitchen table?” Billy chipped in sarcastically, then got out of range from Sarah. The two men crossed the road and went to the front door. “Coastal School of Dancing,” Billy read the sign. “And two to tango,” Teron added. They pushed the door, went up a flight of stairs and through another door. The reception was the epitome of dullness and respectability. A middle-aged woman sat at a desk as if she were collecting for charity. She looked up at Billy and Teron and smiled blandly. “Can I help you?” she asked, at the same time appraising them for some private reason. “You were recommended,” Teron said. “Have you danced here before?” the woman asked without looking up again. “No.” “Would you like a beginner or an instructor with experience?” “Both,” Teron extemporized. “You would like two?” The woman sounded interested for the first time. “No, no. I’d like something for beginners and my friend is looking for an experienced teacher.” There was a pause as the woman made notes. Then she continued. “Any preferred nationality?” “We don’t mind.” “Would you like the steps to be regulation…or have you any special routines you wanted to try?” “Just the usual.” The woman made more jottings as if she were checking out library books. Teron had an idea. “Can we see a selection of the instructors before we finally decide?”

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The woman made a clucking sound and huffed out loud. She pressed a buzzer on her desk. A man came in from a side door. He had been watching too many George Raft movies. He wore a double-breasted pinstriped suit and a hat which he no doubt thought was elegant. It made him appear he did his clothes shopping at a secondhand outfit. “Show these two gentlemen what’s free at the moment.” She then made what passed for a grin and added, “Free as in available—you don’t get anything in here for nothing.” Billy and Teron followed him into a room with sofas pushed up against each wall and a large television blaring away. There were at least twenty young women sitting around. They were lounging, bored, and in some cases, fearful. They either wore underwear or costumes. Teron took in a slave girl, one in a mock soldier’s uniform and two kitted out as mistresses, complete with whips. Pretending to study who to choose, his mind was ticking over. A thought came to him. “Is Secilta here?” The faux gangster coughed and said gruffly, “No.” Teron continued to look around. A young woman, dark eastern European in appearance, got up and went over to Billy. “Wouldn’t you like me? I could offer you something special.” Billy went red. “Do you two want anything here or not?” The man was beginning to get annoyed. Teron was in a dilemma. If they just walked out, it might look suspicious. “Just a moment,” he said, and extracted Billy from the woman, taking him into a corner. “Take one and sit with her for ten minutes. Then we’ll get out of here.” “But what do I do?” “Look, Billy. If you really want some action these women will show you. Just talk.”

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Teron turned back to the man. “My friend will take the one who likes him. I’ll have that slave girl over there.” “Credit card or cash?” the man asked indifferently. Money was paid and the slave woman led Teron along a corridor and into a plain small room with a single bed in the center. Just as the door was closed he saw Billy being urged into another room by the Slaviclooking woman. Teron sat on the bed. The slave woman stood facing him. “What do you want?” she asked, still chewing gum and exhibiting a mixture of acted bravado and actual uneasiness. “Just talk.” “Shall I undress?” “No, you’re fine.” She stared at him, trying to comprehend. “Is it a kinky session you’re after? Or are you into apparatus? There’s a cupboard along the corridor where you’ll find most things to satisfy both of us.” “Really, just talk.” She sat on the bed. “Do you do this because you want to or are you being forced?” he asked. “Not a fucking do-gooder. I like the money, see, mister.” The rest of the ten minutes passed in silence. Teron met Billy in the seedy reception area. They went rapidly down the stairs and crossed over to Sarah. “Well, you two took your time. How many girls did you try out?” “It was your idea, Sarah, and…” “Stop,” Billy said and urged them on. “The woman I was with. She is going to meet me around the corner.” “Jeez, Billy, you didn’t score, did you?” Sarah whistled. “Don’t mess about, Sarah. This way.”

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They followed Billy, and there standing shivering with cold and fright was the woman of the eastern European face. She had a coat wrapped around her and, if they could have seen, a frilly underwear set under that. “Hello, Rachel—” Billy’s greeting was interrupted. “Please, we must get away from this place. It is not safe for you, for me.” Hurrying back to their car, they didn’t see another vehicle with three men inside parked opposite them. It followed their car and kept behind all the way to Teron’s farmhouse.

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Chapter Seventeen—Not Another Misunderstanding!

Titan was the first to rush out and leap up to Sarah. Secilta stood reservedly at the door, until she saw Rachel. The two young women embraced tearfully. It was a few minutes before the gathering went into the farmhouse. Teron offered to be the cook again, while Rachel had a shower, Secilta sat and stroked her new best friend, Titan, and Billy made notes for the file. “Very efficient, aren’t we?” Sarah teased. “When we present the account to Elisha Heavenly I think it would help to tell her where we’ve spent her money,” Billy defended himself. When Rachel came down the stairs, she was wrapped in one of Teron’s shirts. It drowned the woman. It hadn’t been obvious she was so diminutive and young. Without makeup, Rachel was no more than eighteen. Her flaming red hair, oval gray eyes and small face were cutely attractive rather than gob-smacking beautiful. Sarah thought she looked like a cheeky elf who had been neglected. For the first time since they’d seen her, the young woman was smiling. It wasn’t an outrageous acceptance of life, more a welcome grin of escape from the world to which she’d been subjected. The meal was consumed, the conversation kept to mundane matters. Now, as Teron brought a big silver coffeepot from the kitchen, it was time to ask questions.

