“You mean his suicide,” Muriel said.
The officer took a drink from his cup. He set it down and picked up a sandwich, which he ate in two bites. Then he ate another. Muriel glanced at Ewan. He pursed his lips just a little, and she had a feeling he was trying to tell her she needed to keep her mouth shut, but she wasn’t sure why.
Buckley took another drink, and then said, “We don’t think Mr. Pregarin killed himself.”
Those words shouldn’t have shocked her, but they did. “He seemed to be a nice man.”
“He was.” Buckley ate another sandwich. “He was part of a group, years ago, that was suspected in the death of a woman up near Chauncery Lake.”
Muriel didn’t know what to say, so she reached for a sandwich and put it in her mouth quickly. As she chewed she looked at Ewan. He saved her from speaking.
“I told Inspector Buckley the story Mrs. Wiggins told us about her husband and the blood on his shoes.”
“When the locals found the body of young Chastity Wilks we found evidence that Mr. Pregarin was involved, but Mrs. Wiggins said he had been with her, and her husband that night, so we couldn’t charge him. However, I would like to talk with her about the blood on her husband’s shoes. That’s why I’m here.”
“What does that mean?” she asked.
The Inspector stared at her. Finally, he said, “Mrs. McClacken, your husband said that Mrs. Wiggins said the death her husband had been involved in happened more than twenty years ago.”
“That’s right,” Muriel said. A feeling of dread was seeping through her bones.
“Chastity Wilks, the young woman who was murdered… it happened almost a year ago this month.”
Chapter 21
“Well, I’m very sorry for that young lady and her family, but what about the woman who was murdered twenty years ago?” Muriel said. Even as the words left her mouth she knew there was no woman.
“Chastity Wilks was murdered in Monford, a small town near the lakes,” Buckley said. “Those of us from Bangor investigated because Monford has only one constable. Miss Wilks’ death was such a shock because it was the first murder in Monford. Ever. It will be a year ago next week.”
“Phee,” Muriel whispered. She shook her head to clear her thoughts. “This woman was some sort of sacrifice, a ritual of sorts.”
Buckley leaned back in his chair. “How do you know that?” His tone was suspicious, and Muriel couldn’t blame him.
“The young woman we’re looking for,” Ewan began, “her father said she’s been involved with a young man named Raef Montgomery who wants to find Excalibur. I think—we think—he’s part of a group of local people. We’ve found evidence that they are capable of rituals, which I’m sure would include sacrifice.”
“What date was it exactly?” Muriel asked. Fear rose inside her as she thought about Phee. The young woman might be flighty, she might want to raise a fuss and disappear with her lover, but there was no way she would allow herself to be killed as part of a ritual. Or would she? Muriel needed to go back and read the journals they’d brought with them to see if there was a chance that Phee was part of this somehow.
“It was April 4, 1898,” he said. “It was the first full moon after the spring equinox.”
“When is that this year?” Muriel asked. “I mean the first full moon after the spring equinox?”
“It’s March 24,” Buckley said. “Next Monday.”
That news made her heart seize. She put down the sandwich she held and said, “That’s four days from now.”
“We realize the situation and I have men combing the area where the murder took place,” Buckley said. “The chances of them killing another woman in that area are slight. We’re being cautious.”
Muriel wanted to tell him that being cautious was not taking care of things. “We need to find Phee Robson-Jones in the next three days. That’s the only way we’re going to save her life.”
“My men are very good, Mrs. McClacken,” Buckley said. “We’re carefully watching the area where the ritual took place last time. As with all these types of things the location is significant. They had an altar built out in the woods. We’re not being obvious, but no one will go there without us knowing about it.”
Muriel wanted to laugh. He sounded so sure of himself, but she knew that if someone wanted to get something done they would do it.
“Tell me, do you have other problems with people searching for the sword?” Ewan said.
“People are constantly searching the area for the sword,” Buckley said. “It’s not here. It doesn’t exist.”
“My wife and I have already had this discussion,” Ewan said with a laugh. “I believe in Arthur and the legend, she does not.”
“Your wife is right,” Buckley said. “Legends grow over the years. No real evidence of Arthur and the Round Table has ever been found.”
The clock struck five. Muriel got up and looked at the front door. “I don’t think she’s coming.”
“Where else would she go?” Buckley asked. “She and her husband have lived in this house for years. I need to send men to her friends’ houses and see if she’s there.”
He was speaking as if he were talking to himself. Muriel glanced at Ewan who shook his head. She understood him perfectly. He didn’t want her to tell Buckley where they could possibly find Mrs. Wiggins. Besides, if he knew her friends he would send one of his men to Jameson’s house to collect her there.
Buckley stood. “I’m leaving now. I’ll have a few men watch the house to see if she returns. There will also be men out looking for her. Please stay here and, if she comes back, talk to the man that will be sitting in the hansom across the street. He’ll come and find me.”
When he was gone Muriel said, “Well, that was a waste of time.”
“No,” Ewan said. He sat down next to her on the divan. “We know that the ritual murder took place last year, and not twenty years ago.”
