A Thoughtful Woman

by K T Findlay

  She let him settle for a minute, and then stood in front of him. Slowly she started to disrobe and the swearing stopped. ‘I want to show you something.’ she said.

  As he watched more and more of her flesh appear, he began to relax, and his arousal returned. She nodded approvingly as she unhooked her bra and let her breasts swing free.

  ‘Ahhhhh.’ she said. ‘That’s a lot better, don’t you agree?’

  Silently he mouthed the word yes, but kept his eyes fixed on her breasts.

  She hooked her thumbs through the waistband of her knickers and slowly began to push them down her thighs. She let them get to the point where only the spread of her legs was keeping them up, placed one finger coquettishly in her mouth, moved her thighs slightly closer and allowed the pants to fall to her ankles.

  She turned around, to present her bottom to him, spread her legs wide, and keeping her knees straight, bent over at the waist to touch the floor. She brought the first finger of her gloved right hand back up to her groin, ran it through her pubic hair and in between her lips.

  Carefully she withdrew her finger, straightened up, and did a twirl and a half to face him once more. She put on her most seductive expression, held her finger above her head and walked towards him in big, exaggerated stripper’s steps, the legs swung high and wide each time, the hips swaying, but the feet landing one just in front of the other, allowing her to dance a lot of steps in a very short distance.

  His mouth was hanging open by the time she got to him, where she leant down with a seductive smile on her face, the finger still held high.

  ‘I have a surprise for you.’ and she slowly lowered the gloved finger towards his face.

  He breathed in heavily, caught her scent, and sighed in pleasure. Then the leather touched his bottom lip and he started in surprise. It was completely dry. He looked at her in confusion.

  ‘That’s right my dear. I’m not even the slightest bit aroused by all this, at least not sexually.’

  She straightened up. ‘You see, my husband doesn’t sleep with me anymore, but not because he’s having an affair. He doesn’t sleep with me anymore because your father killed him.’

  His jaw dropped.

  ‘My name is Sally Mellors. I’m sure your dad laughed about me around the dinner table from time to time, just as you laughed about Emma Nixon after you killed her husband. She sleeps alone too you know. Did you know that? Did you even think about that? Did you care?’

  She laughed. ‘Well I bet you bloody well care now! Ah well, I need to get dressed again. You’re here for my pleasure, I’m not here for yours!’ and so saying, she scooped up her clothes and went back into the bedroom.

  Bob struggled desperately to free himself, but nothing worked, and he had to give up in exhaustion.

  When Selina came back in, she set to work securing the inner tube with the string and setting up the bucket, ignoring his pleadings.

  ‘That’s all too little too late little boy.’ she said, rising from his groin. ‘That’s the last bit of attention I’m going to be paying that particular part of you until after you’re dead.’

  He started screaming for help.

  ‘Oh that’s no good!’ she laughed. ‘You saw for yourself, we’re at the end of a long drive, and the place is insulated and double glazed. By all means scream away though, it will give me something to remember you by as I drift off to sleep.’

  It took her just three more minutes to tape the door seal and plastic cone into place. ‘Right. That looks good, but I’m missing something. What is it? Oh yes! I believe you’re a Guinness man. I’ll just be a minute.’

  She returned from the kitchen with two dozen large cans of the heavy, dark beer. He watched her fearfully, as he continued to cry for help. Calmly she pulled open the tear tab and listened to the gas as it bubbled and frothed.

  ‘My, my, but it’s got a smell on it!’ she giggled. ‘Here we go, time to play.’

  Slowly, and with great care, she poured the Guinness down the side of the cone, splashing as little as possible.

  ‘I’ll try and keep the froth down for you!’ she laughed. ‘That’s the first, let’s try another!’

  One by one she poured more cans of beer into the cone. She hadn’t needed to explain the rules. He understood them only too well. The froth reached his mouth first and he continued to scream, but when the beer itself hit his bottom lip, the froth was covering his nose and he was finding breathing awkward.

