A Thoughtful Woman

by K T Findlay

  ‘I’m not trying to take Miss Helen’s place.’ she smiled. ‘I just wondered how you’d feel about washing mine as well?’

  'Really? I would be honoured Miss Selina!'

  ‘Saturday night?'

  His face fell. 'I'm afraid I'm going to the theatre on Saturday night, in Dalton. I'm on the board and I really can't miss an opening night. I won't get home until about 11 PM.'

  Selina smiled. 'That's not a problem. I can pick you up from your home about then, and take you to my place. I'll tie you to a bed overnight and you can get started in the morning. How does that sound?'

  He nodded keenly. 'That would work.'

  Selina brought out a plastic sandwich bag containing the redhead’s knickers. Tucked tightly in one of the corners, almost invisible, was one of the pubic hairs.

  'Well, I think the best results are achieved after a gentle pre-wash, so here’s what I want you to do. When you get into your car after leaving the theatre, you take this pair of dirty knickers, ball them up, stick them in your mouth and leave them in there until I tell you myself to remove them. Will you do that for me?’

  Holmes looked thoughtful. 'Happily, but I'm going to have a logistical problem. My manservant Algy will be waiting up for me and he would be most perplexed if I didn't speak to him and then immediately went out with somebody else.'

  Selina laughed. 'That's not a problem. You choose somewhere to park and I'll pick you up there.'

  'Wouldn't it be a little easier if I just drove to your place?' he asked.

  Selina shook her head. 'Not the first time. I want it to be a real adventure for you.'

  Holmes thought a bit more. 'How about I park in Delft Street, in Ornamental Estate? That's a dead end close to where I live and a safe place to leave the car. I can walk to the end of the street and you can pick me up in Cardin Drive.'

  Selina grinned. 'Done!' she said.

  The trap was set.

  She went home full of excitement and had to calm herself down before she got into doing the day’s five paintings.

  9 Points on the board

  A sharp rat-a-tat-tat, followed by a terribly fake American 'Hi mom! I'm home!' erupted from Emma’s front door.

  'Ah, Alan.’ she called back from the kitchen, ‘You're just in time, come in here and open the wine please.'

  Emma's dinner and games evening was already underway, her four other guests chatting in the lounge. She pressed a bottle of Chianti Ruffino into his hands. 'You my lad, are going to become visibly squiffy tonight. It needs to look very obvious that you're not up to driving a car.'

  Alan raised his eyebrows in query.

  'Something’s going to happen tonight, that’s going to make you very happy.’ said his mother.

  ‘What –’ he asked.

  She held up her hand, cutting him off. ‘It’s best I don’t tell you until it’s over. If you don’t know, you can’t gab about it. What you do need to know is that you require a rock solid alibi for tonight and getting drunk and sleeping on my couch is going to give it to you. Understand?’

  ‘Mum, I only live a few hundred yards down the road! I walked here!’

  She nodded. ‘So, you either bunk down here or you need to be royally drunk when you leave. Your choice.’ she said in a very matter of fact way.

  ‘You're really not going to tell me what's going on?' he asked in amusement.

  She shook her head. ‘Nope. Just trust me, okay?’

  ‘Okay mum. You’re the boss. How bad could it be anyway?’

  ◆◆◆

  Meanwhile, Sally and Felicity were having dinner at Alison’s place. Most of the time the Four Musketeers as they called themselves, tended to meet at Hilary’s place because it was on Alison’s farm and just a hundred yards walk across the fields from Felicity’s house. That meant Sally had to do more than her fair share of the driving to these events, but tonight that suited her just fine.

  'Are you still enjoying being a pathologist Fliss?' she asked.

  Felicity smiled. 'Well, a bit like Peregrin's job, it's not for everyone. You see things that perhaps you'd rather not, but you certainly learn a lot about life and about human beings in particular. Plus, the technical/scientific side of things is truly fascinating. We’re making new advances every year, so it's an exciting place to be. It’s infinitely preferable to sitting in a GP’s office having ghastly children dribbling snot all over you day in day out.'

  Alison made a faux, disapproving face. 'Charming! I thought doctors had a sense of vocation and a love for their fellow man?'

