betrayed my love. You didn’t have the courage to choose a love that would have exalted us both. No, you ignored your real self and went for a stupid little bimbo, that trashy tart. Don’t you realize? I’m the only one in the world who understands, really understands, what you need. I could have given you ecstasy, but you chose the safe, pathetic option. You didn’t have the nerve for a marriage of true minds and bodies, did you?’
Drops of sweat were trickling down his temples, in spite of the coolness of the cellar. I moved forward and stroked his body, running my hand over his pale, muscular chest, fluttering my fingers over his groin. He flinched convulsively, his dark-blue eyes pleading. ‘How could you betray what I know is in your heart?’ I hissed, digging my nails into the soft flesh above the wiry curls of his dark pubic hair. He tensed against me. I thrilled to the sensation. I took my hand away and admired the scarlet half-moons my nails had left in his skin. ‘You know you belong to me. You told me. You wanted me, we both know you did.’
Another groan from behind the gag. Now the sweat had spread to his chest, droplets matting the thick dark hair that tapered down his abdomen into a thin line pointing to his cock lying curled and useless as a slug between his legs. Even though it was obvious that he didn’t want me, the very sight of his vulnerable nakedness aroused me. He was beautiful. I could feel the blood flowing faster, feel my flesh expanding, ready to take him, ready to explode. I hated myself for that weakness, and I turned away before he could see the effect he was having.
‘All I wanted was to love you,’ I said quietly. ‘I didn’t want it to be like this.’ My hand strayed to the handle of the rack and caressed the smooth wood. I turned my head and gazed at Adam’s beautiful face. Slowly, infinitely slowly, I started to turn the handle. His body, already taut, tightened against the pull of the straps. His effort was wasted. The gears on the winding mechanism multiplied my small exertion till it equalled the strength of several men. Adam was no match for my machine. I could see the muscles of his arms and legs bulge, his chest heaving as he struggled for breath.
‘It’s not too late,’ I said. ‘We could still be lovers. Would you like that?’
Desperately, he moved his head. There was no mistaking it, it was a nod. I smiled. ‘That’s more like it,’ I said. ‘Now all you have to do is show me you mean it.’
I ran one hand over his damp chest, then rubbed my face against the fine dark hairs. I could smell his fear, taste it in his sweat. I buried my head in his neck, sucking and biting, nibbling his ears. His body stayed rigid, but I felt no trace of an erection beneath me. Frustrated, I pulled away. I leaned over him and, in one swift agonizing movement, I yanked the tape away from his mouth.
‘Aagh!’ he yelled as the adhesive ripped his skin, rasping on the faint stubble. He licked dry lips. ‘Please, let me go,’ he whispered.
I shook my head. ‘I can’t do that, Adam. Maybe if we were really lovers…’
‘I won’t tell anyone,’ he croaked. ‘I promise.’
‘You betrayed me once,’ I said sadly. ‘How can I trust you now?’
‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I didn’t realize… I’m sorry.’ But there was no penitence in his eyes, only desperation and fear. I’d played this scene so many times in my head. Part of me exulted that I’d predicted the shape of it so well, that the dialogue was almost identical to the scenario I’d conjured up. Part of me felt an inexpressible sadness that he was exactly as weak and faithless as I’d feared. And yet another part of me was almost uncontrollably excited by what lay ahead, whether love or death, or both.
‘It’s too late for words,’ I said. ‘It’s time for actions. You said you wanted us to be lovers, but that’s not what your body’s saying. Maybe you’re scared. But there’s no need to be. I’m a generous person, a loving person. You could find that out for yourself. I’m going to give you one last chance to atone for your betrayal. I’m going to leave you now for a while. When I come back, I expect you to be able to control your fear and show me how you really feel about me.’
I let him go and walked over to the camcorder. I took out the tape that had been recording our encounter and replaced it with a fresh one. At the top of the stairs, I turned back. ‘Otherwise, I’ll be forced to administer punishment for your treachery.’