  Instinctively he began to drink. Selina carefully matched his speed, pouring more and more beer down the side of the cone. She found she could make him swallow a can a minute. After ten, his stomach was extended, hard and swollen.

  She let him catch his breath for five minutes, giggling when he copiously emptied his bladder into the bucket. Then she opened another can.

  Pleading noises of despair bubbled up through the beer. Impulsively, Selina retrieved a spatula from the kitchen and cleared the froth away from his face.

  ‘I want to get a good view.' she explained, and slowly, ever so slowly, began to pour again.

  Initially he was still able to swallow and keep the level steady as he had before, but soon he hit his body’s limit. His guts were full, and he couldn’t hold another drop. The swallowing ceased, and the level slowly rose towards his nose. Selina bent down close to his face and watched the tears streaming from his eyes.

  ‘You have no idea how much pleasure it gives me to see you like this. The only thing that would be better, is if you were your father! And one day, it will be. In the meantime, he can grieve as I once grieved, but more importantly, he’ll live in fear of the day when I come to get him! For now though, I’ll just enjoy your tears.’

  The level rose until there was just half a millimetre of air beneath his nostrils. She left it like that for another ten minutes, as she waited to see if he could swallow any more. He couldn't. When her patience ran out, she began to trickle in more beer so he couldn’t avoid breathing in a little of the surface.

  The first droplets antagonised his nose and triggered the reflexes in his throat. He fought desperately to stop the cough welling up within him, his throat muscles pulsating with the effort.

  Selina gave him time to get the reflex back under control, and then added a little bit more, forcing him to repeat his efforts. She managed to make him last another five minutes before he finally lost his battle. By then his lungs had plenty of fluid in them, so the cough was weak but the body’s attempt to suck in more air was as strong as ever.

  Selina watched the consciousness fade from his eyes as the last of his oxygen made its way through his blood stream, then retrieved a kitchen chair so she could sit in comfort and soak in the moment.

  ‘That makes up for Thomlinson.’ she said. ‘He saved your arse the first time around, and made me extra vindictive this time. I guess it’s all evened out in the end.’ she said conversationally.

  She sat there, savouring her victory for another few minutes, then inserted her trademark red pubic hair between his teeth, and extricated him from the chair before he stiffened up too much.

  Selina didn’t bother to try and put his clothes back on. She just bundled the naked body into the back of the Mini in the same manner as she had Holmes and Thomlinson. Using his shirt as wrapping paper, she bundled the rest of his clothes into a parcel, tying it tight with the arms.

  ◆◆◆

  James took his eye from the telescope and leaned back in his chair. ‘Well, that was educational.’

  Freddy took a deep breath. ‘I wish we could have heard what they were saying. We still don’t know if she’s pumping them for information, or just getting a kick out of killing them.’

  James stood up and stretched his stiffened muscles. ‘It’s pretty clear she’s getting a kick out of killing them, and it’s equally clear it’s personal. The only thing we don’t know is the information bit.’

  Freddy raised his finger. ‘And if Terry Walker is somehow in the mix. We still don’t know that eithe
r.’

  James yawned. ‘Well, there’s just Dick Harland to go. We need to figure out how to predict when she’s going to do him, and try to be in the house when she does.’

  ‘Why not just use a bug to listen in?’ asked Freddy.

  ‘Because she’s too bloody clever by half! We need to actually be there, so tomorrow you and I are going to figure out how to do it.’

  ◆◆◆

  A quarter of an hour later Selina had dumped Bob on the grass by the mouth of the Gelt river and was fully engrossed in getting the car back up the four wheel drive track. She’d worked out earlier that there was no way the Mini would get up front end first. It was a light car and it would simply spin its wheels in the stones and dirt. So she left the rear doors open and reversed slowly back up the track to the road. By the time she got there, the smell of an over heated clutch dominated everything else.

  ‘Sorry girl.’ she whispered, stroking the gear lever. Then she drove to the Gelt bridge where she threw Bob’s clothes into the centre of the stream to give them their best chance at being washed out to sea.

  ‘And that’s that!’ she said out loud.

