A Thoughtful Woman

by K T Findlay

'I saw him mainly in the neighbourhood watch meetings and when he walked down Jellicoe Street to the supermarket. Other than that, not really. They’re saying he was killed like Andrew. Is that true?' Jenny asked anxiously.

  Peregrin nodded hesitantly. 'There are similarities in how they were killed, yes. What we don’t yet know is why. Perhaps this diary you’ve found will help.'

  They were sitting together in Holmes’s office on Friday morning because Jenny had phoned him first thing, to tell him she’d found a locked personal diary in Holmes’s office safe. Peregrin took just thirty seconds to open the pretty lock strap with a paperclip, taking care not to damage it.

  ‘Yuk.’ said Jenny. 'He might as well not have bothered having a lock at all!'

  Peregrin laughed. 'More for show than anything else these things.'

  He opened the book and began to read. After just a minute his raised eyebrows and gaping mouth caused Jenny to ask him what on earth was in it. ‘I have to say,’ he said slowly, ‘that if this had been my diary, and I was writing this kind of thing in it, I'd have bought myself a much better lock!'

  'But why? What's it about? Come on, I found it!' demanded Jenny, trying to read over his shoulder.

  Peregrin closed the book. 'Just how much do you know about Mr Holmes's personal life?'

  'Not a huge amount. Lives in the best house in Ornamental Estate, has a live-in manservant called Algy, likes his cars, likes single malt Scotch whisky and goes to the theatre a lot. That's about it.'

  'So you don't know anything about his romantic life?' asked Peregrin, ignoring her use of the present tense.

  'I wasn’t even aware that he had one. He never talked about having an interest in a woman, or going out to dinner with one, or anything like that.'

  Peregrin tapped the diary. 'This book is a hell of a lot more personal than any of that! It basically documents his sex life on a weekly basis. Mind you, sometimes it was so exciting he just writes an exclamation mark!’

  Jenny put her hand up to her mouth but couldn’t hide her smile. 'Golly! It would have been funny if I'd read that!'

  Peregrin smiled fixedly back. 'Or you might have been seeing a doctor to fix your jaw after it dropped through your desk! I'm afraid I'll have to take it away. Sorry about that.'

  'Oh well, I suppose that's why I called you.' said Jenny wistfully.

  Near the back of the book, amongst the empty pages, Peregrin found a phone number. Not wanting to use the phone at the lawyers, he went to the Dalton police station and dialled it from there.

  ‘Good morning. This is Miss Helen speaking.’ The voice was warm, matter of fact and confident.

  ‘Good morning Miss Helen. My name is Detective Inspector Peregrin McEwan. I’m calling you because I’ve just found your telephone number in the diary of a man who seems to have been one of your clients.’

  There was a moment of silence on the other end of the line. ‘Would you mind repeating that please.’ Helen asked.

  ‘My name is Peregrin McEwan. I’m a detective inspector in the police, investigating the death of Mr Andrew Holmes. I’ve just found your phone number in the back of a diary he kept, where he describes the time he spent with you in great detail. I’d like to speak to you about your relationship with him.’

  There was another short silence. ‘I don’t believe I have ever broken the law in anything that Andrew and I did.’

  Peregrin moved quickly to reassure her. ‘I’m not the slightest bit interested in the morality side of things. What I’m interested in is finding out how and why he died. Your work made quite an impression on those of us who saw it, and while we’re quite satisfied that it didn’t contribute directly to his demise, I’m just wondering if you could give us any insights into anything that might have?’

  Helen paused yet again. ‘I don’t want to talk about this over the phone to a complete stranger. I have a gap in my calendar today between 1:15 PM and 2:45 PM if you’d like to come to my studio then. Bring some ID, and you won’t come in uniform will you? That wouldn’t be good for business.’

  ‘No, I’m not in uniform.’ said Peregrin. ‘What’s the address?’

  ‘8 Clipper Street, Little Throcking.’

  ‘Good heavens! I had lunch yesterday just across the road from there, in the Cutty Sark!’

  ‘If you haven’t already, try their chocolate cake. It’s delicious.’ suggested Helen.

