by Ian Smith
“And when you look at the night in question from that angle, everything bar the trick itself falls into place. Steven Chase buys tickets to send Freddie and Phillip to the theatre. Why, neither of them are particular friends of his and they certainly don’t like each other, the only reason can be to get them out of the way. Then, with Edward Harris safely locked in the room, he pulls his little trick of getting himself and Elizabeth into a sexual foursome with two of the slaves. He knows that you, Mrs. Mason, will probably go off in high dudgeon, and also that Elizabeth, afterwards, will feel the need to go off and shower, whereas he, if you will pardon the indelicacy, will be licked clean by a female slave in a way that a woman cannot be cleaned by a male slave.
“So, two more people would be out of the way, leaving just himself, Tyler Mason, and a slave or two as essential witnesses when the room is opened.”
“But he had killed Edward Harris within ten minutes of the poor sod entering the room!” Freddie protested.
“True, and at this stage I couldn’t for the life of me see how,” Donald Peters admitted. “But follow on with my analysis. Steven Chase and Tyler Mason discover the body, with a slave or two also present. Steven Chase reckons he can be forceful with a small enough group. He can take command, issue instructions. He goes to telephone the police, sends the slave or slaves to Jeff’s house, which is fortunately nearby, whilst Tyler Mason is left to watch the room to make sure nobody goes in or out. Then, later on, the police can figure out for themselves that Tyler Mason, left alone in all good faith by the doctor, has the opportunity to remove the poison trap and hide it in his room, where of course Steven Chase has already planted it ready for discovery, because he knows the police will search the house later.
“He must have had a nasty turn when he returned from the tryst with the slaves and saw you and Phillip Saunders having returned early,” Donald said to Freddie. “But he is committed now. Edward Harris is in all likelihood already dead. So he has to cover his tracks as best he can, but he isn’t able to leave Tyler alone with the chance to remove the poison trap. The police are able to verify that there was never a trap in the room, and the murder becomes an impossible one.”
“Which it still is, as far as I can see,” said Tyler Mason testily. “How did he get that trap out of the room?”
“There never was a poison trap device.”
“What? But you said...”
“I said we were all intended to think there was because nobody could get into or out of that room. And yet, by common agreement, nobody was able to take anything like that out of the room because so many witnesses were around. Jeff even insisted on searching everybody afterwards, so Steven Chase could only remove something that looked quite innocent; and it looked quite innocent because of this beautiful piece of misdirection we all got suckered into: namely, that the victim had to be injected or stabbed, because curare is, quite undisputedly, harmless if swallowed.
“So I got that far; but there, I was stuck like everybody else, until two seemingly unconnected and very minor facts came together: Edward Harris, who usually ate heartily in the evening, only had a little soup on the night of his death: and Phillip Saunders has a reputation of being a less than competent dentist.”
Saunders was taken aback for a moment and then opened his mouth to protest strongly, but Donald Peters got in first. “Sir, whether there is any truth in that reputation I do not know, and it doesn’t matter. The fact remains that you have something of an unwanted reputation. When Edward Harris, who was on your official list of patients, developed a dental problem, somebody who worked with Harris, whose professional opinion he valued, could very easily make that suggestion stick, especially if the victim had already heard rumours from others. And it was when Edward Harris developed that problem that Steven Chase suddenly saw his chance.
“What problem?” asked Tyler Mason.
“He developed an infected gum,” said Donald Peters.
“Now do you see it? Edward Harris consults Steven Chase. Chase says he will sort it out for him, not today but in a few days time, perhaps after he has read up his medical books or something. ‘But whatever you do,’ says Chase, ‘do not tell anybody. As a doctor, I shouldn’t really get involved in this field. But for you, I will, as long as we are discreet. After all, I do not want my very good friend Tyler Mason to see me taking custom away from his close friend Philip Saunders.’
“So, on the afternoon before the murder, Steven Chase lances Edward Harris’s affected gum, leaving a small but very significant hole in the poor man’s gum. Then he gives him a pain killer to take in the evening. ‘I do not want people to see my employees swigging brandy,’ says Chase, ‘but if it gets bad later on, drink some of this.’ No doubt he had calculated that the anaesthetic he had given would wear off after the evening meal, when Harris goes into his solitary confinement. Of course, Edward Harris does not feel like eating anything; and then he goes into the room, is locked in, takes out the brandy flask which Steven Chase has laced with curare, and that is that. All the time we were telling ourselves that Edward Harris could not have drunk the poison that killed him, when in fact that is just what he did. The poison went through the hole in his gum, straight into his bloodstream and killed him.”
“And,” Jeff Williams mused, “because it entered his system in his neck, the first thing to get paralysed was ...”
