Authors: Ricki Thomas
Now her head was shaking the intrusion of her private life away. “No. No, Mum. I lied, I lied about my age, I led him on, and I wanted him as much as he wanted me. It wasn’t all his fault.”
The conversation was over for now. Hope left the table, switching the kettle on, searching for normality. She had nothing more to say, just a welling, burning hatred of the handsome man who slept peacefully in her bed, waiting for the children to leave for school before he sneaked out. She busied herself, the chores unnecessary yet calming. After five minutes, her delicate features now set, stony and vengeful, she passively prepared two mugs of tea, dispensing the stewed brew from the teapot. She took them in one hand, mounting the stairs quietly, reaching her suite, bringing the refreshing drinks to share with her lover.
Rick was still deep in sleep, his chiselled face resting on her pillow, as gorgeous in silence as he was animate. She laid the cups on her bedside table, sitting gently beside him, watching his manly chest, naked and glistening with testosterone filled sweat. Her dainty fingers crept silently to the duvet, softly dragging it down, exposing his manhood, the same one that had penetrated both her and her daughter, and she felt revulsion deep inside. She took the flaccid penis and placed it carefully in her mouth, her tongue working, flicking, arousing, and soon he was in a half-sleep, groaning with desire, unsure if the sensation was his imagination tricking him. His question was answered when he felt the hot mouth leave his body, soon to be replaced by another hot wetness, and Hope writhed on top, bringing him to the point of ecstasy.
The sensations amazing, Rick breathed heavily, in, out, pushing his groin as far forward as possible, deepening the impact, and he knew he was there, he was there, he was about to explode. She pulled away, and his eyes sprung open, confused.
“Babe? Why did you stop? I was about to…”
She leant forward, seductive eyes flashing sex at him, and cupped his face tenderly. “Rick, I’ll marry you, and I’ll finish the job, but you need to agree to do something for me before either happens.”
She dipped her hips, inserting him again, and his relieved groan was loud, changing back to confused when she lifted away once more. He couldn’t stand the teasing any longer, he would do anything for Hope, and he gasped. “Babe, anything. Tell me what it is, I’ll do it, I promise, just sit the fuck back down.”
The teasing was relentless, she was in complete control, resisting his grasping hands, the fingers clawing at the soft skin of her buttocks to pull her back over him. “I want you to kill someone.”
She could have asked him if he wanted a mug of coffee, the impact was as minimal as he cried out his agreement, pulling her towards him, surrounding his penis, bringing on the orgasm. It was explosive, the agonising teasing having intensified every nerve in the area, and it lasted forever. Hope smiled smugly. She had him where she wanted him.
The Awaited Phone Call
Griffin had managed, with a fair struggle, to drag Dorothy’s rigid body down the stairs, now more ungracious in death than she had been in life. Her ample flesh was statuesque on the hall carpet, the nightdress having risen, exposing her recently raped genitals. He was pacing again, to the front door, back to the kitchen door, aware that he needed to hide the body before any of the villagers stopped by on their travels.
His shoulders ached from towing the weight, muscles long unused throbbing in agony, and he stretched, freeing briefly from the pain. What was he going to do with her? He’d have to get her into the car boot somehow, but he needed to clear space in the garage before he could get the car in. He muddled ideas, desperately scrabbling for a watertight solution to where he could dispose of her body. The ringing in the background snapped him back to reality, and the words glowed once more from the crisp white paper in his memory. “You get rid of her, and then we can meet up. I don’t want an extra-marital affair, I want commitment, truth, and love.”
A sudden spurt of energy, the aching instantly forgotten, and Griffin reached for the telephone, grasping it to his ear hastily. “Eva?”
“Have you done it?”
It was the first time he’d heard her voice, and a tingle ran down his spine, the sweetness, the innocence, and his wife’s demise at his murderous hands was suddenly irrelevant. “I did. Eva, I want you. I want you so badly”
“You can have me. I’ve booked you a room for tomorrow in the Cambridge Garden House Hotel, Mill Lane, Cambridge, obviously. It’s room number sixty nine, and you’re booked under the name of John Smith. I’ll come and see you at eight on the dot.”
