by D. R. Bailey
Tug Of War
Bernadette Mackenna Cases
Book Four
D.R. BAILEY
Tug Of War Copyright © 2021 by D. R. Bailey
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the publisher. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Cover Design by Sarah Bailey
Photographer: LVAB
Cover Model: Lily V Braizer
Published by Twisted Tree Publications
www.twistedtreepublications.com
[email protected]
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Acknowlegements
About The Author
I want to dedicate this book to our good friend Giulia. She has always been true to herself and her sexuality. She’s a lovely person who was kind and generous to us, she gave us the gift of staying in her apartment in Florence for our honeymoon. We will always be grateful for that. Giulia speaks several languages, is an explorer, has lived in many countries and she loves dogs. She is loyal to her friends and family. We have enjoyed some nice meals together in Brighton many moons ago. Her dog Tequila is the love of her life. But I hope she will one day also receive the happiness of finding a beautiful and loving partner to spend her days with. That is my wish for her. Thank you, Giulia, for being the person you are and being yourself without compromise.
Chapter One
Justice Fin Campbell regarded Bernadette with interest. He was around forty-years-old and wore thick, black-rimmed glasses which made him look somewhat forbidding. Coupled with a clean-shaven square jaw and unsmiling temperament, he wasn’t a judge to be trifled with. His piercing blue eyes took in Bernadette’s brown ones with a cool stare. She waited patiently for him to speak.
“So, Ms Mackenna, if I hear you rightly, you are asking me for some leniency with your client in spite of the fact he has pled guilty to a crime, which I understand is not his first offence. It’s also not the first time I’ve had your client in front of me either.”
“Yes, Judge, I am,” she replied content to simply confirm rather than explain.
“I see. I assume you are going to give me some or even, several, good reasons why I should do this?”
“Yes, Judge, I certainly intend to.” She smiled at him in a disarming way, which wasn’t reciprocated.
“Fine, you can do so after a short recess as I’m in dire need of a cup of tea, not to put a too finer point on it. And I’m sure your client can wait at the court’s pleasure for a half an hour.”
“Yes, Judge, I’m sure he can.”
“Very well.”
The Tipster entered quickly and called the court to rise. Without further ado, Justice Campbell swept from the room.
Bernadette looked down at her junior counsel, Imogen, who had come along today for the ride. Imogen’s full lips smiled back at her with a hint of laughter playing behind her green eyes. Her red hair framed her face as a counterpoint to the freckles which were now appearing since it was now early summer. In Bernadette’s view, they only served to make her prettier.
“Coffee?” said Imogen brightly.
“Why not.”
The two of them left the courtroom with alacrity but as they exited the doors, Bernadette’s hand was possessed by a shapely blonde with sky blue eyes.
“Eve!” said Bernadette, “You nearly made me jump out of my skin.”
Eve laughed and said to Imogen, “Can I borrow my fiancée? I’ve just got to talk to her about something.”
“Sure,” Imogen replied, “I’ll get the coffees in and meet you in the meeting room over there.”
“Great.” Eve then pulled Bernadette urgently by the hand. “Come on, no time to waste.”
“What? Where are we going? And what is it that’s so urgent?”
Without another word, Eve dragged her into a nearby disabled toilet and locked the door.
“What are you—” Bernadette began, but she got no further as Eve had pushed her up against the wall and planted her lips on Bernadette’s.
“Mmm,” muttered Bernadette as her senses exploded. Eve always had this effect upon her, she was immediately inflamed as if a small furnace had just been ignited inside her.
“God, I want you, I want you so much, I couldn’t wait, honey, I couldn’t,” Eve whispered her lips just touching pulling out of the kiss.
“I know but…” Bernadette managed to say, however, Eve’s hand was already pulling up her skirt and snaking its way into the waistband of her knickers. “Oh God, Jesus,” Bernadette gasped as Eve’s fingers found their mark.
“I wish I was at home,” Eve said softly, “Fucking you…”
“What are you doing now then? Oh… oh… Shit… don’t stop… Eve… oh, my darling… oh God… I love you… so… much… so… mu…” Bernadette was fighting for coherence as the wave began to crest. She was lost in the sensations and the suddenness of it made her all more aroused.
“Is this what you like?” said Eve, increasing the intensity with her fingers.
“Oh… yes… darling… I just want… I… ohh… ohh… ohh…” What Bernadette wanted was lost in the climax which engulfed her. She bit down on her hand so as not to cry out too loud, although truth be told she wanted to scream the house down.
Her body tensed and untensed, and her toes curled in the strappy black sandals she was wearing. She gasped a few times, as her orgasm eased just a little and she waited for the light-headedness to dissipate. Eve held her gently now planting light and gentle kisses on her lips.
“Oh, Eve, oh God,” said Bernadette once she was able to breathe a little normally, “Oh, you little witch.”
“I know, but you love it, don’t you?” Eve cocked an eyebrow at her.
