Read Dead Sweet: A D.I. Turnbull mystery Online
Authors: Sally O'Brien
Dead Sweet: A D.I. Turnbull mystery
Dead Sweet
Sally O'Brien
Smashwords Edition
Copyright © 2014 Sally O'Brien
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All names, places and characters in this book are fictional and any likenesses are coincidental.
There are always so many people who I have in mind to thank when I write a book; not necessarily because they have anything to do with the book, just because it's a good place to thank people.
With that in mind I would like to 'shout out' to some people in my life; firstly book related. Thank you to Jack Frost for your help with Mother Be the Judge and for proof reading Dead Sweet, I blame any typos on you. Thank you to Lisa Waterston for once again reading my book and letting me know what you think, your opinion is always valued, as is your friendship. Thank you to Denise Sewell my sister whom I love dearly and who 'tingled' when she read a certain part of this book.
Yvonne and Eddy O'Brien, I love you dearly, you have been parents to me for many years and I will always be grateful to you for your love and companionship.
Natalie O'Brien, a wonderful sister-in-law, couldn't ask for anyone better; love you too x x
Ciara, Kellie and Sean Crowe - the Irish contingent in the O'Brien clan - love you all x x
Denise, Marc, Bethany and Bradley Sewell, my Saturday family, love you dearly and enjoy your fun and friendship x x
Daphne, Gwyn and Archie, the Welsh Stars in my life; I always enjoy your love and laughter x x
Jamie Dobson - a nephew and a friend - may the stars grant all your wishes and I hope that lottery ticket is a winner. Love you x
As always my husband and children who remain my life's blood and who I will always adore, protect and scream at when they are driving me mad.
A big thank you to everyone who bought 'Mother Be the Judge' and thank you for also buying 'Dead Sweet' you will find that it's a completely different book; I hope you like, or hate it as much as you did the first.
Love to you all x
Mother Be the Judge
I am born; safe, secure, quiet.
I am loved; warm, blanketed, wanted.
I am nurtured; educated, watered and fed.
I grow, I leave the nest; my ambition strong, my confidence stronger.
-x-
I am different; not the same, I don't fit in.
I am laughed at, derided, pitied and shunned.
WHY?
-x-
I am fat, I eat too much; my arms wobble.
My belly juts, my legs rub; my jaws work overtime.
I feel empty, the love forgotten, the warmth grows cold; the quiet is filled with tears.
I eat to fill the hole.
I eat to feel whole.
I eat because food is the only answer.
-x-
Then the light, an epiphany; a consciousness of being.
Food is not love, food is petrol; energy which must be burned.
I learn, I move, I burn, I shrink; I rise from the ashes whole.
Smaller in stature, but larger in life ready to join the masses.
-x-
Still they hurt me, different words but the pain is the same.
I'm a loser, too late for redemption; still a freak, still ugly, still shunned.
-x-
Now I anger, now I turn, now I curse you all to burn.
You the sinner, you the witch; you the perfect figured bitch.
My rage it bubbles, it sallies forth,
With an urgent need, a righteous force.
To purge the world of the perfect ten,
To make them feed and be whole again.
To make their juice a blood red sea.
To make them hurt as much as me.
The girls are fat with evil, time to feed them with love.
Thursday July 4
th
2013
18:00 hours
Mandy put the finishing touches on her make up. She had spent the last two hours showering, exfoliating, shampooing, conditioning, shaving and plucking; squeezing spots, brushing on foundation, highlighting under the eyes, defining the eyebrows and lining the eyelids; giving a smoky look to her overall appearance. Mandy assessed herself in the mirror; the time spent had been worth all her efforts. Her green eyes smouldered back at her and her lips pouted suggestively; sparkling in their glitter gloss coating. She picked up the ceramic hair straighteners and spent the next twenty minutes ironing out every kink in her peroxide blond hair; sectioning her hair and watching the steam rise as the hot plates slid along the still damp hair where she hadn't dried it thoroughly.
Mandy could feel bubbles of excitement popping and fizzing in her stomach; each wave of anticipation flowing through her arms and ending with a delicious tingle at the tips of her fingers. As Mandy had been walking along Olinsbury High Street that morning, she had been approached by a talent scout for a modelling agency. The agent, Terry, had told Mandy that she was just what the agency was looking for. Mandy's look was apparently very current and men paid good money to look at photos of girls as pretty as her. The only catch was that Mandy was expected to pose semi-naked as the agent explained sex sells and that's how she would make it in the glamour model industry.
Mandy still couldn't believe her luck. Since leaving school she had put her heart and soul into creating her model persona. She had saved hard, working countless shifts at the local cinema, to be able to afford the 34 double D's which now sat proudly on her chest; nipples constantly erect, highlighting what Mandy believed to be her greatest achievement. She spent hours tanning her body, bleaching her hair and practicing her pout and often paraded herself up and down London's high roads hoping to be spotted. Today her dreams had come true and any minute now Terry would be knocking on Mandy's front door to take the test shots which would catapult Mandy into the lifestyle she had only ever imagined whilst flicking through celebrity magazines; superimposing her face onto their pictures in her mind and holding fake interviews with imagined news reporters.