The line silenced abruptly, and although his erection was still pulsing, he felt irritation with the choice of hotel, being unfamiliar with Cambridge’s ancient streets. “Eva, don’t go.” It was too late, the dial tone rang monotonously in his ear, confirming the end of the conversation. He thrust the receiver down. Not only did he have to get rid of his crime, he now had to find a hotel and the directions too. Without his wife’s controlling swipe to chastise him, he cursed, cursing again before kicking her weighty frame in frustration.
Claudia is Frustrated
“No, I’m sorry, but Miss Brunel checked out three days ago. No forwarding details, sorry.” Teeth gritted, Claudia slammed the phone down, uncommonly rude for the refined detective. She’d been mulling over the statements of the two accusing women, trying to find enough evidence to substantiate an arrest, but there just wasn’t enough, the judge would laugh her out of court. Hope’s witnesses were solid, but only to assess that Griffin Hall had visited the family home, there was no evidence of any sexual contact.
Eva, well, there were no witnesses at all. When she’d questioned the incredulous Reverend, referring to Eva by her childhood name, Eve Rowbottom, the name she’d since changed by deed poll, he was gob-smacked, insisting he’d never heard of the girl. If he was acting, lying, he was putting on a spectacular performance, his ignorance was believable. But Eva had seemed so sincere in the interview, pained and hurting.
Quite simply, if she couldn’t find someone to back up Eva’s story, the arrest wasn’t going to happen, not unless another victim appeared. And now Eva had checked out of the hotel leaving no forwarding address or number, disappearing into nowhere.
In an unplanned move, Claudia grasped the receiver again, checking her file for the number. It rang a couple of times, and she held her breath, willing the call to be answered. “Hello.”
“Hope?”
“Uhuh.” The voice on the other end of the line was stressed, Claudia had clearly called at a bad time.
“Hope, it’s Detective Inspector Claudia Horseferry here, have you got a minute?”
Hope sighed, her disinterest niggling Claudia. “Just a minute, I’m just going out, I’ve got an appointment. What’s up?”
And for the first time since she dialled the number, Claudia realised she had no idea what was up, why she was calling. “Look, if we want an arrest we need some solid evidence, and we don’t have any…”
Her tone was both shocked and annoyed. “What! What about this Eva woman? I thought she’d sealed the case, that’s what you told me.”
Her face reddened, ashamed, she had indeed promised Hope that, and she was wrong to have. The best thing was to come clean. “I know, and I shouldn’t have, maybe I was a little excitable, I want to see him go down for what he did to you both as much as you do. I need you or Eva…” Claudia halted, her words disappearing into silence. She’d just referred to the other accuser by name, and that was so unprofessional which shamed her. Desperately retracing the conversation in her head, she had a strange recollection that Hope had said Eva’s name first, prompting her to do the same. Was her imagination playing tricks? It must be, she’d never revealed the other woman’s details before, of that she was sure.
She was impatient. “You need me or Eva what?”
Claudia drew a sharp breath, placing herself back in the conversation. “I need one of you to come up with more witnesses, I just don’t have enough, we need something more solid, but the other lady has moved from the hotel she was staying at with no following address. It’s down to you, Hope, unless I can find her.”
Hope didn’t speak, but her breathing was audible on the line. Eventually. “I’ve got to go. I’ve got to get to my appointment.” The dial tone purred and Claudia replaced the receiver, now completely hopeless.
She slammed her fist against the desk, her frustration intense, grabbed her mug and marched to the kitchen, thirsty. Behind her, the phone on her desk chimed and she deliberated whether to answer or not, finally choosing the former when the caller continued to let it ring. “Detective Inspector…”
“It’s Eva Brunel, the hotel told me you were looking for me.”
Claudia gasped at the coincidence, momentarily blessing the hotel’s efficiency. Then it dawned on her that she hadn’t left her name during the conversation with the Cocked Hat Hotel, and this time she knew for certain that her facts were intact. So how did Eva Brunel know that she’d been trying to find her?
