Murder Path (Fallen Angels Book 3)

by Max Hardy

  ‘In what way?’ Strange interjected.

  ‘Well, she wasn’t happy that I wouldn’t serve her an expensive glass of whisky and started to make a scene. Mr Ettrick stepped in to try and calm her down, like the gentleman he is. She may have looked and dressed beautifully, but she had a mouth like a sewer, if you know what I mean.’

  ‘What did they talk about?’ Cruickshank asked.

  ‘It wasn’t just her mouth that was a sewer. She was here initially to meet someone else. But their conversation got quite intimate, and she suggested that if he could persuade her, she would forget her date, and spend the evening with Mr Ettrick. I don’t think she was on the game, but she certainly had that attitude. She called herself ‘Madame Evangeline’, which is a little tasteless given what has happened with those Angels.’ Horncliffe advised pompously.

  ‘She definitely referred to herself as ‘Madame Evangeline’?’ Strange pressed, both he and Cruickshank leaning into the bar attentively.

  ‘Definitely. She wasn’t quiet about it either. There were quite a number of people looking on due to the crossed words I had with her. Let’s just say she wasn’t keeping a low profile.’

  ‘And did she look like the ‘Madame Evangeline’ that you’ve seen on TV?’ Strange asked.

  Horncliffe shook his head. ‘There was some resemblance, but it wasn’t the same person. How could it be, that Madame Evangeline killed herself. She was tall, very lithe and beautiful. Wearing a strapless red evening dress.’

  Strange shot a hand to his inside jacket pocket and pulled out half a dozen photographs. He quickly shuffled through them and held one up in front of Horncliffe.

  ‘Did she look like this by any chance?’ Strange asked directly.

  Horncliffe nodded. ‘Yes, that was her. Do you know her?’

  Strange sighed. ‘Tell me, what was her skin like? Was it smooth, or were there perhaps blemishes or scars underneath her makeup?’

  ‘Her complexion was flawless, as was her skin, and there was a lot of it on show.’ Horncliffe answered.

  Strange shook his head, turning to look at Cruickshank’s quizzical expression. He showed her the photograph.

  It was a photograph of Rebecca Angus.

  Chapter 20

  I don’t think I’ve ever worn so many clothes and felt so exposed and vulnerable. If you can call them clothes. The leather gimp suit took half an hour to get on it’s so tight it is hard to breathe. My naked backside, bollocks and cock are au natural for everyone to see. Even wearing a gimp mask and knowing no one can recognise me doesn’t ease the feeling of vulnerability. Rebecca is exactly the opposite, I can tell. The second after we found out about the possibility of her incarceration in the Fielding Institute being part of a plan, she just wanted to get ready for this. I understand why. This is where she is in control. She has a ritual for getting dressed as well. She had described it during the Hanlon interviews, and I had found it slightly arousing at the time when I watched them, but seeing that ritual first hand, I can honestly say that I have never been so sexually stimulated just watching a woman get dressed. The way she sashayed naked around the bedroom touching and preening, cleaning and tweaking, luxuriating in the long delicate strokes her hands striated over her willing skin was poetic. In contrast to me, who was cumbersome and clumsy pulling on my suit, she slinked into her black leather cat suit with a sensual elegance that made my penis throb. The way she slid on her black leather studded, high heel, thigh length boots was utterly delectable. And the crowning glory, positioning the long auburn wig on her head just brought Rebeca the Madame fully to life. I had seen glimpses of that person, but not experienced the full force and power of that personality. And now, I am subservient to her.

  ‘The first thing to get your mind acclimatised with is the ceremony. There are implicit rules and there are explicit rules. This isn’t a club like ‘Sodom and Gomorrah’, this is a private BDSM gathering. We signed contracts when we arrived letting our host and all the guests know what we will and won’t do. There are safe words here. People will touch, stroke and kiss you implicitly, but nothing else without your explicit consent. You can say no, or in your case, I can say no for you, as you are my slave. Once I give your consent though, be aware that they may do anything you have signed up to in the contract.’

