TouchStone for ever (The Story of Us Trilogy)

by Sydney Jamesson

  ***

  Even though Mack has been working for the Metropolitan Police Service for over 20 years, he still relies on gut instinct. That’s why he’s hopeful that this latest clue in the Stone case will prove fruitful. He’s at 11 Milton Avenue, the secondary residence of Mr. Rizler. Taking in the broken down cars and the smashed bus shelter, he makes his own prediction as to Mr. Rizler’s lifestyle. Only today has he become aware of this address. CID has focused their attention on the Elm Gardens address after Mr. Stone’s chauffeur recognised him as a resident, but further investigation has led him here.

  Mr. Rizler’s ground floor apartment looks as if it’s been vandalised and used as a drug den. There’s graffiti on the walls, and it smells of urine and sweat. Several hypodermic needles have been discarded and scattered about like deadly weapons on the carpet. Mack takes tentative steps towards the back of the apartment, noticing the smallest of details on the way; the brightly coloured squares of carpet around the edge of the room, the clean rectangle of wallpaper, the out-of-date computer smashed into pieces and the plastic bag half full of photographs. He squats and drags the torn pieces of black and white images out, noting how they have become yellowed and misty over time. He detects small pinpricks and surmises they must have once been part of a collage.

  It takes him five minutes to sort them and one minute to recognise the girl in the picture. “Well, if it isn’t Miss Parker.” He shakes his head and gives himself an imaginary pat on the back.

  Once again, he punches a number into his phone. “Sam, it’s Mack again. I’m here at Rizler’s place. It’s a shit hole but there’s a heap of stuff here that needs bagging and tagging. Get the team over here. Tell them to collect all the photographs.” He pauses to listen. “I know the bastards dead but just humour me. This place has been trashed already and I don’t want them coming back lighting a fire. There’s important stuff here.”

  He turns off his phone and heads into the bedroom, kicking torn bedding, clothes and shoes aside. There’s little for him to see… except a small black bag that most certainly didn’t belong to the resident. He takes out a plastic bag from his pocket and drops it inside. His instincts tell him to gather evidence of his own before the powers that be decide to bury it, as they have every other single piece of information relating to this case.

  He leaves with a sombre heart. All this death and deception is getting to him. He needs to get his head around it before it gets away from him; if not him, who else would pursue the truth?

  For the rest of the day he digs. He starts with Dan Rizler, discovering all there is to know about him. He checks his bank balance and discovers he has over £10,000 in a savings account, with no next of kin to benefit from it. But the one thing he finds that makes him call out “Yes!” is his employment record. He has worked at Cambridge University for over ten years. A single thought occurs to him. ‘What if he knew Miss Parker when she was there?’ It’s enough to have him playing the drums on his desk.

  14

  There have been days when I have been awakened by sunlight, birdsong and a kiss, but this is a first for me. Ayden has his hand between my legs and his mouth at my breast. He is wrapping his tongue around a hardening nipple and I am responding to the push and pull of fingers and lips.

  Instinctively, I arch my back and roll my body into his hand. His fingers slide through moist skin and enter me with minimal thrusting. All I can do is writhe and moan into the darkness.

  Partially awake, I say, “Ayden,” but he doesn’t respond. It’s apparent he’s enjoying this as much as I am. I fist his hair and tug him from my swollen breasts. Gentle music is playing: it’s Ed Sheeran singing Kiss Me, and I do. His mouth locks onto mine in a passionate kiss, deep and hard. When he raises himself from me I am gasping for breath and so aroused I would beg to be taken.

  In a kind of judo roll he lifts me from the mattress and places me on top of him. My legs are spread on either side of his hips; I am wide open and the wetness between my legs is trickling from my body. I lean in to kiss him but he will not allow me; instead he holds onto my forearms and pushes me backwards onto his throbbing cock.

  “Slide me inside your body, Beth. Watch me as I come inside you.”

  His words have me reaching backwards, one hand on his thigh and the other for the hard rod twitching beneath me. When I take hold, my breath catches. My fingers and thumb can scarcely grasp it, but I’m frantic with desire and I want to feel it inside me.

