Sometimes a body would be found in a hotel room, but usually those hotels were in a shadier part of town. And when female bodies were found in such circumstances, they didn’t look like someone’s mother-in-law.
The call had come in that morning, and it hadn’t been from the hotel, it had been from the Assistant Commissioner of the Met, personally. They had called him directly, and by the time he had arrived, a hand-picked team was already working the room. They had wanted him, and he had to put his foot down to include Sergeant Evans in this investigation.
DCI Norris glanced around the room. Around him the coroner was already examining the body, ‘Mrs Smith’, lying in bed, naked and strangely contorted. Beside the bed was a box, the lid slanting, which appeared to contain several massage wands and personal toys.
Forensics were already working in the room and the stretcher for the body was waiting in the corridor. The whole room was buzzing with activity. Norris looked curiously at his sergeant, wondering what she would make of this. He had never seen a crime scene processed so fast and thoroughly.
She stood beside him, one of her chiselled eyebrows disappearing beneath her black curls, a curious sparkle in her ice-blue eyes. “The concierge said the maid found her like this. There were no signs of a struggle, no one heard anything last night.” She furrowed her brow. “Was she someone important? Or do we have a suspect who is someone important?”
“I have no idea, but I think we are here to find out.” Norris shrugged.
Evans nodded. “What happened here?”
It was the coroner, Dr Linwood, who now turned to answer her question. “Well, it looks like she’s been poisoned. I’ve already told my team to bag the contents of the minibar and anything else edible in this room. Of course, she could have ingested the poison earlier and elsewhere. So far I have no idea what it was or how quickly it killed her. But I can say one thing for sure.” He looked at the box and grinned. “Her last hours on this world were filled with fun! And since I didn’t find a single wound on her body, I’m pretty sure she consented.”
He picked up the boy with gloved hands. “And I don’t think she was alone, we found seminal fluid.”
Evans took a closer look at all the different toys. “If she used them all. She was in for a long night. Maybe I should write down some types and manufacturers?”
Norris turned to her. “Do you think this is the murder weapon?”
“No, I think it would make a nice evening with a glass of wine and Barry White.” She grinned.
Linwood giggled. “I can give you a list later if you want to,” he winked at her, “reconstruct the events leading up to her murder.”
Norris cleared his throat to get their attention back, “Did you…” Norris nodded to the mobile phone in another plastic bag. “Get any information from it?”
Linwood grinned. “Of course. I was able to use her fingerprint to unlock the screen. No calls or texts last night. But lots of numbers and conversations. A quick scroll revealed nothing salacious though. If she arranged a date last night, she didn’t do it on her mobile”.
There was a commotion at the door and two coroners’ assistants entered with the stretcher, followed by Mr Nelson.
They had spoken to Nelson earlier; the head concierge had met them at the door when they arrived and had revealed the secret of why he had called the Assistant Commissioner instead of 999. Shrugging his shoulders, he had simply said, “That’s the way we do things here”.
An explanation that had left Norris even more confused. “Sir, I have directed the coroner’s van to the underground car park, the men are here to collect Mrs Smith.” He nodded to the woman on the bed and Norris was convinced that wasn’t her real name. He heard a rubber glove snap behind him and turned to see the smirking face of Dr Linwood. “Very well, I’ve just finished. I suppose the sooner you get rid of us the better.”
Nelson nodded politely and turned his attention back to Norris and Evans. “And I took the liberty of sending for our head of customer relations and main switchboard operator. Miss O’Riordan worked the late shift on the switchboard last night and the computer shows that she took at least one call from this room. She is expecting you in her office. “
“Thank you, Mr Nelson.” Norris looked at his sergeant, “perhaps we should leave the crime scene to the professionals and talk to Miss O’Riordan?”
Evans nodded, noticing the unfamiliar Irish name rolling off his tongue. She should try to get him to pronounce the name of her Welsh hometown. She grinned. “Where do we find Miss O’Riordan?”
“Her office is in the basement, if you go past the bar and enter the private staircase, go down one level and it’s the third door on the left. It is also marked Switchboard. I’ll be back at reception, if you need anything else, please don’t hesitate to call.
They watched him leave the room as the assistants began to pack the body.
“Do you need us here?” Norris closed the notebook he was holding and looked at Linwood.
“No, go ahead, we’ll finish here. I’ve just received word that a courier is already on his way to collect the first samples. This is certainly a fast crime scene!”
Evans and Norris nodded in agreement. “I wonder what’s going on with her. Have you found any personal information, her real name? She can’t be a Mrs Smith.”
The doctor shook his head. “No passport, no driving licence, no business cards, and at first glance there was no name on her mobile phone.
“Ok, we’ll check out that phone operator. As soon as you have something for me…”
“I will call you.” Linwood finished Norris’ sentence.
The door to the switchboardroom was open. Norris stopped in the doorway and Evans almost bumped into him. He heard her gasp as she looked past him and grinned.
He had learned some time ago that they both had a very similar taste in women. And the woman sitting sideways on the comfortable sofa at the back of the room fit their type perfectly. Her shoulder-length auburn hair framed her chiselled profile in soft waves. Her skin was as white as porcelain, and the dark green jumper and khaki trousers contrasted with her skin in a way that made her stand out in the bright, light-coloured room.
She seemed to have chosen her clothes wisely this morning.
