Swindled (The Sandlin PI Series Book 1)

by S. E. Shepherd

  17

  Lottie – 2014

  If she had to see Vincent’s face one more time, she’d scream. He was always there. How could her dad remain so calm? It still drove her nuts to think that he was allowing these ridiculous little tea parties with that creepy man. You might put up with it, Daddy, but there’s absolutely no reason why I have to accept him.

  ‘Darling, come in. Tell us how your ride went.’

  ‘I can’t. I need to change.’

  ‘Just pop in for a minute. Vincent would love to say hello.’

  Fuck Vincent. On second thoughts – don’t! ‘It’s hot. I’m sweaty. I need a shower.’

  ‘We won’t mind. Will we, Vincent? Besides, ladies glow. It’s the horse that sweats.’

  Pouting like a child, Lottie entered the lounge. The usual tea things were conspicuous by their absence. In their place were two tall glasses, a small ice bucket, some tonic and a half-empty bottle of gin. It was clear from her mother’s rosy cheeks that the bottle had been full not so long ago.

  ‘On the gin now, I see.’ Lottie tried to give Vincent her sternest look.

  ‘Well, as you say, it’s hot, darling.’

  ‘Would you like one?’ Vincent rose from his chair. ‘I’ll get you a glass.’

  ‘Don’t bother. I’m not stopping.’

  ‘It’s really no bother.’

  Of course it’s not, you horrible little man. They’re not your glasses and this is not your house!

  ‘It’s so refreshing.’ Catherine took another sip of gin and tonic. ‘Such a good idea of yours, Vincent.’

  Great. So now we’re providing the shifty bastard with free booze on demand. Lottie glared hard at Vincent, trying to convey how much she despised the way he was manipulating her mother.

  He returned her stare with an annoyingly attractive smile.

  There was something inherently sexy about the symmetry of his face, and she simply hated how long his eyelashes were. Loath to admit it, Lottie could see why her mother was going gaga over this man. Aware that she’d dropped her stony glare, and not wanting to give him any encouragement whatsoever, Lottie switched her gaze back to her mum. ‘Don’t drink too much, will you? You know how alcohol gives you a headache. It doesn’t agree with you, now you’re older.’ There, put that in your pipe and smoke it. She’s old. You’re making puppy dog eyes to an old woman. What do you think about that, Mr Robinson?

  Once Vincent had left, and Catherine, now a bit the worst for wear, had gone for a lie down, Lottie went back to the lounge and took a couple of enormous swigs of gin from the bottle. The strong liquid nearly choked her, but it also lessened her anger just a little. Collecting up Dixie, her King Charles spaniel, she set off into the woodlands that surrounded Mulberry House.

  Dixie was digging in the soft mud and Lottie was soaking up the sun through a gap in the trees. It felt good on her face. She reminded herself not to sit there for too long. As great as a tan was, the sun was ageing, and she needed to keep her beautiful looks and youthful complexion. She intended to marry well – some gorgeous, rich man who would keep her in the manner to which she was accustomed. With any luck, he’d also be a bit of a beast in the bedroom. She smiled to herself. Now that was something to look forward to.

  ‘Hello, baby.’ It was the stable lad she’d had a fling with; he’d snuck up on her.

  What the hell is he doing back on our land?

  ‘What you smile for?’ he asked.

  ‘What am I smiling for?’ She emphasised his mistake. How else would he learn?

  ‘Yes, you were thinking about me, I guess. No?’

  Lottie laughed. ‘You’re a bit sure of yourself, aren’t you?’ God, his English is as appalling as ever; no wonder he chose to stay silent most of the time we were together.

  ‘I think I could make you smile again.’

  ‘I’m bloody sure you could, but I’m not going to let you.’

  He stepped closer. She caught the scent of his usual body spray; he always smelt nice, fresh and citrusy. His handsome face was just a few inches away from hers. ‘Why you not let me, baby?’

  ‘Because you buggered off last time. Remember? You shagged me, and you buggered off.’

  ‘I don’t know this “buggered”.’

  ‘Oh, for God’s sake. We. Had. Sex.’ She enunciated each word slowly. ‘And. You. Left!’