  ◆◆◆

  Peregrin returned to the MIR, and was instantly handed a list of professional ladies in Miss Helen’s line of work.

  ‘You might want to work your way through this little lot Perry.’ grinned Goodwin. ‘I’m sure they’ll give you something for your memoirs!’

  Peregrin flicked quickly down the list until he came to Miss Helen.

  ‘I think I’ll start with this one if you don’t mind sir. I already have an appointment to see her at 1:15 this afternoon.’

  ‘Oooooeeeerrr!’ said Susan. 'Aren't you full of surprises?’

  'Ha ha ha.’ he replied. 'Christ. It's just like being back at school! As a matter of fact, I picked up Holmes's diary from Jenny Wills this morning. It's got Miss Helen's name in it.’

  Susan and Tony continued to laugh.

  'I'm sure I don't know what you two are laughing at. You're coming with me!'

  Tony blanched, but Susan rubbed her hands together. 'Oh goodie! Perhaps I’ll get some tips on how to keep you lot in line!'

  Peregrine looked at her firmly, but that just made Susan laugh all the harder.

  Thus it was that 1:15 saw the three of them sitting around Miss Helen's table in her studio.

  Helen's face was sad. 'I heard about Andrew, couldn't believe it. He was a really nice man, and a good client. I miss him.’

  Tony interjected. 'I'm a bit confused. I've seen the pictures of his bum. How can you miss somebody you hated that much?'

  Helen sighed. 'That’s a misconception we deal with every day. It's just theatre, cowboys and Indians for grown-ups. If it's not done with compassion, care, skill, and most of all, consent, then yes, it's abuse with all the negative stuff that implies.’

  She watched him carefully, seeing how he was responding. ‘But the way I do it, the way Andrew wanted it, it’s fun, like a game, and to make it work well for everyone involved requires excellent communication and honesty. We probably knew each other better and met each other's needs better than most married couples ever do. In this business, if I don't trust or respect someone, I won't have him as a client. That doesn't mean I like all of my clients, but I respect them.'

  'Why does somebody get into this in the first place?' asked Susan.

  ‘Do you mean why am I a professional, or why do my clients get turned on by the things that turn them on?’

  'Both I guess.'

  'I got into it because I read an article, made contact with an older experienced lady who let me try things out. I discovered it was fun and that I had a natural flair for it.’

  She looked Susan straight in the eyes. ‘And yes, when the mental connection is really strong and the play is flowing beautifully, it turns me on.’

  Helen took another sip of tea. 'Which brings me to the second half of your question. Why does it turn me on? I have no idea. There’s nothing in my background that a psychiatrist would point to. I was never abused, my parents never beat me, I never bullied or abused anybody else, I was never exposed to abuse in any form. I hate seeing any form of cruelty to animals, or in the news. In fact it makes me really angry. But what we do in here, it’s a game, pure and simple. Some aspects of this world turn me on, some of them turn me off. I never asked, or made a selection from a menu. Things just are.'

  She smiled at Susan. 'I don't expect you to share, with these two gentlemen sitting here,' indicating Peregrine and Tony, 'but think about the things that turn you on. Then ask yourself why those particular things, and not others?’

  Susan blushed.

  'Again, I'm not asking you to share out loud, just a yes or a no will suffice. Can you
explain why those particular things and not others?' continued Helen.

  Susan shook her head. 'No.'

  'There you go. And it's the same for me and my clients. Every person is unique. I can have one guy who goes absolutely gaga when he walks through what I call "the girls’ room", but the next guy goes through it head down, scowling, muttering "bloody poofters!” while looking forward to having heavy weights hung from his dangly bits. That's the bit I find really weird. You would think that anybody playing in this space would give others the same level of tolerance they would like to receive themselves, but they don't. They’re just as judgemental as everybody else, sometimes even more so, about play that doesn’t turn them on.’

  'But, some of what you do must really hurt?!' stuttered Tony.

  Helen nodded. 'Sometimes there’s no pain at all, as with some of my “girls”. Sometimes it’s all theatre and just a little discomfort. Sometimes there’s a very great deal of pain, like with Andrew.’