  With little difficulty he lifts me and, with eyes locked, lowers me slowly onto him. Feeling the hard tip I brace myself and fan my hands across his pectoral muscles as I open my body to accommodate him. The tightness is exquisite; the feeling of overwhelming fullness unknown to me.

  “Oh my God!” I call out feverishly, my eyes shut tight, my insides flexing to find room for this delicious invasion.

  “Open your eyes, Beth.”

  I can’t. I’m concentrating hard and holding myself off him, fearful my body will not be able to endure total penetration.

  “Look at me!”

  Startled by his command, I do. But my breathing is uneven and I’m panic-stricken, edging away.

  “You can do this, Beth. This body belongs to you, remember? Relax.”

  With his gentle coaxing I calm, allow my breathing to ease and my heart rate to slow, slightly.

  He softens his words with a smile. “That’s it.” His hands take hold of my hips tightly, then release. In a lifting motion he raises me up and down, slowly, painlessly, until the feeling of tightness fades and my body begins to mould around him.

  His top lip twitches and he licks it, coating it in glossy wetness. A kind of snarling sound leaves his throat as I move of my own volition. I cannot tear my eyes away.

  “You have all of me, Beth,” he utters, tiny moans reverberating into the air, echoing my own. “Take this body and claim it.”

  With that thought in mind I begin to pick up the pace, to arch my back, to tighten my internal muscles and to begin the ride of my life. He removes his hands from my hips and allows me to canter towards my orgasm, swerving my body until the ridges of his cock are perfectly placed to stroke that illusive spot inside me.

  Wide-eyed and almost delirious with unbridled passion I open my mouth to suck in more air. When I look at Ayden he is shimmering with perspiration, his eyes are an iridescent grey like the Milky Way.

  With garbled words he cries, “I’m all yours, baby,” and pulls me down hard onto him making me gasp and cry out. His orgasm tears through him, and the spark he has ignited in me catches fire as he detonates. I burn and burn with the intensity of an atomic wind that sweeps through me on its path of destruction; like that unstoppable wind, he roars as my body buckles around him and then it disperses, to become nothing more than a whisper.

  Totally sapped of energy, I peel myself off him and roll over onto the cool side of the bed, still stunned by the intensity of our lovemaking.

  Once the air settles, he turns to me and pushes back a strand of hair from my brow, “That was earth-shattering!”

  “It was.” I can’t lie.

  “Did I hurt you?” He inspects my body for any signs of bruising.

  Feeling a little embarrassed, I reward his consideration with a smile. “No.”

  He reaches to the bottom of the bed and pulls up the duvet. “Then I’m learning.” He kisses my forehead as you might a small child. “You’re a good teacher Beth. I will try to be the perfect pupil for you.” Roughly, he tucks the cover around my neck. “Now go back to sleep for an hour before we have to prepare for our outing.”

  “Do you mean honeymoon?” I smile, lifting my chin out from under the cover.

  “No. I mean outing. We will be attending Elise’s funeral at 10 a.m.” He kisses my nose and rolls away.

  Funeral? What the hell …

  Feeling a little stiff and disoriented, I blink myself into wakefulness. It seems as if I have only slept for half an hour but, by the intensity of the sunlight, it mu
st be 8 a.m. Surprisingly, Ayden is still next to me, sleeping. So as not to disturb him, I slither out of bed and tiptoe around to the bathroom but I’m pinned to the spot by the strangest sound. I turn to face him and watch his eyes flicker and his face contort into a grimace. He makes the noise again, only this time I hear it more clearly; it’s like the muffled breath of a man having a nightmare.

  I fall to my knees by the bed and do no more than stroke is hair. “Hush, hush.” I whisper in his ear. With that he settles and the tension fades from his handsome features like watercolours on canvas. Quickly, I wipe my tears and hurry into the bathroom. I can’t think clearly and must not allow myself to jump to conclusions. More important, I can’t send out my thoughts.