  ‘Mr Thorogood did not like that I have sex with you.’

  ‘Of course he didn’t.’ That was the point, idiot boy!

  ‘But … you like?’

  ‘I like, yes. I like a lot.’ Lottie was aware of a warm feeling developing in her groin. It wasn’t just the gin; this was more than a slight glow. She was remembering the week she’d spent with this man. Her body was remembering too, and it was responding to his closeness. God, the ache. It was almost unbearable. ‘Why did you go? Did he pay you, or threaten you?’

  ‘Both.’

  ‘Thorough by name and thorough by nature!’

  ‘I don’t …’

  ‘Forget it.’

  ‘So … I make you smile again, yes?’

  She wanted to say no. How dare he just wander up to her and expect a shag? But the ache was getting worse. She gazed into his eyes. They were dark, almost black. He was similar to Vincent. Except he wasn’t a fucking midget.

  Without waiting for her response, the stable lad put his arm around her waist and pulled her towards him. His mouth met hers in a full, hard kiss. Her head was forced backwards, narrowly missing a branch. His tongue invaded her mouth. As before, his enthusiasm for the task at hand was evident. She kissed him back with the same ferocity, desperate to appease the ache. The hand that had rested on her waist moved upwards. Placing it on her breast, he squeezed.

  ‘Ouch. Careful.’

  ‘Sorry. I can’t help it. You are so … full.’

  ‘Get lost. I’m not fat!’

  ‘It’s a good thing, baby. Full is good. Especially here.’ He squeezed again, slightly less painfully this time.

  Reaching down between his legs, she cupped the bulge. ‘Ahh yes, full is good.’

  Within a few minutes of meeting, they were on the ground, naked from the waist down. Prior to discarding his jeans, the stable lad had produced a condom from his pocket. Lottie had insisted on this; the last thing she needed was to fall pregnant by this nobody. As he entered her, she felt a mixture of excitement and pain. They were lying on an assortment of mud and wood chippings. ‘Ouch!’

  ‘I’m big, yes?’

  ‘Don’t flatter yourself. There are bloody twigs digging into my bum.’

  ‘So…?’

  ‘Can we stand up, please?’

  ‘Yes.’

  They rearranged themselves and were soon leaning against a tree. With every thrust, Lottie moved closer to her climax. Dixie was oblivious to their antics. Being slightly deaf, she took no notice of Lottie’s cries.

  As the momentum built and the tree shook, Lottie’s orgasm hit, sending pleasure waves through her body. Arching her back, she closed her eyes and threw back her head, once again narrowly missing a branch. As soon as hers was over, he gave into his and came loudly, calling out a mixture of English and foreign words, finishing with, ‘Yes, baby!’

  They retrieved their clothes and dressed in a hurry. Now the urgency was over, Lottie gave thought to how ridiculous they must’ve looked. Examining the tree, she was amazed to see that it wasn’t as robust as she’d first imagined. ‘Jesus, we’re lucky we didn’t end up back on our arses!’

  ‘Huh?’

  ‘Forget it.’ She kissed him briefly on the lips. ‘You’re fun to shag, but not my first choice for an intelligent conversation.’

  The stable lad didn’t seem to take offence. ‘I come here another day? I make you cry out like that again?’

  ‘Maybe.’

  ‘But … you like it.’

  She took his face into her hands. Gazing into his soulful eyes, she whispered. ‘Yes. I like it.’

  With the act o
ver, there was little else for them to do. As she’d already noted, he was not a great conversationalist. She gestured for Dixie to come to her. He picked the dog up and made a fuss of her, muttering, ‘You are beautiful dog. Yes, you are. Yes, you are.’

  He was a nice guy. Anyone who loved animals wasn’t all bad in Lottie’s book.

  ‘I have to go, baby. I see you some other time?’

  Lottie repeated her previous answer, ‘Maybe.’ She wandered off towards home, Dixie at her heels. I can’t stand the way he calls me baby!