  Back home, she tidied everything up. She took apart the chair’s head clamp, and placed its primary structure containing the screw, into part of the shelving system in the garage. It looked as if it was an integral component, holding up the shelves. Then she took the wooden and fabric elements of the head clamp apart and popped them into the fire, along with the chair’s wooden strap guides.

  The silk scarves she was in two minds about. If she burned them and the police tested the ashes, she was sure they’d be able to tell. So for the time being she put them and the leather straps into the secret cupboard in the garage, along with the tyres. She could dispose of them when she disposed of Selina’s clothes.

  As she closed the cupboard she spotted the chip in the concrete floor. She reached down and ran her fingertip across the hole, feeling the fresh dust and sharp edges. ‘I don’t remember doing that…’ she muttered to herself.

  She reopened the cupboard door and gave it a good look. Everything was there all right, but something wasn’t right. Then she spotted it. The spare mountain bike wheels were in the reverse order to normal, and one end of the front wheel’s axle had a few grains of concrete dust on it.

  She looked back at the chip in the floor. Had someone been here? Surely she’d have remembered dropping the wheel? Did she have a bit too much to drink the other day and just forget something? Finally, telling herself she was just being paranoid, she returned to the house to get changed.

  She looked at herself in the mirror. ‘Thank you Selina.’ she said quietly. ‘You’re a very useful friend.’ She blew the reflection a kiss, and went to have a shower.

  That night she dreamed of Graham once more, the pair of them running across the summer fields, laughing together in the pure joy of being alive.

  ◆◆◆

  On the other side of the valley, Freddy and James tucked into a late night snack before turning in. They’d decided that there was nothing more to be gained from watching Sally that night and completely missed the destruction of the head clamp.

  18 Going over old ground

  Sunday morning dawned crisp and clear.

  ‘What a gorgeous day for a round!’ said Sally happily as she helped the others pack the thermos flasks and sandwiches for morning tea.

  ‘You couldn’t ask for better.’ agreed Felicity. ‘A real corker!’

  Peregrin trooped around the corner into the kitchen. ‘It’s alright for some.’ he muttered. ‘I have to work for a living.’ Then he grinned. ‘I hope the four of you have a jolly nice time.’

  ‘Thank you darling.’ said Hilary, and gave him a peck on the cheek.

  ‘That’s a good idea.’ said Alison. ‘Let’s at least send him off happy!’ and gave him a kiss as well.

  Sally and Felicity quickly followed suit and Peregrin had to go back to the bathroom to wash off the lipstick.

  ‘There’s gratitude for you!’ called Sally after him.

  ‘Come on girls, speed up.’ said Hilary. ‘We’re booked for the first tee at 9 AM.’

  ◆◆◆

  Freddy and James had watched Sally getting ready, and correctly concluded that she was off to play golf with her friends. They arrived at the golf course well in advance of the ladies and managed to book the slot just after Sally’s group, leaving just enough time to hire some clubs and buy half a dozen balls each before they were required on the tee.

  At the same time that Freddy and James were watching Hilary slice her very first ball of the day into the harbour, Peregrin, Tony, Susan and Eric were sitting down around a large table.

  ‘Right, let’s go over who we’ve looked at so far, starting with the Holmes case.’ Peregrin said to start them off.

  Tony picked up a pile of paper.

  ‘According to your notes, Violet Penda was originally highly pissed off, but these days seems to be fine and certainly isn’t up to a cold blooded killing. She has witnesses up to midnight on the night that Holmes was killed, who say she was at home with them in Little Throcking.’

  Peregrin nodded his agreement, so Tony carried on.

  ‘Ursula Sidcot was still full of rage right up to the moment you told her Holmes was dead. But then when she told you the whole story from her side, she actually said her rage wasn’t justified.’

  Peregrin nodded, and added ‘So I’m disinclined to think that she has the capacity for a cold hard killing either. And, right now she doesn’t have her car. It’s at the panel beater. On the other hand, she has absolutely no confirmation that she was tucked up in bed reading her book that night, and she’s reminded of her annoyance every day when she looks out her dining room window. So unlikely, but still of interest.’