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Billy moved to the sofa and to Sarah’s amusement and his embarrassment, Rachel curled up on one side of him and leaned on his shoulder and Secilta cuddled up on the other side. As there was only one more comfortable chair, Sarah told Teron to sit in it, then squeezed herself down on his lap. “Well, this is cozy.” Sarah spoke gently to try and put the two women at ease. She wanted answers, hopefully with no mental pain. “How did you get to that so-called dancing school, Rachel?” Sarah asked, having already been told Secilta’s story. The impish woman cuddled even closer to Billy and as she tucked her legs up on the sofa, showed an elegant and desirable acreage of thigh. “I came from Hungary to work. I was told it would be as a nanny to very rich and wonderful people. It was arranged by this man. When I got here he said my immigration papers were not good and I would go to prison for that. I cried for many days.” “And then?” Sarah encouraged, hoping that Teron would keep quiet and let a female do the questioning. “This man said I owed him money. He knew another man who would pay me.” There was a long pause. Rachel sobbed. She hugged Billy. He put his arm around her. “He said I had to please this man. For days I said no. Then they told me I was to be handed over to the police. I cried more. Eventually I went with the man. That was two months ago. Now, I am their slave.” “Has the name Haylingbury or Heavenly ever been mentioned?” Sarah asked, changing the subject as Rachel’s recollection of the enforced prostitution was distressing her. The Hungarian woman shook her head. “Heavenly is the man who was good to me.” Sarah nodded, but knew that part already. “There was a man who I never met. His name was mentioned by my…” Rachel searched for a word she did not find. “Pimp,” Sarah muttered. Rachel’s English couldn’t locate this description either. She went on with what she was going to say.

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“It was an odd name.” Rachel looked at Secilta for help. “Eric, yes Eric. The other name was…” “Bigod,” Secilta said. “I was with a man when the name was mentioned. I asked him to write it down. It did not look like how it was said.” “Eric Bigod?” Teron at last said something. “Has anyone come across that? And how do we know it has any connection with the case?” The answers would have to wait. Teron got up as he heard someone rapping at the door. The tall man with the hazel eyes and broad sensuous mouth crossed the room and opened the door. Guantone came in looking worried. “Is Billy Fields here? He left this address, but I haven’t heard for a…” Guantone stood with his mouth open. His friend was wedged on the sofa between a black beauty, leaning on his shoulder, and a young woman scantily dressed and showing all her bare legs from feet to loins. This doe-eyed redhead was curled into Billy, and he had his arm around her. Some silences are just that…silence. An absence of words or noise. This one was loaded with innuendo. It crackled with tension. It fizzed with potency. Then it broke out into an angry word. “Excuse me for interrupting.” Guantone looked daggers at Billy. “When you’ve finished swinging both ways, don’t come back to me on a liar’s pendulum.” He turned with a dramatic flurry and was gone. By the time Billy had gotten to the door, Guantone’s car was scattering gravel, dust and lover’s brimstone in all directions. Sarah tried to comfort Billy. “He’ll get over it when you explain. Must admit he has a fine turn of phrase when he’s mad.” Immediately she bit her tongue for trying to be sassy at a time like this. “I think we all need a treat,” Teron said. “Let’s go into Malmouth, get one of Betty’s pancakes and then hit the gambling arcades.”

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It wasn’t a very good idea. But no one had a better suggestion to lift the gloom. *** “I know you are feeling hard done by, Billy,” Sarah said as they drove into the outskirts of Malmouth, “but take a look behind. Do you reckon that car is following us?” Billy turned. So did Secilta and Rachel, who were also sitting in the back of the truck. Teron took a glance in his rear driving mirror. “It’s been two or three cars behind us for the last five miles,” Sarah said as they turned at the traffic light, passed the racecourse and then right into Marine Parade. It was autumn and the tourists were thin on the ground, so the car lot by Betty’s Best Café was almost empty. They took a table by the window and ordered five pancake specials, three coffees, two fizzy drinks and extra helpings of ice cream for Secilta and Rachel. “I think you’re right about being tailed,” Teron said while munching his pancake. “And you don’t often see the suited brigade at this end of town. They normally congregate in the evening by the high-rolling casinos.” Sarah stole a look over his shoulder to where Teron was staring when he made the remark. Walking up the promenade from the car lot were three men. They were ominous, mean and disinterested in the pleasures of a seaside resort. Stopping to talk for a moment, they came into the café and strolled over to a far corner table. “How’s it going with you guys?” The capacious figure of Betty stood at Sarah’s table. She didn’t wait for an invitation, pulling up a chair to join them. “Well, if you mean work, the case we’re on is about as clear as a storm sewer after the floods,” Sarah scoffed. “Care to share?” Betty asked and pinched a portion of pancake off Billy’s plate. 96