  18

  Hannah – 2018

  Chippy swung the car around. At the same time as they left the car park, Hannah spotted several officers swarming out of the station and heading towards patrol cars. They’d all heard the call out. They’d recognised the panic in their colleague’s voice. She was hurt, and she needed help. Now!

  Hannah and Chippy were slightly ahead of the others, making them the first on the scene. Almost before they’d come to a stop, Hannah was out of the car. It didn’t take a genius to work out what had happened. Dawn was on the ground, clutching her belly. The larger of the two women, whom Hannah had previously thought were men, was sitting on a wall, smoking a joint. In between them, on the ground, was the top of a smashed bottle. The other half of the couple, Sandy or Bev, was nowhere to be seen. Hannah ran to her colleague; it was clear she’d been stabbed in the guts. It was difficult to tell just how serious the wound was. Dawn was pressing as hard as she could, and what blood there was, was rapidly being washed away by the torrential rain. Hannah knew an ambulance had already been called. She’d heard the message on the radio only seconds after Dawn’s 10/1 call.

  Turning to her colleague, she tried to reassure her. ‘An ambulance is on its way.’ Helping to press down on the wound, she could see that Dawn was losing consciousness. ‘Stay with me.’

  ‘I … it wasn’t…’ Dawn’s voice was faint.

  ‘It’s fine. You’ll hear the ambulance any minute.’ Hannah felt the adrenalin rushing around her body. Nothing in her training had prepared her for this. Seeing someone fading fast before her eyes. Dawn was young. She was kind. She was a PCSO. This should never have happened to her.

  Chippy joined her. Kneeling on the ground, he asked, ‘Barton, can you hear me?’

  Dawn’s eyes were closed. Her breathing was shallow.

  ‘Barton! It’s Chippy. Keep it together, sweetheart. The ambulance is coming.’

  ‘It wasn’t …’ Dawn’s head flopped to one side.

  ‘Shit!’ Chippy placed his ear on her chest. ‘She’s stopped breathing.’ He pressed down on her chest. This was followed by some breaths into her mouth. Returning to her chest, Chippy once again pressed hard, all the time shouting, ‘One, two, three, four, five. Come on, Barton!’

  Only moments behind them, the ambulance now arrived, along with all the other police cars. Hannah took her blood-soaked hands off the wound and stood back, allowing the paramedics access to Dawn. She watched as a senior officer approached the woman who remained seated on the wall. Still and silent, she smoked her joint and stared off into the distance.

  ‘You’re Bev? Beverley Collins, right?’ She was well known to most of the older coppers in the area.

  The woman nodded.

  ‘Can you put that out, please?’

  ‘Sure.’ Bev obliged. Dropping the joint on the floor, she stepped on it with her boot.

  ‘Right, Bev, you’ve got to tell me what happened here, okay?’

  ‘I thought she was going to take Sandy away. She can’t take my Sandy. I won’t let her.’

  ‘Right. Given what you’ve told me, Bev, it sounds like it was you who stabbed my colleague with a bottle. I’m going to need you to come with me.’ The officer linked arms with Bev and pulled her to a standing position. All the time, the rain continued to pour down on all of them.

  ‘I can’t come now. I need to wait for Sandy. She’ll be back soon.’

  ‘Beverley Collins, I’m arresting you …’ The officer was taking no chances. The cuffs came out, and within seconds Bev was being bundled into the back of one of the vacant cars. Hannah couldn’t be sure, but it appeared that Bev either had special needs or was simply off her face on something. She seemed not to fully understand the severity of the situation. She genuinely thought she was going to be allowed to remain sitting in the rain, awaiting the return of her partner.

  The paramedics had stabilised Dawn and were moving her into the ambulance. Within seconds it sped off down the road. The sirens roared. The noise echoed around Hannah’s head. She could hardly believe that less than a quarter of an hour ago, she and Chippy had driven past this spot and seen Bev and Sandy arguing.

  Inspector McAlpine, the most senior officer there, stepped forward. ‘Right, I need statements,’ he bellowed. ‘Someone knows what the hell happened here, and I want answers!’