Muriel shook her head. “What do we do next?”
“We take advantage of this nice large house and play for a little while, then nap. Then, when it’s dark around midnight, say, we go to Mr. Pregarin’s house and look around, see what we can find.”
“You want to have sex when the girl we’re supposed to find is still on the loose, and is days away from being killed?”
“We have days,” he said. “Besides, I think better after I’ve had an orgasm, and so do you.”
“I’m beginning to think you focus on nothing else but sex,” she said. “Are you not worried about Phee?”
He had a handful of her skirts and was lifting them up. Muriel tried to bat away his hand, but he tightened his grip.
“Are you going to protest?”
Yes,” she said.
“Then I guess I’ll have to take matters into my own hands.” He pushed her sideways and she fell against the empty part of the divan. He stood and turned her, so her bum was in the air. When he straddled her, she knew what he was doing, and if they had been at home she would have loved this game. But they needed to be doing other things right now.
“Ewan! We have other things to do!”
“Yes, we do,” he said, his voice deep with need. “Spank first, fuck next. If you fight me I’ll find some rope. I’m sure there’s something I can use around the house.”
Muriel groaned. “Damn you,” she whispered. He knew her weak spot. Being tied up was one of those things she loved… hence the idea of the tree in their garden. But she needed to push her thoughts away. That was hard to do since he was sitting on her thighs.
The only good part of this was that her skirts were still over her thighs and bum, which meant if he spanked her it wouldn’t provide the harsh sensations that made her want it all… or at least that sounded good to her.
Until he slapped his hand against her bottom. Even through her clothing she felt the swat, and it made her groan, which made her feel guilty.
“Stop it! We need to stay on target.”
“Where are
we going to go?” He smacked her bottom again. “Think about it, Muriel. There are constables outside the door, or at least a constable. If we leave he will follow us. What can we get done when we have a shadow?”
He slapped her bottom once more.
“What makes you think we can get rid of him at midnight?” She groaned as he started to caress her bottom, grabbing her bum and squeezing.
“We’ll figure out a way,” he said. He squeezed even harder. Then he started to caress her, moving his hands up and down her back, over her shoulders, and then back down to her bum. Even though she was fully clothed the sensations were highly erotic, and they made her want to scream out for him to take her.
In the back of her mind she knew this was a distraction they didn’t need. But she also knew now that it was started, it would be hard to forget until they saw it through.
“Answer me truthfully, is your quim getting wet?”
Muriel tensed as he slapped her bottom again, and then she groaned as he leaned over and kissed her neck. “Answer me.”
“I don’t like you sometimes,” she said.
“Because I know you so well?” He nibbled on her earlobe. “Ignore the nagging feeling that we should be doing something else. I’m going to get up and free myself, and then sit down on the divan. You’re going to lift your skirts and sit on me, so you can take me deep inside.”
He kissed her neck over and over. “Do you want to ride me, my sweet?” he asked between kisses.
“What I really want is you to take me from behind,” she said. As soon as the words were out of her mouth she wondered where they had come from.
“Now, who is being nasty?” His chuckle was deep, and he nipped at her neck.
“Who taught me to be nasty?”
“It’s a bit late for you to blame me,” Ewan said with a soft laugh. “If I taught you right you’ll get up when I leave you, and bend over the divan to take what you want. You’ll be excited at getting what you want, and you’ll be thrilled at the idea that the front door might open and either one of the constables, or Mrs. Wiggins, might come in and find us in a compromising position.”
She had to admit that thought rather thrilled her. Mrs. Wiggins was a liar and a fraud, and to shock her would make Muriel laugh.
Ewan stood up, and Muriel turned to look at him. He was undoing his trousers. There was a not a sight in the world that she loved more than watching him work the fastenings on his pants. She hurried into position, lifting her skirts over her hips as she bent over the arm of the divan.
He was inside her in seconds, and Muriel gasped as he slammed in and out. She closed her eyes and savored the feel of him. And then she opened them and looked out the window. It was still light enough that she could see the hansom sitting not far from the house.
She wondered if the constable—or was it constables—could see them. If they could, did they realize what they were doing? Could they make out enough of the action to see that Ewan was pounding into her, hitting all the right spots and making her gasp and cry out in pleasure?
The idea made her blood rush through her body to her clit and Muriel came faster than she ever had before. She clawed at the divan as Ewan pounded her, her body shaking with each thrust.
When he called out her name and grasped her hips she closed her eyes and savored his orgasm as much as he did. She loved feeling him shoot inside her, loved feeling him give himself to her.
She’d never in her life thought she’d meet someone like Ewan, much less marry him and spend the rest of her life with him. He took her places she’d never thought she’d go and had her do things she’d never thought she’d do, like having sex in another woman’s house, in her living room.
Her body tingled, and she leaned to the side, putting her head on the back of the couch. Ewan was still inside her. She could feel him pulsing inside her, and there was a part of her that wanted to stay here forever, with him sheathed in her quim.
“Ewan, I love you,” she said. “I don’t think I’ve told you that today.”