  Felicity laughed. 'Hah! When you were a mum you only had one kid to deliver bugs to you. As a GP I had dozens of the little buggers every week. What's more, my pathology patients don't talk back!'

  Sally took a sip of wine. 'Remind me, why isn't Hilary here?'

  'She and Peregrin have gone to Dalton to see a play. It's one of his rare nights off.' said Alison. 'Joseph and his Technicolor Dream Coat I think.'

  ◆◆◆

  Just after 10 o'clock, as the audience spilled out of The Court Theatre, someone bumped into Peregrin’s shoulder as they tried to push past.

  ‘Steady on mate.' he remonstrated.

  The man turned round, raising a deferential open hand. 'I'm terribly sorry, my mistake. I do apologise.'

  'Mr Holmes.' said Peregrin. 'How nice to see you. Did you enjoy the show?'

  Holmes fidgeted. 'Yes I did. Especially Potiphar’s wife!' he laughed. 'You must excuse me, I have to be somewhere in a hurry. Nice to see you Peregrin, Mrs McEwan.' and he was gone.

  'Where on earth could he be hurrying to at this time of night?' asked Hilary.

  Holmes walked briskly back to his car, arriving slightly out of breath. He reached into the glove box, pulled out the bag and extracted the knickers. He closed his eyes and with deep satisfaction drew what he thought was Selina’s scent into his nostrils. He imagined the oxygen molecules in each breath sweeping her essence into his lungs and carrying it through his bloodstream to nurture every single cell in his body.

  A sense of completeness and calm washed over him before he remembered his instructions. He folded the fabric carefully and placed the garment into his mouth so the gusset rested on his tongue, closed the plastic bag, put it back in the glove box and started the car.

  ◆◆◆

  Sally pleaded a headache and was back at her own place by 10:15. The first thing she did was go into the bathroom to stick two fingers down her throat and vomit up the sleeping pills that Felicity had given her. As she rinsed out her mouth, she silently thanked her friend for inadvertently adding to her alibi for the evening.

  Half an hour later Selina looked back at her from the mirror. She checked the wig carefully, ensuring that none of her own hair was showing. Satisfied, she donned her white leather gloves, kissed Graham’s photograph before hiding it in a drawer and went out to the Mini.

  The Jaguar purred smoothly up the Ornamental Estate hill, but half way up, Holmes turned right into Delft, instead of driving all the way home.. Like all the other residential streets on the estate, the dead end Delft ran up one side of a gentle ridge and down the other, allowing Holmes to hide the car at the far end where only a half dozen houses would know it was there. With his heart pounding in case he met anybody he knew, he locked the car and walked back to Cardin drive. When he arrived, Selina was nowhere to be seen. Ornamental estate was not the kind of place where people waited on street corners and the longer he waited, the greater his chance of being discovered. His stress levels rose rapidly. Finally, after what seemed an age, but was in reality just two minutes, Selina's Mini drove past, did a U-turn and parked next to him. He opened the door.

  'In you get.' she said.

  He was keen that she got moving as fast as possible, but the car stayed resolutely still.

  'Here, put this on.' she said, handing him a blindfold.

  By now his anxiety was so high that he didn't hesitate at all.

  'Good boy.' she laughed. 'Now you keep it
there until I tell you to take it off. Let's focus your attentions on me a bit more.'

  She unzipped his trousers and drew him out. Despite his fear, he was almost instantly aroused. She patted him gently and drove off.

  Holmes paid close attention to the forces on his body as the car turned, accelerated and braked. He was able to track their progress out of the estate and along the coast, but as soon as Selina started to duck and dive amongst the country lanes, he was lost. He felt that she might be deliberately trying to confuse him, but in reality Selina was simply working her way to the Sky bridge. Then it was off through Little Throcking and her normal drive across Bleak Road to circle back home. It was a long way, but if there was anybody watching at all, they would report a Mini heading for Ipington. With lights off, she turned into the hedge gate and worked her way quietly up the field. A minute later they were inside the garage with the door closed behind them.

  'Just stay seated for another minute.' she said.

  Selina got out of the car and walked around to the passenger side. She helped him out and closed the door behind him. Then with a gentle hold on his arousal, she led him into the kitchen and removed the blindfold.

  'What a good boy you are!' she smiled. 'I'm sure you need a drink. Open your mouth.'