  By way of a distraction I dive into the power shower, not stopping to test the temperature. Thankfully it’s pre-set and steaming hot, hot enough to wash away any trace of passionate lovemaking. The knock on the door makes me jump, and for some reason, I hurriedly reach for my bathrobe before the door opens.

  Ayden enters naked; he’s scratching his head and yawning. “You should have woken me,” he says mid-yawn.

  “I thought you were doing your other job,” I reply, sweetly. “Anyway, why are you tired when you say you never sleep?”

  “I don’t, but your husband’s body is feeling the after effects of strenuous lovemaking.”

  “Are you sure that’s not you?” I waft past him. “Ayden didn’t used to get worn out so easily.”

  He spins around as I pass. “Are you attempting to bait me, darling?” he asks, taking hold of my wrist.

  “Of course not.” I kiss his cheek.” Merely stating a fact.”

  In a flash, he takes hold of both my wrists and wraps them behind me. I feel my back pressing against the doorframe.

  The provocative scent of masculine essence and sex on his naked body causes me to shiver and, sensing my responsiveness, he draws his tongue along the soft skin beneath my chin. “Your perfume and your playfulness is a powerful aphrodisiac, Beth.” He nuzzles into my wet hair and I feel the hardness of his erection though the soft bathrobe.

  “Ayden, I have neither the time nor the stamina to make love.”

  He whispers into my ear. “Who said anything about making love?” He takes hold of my earlobe between his teeth and gives it a gentle tug. “Right now I would like nothing more than to fuck you. Maybe then you would be less inclined to question my stamina.”

  His words cause me to widen my eyes and swallow deeply. “I don’t question it,” I reply, softly. “I fear it.”

  Instantly he releases my wrists and steps back. “Why?”

  I lower my eyes. “You know why.”

  He’s shaking his head. “No. I don’t. Explain it to me. Wasn’t I gentle with you, patient, attentive? Didn’t I satisfy you sexually?”

  “Yes. You were all those things,” I confess, raising my eyes to his. “But you were holding back. There may come a time when you’re unable to, and that’s what scares me, especially when you talk of fucking me.”

  He’s mystified by my logic and shaking his head. “I was using your husband’s words. The thought of actually fucking you is abhorrent to me.”

  He moves away and turns on the shower. “How can I become your husband if you don’t trust me?” he asks, checking his profile in the mirror.

  “You can only become my husband by becoming more human and that’s not something you can achieve overnight.”

  “Clearly that’s the case.”

  I walk over to him and wrap my arms around his perfect body as I have done so many times before. “Don’t be cross with me. Last night you were the perfect lover.” I kiss the skin between his shoulder blades with soft lips. “And today you’ll be the perfect husband.” I release him. “Remember to wear a black tie with a black suit, it’s customary at funerals.”

  Just as I reach the door he calls me back. “Beth …”

  I turn to face him.

  “You’re an exceptional teacher and I’m a fast learner. I’m enjoying every lesson.”

  He smiles at me in such a touching way I feel my heart breaking. I offer a grateful smile in return and leave. “Better not be late then or I may have to come up with a suitable punishment.” I hear him laughing and it’s enough to tip me over. I snatch at my clothes and toss a black dress onto the bed; I rifle through drawers for underwear, and throw a bra and panties carelessly on top of it, slam the drawer shut, stopping only to catch sight of myself in the mirror. Roughly, I wipe away my tears with my sleeve and step out of my bathrobe. I remind myself, “I am Mrs. Elizabeth Stone. I can do this.”

  For some reason we fall into an uncomfortable silence on the drive to the crematorium. I know this is something we have to do; I was the one who insisted upon it. But that was before I was confronted by the truth and I wanted closure for Ayden. It all seems a little irrelevant now. Thankfully, it’s something that can be documented and discussed at a later date. Not only that, we can literally put her memory to rest once and for all.

  We arrive at Chilterns Crematorium in Amersham after a thirty-minute journey. As we approach the gates, reporters begin ducking and diving around the car. Lester beeps his horn and ploughs through regardless.

  A couple of cars are already parked; only one I recognise: A2MED1A. It’s Jake’s car. On seeing us arrive he comes over, opening the rear door for Ayden and I to climb out.