  Rebecca is facing me, in the middle of a room full of half clothed people, all masked, all touching, kissing and talking, all mingling and drinking, all unwinding and exploring potential partners for the night. Her emerald eyes excitedly sparked from behind her studded mask which covers fully the top half of her face. She must see the anxiety in my stiff body, given she can’t see it on my face, and she leans into me and gives me a quick hug, whispering in my ear. ‘The important thing to remember is that no one knows you, no one can see who you are, so you can be anybody you want to be. You don’t have to be John Saul. Don’t think, ‘I wouldn’t do that’. Think, ‘What would I like to do’. What I am going to do now, because I would like to, is parade my slave around everyone. That is going to be such a turn on. They will touch you but you absolutely cannot touch back. That’s an order. It will also give us a chance to see if there are any body parts we recognise. Don’t speak.’ she demands sternly. ‘Just nod if you are ready.’

  My nod is stuttering, but it is a nod and she smiles, then pulls the reins attached to the bit in my mouth, turns her back to me, slouches the reins over one shoulder, then sashays off into the crowd, pulling me behind.

  As much as I feel anxious and vulnerable, there is a sexual excitement coursing through my body, causing it to goose bump and tingle. My eyes are drawn to bare flesh as I walk by it. I pass a woman wearing nothing but crotchless leather shorts and thin latticed leather strapping up her torso, covering nothing of her full pert breasts with erect, pierced nipples. She reaches out a hand as we pass and strokes it up my inner thigh, letting it linger on my balls, squeezing them gently before releasing and circling it around my flaccid cock. It reacts and gently throbs. She reaches her other hand down to her exposed, pierced and studded vagina lips, and strokes them provocatively while mouthing towards me, ‘I want you in there later’. Rebecca halts and turns back, seeing the woman whisper. She leans into her and kisses her fully on the lips, letting the woman’s tongue explore her mouth, watching her surprised and excited reaction when she can’t find Rebecca’s tongue. Rebecca breaks the kiss and whispers back. ‘You can whip his arse too, if you’d like. I would like to watch you do that.’

  The woman nods, and gives a gentle wave as we walk away into the crowd. There are beautiful bodies, there are normal bodies and there are small and large bodies, their owners having no perceived inhibitions in showing off any flesh. I try to look beyond the sensuality of the naked flesh, with difficulty, and see if there is anyone I recognise. People are starting to break away from the main group mingling in the large room and are heading off to open side rooms. Playrooms and dungeons. I see a short, rotund man in a rubber mankini heading off to a dungeon on the left with another man and a woman. The waddling walk looks familiar. I tap Rebecca on the shoulder and point in that direction. She nods and alters our course through the slithering crowd, more hands reaching out, touching and stroking sensually as we pass them by. We break out into a small empty area before the entrance to the room, with a sign on the door reading ‘Whip Dungeon’. Rebecca stops just before entering, letting me catch up.

  ‘What are we looking for?’ she whispers.

  I lean over to her right ear. ‘Rotund man, I recognise the walk. Just trying to recall from where.’

  ‘Okay, let’s go and watch, see if you can recognise anything else. He’s not a slave, so you might hear him speak.’ she answers, tugging on my reins and leading me into the room.

  Inside the room there are a number of whipping benches with whip racks next to them. The threesome are at a rack in the centre of the room and the rotund man is down on his knees, leaning his torso over the bench. The man and woman start fastening straps around his back
, tying him to the bench. There are two spurs sticking out of the front of the bench and the rotund man rests his arms in them, his head resting in a hole in the bench. The woman straps his arms in, while the man does the same with his head. She is tall, lithe and wearing a full body rubber cat suit with a closed tummy to bum zip. There are closed zips down the curve of her breasts as well. She is wearing a full face mask, with just a hole for her mouth and black mesh covering the eyes. She looks at me and smiles as she takes a cat of nine tails whip off the stand and proceeds to thwack it over her hand with a sharp snap as she licks her lips tantalisingly. The man, average height and build with a middle age paunch and man boobs, dressed in a leather studded posing pouch and nothing else, grabs a spiked spanking mitt from the stand and slides it on to his hand, covering the letters FIST tattooed on the knuckles of his fingers. He immediately raises his hand high in the air and brings it down hard, with a glint of viciousness in his eyes, straight onto the rotund man’s backside. The man whelps and jolts in his bindings, but doesn’t speak.