  Carefully, she pulled out the knickers and dropped them into a bowl. 'Water, milk, soft drink, fruit juice or cordial?' she asked.

  Holmes manipulated his mouth, gauging its actual dryness. 'Fruit juice please.'

  Selina poured him a large glass of fresh orange juice and watched him drink it.

  'Better?' she asked.

  He nodded. 'Much, thank you.'

  'Well then, I want us to have a little chat before I settle you down all comfy for the night. Follow me please.' and she led him into the lounge. 'Take a seat. We’re not going to have a session now. It's too late. But for the feel of the thing, we're going to do this like an interrogation. Lay your hands out on the arms of the chair.'

  She could hardly believe it as he complied, looking at her with trusting eyes. Quickly she secured his wrists with the soft leather straps, then his ankles and finally a chest strap just under his arms. She went behind him, popped the blindfold back on and went to get the head brace.

  She’d left the bolts in the back of the chair. In the semi-lit room, he hadn't been able to see them, but they were all ready for mounting the head brace. A couple of minutes later the wing nuts were tight and she began to lower the device onto his head.

  'What are you doing?' he asked softly.

  'Shush.' she said. 'Just let me move your head where I want it.' Two minutes later the job was done.

  She turned and walked away, coming back with a bicycle inner tube, a couple of rubber bands and some string.

  'Did you ever read Spike Milligan's autobiography?’ she asked. ‘There’s a fascinating bit when they first arrive in North Africa and have to sleep in a football stadium. It was freezing cold at night and they had to wrap themselves up in everything they had to keep warm, including newspapers. Which was fine until they needed to go to the loo, when they had to get unwrapped before they peed their pants. One of his mates solved the problem by tying a bicycle inner tube around his willy, so his pee would find its way down onto the ground, without soiling his pants. Like this.'

  She pushed him into one end of the rubber tube and used the rubber bands make sure it would stay there. Then she tied the tube’s string around his waist so it couldn't fall off.

  'Miss Selina, may I ask a question?' he asked nervously.

  'Certainly.' she replied.

  'I thought you said we were just going to have a chat? Why do I need the tube?'

  She looked at him grimly and he felt the first shiver of fear enter his soul.

  'Because I lied.' she said simply.

  She turned away to get a standard lamp and shone it towards him.

  'Now,' she said cheerfully, 'your starter for ten. Apart from yourself, what were the three things in common between the Mellors and Nixon cases?'

  He stared at her. 'What are you talking about?'

  'What? No Miss Selina? Your manners are slipping.' she laughed. 'Come now, you had two cases, one involving somebody called Mellors, the other involving somebody called Nixon. You were the defence lawyer on both. There were three other things the cases had in common. What were they?'

  His eyes narrowed as he considered where this might be going, and surreptitiously he began to test the strength of the straps around his wrists and ankles. 'I’m sorry Miss Selina, but I'm not at liberty to discuss my cases. It's a matter of client confidentiality.'

  She moved forward until her face was just a few inches from his and smiled sweetly. 'That's a lorry load of old poo.' she said softly. 'I haven't asked you a single thing about the defendants. Don't play the smart arse lawyer with me!'

  She rose and spun away. 'Okay, I'll tell you. You played them almost identically. The defendants were father and son drunk drivers. The father killed Graham Mellors, the son killed George Nixon. That's link number one. The arresting officer was Edgar Thomlinson and in both cases he lost the blood sample taken at the scene, forcing a later one to be done when it would show a lower blood alcohol level. That's link number two.'

  She turned back towards him. 'Both accidents took place in the rain. You proposed the same alternative reason for the crash in each case. You suggested that there might be oil on the road, obscured by the rain and unseen by the police. That's link number three. A very useful combination, and victory for you on both occasions. The question is, was it justice?'

  Inside, his mind was racing. She’d absolutely nailed the links, but there wasn’t enough in what she was saying to prove he himself had done anything wrong. What was she after? A confession? Blackmail? He decided to stick to his client confidentiality story.

  'I really am sorry Miss Selina, but I can't discuss my cases.' he said as calmly as he could.

  Selina nodded. 'I think perhaps you need something to focus your thinking. So being a generous woman, I'm going to give you two things.' Her mouth smiled, while her eyes remained hard as ice.