“I should…” Bernadette began moving her hand to the button on Eve’s jeans.
“There isn’t time, you can do it later, my darling.” Eve smiled.
“I will, oh I will.” Bernadette was defenceless against her fiancée’s desire. Eve aroused her so much, completed her in so many ways.
“I know you will, darling, but let’s get that coffee now.” Eve planted one more kiss on her lips and let Bernadette straighten up, and smooth down her skirt.
“Now I know why you insisted on a skirt today,” said Bernadette in admonishing tones.
“Oh, but you look so sexy in your outfit.”
It was true, Bernadette was wearing an above the knee pleated skirt which she had complained made her look like a schoolgirl. Eve demurred and said she was eye candy. Bernadette had laughed and twirled around. The black skirt was coupled with a lilac blouse and a blue blazer style jacket. Eve had insisted such skirts were all the rage and not to complain. So, Bernadette did not. Eve had become her
dresser and laid out her clothes every workday before doing Bernadette’s hair. Bernadette luxuriated in the pampering she felt from her partner.
“Well, it obviously got you going!”
“Oh, yes, all morning.” Eve looked at her watch. “Only ten minutes, see, I’m getting so good at this. Let’s go and join Imogen.”
Bernadette chuckled in a satisfied way and checked her hair, then the two of them left the toilet. As they were walking to the meeting room Bernadette said, “Did you come up just to do that?”
“Not just to do that, no, although it was worth it even if I had. I am going to the gallery to see Valentino, discuss some more of my controversial work,” Eve laughed.
“You didn’t tell me!”
“Because I wanted to surprise you, silly.”
“You certainly did so!”
They reached the meeting room and Imogen was already sitting at the table sipping her coffee.
“You’re looking a bit flushed,” she said to Bernadette furnishing her with a knowing smile.
“Oh yes, well, as to that…” Bernadette began.
“It’s my magic fingers,” Eve chuckled.
“Oh, Eve!” Bernadette said pretending to be shocked. In reality, there were no secrets with Imogen. The three of them were like sisters, and Imogen was well aware of the ins and outs of their love life, as they were of hers.
“Bernadette always says you are a witch,” Imogen observed drily.
“She is!” said Bernadette taking a seat and picking up her coffee, “Though a very beautiful one.”
“For sure, I mean I’d do her… if she wasn’t marrying you.”
They all laughed at this and then the three of them sat for a moment enjoying their drinks.
“Are you coming to watch the rest of the hearing?” Imogen asked Eve.
“No, I’m seeing my gallery owner, he wants me to do some more pictures,” said Eve.
Eve was an accomplished artist, and now very successful. Her opening show had made very good traction to launch her new career. In fact, all of her paintings and drawings had been sold and she had made a significant sum of money which she and Bernadette were now sinking into the conversion of their outbuilding into a small gym and creating a conservatory at the back of their house.
“Are those the flagellation pictures?”
“Of course, you would be interested,” said Bernadette dryly.
She and Eve were both were fully aware of Imogen’s sexual proclivities, which now included disciplining her girlfriend D’Arcy Brown as part of their relationship with various implements including a paddle and a riding crop.
“Yes, I am.”
“Oh. It’s kind of a metaphorical way of releasing my demons about my sister,” said Eve.
“Is it though? Purely metaphorical?” Imogen shot back.
“Of course,” said Eve lowering her eyes.
Bernadette did not miss this and filed it away for future reference. Eve’s sister had caused her much grief regarding Eve’s sexual orientation. Her sister was heavily religious and felt Eve was a mortal sinner and had not hesitated to tell her so. Her sister lived in New Zealand and they had parted ways recently when she had upset Eve yet again. With Bernadette’s encouragement, Eve had written a letter severing all ties. However, Bernadette suspected the scars ran deeper than she knew, and that Eve had not told her everything. Fear, however, held Bernadette back from asking. The fear of losing Eve. No matter how much they loved each other, there was still a nagging doubt in Bernadette’s mind Eve might go. Eve had done nothing to indicate this would happen, it was irrational, and she knew it, but she was prey to the dreadful fear all the same. The fear came from the past, Bernadette knew it but every time she felt perhaps she had dealt with it, it rose up again.
“So, you’re not staying to see Bernadette triumph in court?” Imogen changed the subject, not missing Eve’s hidden thoughts either.
“No, Valentino wants more of the risqué paintings and drawings, and he loved that one I did of you in the corset and heels, with the whip. He says he can sell some more.”
“Really? I’m flattered.”
“I should pay you some of what I get.”
“No. Just do the one you promised for me and D’Arcy without my face being hidden.”
“Yes, I will, I’ll get onto it, sorry things got a bit hectic as you know.”
“Sure, whenever you are ready, it’s OK.”
“We’ll have to get back,” Bernadette said draining her cup, “I’m sorry, darling.”
“I’m sorry too, but I’m looking forward to seeing you later,” Eve told her.