A Temporary Resting Place
The doorbell flooded terror into Griffin, he knew that if the visitor were to look through the letterbox they would be able to see Dorothy’s fat, lifeless body. He forced his voice to stay level. “One minute, please.” Grasping the oversized ankles, strength fuelled by the panic surging through him, he dragged the body away from the stairs, finding it easier to move her once she was on the shiny kitchen tiles. Glancing around furiously, aware that the visitor may decide to peer through the huge kitchen window at any time, he pulled the door of the cramped, well stocked pantry open. With a final heroic effort, he managed to haul the body inside, folding the resistant arms and legs, slightly looser now the rigor mortis had begun to relax, to fit. He leant his body against the door, giving it a hefty shove, and the latch clicked. He’d done it, she was out of sight.
Wiping his hands together, the exertion showing in his breathing, he placed his hands on his hips, gasping until the breaths were regular once more, and he stepped towards the front door, arranging a serene smile.
“Ah, Mrs Higgins. How lovely to see you. Do come in.”
Hope Needs Charity
She dialled the number, it wasn’t often she asked for a favour from her selfish sister, but she really needed the help now. Helen, who usually helped out with the childminding was unable to help her best friend out as she was trapped in Putney, sorting through cupboards and boxing what she was keeping, having exchanged contracts the week before. “Charity?”
“Oh, Hope, you won’t believe what’s happened! I’m pregnant again.”
“Great news, great news, I’m pleased for you, you’ll have to look after yourself now, make sure this one stays put.” The comments weren’t heartfelt, Hope was too busy concentrating on her own agenda.
“Oh, I will, I’ve stopped eating wheat, sugar, dairy…”
The rudeness wasn’t like Hope, and Charity was taken aback by the interruption. “Charity, look, I’ll talk to you about this on Sunday, but for now I need to ask you a favour, I’m in a bit of trouble and I need the kids to stay at yours on Saturday night.”
Charity didn’t speak for a while, and when she did she was negative. “Hope, I can’t. The stress of an extra three on top of Ava, it might bring on another miscarriage. I’m sorry, but I just can’t take the risk.”
“Fuck that, Charity!” The fierceness of the fury knocked Charity backwards physically, her eyes widened in amazement at the side of her timid sister she’d never seen before. She scrabbled for a seat. “How many times have I had Ava when you and Keith go swanning about the country, about the world. I have never asked you to mind the kids, never. This is the first time in my thirteen years as a mother when I have asked you to reciprocate the favours I do for you. Now, my children are fucking staying at your house tomorrow night whether you fucking like it or not. I’ll drop them off at twelve tomorrow, and we’ll draw a line under this. If you really feel you can’t cope, get one of your fucking nannies or fucking babysitters in, and I’ll cover the cost.” Hope slammed the phone down, grinning widely. It wasn’t often she saw red, but it made her laugh when she did.
Rick stepped forward, she hadn’t been aware that he was in the room. “Whoah, babe, are you due on or summat!” The slang her children also used grated at her, she was ready to snap again, but she held her breath, willing the correction to his speech away. “What’s going on tomorrow? Why are you taking the kids to your sister?”
Hope raised her hand tenderly to his face, stroking the short bristles that defined his strong chin. “I’ve booked us a romantic night away, just the two of us. A big bed, room service, mini bar. Just us. To celebrate our engagement.”
Grinning, he tugged her close, pulling her body against his naked chest, the black hairs tickling her nose, the muscles firm and sexy. It occurred to her that her daughter had stroked this chest, had felt this torso, and instantly she resisted his affection. “No time for this, sorry, I’ve got to get to my appointment with Dawn, I’m late already.”
Rick raised his hands in the air, aware the rejection was an excuse, and he felt concerned. “Babe?”
Gritting her teeth, Hope leaned forward, pecking him on the lips and thrusting a sheet of paper into his hand simultaneously. “I forgot to ask you, by the way. I’m playing a joke on someone, and they would recognise my voice, so I wondered if you could make this call while I’m away, it’s all written down, what I need you to say. You’ll do it, won’t you?”
His eyes flashed sex at her. “Only if you promise to give me another blow job later!” He winked, she forced a smile, grabbed her keys and left.
Session Sixteen
She bustled in, Efficient Hope, her day planned to the last minute, the counselling today just another chore. “Sorry I’m late, the traffic was a nightmare and I was late leaving anyway. I had that policewoman who’s dealing with the abuse on the phone, she reckons they haven’t got a strong enough case to arrest him after all. I’m furious, I thought it was all cut and dried.”