  'My name is Sally Mellors, Graham was my husband.'

  His eyes widened. This time he made no attempt to hide his terror. He strained his muscles as hard as he could to try and break his bonds, but they held fast. Then he tried to throw himself sideways to try and smash the chair.

  She laughed. 'Go ahead. Knock yourself out. It's a greenwood chair, made of solid oak. You'd have more luck if it was steel. Oh. And it’s screwed to the floor at the moment. I can see that you’re beginning to understand. Let me give you a little more assistance.'

  She took a strip of adhesive door seal and stuck it in a circle around his neck. Then she retrieved the plastic collar, looped it around him so its base rested against the door seal and stuck it fast with medical tape. The same tape was used to seal the vertical split in the plastic where the two ends overlapped, on both sides just to make sure. Lastly, she hooked cloth ties through its slots and secured them to the top of the head clamp so the collar could take the weight of what was to come.

  She ran a finger gently across his forehead. 'Aw, poor baby. You’re sweating. Perhaps you need another drink? I believe Laphroaig is your favourite?' she asked, returning with an open bottle in each hand.

  As she began to pour the precious liquid into the cone around his neck, she began to sing.

  'Oh Campbelltown Loch I wish you were whisky.

  Campbeltown Loch och aye.

  Oh Campbelltown Loch I wish you were whisky.

  I would drink ye dry!’

  He spluttered and yelled as the droplets stung his eyes and shot up his nose.

  'Stop!' he screamed. 'You’ll kill me!'

  'Possibly, possibly.' she laughed. 'That rather depends on you!'

  The liquid rose rapidly and he found he was unable to yell, or even talk without filling his mouth with whisky. Very soon he had to shut his mouth completely, but Sally didn’t stop po
uring until the level of the liquid reached his upper lip.

  'Now dear, the same cop, the same screw up, the same defence, are all too much to be a coincidence. I would strongly suggest you tell me what the hell went on and don't bugger me about. I'm not in the mood.'

  He mumbled loudly and flicked his eyes down towards the liquid, indicating his inability to speak.

  'Oh that's easily solved. You just need to swallow enough to lower the level.' she giggled.

  He made no move to comply. He just stared back at her.

  'Listen to me little boy, I want the answer. If you don't start drinking right now, I'm going to add more whisky until it covers your nose and you'll have to bloody drink! You've got five seconds to start swallowing.'

  She began to make good her threat and he gave in. It took him three large mouthfuls, about nine shots of alcohol, to get the level low enough where he could speak and all the time he was thinking. She didn’t seem to know about Terry Walker, or the fact that Graham’s death had been a hit. He’d already be dead if she knew that. Whatever happened, he mustn’t do anything to make her suspect.

  'Okay, okay! You’re right! Thomlinson had a scam going.' he gasped. 'He'd supervise the blood test and then offer the driver a deal. For £2,000 he'd lose the first test so the later one would get them off. I didn't have anything to do with it. It was all him!'

  'But you didn't bloody stop it either!' Sally snapped. 'You could have reported him, but instead you used it to win your wretched cases. Specifically, you denied my husband justice!' She trembled with rage, and her fists clenched involuntarily.

  Holmes was truly frightened now. He could see that she really was capable of killing him, even without knowing about his real involvement in her husband’s death. He also knew that he wasn’t going to be able to work himself free from his bonds, so his only chance was to convince her to let him go.

  'I can give you more evidence.' he said hopefully.

  Her face softened. 'Now you're talking. Give me what I need and I'll let you go.'

  Relieved at the promise of reprieve, he took a deep breath and continued. 'Thomlinson was on the take all the time. I was even a victim of it myself. I was defending a guy called Alf Morris, a total shit of a man, who was being done for fraud. He really was guilty, and I couldn't get him off. He went absolutely nut job when the judge found against him. He fired me, got himself a second lawyer, and miracle of miracles, some key affidavits from the police records disappeared before the second trial. They were from a witness who’d since died so they couldn’t be recovered. Morris got off due to lack of evidence, Thomlinson got a ticking off from the judge and to make his verdict more believable Morris spent the next year trying to make my professional life hell, to the point of attempting to get me disbarred for incompetence.'