  It is fascinatingly shocking watching the masochistic flogging in front of me. I am feeling aroused. My penis is throbbing gently and starts to grow. I notice that Rebecca is stroking the swell of her breast as well. I notice the woman watching me, watching my groin as she lifts her whip high in the air and cracks it hard onto the rotund man’s back. He screams and calls out ‘More, by jove, more.’

  The welling sexual excitement drains from my body, a cold, harsh shock replacing it, a tinge of panic its ally. I recognise the voice. I know him well. It is Darrie, the Medical Examiner. I lean into Rebecca and whisper that into her ear. She leans back over and whispers to me.

  ‘It don’t think he is here for us. He looks like a seasoned BDSM attendee. He won’t recognise you, but if you are worried, we can go into another room, but I’d like to take that woman with us, there is something alluring about her. She is constantly looking over to you and eyeing up your cock.’ she responds as she drops a hand down and squeezes my piece playfully.

  I nod. I agree, there is something about her. The smiles she keeps throwing in my direction are too familiar. Rebecca saunters over to the whipping bench and whispers in the woman’s ear. A wicked grin spreads on her face, filling the gap in her mask as she looks at me voraciously. She apologises to the middle age man, who can’t hide his disappointment, a flash of anger about to explode in his eyes. But he sees Rebecca and I looking on and it quickly dissipates as he turns and unleashes his frustration onto Darrie’s backside. You think you know someone, but you don’t. I’ve been friends with Darrie for more than ten years. I knew he was gay and liked a bit of Bi, but I never knew he was into this.

  Rebecca tugs at my reins, pulling the bit in my mouth for me to follow her and the lithe woman out of the room. They are whispering together and giggling as they lead me towards another room with the words ‘Bondage Dungeon’ on the door. Inside, they direct me to a bondage table, a bench with moving arm and leg supports.

  Rebecca shuffles me into position between the leg supports and places a hand in the middle of my chest, forcing me back. ‘Just relax.’ she mouths toward me as pushes me flat onto the bench. The woman is taking long silk scarves off a stand to the side of the bench and proceeds to run them up my legs, all the way to my exposed genitals, where the soft material stroking my cock sets it tingling again. She grins lewdly as she sees it swell, then bends down and kisses the tip of it, sucking it in gently between her lips. I can feel her teeth nibbling around the edge of my head and my body is starting to quake with the anticipation. She pulls her lips away, waggling a finger in my direction and whispers in a low sultry voice, ‘Not yet.’ She passes some of the scarves over to Rebecca and they both proceed to tie first my legs, then my arms to the support benches, pulling them tight around my wrists and ankles, making me squirm in a weird world of exquisite pain.

  My stomach is somersaulting with nervous, anxious excitement. I am bound, I am a slave and I am not in control. Two lithe, luscious women are standing above me, both of them looking down at my body with lustful lips. I haven’t got a clue what they are going to do, but the anticipation in frighteningly euphoric.

  Rebecca moves first and straddles my groin, bringing the crotch of her cat suit right up against my thickening cock. She starts to gyrate up against it, the feel of the cold leather on my naked skin making me shiver. The woman steps to the other end of the bench and straddles my head, facing Rebecca. She removes the bit from my mouth then drops her crotch directly onto my face, the cold metal of the zip rubbing up against my lips. I can’t see anything, I can just feel their two warm willing bodies gyrating on mine, setting every single pore of my skin alight. I feel them lean in and can hear them kissing. I hear something unzip, twice, and can only guess that the woman’s breasts are coming out. I hear wet kissing, I hear dull moaning and I feel more fervour in their gyrating.

  Suddenly the woman lifts off my face and turns around, her back now towards Rebecca. I can see her full breasts poking out of the cat suit, the nipples hard and wet where Rebecca must have kissed them. She straddles me again and Rebecca’s hands sidle around her sides and cup her breasts, grabbing the nipples and squeezing them between thumb and forefinger. The woman moans, throwing her head back as she reaches down between her legs and grabs the zip tag at the base of her spine and proceeds to unzip it.