‘Wait!’ he howled desperately as I disappeared from sight. ‘Come back,’ I heard as I dropped the trapdoor into place. I expect he carried on yelling. But I couldn’t hear him. I went upstairs to Auntie Doris and Uncle Henry’s bedroom. I slotted the video into the player I’d set up on the chest at the end of the bed, switched on the TV and climbed between the cold cotton sheets. Even if Adam didn’t want me, I couldn’t escape my desire for him. I watched him on his rack, my hand stroking me, touching myself with all the skill and ingenuity I wanted from him, imagining his beautiful cock swelling in my mouth. Every time I reached the point of orgasm, I stopped, gripping myself tight, forcing myself not to come, to save myself for what lay ahead. After I’d gone through the video for the fourth time, I decided he’d had long enough.
I slipped out of bed and went back downstairs. I looked at him spread-eagled on the rack. ‘Please,’ he said. ‘Let me go. I’ll do anything you want, but let me go. I’m begging you.’
I smiled and gently shook my head. ‘I will take you back to Bradfield, Adam. But first, it’s time to party.’
6
People begin to see that something more goes to the composition of a fine murder than two blockheads to kill and be killed – a knife – a purse – and a dark lane. Design, gentlemen, grouping, light and shade, poetry, sentiment, are now deemed to be indispensable to attempts of this nature.
Work might not solve anything, but it was a great diversionary tactic. Tony stared into the screen, scrolling down through the tabulated information he’d gleaned from the police reports. Satisfied that he’d incorporated everything useful, he switched on the printer. While it chattered and stuttered its way through the print-out, Tony opened another file and started to sketch out the conclusions he had drawn from the raw data. Anything, anything to keep her at bay.
He was so absorbed in his work he barely registered the doorbell’s first peal. When it rang out a second time, he looked up, startled, at the clock. Five past eleven. If it was Carol, she was earlier than he’d anticipated. They’d already agreed that there was little point in beginning their trip before midnight. Tony got to his feet, uncertain. Since she knew his phone number, it wouldn’t be too hard for Angelica to discover his address too. He arrived at the front door just as the bell rang for the third time. Wishing he’d installed a peephole, Tony cautiously inched the door open.
Carol grinned. ‘You look like you’re expecting Handy Andy,’ she said. When Tony said nothing, she added, ‘Sorry I’m a bit early. I did try ringing, but you were engaged.’
‘Sorry,’ Tony mumbled. ‘I must have accidentally left it off the hook from earlier. Come on in, it’s no problem.’ He found a smile from somewhere and led Carol into his study. As he reached his desk, he slid the phone back on the hook.
Carol registered that the phone’s engaged signal had been no accident. Deduction: he didn’t want to be disturbed, not even by the answering machine. Probably, like her, he couldn’t resist a ringing phone. She glanced at the sheets of paper sitting on the printer table. ‘You’ve obviously been busy,’ she said. ‘And there was me thinking you were taking your time answering the door because you’d gone for a quick zizz.’
‘Did you get some sleep?’ Tony asked, noting that she looked more clear-eyed than she had done earlier.
‘Four hours. Which is about ten too few. I’ve got a couple of bits of information for you, by the way.’ She filled him in succinctly on the results of her visit to Scargill Street, leaving out Cross’s hostility.
Tony listened carefully, making a couple of notes on his pad. ‘Interesting,’ he said. ‘I don’t think there’s a lot of point in pulling in the sex offenders again, though. If Handy Andy’s got form, it’s more likely to be juvenile offences, petty burglary, minor violence, that sort of thing. Still, I’ve been wrong before.’
‘Haven’t we all? By the way, I checked with the HOLMES room, and there’s no one there who knows anything about statistical pattern analysis, so I’ve asked my brother to see what he can do for us. Should I just give him a set of the photographs, or is there some other way of presenting the raw data?’
‘I suppose there’s less chance of a mistake if he works directly from the photographs,’ Tony said. ‘Thanks for sorting that out for me.’
‘No sweat,’ Carol said. ‘Secretly, I think he’s quite chuffed to be asked. He thinks I don’t take him seriously. You know, he writes games software, I do the real thing.’
