seen the pictures in the evening paper and the last thing they wanted was to be recognised.
When they returned to the flat, she helped him take off his shirt and put on the pyjama jacket. Then she unbuckled his belt and unzipped his trousers. Everything was under control until she stooped to pull them off. His erection was immediate and unmistakeable, although she chose to ignore it, folding his trousers and carefully putting them on a hanger with his shirt. As she opened a wardrobe he managed to hook the thumbs of his bandaged hands over the waistband of his underpants and pull them off. Willing his erection to go away, he turned towards the head of the bed. She was moving around by the wardrobe for sometime, but his erection stayed solid. He felt her hand rest on his shoulder and give it an affectionate rub. ‘Shall we put these back in your bag?’ He put his hands down to cover his recalcitrant member and turned to face her. It was the first time he had seen her without glasses – and without any clothes on. She moved in close and he put his arms around her.
As he took another sip of tea, Lydia came back into the bedroom, wearing a long lime green dressing gown and her glasses; no longer the insatiable sex kitten of last night.
‘Have you finished Pete?’
He drained the cup. She took it and put it on the dressing table over by the curtained window, shrugged off the dressing gown, took off her glasses and snuggled under the duvet.
‘Now where were we?’ She unbuttoned the pyjama top and slithered up to give him a long lingering kiss. Then he felt her breasts brushing his chest as she eased down onto his extreme erection. He recalled the look of sheer joy on her face as she achieved full penetration the previous evening and there it was again, followed by a soft moan as she gyrated her hips before lifting up to tease herself on the tip of his penis. Peter would have preferred to be on top, but they both knew that would be difficult until his hands healed. She was doing all the work and it felt fantastic. Her breasts pressed hard against his chest and he carefully wrapped his arms around her as she began slowly lifting up and down the full length of his penis. With Julie, he would have been worried about finishing quickly before she wanted to stop, but he had no such fears with Lydia, who proudly told him every time she was about to come, or shoot, as she put it. Now he knew he could hold back and increase her pleasure, although it was difficult when she started grinding her hips against him as she was now.
‘I’m shooting Pete. I’m shooting!’
She sat up and looked at him as she used her legs in conjunction with her hands pressing on his chest to move her hips frantically up and down and from side to side.
‘Oh Pete! Oh Pete!’
He felt her juices run down his penis and her body tremble. He waited patiently for her to start again. She was happy to go on and on and could come three or four times to his once.
Eventually, she lay deliriously exhausted in his arms. She stroked his muscled chest and whispered. ‘You’re my man Pete; my hero.’
He kissed her soft fragrant hair and chuckled. ‘And you, Lydia are my shooting star.’
She giggled and felt for his penis.
DI Cardhew drove through the gates to Laburnham Court to find several police vehicles parked outside and DC Leadbetter waiting for him. A guy in a royal blue jacket and cap, saluted and directed him to a parking space. She introduced him as Charlie Bell, the concierge of Laburnham Court. It was Charlie who found the body. Cardhew shook his hand and told him he would want to speak to him later.
‘So where’s the body Leadbetter?’
‘In the penthouse sir.’
Charlie Bell showed them to the lift and pressed the button. As the doors closed Cardhew relaxed. ‘Any suspects yet Jennie?’
‘Not as far as I’m concerned sir, although sergeant Kimberley believes he’s solved this case – and a suspected arson at the Meltcon factory.’
Cardhew smiled. ‘My word, he has been busy. Who suspects arson, the fire service?’
‘Don’t think so. It’s an accusation from a friend of the Chief Super’s. He’s accusing that rugby guy who ran out through the blaze carrying a female colleague.’
The lift door opened. They walked past a community police officer, standing guard at the open door to the penthouse. ‘Cardhew grunted. Well, you never know your luck; they could both get promoted – or, of course, as so often happens, they could both be barking up the wrong tree.’
DC Leadbetter smiled to herself, what was it his mother had said about barking up the wrong tree? She pointed out the double door security arrangement; although both doors had been locked on open to maintain easy access. They paused to put on, scene of crime overalls, before she led him through the long room and into the bedroom where the forensic team were working. Without a word, she carefully removed a sheet covering the naked body of a young woman laying across the bed. Cardhew looked down at her: he always felt sad when he looked at a dead body. Some people in the force became immune over time, but he never had. Even in death and trussed-up like a chicken, there was no denying that this young woman had been a great beauty. He would say she was about the same age as Jennie. The whiteness of the rope used to bind her, stood out against her lightly tanned naked body and whether by chance, or deliberately, it was tied in a way which enhanced her breasts. Her eyes were wide open and a gag, pulled tightly into her mouth gave the impression that she was laughing at death.
‘It’s difficult to see sir, but there’s a vibrator hidden between her thighs. It was still working when we came to investigate.’ She pointed to it with a gloved finger.
He nodded his understanding, not wanting to look too closely. ‘How long do those gadgets normally run for?’
‘Perhaps a couple of hours, but this one works off the mains. I switched it off as soon as I arrived. It’s plugged in over here.’
She moved over to a bedside table and pointed to the plug. He was drawn to her lithe, animal grace as she crouched down. It was amazing that she could look so attractive in a shapeless overall. The vibrator started to hum. She looked up at him, prepared to switch it off again. He scratched at his left greying temple, an unconscious action she had become accustomed to when he was thinking.
‘Is that the only way of switching it on or off?’
‘No sir. There’s a switch on the vibrator, which also controls the speed.’
‘Do you think she could have switched it on and off by herself?’
‘Not after she was bound. Her hands are pulled up her back and as you can see, the rope is very tight.’
‘You said the switch also controls the speed, presumably that means vibration speed? If anyone other than DI Cardhew had been pursuing this line of questioning, she would have felt uncomfortable, but she knew him well enough to know he would get no salacious kick from her answers; he simply wanted to know.
‘Yes, I don’t know what speed it’s set on, but I assume either she selected it, or the person she was with did it for her. If she did make the selection and switch it on after inserting it, someone else must have been on hand to tie her up.’
Cardhew scratched at his left temple again. He was pleased Jennie was assisting and not Kimberley; she had treated the dead woman with respect, covering her and switching off the vibrator would never have occurred to Kimberley. She was right, this had all the indications of a sex game which had gone tragically wrong.
‘Do we know who she is?’
‘The concierge identified her as Lucinda Lovebrace, the owner of the penthouse.
‘What time did he find her?’
‘About 6.30am.’
‘What made him come up here at that hour?’
‘We called and asked him to check. A drunk came into the station claiming to have strangled her. Sergeant Kimberley has arrested him on suspicion of murder. Probably claim it as yet another crime he has solved single handed.’
He noted the irony. ‘Is there any doubt?’
‘Could be;. I thought we should leave everything as it was until you arrived.’
Apart from a natural attraction, Cardhew liked Jennie because she was quick to learn and thorough in searching for the correct result. Unlike Sergeant Kimberley, a graduate in criminology, who was fast tracked; thought he knew