  ‘With me, things gradually build. I start off a session relatively gently, then build the intensity until we get to where they want to be, and then I dance back-and-forth just over that line before bringing them back down. That way, the theatre of it all increases their arousal, allowing them to focus on their fantasy, not just the pain, and all the time they’re getting the biggest possible hits of dopamine and endorphins.’

  'But it's still pain.' said Peregrine, bemused.

  Helen laughed. 'Believe me, there is a world of difference between six of the best from me in a session, and six of the best in a Singaporean prison, or a sprained toe, or knocking your head on the corner of a cupboard. It's very difficult to explain to anybody who hasn't been there, but it’s night and day different.'

  She rose from the table. 'Perhaps I should give you a tour of the premises, so you can get a better idea of the range and complexities of the things I do. And remember, I only cover a small fraction of what people out there are into.’

  When they returned to the kitchen table, Tony’s eyes were big and round, and Susan’s highly amused. She reached out and patted his arm. ‘Don’t worry Tony, I’ll be gentle with you!’ and laughed uproariously.

  Peregrin and Helen smiled at Tony’s discomfiture, but Peregrin was soon all business again. ‘So you actually take extreme care when you’re playing?’ said Peregrin.

  Helen nodded vigorously. ‘Absolutely! I have to plan ahead, and pay constant attention, especially with some of the harder players like Andrew. Andrew was with me for many years and we saw each other every single week, so with him it was easy. If it’s a first timer, or someone I see only once every six months or so, it’s a lot harder. I can’t just get straight into it. I need to feel my way back to where we were, so an infrequent client never gets to go to the same places as a regular like Andrew.’

  ‘So what tells you when you’re still playing safe and haven’t gone over the line? I’m thinking of Andrew’s behind, which was in a pretty bad state.’

  Helen laughed. ‘That was even more work for me than normal, because I wasn’t the one doing it. I was watching, keeping control, but it was Selina who did all that.’

  ‘Who's Selina?' asked Peregrin.

  ‘She came to me a few months ago, wanting to spend time with me as part of the research she was doing for her university studies. Then she wanted to have a go herself, and began to get more and more into it under my guidance. She’s particularly creative, and I think she'll get into this full-time as she seems to really get off on it. She came up with the idea of a double session with Andrew, the first to put deep bruising into his arse and the second to cut into that with the cane two days later.’

  She raised her hand to her mouth and laughed. ‘But she really blew my mind when she played noughts and crosses on his bum at the start of the caning session. That's flair!’

  'So you did play noughts and crosses!’ cried Peregrin. ‘The pathologist thought that's what had happened and I wasn't sure I believed it.’

  Helen continued to laugh along with him. 'I’m amazed you could tell after all the cane strokes Selina gave him later. Andrew had never been worked so hard before.’

  Peregrine pulled out the diary. 'Well, everything you say matches what he wrote down here. He was very detailed, including the last two sessions. So where is Selina now?'

  Helen eyed the diary. ‘I didn't know he kept that. I'm kind of surprised, given the damage it could do to his career if it became public.’ She shook her head in amazement. ‘Selina is only here on Tuesdays and Thursdays.’ she said. ‘But I can give you her telephone number in Ipington.’

  As they were leaving, Peregrine turned to thank Helen. 'Thank you for your time, I learned a great deal!’

  She laughed. ‘I'm sure you did!'

  Peregrin gazed at her, his face full of compassion. 'I think you should know that you meant a very great deal to Andrew. According to the diary, he loved you in a very deep and meaningful way, far beyond just someone he played with once a week and far beyond a client provider relationship. I don’t know if he ever told you, but you had an enormously positive impact on his life, and he writes here that he was immensely grateful for it.’

  The tears welled up in Helen’s eyes. ‘Thank you Inspector. It’s good to know that.’

  He nodded sympathetically, and walked back to the car.

  ‘Well,’ he said, ‘I’m pretty sure she had nothing to do with his death. She really cared about him and she’s aware of the damage that this could do to her business. And Holmes’s diary gives no indication of any strain whatsoever in their relationship.’

  ‘What about this Selina lady though?’ asked Susan.