“I love you too, my sweet,” he said. “A few more days and you and I will visit that tree in the garden.”
She moaned softly, imagining in her mind how it would feel to be tied to the tree and then taken just like he’d done moments ago.
He stroked her back, and said, “Muriel.”
“Yes,” she whispered as she looked over her shoulder at him. She smiled and then she burst into laughter when he said, “I’m hungry.”
* * *
“This is not going to work,” Muriel whispered as she wrapped her braid around her head and pinned it into place.
“Then why are you getting ready?” Ewan asked. He put his hand up before she had a chance to answer. “This is going to work. Just remember the plan. You leave by the back entrance, sneak around to the front and then take off down the street at a run. If I judge them right, the constables across the street will follow you. You’ll have a good lead on them. Go behind a house, let down your hair and untie the skirts that are around your waist. Then come out and act like you’re coming out of the house you just transformed behind. They’ll ask you if you’ve seen a young man running, and you point them in the opposite direction of where we’re going. Then meet me at the pub.”
“Which is close to Pregarin’s house,” she said. “Are you sure you’re going to be able to find it in the dark?”
“Buckley showed me the area this afternoon,” he said. “We’ll find it and we’ll search. We just have to be careful not to let anyone know we’re there. The first thing we do is check out the area to make sure there are no constables around. Then we go inside.”
“And when we’re done? How do we sneak back into Mrs. Wiggins’ house?”
“We don’t have to,” he said. “There is no telling how long we’ll be searching Pregarin’s house. That’s why I took so many matches from the kitchen. It’s a very cloudy night. We should hope Pregarin has heavy curtains on his windows and none of his neighbors will notice us sneaking around.”
They stepped in front of the door. Ewan pulled her into a hug and kissed her lightly.
“Time to put your skills to work,” he said. “But please, my love, be careful. If you think they are going to catch you don’t try anything that will put you in danger. Promise me.”
“I promise,” she said, right before she kissed him back. “I’m out the back. You watch the front. Please, be careful like you told me to be.”
“Always.”
He kissed her again, taking her face between his hands. When the kiss broke he looked into her eyes and, as always, Muriel felt as if her toes would melt.
“I love you,” she said. “You’ll owe me a drink at the pub, and not that swill they call ale. I want whisky.”
“My wife the drunkard,” he said with a laugh. Then he smacked her bottom. “Now go.”
Muriel let herself out the back door. She felt off balance with her skirts tied up around her waist, but she’d always liked walking in trousers. She felt more freedom in them, but the skirts weren’t helping things as she went down the stairs and made her way to the front of the house. It was after ten, but the hansom was still there. Once again, she wondered if the constable had watched while she and Ewan had sex on the divan. The thought made her laugh.
The street was empty, and the moon was mostly hidden by a heavy bank of clouds. Mrs. Wiggins had not come home, just as Ewan had predicted. Muriel was sure she was still at Mr. Jameson’s house. She questioned their decision not to tell Buckley where she might be found. After all, Phee’s life was in jeopardy. If the officers could help they should draw them in.
But Ewan always said they worked better on their own, and Muriel knew he was right.
It came to her that she was wasting time as she stood near the house and thought these things out. She needed to get on the stick, as her husband would say, so they could get their things done for the evening.
She moved slowly at first, going to the end of the lawn and look
ing up and down the street. The constables had to see her for the plan to work, so she waited, and waited, and waited until finally she heard a man say, “Oye, you there, state your business.”
She glanced at the cab to see a man climbing down. Muriel gasped, loud enough that he would hear, and then she took off running down the street.
“Stop, stop, I’m the law, stop!”
Muriel ran faster, wishing she’d paid more attention to the streets when they were out and about. Then she would know which house to choose to make her transformation.
“I’m warning you, if you don’t stop I’ll catch up and charge you.”
With what? Muriel thought with a laugh as she continued to run. She came to a cross street and took it at a fast clip, running between the first two houses she came to. She took off the hat she wore and let it drop to the ground, then quickly undid the pins that held her braid on her head.
She’d been careful with the ties on her skirts, and they came down easily. After several deep breaths she came out and made her way to the street. The constable had already run past where she was, and for a moment she thought he wouldn’t even notice her, and she wouldn’t have to speak with him. But she was inches away from the street she’d first been on when he called out.
“Hey, stop there.”
Muriel did as he asked. She turned to him and said, as innocently as possible. “Who are you to demand I stop? Leave me be or I’ll send for a constable.”
She prayed her voice conveyed enough contempt that it would make him stop and question his actions.
“Who are you?” he demanded after he’d ran back to her. Muriel moved so that he had to turn, making it so his back was to the street where Ewan would have to go past.
“I can ask you the same question,” she said. “In fact, I have to question if my person is safe with you stopping me in the middle of the street.”
“I am a constable,” he said.
“Prove it,” Muriel said. “Blow our whistle. You didn’t do it to try and stop me. You just ran after me and made me wonder about your intentions.”
Muriel’s Adventures Page 26