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Sarah wiped her mouth and held forth. “Here’s the story so far. Make of it what you want. This dame, Elisha, hires us to find her recalcitrant husband, saying he has stolen her jewels. Only we learn they are not her gems; they belong to the wife of Elisha’s lover.” “Probably,” Billy interjected. “Okay, probably,” Sarah huffed, gave Billy the evil eye and carried on. “Where was I? Yes, then there’s a private investigator called Rigby Jones. We assumed Elisha hired him…but it was Bingham Heavenly, and the guy ends up dead.” “Seems straightforward so far,” Betty said sarcastically. “And it doesn’t get any better,” Billy got in at last. “Our client is twotiming her husband with a lard-ball called Haylingbury, at the same time as being shafted by the hunky gardener.” “Now you’re making it up,” Sarah grumped. “We don’t know he is the gardener…even if he is bedding Elisha.” Teron smiled at the pun. “Is that it?” Betty asked. “Nope.” Sarah shook her head. “Throw in fake antiques, illegal immigrants being forced into the sex industry…and where are we? Up a stagnant creek without a bloody paddle.” “And don’t forget Eric Bigod,” Teron added. “Who?” Betty looked puzzled. “Don’t ask.” Sarah shrugged. She took a sip of her coffee and contemplated the three men still sitting at the far corner table. “Do you really want to help, Betty?” Sarah asked with a mischievous glint in her eye. Betty nodded. “Don’t look around, but there are three men sitting at that table over there. They are following us and I would kind of like to lose them,” Sarah said in a low voice. “Leave it to me.” Betty grinned, got up and walked back into the kitchen. A minute later, Fifi, one of her waitresses, came out of the kitchen and went up to the table where the three men were sitting. With pencil

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and pad in her hands she stood over them to take an order. Fifi was twenty-five, had short cropped hair, wore her uniform in a casual off-theshoulder manner and the skirt was way too short for Betty’s liking, but it got the men to come in and order things they didn’t really want. Sarah couldn’t hear what was being said but it looked like the three men were studying the menu. “Take your bloody wandering hands off me.” Fifi’s indignant shout had the whole café looking around. Fifi backed away from the table. She turned to the other diners. There were tears in her eyes. “Men like these should be locked up. They think every girl is available. Would you like your daughter to be treated like this?” Steady, Sarah thought. You’ve got their sympathy and attention. Don’t kill the performance with an over-the-top plea. Within a few minutes a crowd of muttering, angry diners had surrounded the three men. Fifi was haranguing them and her accusations of sexual harassment were getting wilder by the minute. Betty had played another trump card. She must have phoned the police. A squad car arrived and pitched into the scene. “Time to go folks,” Sarah said, and exited Betty’s Best Café stage left with Teron, Billy, Titan, Secilta and Rachel. The rest of the cast and chorus were in total confusion.

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Chapter Eighteen—Beaten by a Dog

“Are you sure it’s okay for Secilta and Rachel to stay with Teron?” Billy asked as he put his head around the edge of the bedroom door at their apartment. There was only one bedroom. Occasionally they’d share the double, sometimes they’d be discreet and take the sofa in the lounge when the other one had a “friend” to stay over. Last night, Sarah looked whacked out so Billy let her sleep comfortably and snuggled down on the sofa. “Why, Billy? It’s not like you and me tucking down together. Teron has plenty of spare rooms. Anyway, it was for your sake so if Guantone came around he wouldn’t get the wrong idea again.” “Yes, I know, Sarah. But you and me, well we’re…” “We’re what? Perhaps I might tie you up one night and forcibly have my wicked way with you.” “You trust Teron?” Sarah shrugged. “Haven’t got much choice in a relationship. If someone wants to play away, then they will. If Teron means what he says to me, then at this moment he is probably making those two women an egg breakfast after a good night’s sleep in separate beds. If he’s a cheating hound, he’s got them both bending over the kitchen table and is showing them his sausage. Talking of sausages, whose turn is it to make our breakfast?” “I’ve made it all this week,” Billy protested. “Okay, so it’s your turn this year then. I’ll have three and make them well done.”

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“That’s not fair, Sarah.” “All right. You can drive the car when we go over to Teron’s after breakfast.” Sarah grinned, let her nightgown drop to the floor and with a wiggle of her naked ass, disappeared into the bathroom. *** “Still worrying about Guantone?” Sarah asked as they arrived at the farmhouse. “Don’t worry kid, he’ll soon get over it. You’re too pretty for a man to throw overboard, Billy.” She bounded out of the car and ran to the door, followed by Titan, then Billy. “Come on, Teron,” she impatiently hammered. “Get your clothes on and stop fucking the women.” Still no answer. Billy got to the door. “Perhaps he really is having a three in a bed romp.” He winked at her. More hammering and still no reply. “There’s something odd. Woman’s intuition, Billy.” They raced around the back. The kitchen door was unlocked. Five minutes later, after searching the farmhouse, Sarah stood in the lounge, hands on hips and murder in her heart. From the upturned chairs and mess around the room it was obvious Teron and the women hadn’t gone anywhere voluntarily. “Someone has gone too far. And I’m going to start with Elisha ‘buryme-in-a-Y-shaped-coffin’ Heavenly.” Sarah got into the car. Billy and Titan stared at each other and both had the same thought. Glad it’s not me going to be on the end of that temper. The journey to Yoxham should have been thirty minutes. It took twenty. Most of the tire rubber was on the road between the farmhouse