  Tony continued.

  ‘Peter York though, absolutely has the rage to do it and made very little effort to hide it. He’s bitter as hell and probably will be up to the moment he stops breathing. He has no alibi and has a Rover SD1 which is ideal for humping a big boy like Holmes around the countryside.’

  Peregrin interrupted. ‘But it’s a hot rage still, and this looks like a cold calculated killing. It just doesn’t feel right for Peter York. And I can’t see him spending a load of cash he hasn’t got on expensive whisky, when he could have just thumped him one.’

  ‘Okay. Alf Morris?’ asked Tony.

  Susan chipped in. ‘It’s a bit odd that Alf should have lived just down the road from Holmes all these years, and despite his bullying ways, never did anything physical. And surely he’s not stupid enough to dump the corpse outside his own front door?’

  Peregrin nodded. ‘It would certainly be an unnecessary risk. But he has no alibi for the night Holmes was killed, and still hates the man even though he’s dead. So he certainly had both motive and opportunity. On the other hand, he doesn’t seem to have access to any vehicle in which he could move a body.’

  Tony turned the page.

  ‘Emma Nixon and her sons.’

  Eric threw in his two pennies worth. ‘Tim’s been overseas the whole time in Barbados. The Intelligence Cell have checked all the passport records and he’s definitely there.’

  ‘Okay, so he’s accounted for. How about Alan?’ asked Peregrin.

  ‘He’s always with his mum whenever something happens.’ said Susan. ‘He doesn’t seem like a mummy’s boy, so that’s a bit odd.’

  ‘When Holmes was killed, they had a dinner and games party in Emma’s home. They claim Alan had a bit much to drink so he slept on the couch rather than walk the three hundred yards down the hill to his own home. Anyone think that’s a bit weird?’ asked Tony.

  Susan smiled. ‘He said the attraction was a breakfast cooked by his mum. I completely get that! I miss my mum’s breakfasts a lot!’

  Tony smiled, then added. ‘And he doesn’t have a car. He just has a Honda Gold Wing motorcycle. It’s as big as a car for sure, but there’s no way he could haul a body a
round on it. And it’s so conspicuous, he’d have been seen by someone surely?’

  Peregrin stroked his chin thoughtfully. ‘So what about Emma herself?’

  ‘Well, like I just said, she was with five other people that night. We talked with the four guests and it all checks out.’

  Tony cleared his throat. ‘Now, how about Sally Mellors?’

  The table fell silent.

  ‘I know she’s a really good friend of mine,’ said Peregrin to break the ice, ‘but in an investigation she’s just another person of interest. Don’t let my friendship with her influence you in any way. What do you think?’

  Susan twirled her pencil around her fingers. ‘I’ve only met her recently, but she just doesn’t seem the type. She’s impulsive and lives for the moment. Is she capable of putting together a killing like that?’

  Peregrin smiled. ‘She’s got the creative flair to come up with it for sure. Does she have the patience, persistence and thoroughness to put it into action? Not in my experience of her, but I have a personal interest so perhaps we should put that to one side.’

  ‘I’ve known her a couple of years through you and Hilary sir.’ said Tony. ‘She’s an artist, so she’s creative, and has the discipline to follow through to complete her work. For instance, this study she’s doing of the weather over a few weeks. It takes a lot of self discipline to complete a job like that.’

  Peregrin nodded. ‘True. And she’s certainly been doing it. I’ve seen the work, and it matches the weather in each pane. I checked after I left her that evening. So although she has no witnesses to confirm she was in her place painting, the work certainly makes it look like she was there. She’s always focused in her work. Outside of that it’s a different story!’

  Susan raised her hand. ‘She’s also got a good alibi for that particular evening. She was with Felicity and Alison until well after ten before going home with a splitting headache. Felicity attests that she gave her a couple of strong sleeping pills and watched her swallow them just before she got into her car. Felicity said they would have knocked her out for a good eight hours.’