  Peregrin shrugged. ‘I guess we’ll find out when we speak to her.’

  Back at the police station, Peregrin dialled the number a number of times without getting a reply. ‘I’ll chase her up tomorrow.’ he said to himself as he went to give Goodwin his report.

  ◆◆◆

  That night, there was a large end of week dinner at the McEwan’s place, with Peregrin, Hilary, Alison, Felicity, Tony, Susan and Sally. Susan was really buzzing about their discussions with Helen, and over the Beef Wellington Helen became the main topic of conversation.

  ‘She’s one very together lady!’ enthused Susan. ‘I couldn’t believe it. She’s just like us really.’

  ‘You never know what happens behind closed doors.’ observed Peregrin.

  ‘Or behind closed eyelids.’ added Sally.

  Felicity nodded. ‘Amen to that. Who was it said, “We have as many personalities as we have friends”?’

  ‘No idea.’ said Alison. ‘Emerson?’

  Hilary cocked her head. ‘It doesn’t really matter who said it. It sounds right to me.’

  Peregrin pushed himself back slightly from the table. ‘Oh, I see!’ he began theatrically. ‘So you tell me one thing, but Alison something altogether different? Hah! And I trusted you!’ he gasped, in an appalling display of overacting.

  The rest of the table burst out laughing as Hillary blushed. ‘You know what I mean!’ she riposted. ‘You can’t be the same person interviewing a suspect as you are around the dinner table. I know you’re not the same person when you’re talking with my mother!’

  It was Peregrin’s turn to blush. ‘Point… Point…’ he said as the table’s laughter lifted another notch.

  ‘I wonder what Selina will be like?’ mused Susan.

  ‘Who’s Selina?’ asked Sally, trying to keep her voice steady.

  ‘Helen’s assistant.’ said Peregrin. ‘She’s the one who worked Holmes over in his last two sessions. I’m really interested in talking to her because the last entry in his diary says he was going to meet her after the theatre, the night he was killed.’

  Felicity paused, her fork halfway to her mouth. ‘Did Helen know about that?’

  Peregrin shook his head. ‘I don’t believe she did, no. And I didn’t tell her. He was supposed to be taken to Selina’s place so he could wash her underwear, something
he apparently did every week for Helen. Selina asked him to do hers too.’

  Hilary put down her knife and fork. ‘Oh boy. Where can I get me a man like that, a man who’s willing to pull his weight and do the important things in life?’

  Alison burst out laughing. ‘I’ve never met one either! No wonder Selina wanted to hijack him!’

  Susan shook her head in mock sadness. ‘I’ve been looking for one for years. I’d come to the conclusion they don’t exist.’

  ‘Oh come on!’ burst out Tony. ‘You don’t really want a milksop like that do you? I thought women wanted a proper man!’

  The five women looked at him in silence, then at each other, and burst out laughing. Susan put her hand on his arm.

  ‘Oh we do dear, but one gets so tired doing all the housework, all of the time. So a proper man who isn’t a self entitled lazy bastard has a certain appeal!’ Which caused the women burst into more gales of laughter

  Peregrin grinned, a little sheepishly, knowing he didn’t really do his share. He could make the excuse that his job was particularly demanding on his time, but at the end of the day, Hilary did an awful lot.

  Tony meantime was simply flummoxed, unsure how to respond and definitely feeling outnumbered. Susan let him off the hook.

  ‘You’re perfectly safe here Tony. None of us here is into whips and canes.’ she said.

  ‘Thank God for that.’ he mumbled.

  ‘Yet…’ said Susan, twisting the knife just a little, one last time.

  Sally’s heart was racing. Peregrin knew about Selina, and that was fine. She’d expected it would happen eventually. What she hadn’t expected was that bloody Holmes would keep a diary about that side of his life! The bastard was as much trouble dead as he’d been alive. If she hadn’t already done it, she could kill him!

  It would be a very short time before Peregrin would get tired of phoning a number that never answered. He’d either get the research team to find out the physical address of the number, or worse, he’d be at the studio on Tuesday to interview her. This changed things. She’d either have to stop everything cold, or accelerate her plans.