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and Elisha’s smart home. Sarah didn’t wait for niceties. She slammed her fist on the door and stood, waiting, flaming angry. It took two minutes for someone inside to get the message. The door opened and Elisha stuck her head around it. Sarah pushed past her and into the hall. Billy followed, wondering if he would have to clean up the blood. “Where are they?” Sarah blazed. “No bullshit, no games.” Desperately, Elisha Heavenly kept her composure, but it was apparent she wasn’t used to feral cats in her home. “Would you like to explain, young lady?” “Teron and those two women. If you haven’t ordered their kidnap you must know who has.” “What a smart, but impetuous pretty lady you are.” Sarah swung around. Richard Haylingbury was standing by the door to the living room, arrogant smirk on his condescending face and a gun in his hand. “Do come in. And you, Mr. Fields.” The waving gun was an invitation they couldn’t refuse. “What have you done with them?” The weapon hadn’t dampened Sarah’s aggression. “Really, you need to be taught a lesson, Miss Greene. Your man took some subduing. One of my employees is now nursing two cracked teeth.” “So where are they? And why did you take them?” “Two questions. Well, I have to admire your tenacity…or is it foolishness? Your investigations were becoming a nuisance. These three people will be held to guarantee your behavior. Or should I say, Teron Morgan will be held. The two women are of no concern or consequence. They will be sent back to work.” Haylingbury’s contemptuous sneer made Sarah’s control snap. She lashed out her hand. Fingernails tore across his face. He let out a screech of pain. He stepped back and wiped a hand along his cheek, then inspected the blood. He gave Elisha the gun to hold the duo at bay, then

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went to a mirror. He looked, and slowly came back toward Sarah. His gaze was on her. He took the gun back from Elisha Heavenly and pointed it at Billy. A shot rang out like a train suddenly bursting from a tunnel. Billy hit the floor, blood pouring from his arm. Sarah knelt down by his side. “You will now do exactly as you are told, you hellcat,” Haylingbury said in a voice of vengeance. “That was no stray shot. The next one will be directly into his heart.” He gave Elisha a glance. She looked petrified. Guns didn’t seem her scene. And blood on the designer carpet was a definite turn-off. “You stay here,” he said to his mistress. “You, upstairs.” That was directed at Sarah. At the top of the stairs, Haylingbury pushed the gun in Sarah’s ribs and directed her into a bedroom. “Is this where you screw Mrs. Heavenly?” Sarah positively threw the remark at him. “Every time you open that gorgeous but insolent mouth, you increase the punishment I am going to enjoy inflicting on you.” “Look, you slime ball, you’ll have to fight me all the way. And I can give as good as I get.” “Probably very true. You are like all alley cats, dangerous and alluring. However, my sleek and sexy friend, you forget one thing. If you disobey or resist, I will not fight you. I will go downstairs and end the useless life of your gay partner.” Haylingbury let that thought sink into Sarah’s head. He watched her with ever-moving lips. She recognized the wanting and the sadistic streak in him. She had met men like that before. He moved unctuously to a cupboard. When he brought out a whip, she was not surprised by his tastes. “This is going to be both punishment and enjoyment. The two are a heady mixture.” He salivated. Haylingbury pushed a wooden upright chair toward Sarah with his foot.

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“Bend over.” He drooled. “I don’t go in for binding my victims. They must learn to obey without constraints.” She bit the inside of her mouth. “Each delay only brings with it more punishment. You will soon understand,” he said and narrowed his already tapered lids. Sarah leaned forward. “Undo and push down your pants.” He studied every movement of hers. “Such vestal white and simple panties. Now slip them down.” Reluctantly she did so. Haylingbury started to sweat. His excitement was palpable in his twitching fingers. “This is more than I’d hoped for.” He shivered the words out in an almost narcotic exhalation. “Your ass was tempting enough in those tight pants…but in the bare state, it is magnificent.” She sensed him drifting around from a side view to inspect her full rear. “Your chastisement is near now, Sarah. One more move in the ritual and then we can commence. Open your legs, dear Sarah…do not hesitate, remember the wrath of the whip is poised.” Sarah complied, knowing he was visually taking in the vision of her slit. “How many lovers have entered you, Sarah?” She wouldn’t play his verbal games, not even if it meant more lashes. “When I have whipped your ass, I will show you my collection of dildos. Watching you penetrate yourself with one of them will be a relaxation after the punishment has ceased.” “Can’t get it up yourself, eh, mister?” she said with a last blast of defiance. Sarah wanted to close her eyes, but that would imply submission, so she looked resolutely forward. The sun shone through the window behind her and the shadow of Haylingbury lifting his whipping arm was visible on the wall. She tensed and waited for the brute to strike. A loud sneeze echoed around the bedroom. Then another. She stood. Haylingbury was choking. Titan had pushed the door open and was jumping up at the man. www.samhainpublishing.com

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“Get that bloody mutt out of here. I’m allergic to the fucking things.” Sarah scanned the room, saw a lamp standard, blindly picked it up and swung the pole violently at Haylingbury. It hit him just before he had recovered from his sneezing fit. The blow was delivered mightily and struck home in the region between his legs. At first there was no sound, only Haylingbury’s eyes becoming wide, almost popping out. Then came a high pitched wail, crumpling body, his hands reaching down and clutching his balls, and finally a rolling in agony on the floor. Sarah pulled her clothes up quickly, went over to the man and gave him one, two and then number three kicks in his groin. “And they were from every woman you have humiliated, you wanker.” She picked up the revolver and rushed downstairs. Elisha was halfway across the hall to investigate the noise. Sarah waved the gun at her and grabbed the lady by the scruff of her hair. “Billy, Billy, are you all right?” Her partner appeared, clutching his arm. “Okay, babe, it’s more a surface wound.” “Hold this gun and follow me.” She smiled broadly at him and dragged Elisha Heavenly outside the house and bundled her unceremoniously into their car. “You watch the evil spider, Billy, and I’ll drive. I’m sick of being kicked around. We’re going to get some answers. And fast.” Titan’s tail wagged furiously, agreeing with every word Sarah said.