  “You made it,” he observes, nodding in my direction.

  “Had no choice; Beth insisted,” Ayden states, taking my left elbow. “Shall we go inside? Who’s here?”

  He walks at Ayden’s side. “Her family, a couple of friends, work colleagues and that fucking cop. He’s about as welcome as the clap around here.”

  “What’s he expecting to do, commune with the dead?”

  Jake sniggers. “He’s just sniffing around.”

  We walk slowly into Hampden Chapel with five seats on each side and only the first three rows occupied; so few people for such a dynamic woman. Jake leads us to a seat on the left, I follow and Ayden sits nearest the aisle. I rest my hand over his on my lap, hoping to reassure us both that we can get through this together. It’s such a sombre affair, as these things so often are.

  Still unable to come to terms with my own loss, I reach in my bag for a tissue. I wipe my nose and listen to the words of farewell voiced so movingly by the minister.

  “Are you okay?” Jake asks, giving my arm a squeeze.

  “Yes.” I force a flat smile in response.

  “She brought this on herself you know. Ayd did good by her.”

  His reassuring words are well intended. “I know. I’m just thinking of what she went through as a child. No one deserves that.”

  He nods in agreement. “You’re right.”

  I nudge Ayden to my right. “What do you want to do with these?” I open my bag and lift out the black pouch. He takes it off me and tips out the three marbles into his hand. They look so small and insignificant in his large palm.

  “Nothing. Put them away.”

  “But …”

  “Put them away!” he whispers through gritted teeth.

  I pull the string top together tightly and drop the pouch into my bag, knowing this will not be the last we hear of Elise Richards. Her legacy will live on long after her ashes have been scattered.

  Solemn organ music begins and the coffin shakes slightly as Elise’s body nears the flames; only her spirit lives on to pass over into that world beyond.

  I look up to Ayden and whisper, “Have you taken her soul?”

  He nods. “Some time ago.”

  I’m thankful for that. We stand, bow our heads and turn to leave. From nowhere a distraught woman of around sixty launches herself at Ayden, her eyes wild.

  “You bastard! You caused this.” With an outstretched arm she slaps him across the face. The crack of her hand on his cheek echoes around the small chapel. ”I hope you rot in hell for what you’ve done.” With that she loses her balance; other fam
ily members take hold of her arms and lead her away.

  Like the rest of the congregation, I’m stunned into silence. Ayden is rocked by her outburst and seems frozen to the spot as if carved out of ice.

  Jake pushes me forward. “Take his arm. Let’s get out of here! We should never have come. He’s been ambushed.” He squeezes past me and storms off ahead of us. I see him signalling to Lester from the door to bring the car round to the entrance.

  As I stand anxiously, waiting to flee the scene, out of the corner of my eye I spot D.I. Bowker approaching us.

  Shit!

  He stretches out his hand to shake Ayden’s. “Mr. Stone, Mrs. Stone. Good morning. Here for Miss. Richards’s cremation I see.”

  Forgetting that Ayden hears his every thought, I speak first. “Yes. It was the least we could do.”

  “That’s a very magnanimous gesture, Mrs. Stone.”

  He knows about Cambridge.

  Shit!

  Ayden confronts him. “What happened was shocking. She had her issues, but that said, her passing is tragic in the extreme.”

  Our Inspector isn’t buying it. “Yes it is, Mr. Stone, particularly as you and she were so close.” He sneers and turns away.

  “As I have indicated previously, Detective Inspector, we were not close,” Ayden says by way of a rebuttal “We had a friendship which she misinterpreted as something more meaningful.”

  Lester remains seated to make a quick getaway while Ayden opens the door for me. “As we are all aware, I was not responsible for Miss. Richards’s death. She got into my vehicle with the sole purpose of ending both our lives. You have her note and her fingerprints all over the steering wheel as I recall.”

  “Yes. We do.”

  “In that case is there anything else I can help you with?”

  He strokes his chin, making Ayden wait even though he knows precisely what he’s thinking. “There is one thing.”