Mandy adjusted her breasts inside her bra, making sure her nipples were in alignment, then applied yet another coat of lip gloss - you can never have too much - and liberally sprayed herself with a musky smelling perfume she was convinced made her smell as sexy as she looked.
Just as Mandy picked up her blusher brush to touch up her cheeks once again, the doorbell rang loud and clear, heralding the arrival of Mandy's future.
Mandy stepped into her seven inch heels, black with thousands of tiny Swarovski crystals attached. They sparkled with every step she took, click clacking their way along Mandy's laminate floor up to the front door. Mandy opened the door, one hand on her slender hip, shoulders pushed back so her boobs were in all their silicone glory.
"Terry, hi," Mandy enthused, her bleach whitened teeth gleaming in her broad smile.
"Hi Mandy, sorry I'm a bit late. I've been so busy at the office." Terry smiled at her, "Ready to change your life?"
"Hell yeah," Mandy laughed, "Come in Terry, can I get you a drink? That's a lovely suit you're wearing, where shall we sit? What do you want me to do?"
Terry chuckled and raised a hand to stop Mandy's gushing. "I'd love a cup of tea, thanks. I got it in the sale. We can sit in the front room for now and let's talk before I get you to do anything." Terry answered all of Mandy's questions in order.
Terry walked into the flat, wheeling a suitcase into the hallway.
"That's a large bag." said Mandy. "What have you got in there?"
"Props and cameras," Terry replied. "There are lots of different lenses we use and it's good to use props so the photos are spiced up." Terry smiled, "Sex sells."
"Yeah I know; men are dirty bastards." Mandy stopped speaking, she realised it wasn't very professional to make comments like that. "Sorry, no offence," she said.
"Oh don't worry," said Terry. "If we're going to be working together we should be able to talk about anything."
Mandy sighed with relief and directed Terry into her living room. She grabbed a handful of magazines which were strewn on the sofa and removed a dirty mug and plate from the coffee table. Mandy's flat was never as immaculate as Mandy; she was far too busy polishing her own appearance to put any effort into polishing her abode.
"Sorry about the mess," she apologised, backing out of the room into the kitchen. "I'll make you that tea," she called back to Terry. "How do you take it?"
"White please," Terry informed her.
"Would you like any sugar?"
"No, I'm sweet enough." Mandy chuckled at Terry's reply, she was surprised Terry had refused sugar as a round belly had shown Terry to have a sweet tooth, it was that or alcohol; two things Mandy made sure she steered clear of as a swollen stomach was the last thing she needed if she was to become a successful model.
Mandy stood nervously waiting for the kettle to boil. She didn't know what to say to Terry so decided to keep quiet and let Terry start any further conversation, that way she couldn't put her foot in it and ruin this one chance at success. The kettle shook with the ferociousness of the bubbling water inside and Mandy poured out two cups of hot water onto her favourite tea bags, poured in a drop of red-topped zero fat milk and gave them a stir, then picked one up in each hand, fixed her soon to be moneymaking smile on her expertly painted face and tippy toed her way back to where Terry was sitting on the sofa, now wearing blue latex gloves.
Mandy gave Terry a confused look, she couldn't understand the need for gloves, but as she had no experience in the modelling industry, she thought maybe it was standard practice and didn't want to look stupid in front of her new agent, so kept her mouth shut. Mandy couldn't help but stare at Terry's hands though; their bright shiny blue appearance in sharp contrast against the grey suit Terry was wearing.
"Sorry about the gloves," Terry said, "I'm actually a little bit O.C.D. I can't touch mugs and stuff without my gloves on."
"Oh, my mother had that; she was a nightmare." Mandy cringed as she realised she was possibly offending again. She hoped she could keep her mouth shut long enough to at least get her test shots done. At the rate her mouth was going, Mandy wouldn't have been surprised if Terry got up and left, choosing not to work with such a verbally challenged idiot such as her. Mandy smiled at Terry as she passed the tea over, "Sorry," she apologised. "Brain doesn't engage sometimes. "
"Hey, this is the modelling industry," Terry reassured her with a wink. "It's about looks not intelligence, don't worry about it."
Mandy was a little upset now; she didn't see herself as stupid. It was nerves that were making her so insensitive, not unintelligence. Mandy resolved to make sure Terry knew that she wasn't daft; common sense went a long way and one thing Mandy did know about was how to handle her affairs. Terry would have a surprise if the object was to make a mug out of Mandy, she thought to herself.
Mandy sat on her sofa opposite Terry, holding her cup in two hands and sipping tentatively from the hot liquid reservoir. She waited for Terry's further direction, wondering what other little gems of insults would escape her mouth in the forthcoming hours. Laying the tea cup on the black coffee table, Terry began the process.
"Now, we have to take some test shots here today."
"Yes." Mandy agreed.
"The magazine I sell my pictures to more than any other is 'Bonded'. Do you know what that is, have you ever heard of it?"
No, thought Mandy, but her mouth said different. "Yes, I've seen it in the shops."