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Chapter Nineteen—Flowers and an Explanation

“Where are we going?” Billy asked as they sped up the road. The car came to a foot-braking, shuddering halt. Sarah turned and faced a petrified-looking Elisha. The elegant lady’s eye makeup was running down in a curious elongated oval shape. It gave her an appearance of a circus clown. She was still wearing her cut-down sexy kimono get-up, but had lost her haughty attitude. Sarah’s demeanor added another layer to the fear of whatever god she worshipped. “I’ve been thinking, lady. Your sadistic lover back there hasn’t got a clue you hired us to find your husband, has he? Otherwise why is he treating us as if we are interfering vermin? Am I right? A yes or no will suffice.” “No.” “I’ll take that as a ‘no, he doesn’t’. So why didn’t you give him all your pillow secrets? This time I want a fuller answer.” “I wanted to find Bingham first.” “And why would that be, Elisha? And you can tell me the truth, or we can head this car toward the police station. Now me, I don’t reckon you are involved in killings and illegal immigration…but they might. That’s not to mention prostitution, but I suppose you do that yourself.” Elisha grimaced. Sarah clapped her hands on her forehead. “Wait a minute. That’s it, isn’t it? You wanted to get to your husband before Haylingbury because you feared Bingham would spill the beans about all your lovers to that www.samhainpublishing.com

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son of a bitch. So why did your ever-dutiful husband disappear in the first place with the jewels? I’m waiting, Elisha…and so is that nice cold prison cell.” There was silence. Then a plaintive voice. “He found out about Richard,” Mrs. Heavenly began tentatively. “And what did he do?” “Hired that nosy Rigby Jones,” Elisha spat with venom. “Then what?” Sarah said, now intrigued. “I don’t know.” Elisha burst out in a tear shower. Sarah suspected this show of genuine blubber, but let it pass—for the moment. “Okay, lady. Let’s go and find the solutions.” The car hit Hazington like the Golden Horde coming out of the Asiatic steppes. Elisha didn’t know whether to be more scared of Miss Greene’s temper or her driving. Billy thought getting hit by a bullet in the arm was child’s play compared to being thrown around in the vehicle. The car came to a halt outside Tomb House. “Out you get, Elisha,” Sarah ordered. “Dressed like this?” Mrs. Heavenly protested. “Look, sister, I expect if the men of Hazington haven’t seen you halfnaked, they’re the only males in the county who haven’t.” Sarah rushed up to the front door. “Billy, can you get around the back?” “Sure thing, partner.” Two raps and there were footsteps inside. “Open up or I’m blasting my way in,” Sarah bawled. Elisha, as terrified as she was, had to wonder where this spitfire got her lingo. Too many old movies, she thought. The door opened. A gaunt and contrite Bingham Heavenly peered at the dark-eyed girl standing on the doorstep with a gun in her hand. Even more dreadful was the sight of his wife, attired in some geisha parody outfit. Am I dreaming? Bingham thought. He shook his head and closed his eyes; then opened them. No, they are still there. 106

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“I would ask if we can come in but my limited polite streak is all out today,” Sarah said sardonically and waved Bingham back into the house. She pushed the reluctant Elisha inside. “You two wait there.” She quickly went to the rear door, let Billy in with Titan and rushed back to Mr. and Mrs. Heavenly. They didn’t look like a married couple, standing frozen, ignoring each other and totally silent. On second thought, Sarah reckoned they probably were hitched. “Well, Mrs. Heavenly, we’ve earned our fee and bonus. We’ve found your husband. Now before you two bury the hatchet in each other’s skulls, here’s a few questions. First for you, Mr. Heavenly. Did you hire Rigby Jones to spy on your wife’s infidelity?” “Yes.” “Good, that was easy. And did you kill the said Mr. Jones?” “Of course not.” “Who did?” “I don’t know.” “Speculate,” Sarah said and for effect tapped the gun on the table. “Rigby came to me and said he’d discovered my wife was seeing this Richard Haylingbury.” “Seeing is a euphemistic word for it.” Sarah grinned. “He was seeing a lot of her. The pervert likes to do that from all angles.” She saw he didn’t understand her remark, so said, “Go on.” “He also discovered Haylingbury was involved with illegal immigrants. Rigby wanted to blackmail the man. It got very heavy. This Haylingbury was a well-connected man in government circles. I took fright and ran. I assume Rigby Jones went on with the blackmail scam and they came to get him.” “They being who?” “Haylingbury’s agents, I assume.” “And the jewels, Bingham?” “When I decided to get out, I ransacked the house. Came across these gems I hadn’t given to my wife. So on an impulse, I took them.” www.samhainpublishing.com