  She is directly above my face, my eyes staring wantonly at her hand coming around her backside, and at the naked flesh being exposed as she unzips. The hand passes her bum and I see the pulsing sphincter of her arse tweaking at me. My tongue cannot help itself, it pokes out, trying to reach up and lick it, but can’t quite reach. The hand tantalisingly moves further, the zip pulling back, revealing the slightly gaping, moist pink lips of her throbbing vagina. My tongue can just reach these and I run its tip over her glistening lips, savouring the taste of her sweet juices. I let it follow directly behind the opening zip, impatient for the mound over her clitoris to be exposed, so I can purse my lips over it and suck hard. I see it coming into view, along with the shaven bugle of her pubic bone. The skin is slightly pulled back and the little pink button is poking out, willing me to suck it. I move my mouth closer, but my eyes get distracted as the zip is opened further.

  They get distracted by ink, tattooed into the skin of her clitoral hood, spreading up as the zip opens over her pubic mound, slinking up the skin and spreading out as the bottom of her stomach comes into view and I see the full glory of the tattoo.

  The tattoo of a snake.

  Chapter 21

  The squeaking wheels of a mobile white board sent grating echoes down the empty corridor of the police headquarters. Strange flinched under the noise as he pushed it towards the Incident room, conscious of the din in the late evening solitude of this part of the station. He wheeled the board into the Incident room and down the narrow alley between rows of chairs and positioned it next to the other wall mounted white boards covered in evidence.

  ‘Very soon, we are going to need a bigger room.’ Cruickshank commented ruefully as she sat in one of the front row seats, back straight and legs crossed serenely, her skirt immaculately straightened out, looking through the evidence on the multiple boards in front of her.

  Strange approached her thoughtfully and sat down in the next seat, leaning into her body so their shoulders touched. ‘I think we should get the argument out of the way before we rearrange the evidence. You’ve done extremely well holding the ‘I told you so’ in for so long.’

  She nudged him with a playfully sardonic smile crossing her face. ‘Oh you would just love that. Your influence is having an impact on me. I am trying to look beyond the obvious facts. The obvious facts are that we now have an eye witness who has seen Rebecca Angus with one of our murder victims. The obvious facts are that her DNA was once again found at the crime scene, along with Saul’s. But there’s the question about her skin, isn’t there?’

  ‘There is.’ Strange reached into his jacket pocket and pulle
d out his small pile of photographs, flicking through them until he found the one he wanted. He passed it over to Cruickshank. ‘That was Rebecca about a month ago. As you can see her body was ravaged. Some of those burn marks, cuts and gouges are extremely deep. While I think makeup would cover them, I don’t think it could completely hide them. That’s why I think it can’t have been her. Who it might have been, I have no idea. But given John potentially has a twin and there were two cloned Eve’s, Rebecca may have a twin as well. What I can’t understand is why she would want us to think she is Madame Evangeline. It doesn’t make sense.’

  ‘That’s the problem at the moment Jerry, none of this is making a lot of sense. Even the facts are shifting sands. What we do know is that someone is now killing mass murderers, rather than exposing them. It is definitely a different Modus Operandi and definitely a pattern now there are two. Saul and Angus are either responsible or they are being setup. If they are responsible, we need to find them and bring them in. If they are being setup, we need to find them and bring them in. It’s the only way we can help them and help ourselves get some clarity on some of these things.’

  ‘I agree. They are either extremely dangerous or in extreme danger and possibly on their own with a young child in tow. We need to cordon off Morpeth tomorrow and tighten the net around the town. We know that Rebecca was at the Institute. We have no sightings of the car leaving the town on any of the major roads, so they must still be there.’

  ‘Okay. A joint force operation? Will your Super be up for that, picking up our mess?’ Cruickshank asked solemnly.

  ‘It was our mess originally, we just didn’t realise it was the same thing that had spilled over. It’s our collective mess now and taking place across both patches, so he has no choice really. We’ll rally the troops in the morning.’