"Yeah it's a Lad's Mag, very popular. It has pictures mainly of bondage, S and M simulated sex pictures; you know the kind of stuff." Terry began to open the large bag, so big Mandy wouldn't have been surprised if a male model had popped out of it.
"What, porn?" Mandy asked, a growing sense of horror creeping up inside her. She wasn't sure she was ready for anything like that. No footballer would want to marry her if she had that kind of skeleton in her closet.
Terry chuckled, "No, not porn. This is mainstream Lad's Mag; commercial stuff; women only in pictures."
Mandy breathed yet another sigh of relief. She made a mental note to check out all the Lad's magazines on sale as she needed to know her new trade inside and out.
"How can I do S and M on myself?" she asked, flummoxed by what the answer could be, but laughing to hide her confusion.
"Ha, yeah, we don't expect you to actually
do
it." Terry laughed along with Mandy. "We just put you in poses and clothes which suggest it's going on and then our readers just use their imagination." Terry paused, "If you know what I mean?"
"Yeah, yes of course." Mandy wanted to get on with it now. She could feel sweat forming under her many layers of make-up and didn't want to melt away in front of the person who was about to make her the next best glamour model in Britain.
"What do we have to do?" Mandy asked.
"What type of bed do you have?" Terry enquired.
"Oh it's lovely. I put pink silk sheets on and some of those crystal scatter cushions. I might have to remove my teddy though." Mandy laughed, "Unless we put a gimp mask on him."
Terry ignored Mandy's comment, becoming business like in manner.
"Right, if we can get you onto the bed in just your underwear, the punters love it if we handcuff you to the bed; that's how they get the bondage feel. Are you ok with that?"
Terry had turned away from Mandy and returned with two pairs of fluffy handcuffs in hand. Mandy became uneasy; she was aware she had let an unknown entity into her home and was now about to allow herself to be handcuffed, leaving her very vulnerable in the hands of a stranger. Mandy struggled with her subconscious which was screaming at her to say, "No," and take control but her overwhelming desire to be a glamour model and her hunger for fame and fortune fought a strong battle and assumed power over any doubts Mandy had. Her desire to succeed opened Mandy's mouth in agreement and walked her to her bedroom where she removed her clothing, lay on her silky bed and allowed herself to be handcuffed to the brass rails of her beloved, comfortable bed.
"Looking a bit fat there Mandy." Terry said to her.
Mandy looked down at a stomach which was flat and tight from the two hundred sit ups she religiously performed morning and night.
"Fat?" Mandy asked. She thought Terry had a cheek considering the enormous bulk which waddled itself around Mandy's bed. "I'm not fat," Mandy insisted.
"Yeah you are; it's disgusting." Terry came right up to Mandy's face. "And look at your hair; it's all in rat's tails. I don't know how I'm supposed to work with this." Terry flicked a hand at Mandy's shining locks. "These pictures are going to need a
lot
of airbrushing."
Mandy couldn't understand why Terry's manner had changed so much. When they had met in the High Street, Mandy had been given nothing but compliments. Terry had called her stunning, said she had the perfect figure and the face of the next best thing. The whole point of Terry's arrival at the flat was to photograph what had been described to Mandy as perfect.
Blinking back tears of disappointment, Mandy turned her head away from Terry's scrutiny.
"Don't turn away from me fat girl," sneered Terry, "We need to be happy in the photos, come on now; show me your pretty face."
Desperately wanting the life on offer, Mandy swallowed the lump which blocked her throat and turned to pout at an expected camera. Terry's face was still in place, peering intently at Mandy. A hand travelled up into view and was holding a large plastic funnel.
"What are you going to do with that?" asked Mandy, she couldn't imagine how a plastic funnel played any part in sexually suggestive photos for a Lad's magazine.
"I'm going to feed you fat girl." The words were spat in Mandy's face. The funnel was jammed violently into Mandy's mouth. She tried to bring her hands up to her mouth so she could remove it, but the handcuffs bit viciously into her wrists, reminding her of her bindings. Mandy tried to push the funnel out of her mouth with her tongue but Terry's gloved hand kept a solid hold on the funnel, forcing it deeper into Mandy's throat and causing her to gag constantly. Mandy didn't have time to consider her situation, she was in blind panic and her brain was concentrating on contracting the stomach and throat muscles in an attempt to eject the funnel which remained steadfast in her mouth.
Tears streamed from Mandy's eyes and muffled screams bubbled around the plastic in her throat. Mandy could hear the sound of what seemed to be powder, being poured onto the plastic of the funnel. She stilled herself as a sense of survival told her that not to struggle may in some way save her. She smelt strawberries and began to feel the tickle and fizz of what she now thought to be sherbet coming into her throat and down her gullet. The nozzle of the funnel made it impossible to swallow and the sherbet fell into Mandy's lungs as well as her stomach.
Mandy knew she was about to die. She kicked and bucked, fighting against her handcuff restraints, but Terry held on tightly to the funnel and began to chant over and over, "Fat girl, fat girl, fat girl, fat girl."