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“Now it’s your turn, Elisha.” Sarah mockingly smiled at the lady of the immaculate thighs. “Where is my Teron and the two women?” “I don’t know and haven’t even heard of or met them,” Elisha said with a trembling voice. “And you, Mr. Heavenly?” “Sorry, I don’t know.” “Have either of you heard of an Eric Bigod?” They both shook their heads. “We don’t know he has anything to do with it,” Billy put in. Before Sarah could answer, there was a loud banging at the door. The duo stared at each other. “Are you expecting anyone?” Sarah asked Bingham. He shook his head. He looked nervous. Sarah felt the same. Taking on some of Haylingbury’s men in a battle wasn’t her idea of a clever plan. The rap was repeated. Billy edged slowly toward the window and peered around the filthy drapes. “It’s Guantone.” He rushed outside. His erstwhile lover was standing sheepishly outside with an enormous bunch of flowers and a bottle. Sarah kept one eye on the Heavenlys and the other on Billy. The two men embraced and she saw tears well up. “What are you doing here?” Billy said, regaining his composure. “I tried everywhere else. Your apartment, Teron’s farmhouse…finally as I drove home I saw your car on the other side of the road going like a bomb. So I followed—with difficulty.” “That was Sarah driving,” Billy explained. There was another bout of hugging. “Hey, you two. Come in here,” Sarah called. They went back in the house. Guantone raised his eyes as he saw the gun and Elisha standing in a corner, disconsolate and dressed like a bordello star. “Have I interrupted anything?”

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Billy shrugged. “No, no. Only a pointless discussion about an Eric Bigod.” “The one who lives over at Wayford?” Guantone replied in an innocent manner. Sarah swung around. “You’ve heard the name?” “Of course. It’s not his real name. He’s a big noise in show biz circles. Promoter or some such thing.” “Why that name?” Sarah asked. “Don’t you read the London newspapers?” “Don’t get smart with me Mr. Super-intelligent journalist. Answer the question.” “Easy. He was born in Hazington and the name has a connection with the village.” “Billy, take this gun. And if either of these two move, shoot the man and fuck the woman. Or the other way around if that turns you on,” Sarah barked out. She grabbed Guantone. “You, you clever little pretty boy. Come with me.” “Where are we going?” “To see a sign about a man.”

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Chapter Twenty—Fitting the Pieces

“Now, genius. Look at that village sign of Hazington and tell me something. Is there an Eric Bigod there?” “Why?” “Just a girlish hunch. I don’t have any clues where I can find Teron, but this name has been mentioned. If it’s in that sign it would be too much of a coincidence.” Guantone studied the sign and muttered to himself. “Out loud, brain box. I can’t read your mind, dummy.” Sarah meant it kindly. It came out aggressively. “It’s up there. Eric Bigod.” “Okay, egghead, explain to a little ole country girl how you make that out.” “This area was part of the eleventh-century Danelaw. And one of the raiders was named Eric the Dane. That’s him up there with the faux horned helmet.” “And the Bigod?” “The lady next to him is Maud.” “This dame Maud has cropped up before.” Sarah shrugged. Guantone continued. “Maud was the daughter of one of the most powerful Norman magnates. The infamous Roger Bigod—that’s him…” He didn’t finish. Sarah was off like a shot. She ricocheted into Tomb House, walked purposefully up to Elisha and smiled. The haymaker started somewhere in the northwest of her compass. It swept violently

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down through the eastern straits, gathered speed as it passed the southern cross and caught Elisha Heavenly in the western approaches. The lady took it right on the jaw and sailed through the air before landing inelegantly on her derriere. “You foxy, cunning, two-timing, scheming fucking cow,” Sarah growled as she looked down at the prostrate Mrs. Heavenly. “But just too ingenious.” The glaze slightly cleared in Elisha’s eyes. Sarah knelt down, grabbed her hair and banged the client’s head down on the floor. “Who actually wrote that note you told us your husband sent?” No answer. It wasn’t surprising with a wild, dark-eyed female panther threatening to bang her head into oblivion. “You wanted us to find your husband before Haylingbury did. Yes, we know that already. But you knew where he probably was and concocted that note to lead us to him. You couldn’t come right out and say where he might be—that would look suspicious.” Sarah was about to thump Elisha’s head on the floor again. Billy restrained her. “Sarah. Apart from the guess about the note, why are you so angry?” “Because of the coincidence and what this so-called lady has been hiding from us all. And I mean, all.” “How do you figure that?” Billy eased her away from Elisha-bashing. “This Eric Bigod. Guantone tells me he invented his name from that sign. Isn’t it too much of a coincidence that the so-called message from Bingham is made up by Elisha from that self-same sign.” Sarah paused, then said, “Unless she knew Eric Bigod.” She extricated herself from Billy and leaned over Elisha. “And you know Eric Bigod very well, don’t you? He is Mister Big. And you, the tart of the year, are having it off with him as well. You weren’t protecting Haylingbury from knowledge of your gardening screws…I reckon Rigby also found out you were performing tricks for this Eric Bigod. You had the little fellow murdered, didn’t you?”