“His vocal chords,” Donald Peters finished for him. “It was remarked upon that he was not able to call for help. So, Doctor Steven Chase makes sure he is the first person to get to the body; keeping his own body in the way to block everybody else’s view, he removes the flask and pockets it as his own, and nobody later on is even slightly suspicious when he is searched and it is found on his person. He could even have taken a drink from it if anybody got even slightly curious, offer it around even. Meanwhile, the police find the poison trap in Tyler’s room, it is noted that he was around as a young lad when the last person in the room died, so the suggestion comes out that he’s a bit touched. Tyler gets convicted and sentenced to life slavery in the sweat factories the family fortune is split, giving more than enough money for Elizabeth, whom Steven Chase controls. Very ingenious.”
“But surely there was a good chance I wouldn’t get convicted,” Tyler Mason said.
“Don said that Chase was ingenious, but that doesn’t make him successful,” Jefferson Williams pointed out. “Prisons across the world are full of people who had ingenious schemes which didn’t work out.”
“The thing is,” said Donald Peters, “he was so sure of himself, so amazed by his own cleverness with the main idea, that he forgot about the importance of other little details. The fact that Phillip and Freddie might return early and spoil his wonderful scenario just never occurred to him. His own egotism let him down.”
Tyler Mason drew himself up. “He might still have got away with it had it not been for you. Mr. Peters. I am very much in your debt. I hope that you will stay here for a few days at least. Cassandra will be sent to warm your bed tonight, and Charlotte tomorrow, and so on for as long as you want.”
Donald Peters smiled. “I’ve already sampled Charlotte’s charms this afternoon, and I am sure I could find the energy for Cassandra some time tomorrow, but, if it is all the same to you, I would appreciate Rosie’s company again this evening.”
Rosie was a little surprised. She already knew that the chances that she would have to share someone’s bed this evening were fairly high, so it didn’t make too much difference to her. In any case, Tyler Mason agreed immediately, so that was that. Tonight, she would be Donald Peters’ plaything once again.
Rosie lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling. On her right side, Donald Peters’ fingers traced lazily up her thigh as he lay in sleepy contentment after having had his way with her. Rosie forced herself to keep her naked body well within his reach: it was better than getting a beating later. Steeling hers
elf, she forced her reluctant hand to slip inside his boxer shorts and very gently stroke the now flaccid male organ which a short while ago had invaded her body. She was experienced enough these days to keep her touch very light.
He stirred and rolled over towards her. His head nestled itself in her bosom; she could feel the slight night stubble of his chin on the skin of her breast. Again, she willed herself to remain submissive: it was always, always, better than the whip.
The hand that had been on her thigh had slid over her and was now on her rear. His fingers touched one of her weals. “You’ve had a rough couple of days,” he murmured.
“No more than usual, Master,” she replied truthfully. She didn’t tend to keep count of the number of times she had been fucked (she didn’t use the word ‘rape’ in her mind so much these days) or made to suck someone, but it didn’t seem any higher than usual. She’d had to endure a few torments and she was sore in a couple of places, but then when she had used to play hockey competitively her legs had frequently been covered in bruises. Of course, that had been her choice.
As time went on, some things got a little bit easier. She hadn’t thought about it at the time, but this afternoon, when she, Charlotte and Cassandra had been forced into that naked dancing, her shame over having her pubic hair shaved into the letter M just hadn’t seemed quite so intense, though it was still unpleasant. Perhaps it was the camaraderie, the three girls enduring it all together. She had noticed, too, that the word ‘master’ was coming more easily to her lips. Slavery remained deeply unpalatable to her, but at least she was learning how to endure it.
“Jeff keeps suggesting I should come and live in Xanxta when I retire,” Peters mused.
“That would be nice, Master.”
“It would certainly have its advantages,” Peters observed, his face nuzzling deeper between Rosie’s boobs. “I wonder if Tyler would sell you to me.”
Rosie was slightly surprised to find the prospect slightly less horrible than she had expected. Of course, she had to be owned by somebody, she (reluctantly) accepted that and it would mean escape from Master Freddie and perhaps being allowed to grow her pubic hair back to normal again. She found Donald Peters physically revolting, but at least he had not really mistreated her. She knew he would still keep her under firm discipline, but she had to expect that wherever she ended up. In the end, though, the decision was out of her hands. “I’d like that, Master,” she said politely, biting her lip. “When I was on sale in the Slave Shop, the price they set for me was $4300,” she volunteered.
“Hmm. Your virginity bumped that up a bit.” Rosie blushed at the reminder that her sexual history was an open book. “On the other hand, some girls develop into very good slaves and it has been known for a second hand girl’s price to be higher than her original price.” He moved so that he was fully on top of her. “Let’s have another sample of the goods.”
“Yes, Master,” Rosie sighed and dutifully opened her legs.
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