  19

  Vincent – 2014

  Vincent had stepped up his visits to see Catherine, and she was lapping it up. But something strange was going on with the daughter. During the early visits, she seemed to be able to see right through him, deep into his soul. Her look said, I know what you are, and it sickens me. He’d not flinched, making sure to stare back as hard and as determinedly as she was. But it had been a bitter transaction, and one he hadn’t enjoyed. Then, the last couple of times he’d been to the house, he’d sensed a slight thawing. Lottie had been far more pleasant. She’d accepted a drink and joined them in the lounge. She’d smiled at Vincent and asked a couple of reasonable questions. At first, he had assumed she was simply curious, possibly hoping to catch him out. At the least it had seemed she was trying to join in with the conversation between Vincent and her mother.

  But today, as the afternoon had progressed and yet more G&Ts had been consumed, Lottie’s tone had changed even further. If he wasn’t mistaken, he’d say she was flirting with him. He was rarely wrong; he knew when a woman was interested. Admittedly, they weren’t usually quite this young or this attractive, but he knew a come-on when he saw it.

  This was most definitely a new wrinkle. What’s your game, you little minx?

  ‘Can I get you another drink, Catherine?’ Vincent reached for her glass with one hand and the ice bucket with the other.

  ‘No!’ Her hand shot out and retrieved the glass from him.

  ‘Oh!’ Vincent was taken aback. She seemed annoyed.

  ‘I mean … no thank you. I think maybe … maybe I need a lie down. It’s very warm and I’m tired, and perhaps you ought to go.’

  ‘Certainly, my dear. You’re not wrong about the heat.’ Vincent made a performance of fanning himself with his delicate hand, and began to rise from his chair. She was definitely annoyed. Perhaps she’d also spotted the flirting. It would be best if he got himself out of here.

  ‘I’ll have another one, please, Vincent.’ Lottie handed him her glass.

  ‘Well, umm … if your mother is tired, perhaps …’

  ‘She can go and lie down. Surely that doesn’t mean you and I can’t have another drink, does it?’

  ‘Well, as long as Catherine …’ Vincent sat back in his chair, checking with Catherine. The last thing he wanted to do was disappoint her. He’d put a lot of work into this scam. He still wasn’t sure where he was going with it. All he knew was, Catherine was salivating at the sight of him and was ready to eat out of his hand. If he could just persuade her to try to get some money out of her husband, he’d be home and dry. And now this. The daughter was making eyes at him across the table and he had no idea how to react. Catherine was clearly not happy, but he couldn’t be out and out rude to the daughter – it might be a test. Besides which, she was hot, and his dick was twitching. He was only human after all.

  20

  Lottie – 2019

  Why was everyone staring at her? Lottie wiped her face and checked her hand. Was there a mark? Leftover make-up? Had she somehow drawn on her face? Every person she passed in the supermarket stared at her and gave her an od
d look. She made her way to the cosmetics section, where, using the small mirror above the lipsticks, she checked her face. Nothing.

  She continued to shop, placing one cheap item after another in her trolley, all the time keeping track of the total. She hated that part when the checkout person asked for the money, and she knew she didn’t have enough. There were only so many times she could pretend she’d left her card at home and was shopping with the paltry amount of cash she had in her purse, before someone would work out the simple fact that she was just plain poor.

  As she placed the cheap tomato and basil sauce and a packet of dried pasta into her trolley, she added £1.20 to her total, and simultaneously worked out that the simple pasta meal would do her for three nights. Walking past the pet aisle, she turned her head away. She couldn’t bear to see the dog treats; they reminded her of the day she’d had to leave Dixie with her friend, Jennifer. It hadn’t been her choice, but the flat she was renting wouldn’t allow dogs, plus she simply couldn’t afford the pet insurance. ‘Fucking Vincent Robinson. You are an asshole!’

  A lady by the milk fridges gave her a filthy glare, and it was then that Lottie realised why she was attracting so much attention. She was muttering to herself. The looks she was receiving were not due to a mark on her face or something wrong with her hair. She wasn’t keeping count in her head; she was talking aloud. All the way around the store she was repeating the total amount of her spend and cursing the man who had put her in this situation. Shaking her head, she willed herself to keep quiet, and managed to finish her shopping in silence.