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Elisha turned a whiter shade of pale. Sarah spat out, “Just at the moment I don’t care about all that. What I want to know is where is my Teron? You have ten seconds to answer. After that, I’ll scratch your pretty face so bad even the inmates at the prison where you are heading won’t touch you.” Elisha took just a few seconds to decide on a course of action. “They’re all being held at Wayford. Eric has a home there—Minsmere Castle.” Sarah gave the woman on the floor a contemptuous look, thought for a moment and chewed out, “What the hell, this one’s for Teron.” She brought the back of her hand sharply across Mrs. Heavenly’s face and enjoyed both the resounding thud and Elisha’s howl. The dark-eyed lady investigator got up and her face was a picture of determination. “Storming castles may need a few more foot soldiers…and certainly a heavy battering ram. One phone call and then we’re off to rescue two maidens in distress and one tall knight.” She saw Billy’s incomprehension. “I’m phoning that overweight Detective Sergeant Ezzard.” “And the damsels and knights?” “Rachel, Secilta and Teron.” “You know what they say,” Guantone piped up. “Once a knight, always a knight.” Sarah frowned at him and curled her lip cheekily to one corner. “Listen, buddy, once a night may be okay for you but I’ve got more stamina than that.” *** “Shouldn’t we wait for the police?” Billy asked Sarah as the car took an acute bend and climbed up the long road from the village of Wayford toward the imposing Minsmere Castle. “Perhaps.” She smiled in a way that meant no.

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The castle had been built in the eleventh century by an overconfident Norman grandee. His ambitious ways got up King Henry the second’s nose, so he royally had the edifice pulled down. In the sixteenth century, the then owner, who had lovingly restored it, picked the wrong side in the English Civil war and the castle was promptly reduced to rubble again. Finally it became a splendid baroque mansion, but kept the name of Minsmere Castle and many of the features of a medieval stronghold had been retained. Sarah skidded into the long drive, off the eastern spur road. Simultaneously from the west five police vehicles arrived like the cavalry in blue uniforms. When the agile young cops had disembarked, waddling serenely at the back was the rotund figure of Detective Sergeant Ezzard. “Now, I’m going to ask you three to stay in your car while we go in,” Ezzard drawled in his East Anglia accent. “Ask all you like, tubby, I’m coming with you,” Sarah said, dismissing his request with the disdain of her feline nature. “Miss, I’m mighty grateful to you for supplying the name of Eric Bigod as the unknown master key in this cog, but I must insist.” By this time Sarah was up amongst the group of hefty policemen waiting for orders to storm the mansion. “So you know all about the illegal immigration?” Billy said to Ezzard. “Been on our books for almost a year, sir. We were watching Haylingbury and his misuse of government resources. We just couldn’t figure out who was heading the operation. Then your lady comes up with the name Bigod, and it all fell into place. What better cover to bring illegal immigrants into the country and use them in the sex trade than a high-powered impresario with a world-wide road show. Crossing borders would be no problem.” Ezzard looked pleased with his analysis. Sarah broke into his self-centered smirk. “Is this a raid or a talking club, mister?” Ezzard gave in to the inevitable whirlwind called Sarah Greene. He issued instructions and the police darted off in groups in all directions.

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The dark-eyed lady was in the thick of the men battering at the front door. “Well, Guantone,” Billy said to his friend. “Titan might have to stay in the car, but I reckon we should be in there fighting for what is right.” “You are so masterful.” Guantone grinned. “Later, later!” Billy said and puckered his lips. They ran after Sarah and her group just as the door was forced open. Helicopters hovered over the mansion and as the occupants, both Bigod’s men and illegal immigrants, tried to make a run for it, they were systemically rounded up and herded into waiting police vans. Inside, Sarah dashed along the baronial hall and saw steep stone steps going into the bowels of the old part of the mansion. She clattered down and came to a musty, dark corridor. At the far end there was a chink of light. Following her instincts she got to the end and opened an old, rusty door. The sight took her breath away. This was the ancient dungeons of the original castle with an inlet traitors’ gate to one side, with access to the moat and linking river. A cadaver of a man stared at her. He was elegantly dressed, but his skeleton-like face gave him the look of the undead. Sarah heard a muffled sound. She turned and looked into the gloom below her. “Teron!” she cried out. Her man was chained to the side of the moat inlet. The decaying wooden traitors’ gate had been winched open and, like a water lock, was allowing the river flow to rush in. Teron was already up to his waist in the rising flood. Along a small ledge was a rope tying an inflatable dinghy with outboard motor primed for a getaway. “Going somewhere?” she asked with anger in her soul. “I assume you are Eric Bigod?” “And you are the delectable Sarah Greene.” His voice was weak but although the face resembled death, the body was strong. “I have heard so much about you.”

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“Who from? Your whore Elisha?” He cackled and sneered. “Why, of course. And Richard Haylingbury gave me a very graphic description of you. It’s a pity you couldn’t be a guest at Minsmere Castle before. I am sure we could have brought you to your senses after a few days in my dungeon.” The vile laughter echoed around the stone walls. Bigod leaned over and pulled a lever. A net fell down from the low ceiling, ensnaring Sarah. As she fought uselessly, Bigod moved closer to his boat. “Goodbye, lovely lady. As you struggle you will be able to watch your man slowly disappear and go down to a watery death.”