Although Bernadette came home every night and Eve was always there, Eve missed her and was happiest when Bernadette was at home. Bernadette missed her too, but her work was a calling which she also could not deny. Eve would never deny it to her either.
They all stood up to go, and Eve enveloped Bernadette in a lingering kiss.
“I love you, darling.”
“I love you too,” said Bernadette.
With the flash of her radiant smile, Eve was gone.
“So, what were you doing in the disabled toilet?” Imogen said slyly as they walked back.
“How did you…”
“Oh, I don’t miss a thing, darling,” Imogen giggled.
“Eve ambushed me if you must know and then before I could do anything, her fingers were down the front of my knickers.”
“Sounds delicious.”
“It was, oh yes, it was, it was all I could do to stop myself from shrieking at the top of my voice.”
“That would have been one for the gossips,” Imogen laughed.
They entered the courtroom and became serious at once, walking up to their lawyer station to get ready for the fray.
Over on the prosecution bench, one of her old adversaries Riona Robinson nodded in her direction. She was dressed as usual in very high stilettoes and a black skirt suit. Her pristine white shirt and ponytail made her look quite severe. Imogen had remarked on it before and they both wondered if Riona was gay or perhaps had a little bit of the dominatrix in her. However, neither of them was disposed to find out, so it was perhaps destined to remain a mystery.
✽✽✽
The Tipster announced the judge, who arrived looking slightly less fierce than when he’d left. Bernadette hoped he had, perhaps, mellowed out with his cup of tea. He sat down and when the court was settled to his satisfaction, he addressed himself to Bernadette.
“Now then, Ms Mackenna, let’s see what you can do to persuade me not to exact the maximum penalty the law allows on your client.”
Bernadette sighed inwardly, obviously, the tea had had not made Justice Campbell any more congenial.
“Judge,” she began, “My client, Mr Arthur Dooley, is an old man.”
“I can see that, Ms Mackenna and believe me it’s not going to sway my judgement one iota,” he shot back irascibly.
“Yes, Judge,” said Bernadette, rapidly revising her speech in her head.
“Good, so let’s make some progress, shall we?”
“Judge, I know Mr Dooley has been before this court a number of times.”
“More times than I’ve had hot dinners, Ms Mackenna,” said the judge interrupting again. There were amused chuckles from the public benches.
Bernadette furnished him with a hard stare. It was one thing to make amusing remarks, but she didn’t take kindly to the judge’s attitude. He caught her look and subsided a little. “Very well, Ms Mackenna, continue, continue.” He waved her on and gave an exaggerated sigh and it seemed as if his mind was certainly already made up.
Arthur Dooley shifted uncomfortably in the dock. Bernadette glanced over at him. He was nothing more than an old man with the gift of the gab. He wore a suit which had seen better days, and which he claimed was his wedding attire for the time he married his much-lamented deceased wife. Arthur plied his trade by picking up what
he assumed to be junk, repairing it in a half-assed fashion and selling it on. He left a string of dissatisfied customers including one who had, this time, reported him to the Garda. He had apparently taken some boxes from outside a local white goods store which contained brand new cookers. Unable to believe his luck, he had sold them long before the retailer discovered his loss. However, when arrested, Mr Dooley claimed he had thought they were being thrown away, as usually anything on the pavement was fair game. However, the law took a different view and he was now up before the judge on a charge of theft.
The case was being tried in a summary hearing before the judge in the District court. As a rule, Bernadette did not take such cases, but she knew Arthur Dooley of old when she was a junior counsel and she took it pro bono for old times’ sake.
“Judge, Mr Dooley, in his defence, and as he has stated under oath, took the goods in question in good faith…”
The judge appeared as if he was going to say something and then seeing Bernadette’s expression subsided. Bernadette could be quite intimidating at times regardless of whether one was a judge or not.
“He testified it’s his mode of Operandi to take away things people have discarded and recycle them. In that respect, I submit he is offering a helpful service. However, in this case, he admits his wrongdoing and has pled guilty. He was overcome by the discovery these were new cookers, Judge. Imagine a man in his position, it would be the equivalent of the holy grail. The temptation was far too great.”
She stole another glance at her client who had composed his features into something suitably remorseful. Arthur Dooley was a man of around sixty or so years, with a shock of grey hair and prone to wear a flat cap. He possessed a silver tongue which had enabled him to sweet talk many a person into buying something they did not want. Apparently, in his youth, he had also talked his way into the beds of many a young lady too.
“My client did not resist arrest, and he didn’t attempt to deny it per his statement which this court has heard. Whilst I agree he has committed several offences in the past, surely the circumstances and his remorseful attitude must go some way towards mitigating your intended sentence. Mr Dooley also has an ageing feline to which he is extremely attached, and who would no doubt suffer were he to be placed in detention for this offence. I am sure, Judge, you can’t wish an animal to be put in such distress.”