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Chapter Twenty-One—Love Goes Around

Eric Bigod took a step along the ledge. Sarah clawed at the net, but became more enmeshed in its tangled grip. Even in her struggles she was desperately aware that the water flowing through the traitors’ gate had now reached the middle of Teron’s chest. Bigod grinned the smile of the evil one. He put a foot on the boat and gave Sarah a mock bow. The walls of the dungeon dripped with stagnant moisture, the water lapped against the ancient foundations, which had seen almost a thousand years of love, hate, life and death. In the watery gloom, Sarah saw another figure creeping along the ledge from the opposite end. She thought the outline was familiar. Bigod saw her staring beyond him. He turned and was struck on the top of his head. With a falling crescendo shriek, he plunged into the water, gulping for his miserable existence. “Billy!” Sarah yelled in pain and joy. Her partner came to her and cut the net away. They turned in hopelessness to watch the water get to Teron’s mouth. A shape plunged from the top of the stairs and hit the water in a thunderous splash. The weight and bulk alone could have displaced all the rising water. Detective Sergeant Ezzard was like an elephant seal in his human environment. In the water, he glided effortlessly, diving and releasing Teron from the bonds. Sarah and Billy leaned over to offer hands and arms to pull Teron and Ezzard up to safety. When they were hauled spluttering onto the

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concrete floor of the dungeon, Ezzard remembered Bigod and moved to where he had disappeared over the ledge. Even after he had stared for many minutes and been joined in the search by three of his officers, the evil Eric couldn’t be found. Hugging Teron tight, Sarah helped him along. In the main hall above the dungeon, she looked at Billy and, overcome with emotion, added him to the group hug. “Where did you come from?” She sobbed in tears of happiness. “I found a passage from the kitchens and it led me to those dungeons.” “What did you hit him with, my hero?” He brandished a long sword. “I found this with a suit of armor. I whacked him with the flat blade. It came in useful when I cut that net away, as well.” Ezzard walked toward them, wrapped in a blanket and still dripping wet. Sarah ran to him and much to his great embarrassment gave him an enormous kiss. “Steady, miss. Not when I’m on duty, please.” “Have you found Bigod?” Billy asked. “Still looking. But I guess he was swept out into the deep part of the moat by the water eddying around the traitors’ gate. There’s a lot of reeds around there. A body could get trapped and submerged for a long time. Still, we’ve rounded up everyone else.” “What’s going to happen to Rachel and Secilta?” Teron asked. “Will they be sent back as illegal immigrants?” “I’m afraid there’s nothing I can do to circumvent the law…but I’ve never heard of two young ladies of that name, Mr. Morgan,” Ezzard said with a wink. Sarah held Teron and Billy walked with Guantone. They went back to the car…and just happened to give two ladies a lift back to Malmouth. Strangely, they both found jobs working at Betty’s Best Café.

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*** “This private eye work strikes me as dangerous,” Teron cautiously broached the topic as he walked hand-in-hand with Sarah in the Malmouth funfair at the southern end of the promenade. “I bet not half as risky as farming. All those chickens pecking at your ankles.” She smirked. “Take it seriously. Anyway, I’m not a farmer. Just play at it. I told you, I want to write a book. You’ve had guns pointed at you, been threatened and driven off the road during this case. I’m worried.” “Now there is a bloody hazardous occupation,” she said with wide eyes and a wicked grin. “Dodging those slick reviewers and braving gunfights with evil editors.” He stooped and kissed her, knowing she wouldn’t take anything seriously. He changed the subject. “Did you get paid for the case?” Sarah poked her tongue out at him. “Yes, we did, Mister Pessimist. Bingham Heavenly stumped up for the final account. Think he was relieved to see the back of that harridan of a wife.” The lady of the dark crystal eyes looked back at her best friend and partner in the detective agency, Billy Fields. He was strolling behind her and Teron, shyly holding Guantone’s hand. A few people looked at the two gay men, but it was a gorgeous late autumn evening and life was good. “How about the Ferris Wheel?” Sarah called out. Teron and Sarah went in the first car, followed in the next by Billy and Guantone. It soared to the top of the circle and stopped as more joyseekers got on the lower cars. To the east was the ink black night, hugging down to the calm curve of the unseen distant horizon. North lay the promenade of Malmouth. Flickering, blinking lights twinkled all the jazzy colors of an entertainment rainbow—signs inviting the innocent to eat and be merry,

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flashing signals to the supposedly sophisticated to gamble their money and find a dream. “What are you doing?” Teron asked astonished as Sarah was standing up in the swaying car. She stood in front of him and raised her arms in a salute to life. “This may not be the center of the world, but here I am, a free woman, doing what I want—just like men have done for centuries.” He nodded. “Okay, I get the point. Now sit down, Sarah.” She giggled and knelt before him, running her hand down his pants to feel the contour of his penis. “Sarah.” Teron gulped as she unzipped him and exposed his growing erection. “Next turn around of the Ferris Wheel, you can go down on me.” Her screams of laughter could be heard drifting over the autumn skies.

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About the Author Novelist, essayist and poet, Emy Naso’s work ranges from beautiful love laments to erotic short stories and novellas, and full-length novels. Writing in many genres, Emy’s distinctive voice covers humor, fantasy, contemporary, myths and historical work. Emy is a true Celt, born in the mountains of Wales, then living in London and finally on the remote coast of East Anglia.

Look for these titles by Emy Naso Now Available: The Amorous Adventures of Sarah: Running into Trouble Sensual Magic

Samhain Publishing, Ltd. It’s all about the story… Action/Adventure Fantasy Historical Horror Mainstream Mystery/Suspense Non-Fiction Paranormal Red Hots! Romance Science Fiction Western Young Adult www.samhainpublishing.com