They stood there, rooted to the spot. Both gazing at the woman, who seemed oblivious to their arrival. She had one leg tucked under her. Her arm resting on the back of the cream-coloured sofa, she was kneading her full lower lip between her thumb and forefinger, seemingly lost in thought.
Norris cleared his throat audibly and tapped on the door frame.
“Miss O’Riordan?”
“Yes?”
With a start, she jumped and turned in their direction as he entered the room.
“I’m DCI Norris, this is Sergeant Evans. I trust Mr Nelson has told you what has happened?”
She stood up, her eyes wandering vaguely between them. She extended her hand in their general direction and took a step towards them.
“Yes, hello. I’m Chiara O’Riordan. Terrible what happened last night, I’m shocked!”
He smiled as he detected the faint irish lilth her name had foreshadowed, but there was something about the way she looked at them, standing there with her arm still outstretched.
Evans nudged him and he crossed the room to take her hand. Her skin was soft and silky, but her grip was firm and confident. Releasing his hand, she turned a few degrees to where Evans was now standing beside him, holding her hand up again, waiting for the other woman to shake it. He saw the flicker of recognition on his Sergeant’s face. “Good morning Miss O’Riordan, I’m Sergeant Bronwyn Evans.” She had noticed too and was now staring deep into the other woman’s eyes. Her eyes were an amazing green-blue, almost turquoise, but she had trouble focusing on Evans’ face.
A smile flickered across her face as the Sergeant spoke. “Please have a seat.” She gestured at the sofa and armchair which formed an informal seating group.
“You’re blind?” Norris asked cautiously as he walked over to the chair.
“Almost.” She nodded as she turned to retake her seat on the sofa. Evans waited for her to sit before she sat down next to her.
“Retinitis Pigmentosa, in case you want to Google it later.”
Her voice was calm and she didn’t seem to mind sharing such personal information. No wonder she was a switchboard operator, her timbre combined with a slight accent made for a sensual telephone voice that could probably smooth over more than one heated complaint. Norris nodded at Evans, who silently opened her notebook.
“What can you tell me about Mrs Smith? Mr Nelson said she called you?”
There was an aura about her, it seemed to Norris that she had made up her mind about something, she took a deep breath and leaned forward, turning to face him fully.
“I called her an escort. And it wasn’t the first time.”
“Go on?”
“She was a regular. Some of our guests trust our confidentiality and our good connections. She was one of them. From time to time, she would book a room when she was in town on business, and she knew to call me.” She cleared her throat, “about company for the night.”
“You run an escort service out of the basement of this hotel?” Norris’ jaw dropped.
“No, I don’t. But I know who to call. And the fact that I am discussing this so openly with you should make it clear to you that these people are above suspicion.
“I would prefer that you leave it to me to clear people of suspicion.”
She nodded. “This hotel serves the thinnest of the upper crust, like statesmen and dignitaries.”
“That explains the Commissioner’s call.”
She nodded.
“I cannot tell you the details but the woman I called is a personal friend of mine and she handled the actual request.”
“Call her.”
“She, and whoever she sent to Mrs Smith is innocent, trust me.”
“Call her and after we talk to her, we will decide for ourselves.” Norris looked at Evans, who had made a few notes in her book.
Miss O’Riordan pulled out a smartphone and held it to her ear as her fingers touched the screen at lightning speed. Norris could hear the phone’s AI voice reading the buttons back to her, but he could barely understand a word due to the amazing speed.
“Put her on speakerphone, please.”
He noticed how reluctantly she pressed the button on her phone, but the sound of the outgoing call reassured him that she had switched to speakerphone.
“Hello dear, feeling desperate again?” A smokey female voice answered the call and Chiara O’Riordan’s face turned a deep tomato red.
Evans chuckled.
“Ruby, I’m sitting here with the police and you’re on speakerphone,” she tried to hide the embarrassment in her voice.
The guttural laughter that came from the phone surprised them. “Do you need an alibi? Did they catch you joyriding again?”
Even Norris had to stifle a grin now. Evans gave him a knowing wink. These two women seemed perfectly at ease with each other. Perhaps Miss O’Riordan was also taking advantage of the services on offer?
“Ruby, this is serious, Mrs Smith was found dead in her room this morning, the police want to talk to you.”
Norris touched her forearm as he leaned forward to get closer to the phone. “Hello, this is DCI Norris, I would like to ask you a few questions, can we meet somewhere?”
There was a moment of silence, then her voice filled the room again, clearer and more businesslike this time.
“Chiara, where are you?”
“My office.”
“Give me half an hour and I’ll be there.” She ended the call without waiting for a reply.
Norris looked quizzically at Miss O’Riordan before it occurred to him that she might not be able to see him well enough to read his expression. Evans had noticed and rolled her eyes at him.
“Miss O’Riordan, why don’t we use this half hour for some more explanations from you?” Norris leaned back.
She sighed. “Chiara, please.”
“Chiara.” Evans nodded and Norris looked at her with a raised eyebrow. She had given the Irish name a Welsh tune and Chiara had immediately turned in her direction.
Sighing, she leaned back into the sofa. “Ruby is a very good friend, as you may have guessed. Her agency provides company for certain guests from time to time. Rest assured, everything is legal and above suspicion.” She crossed her legs carefully and straightened the fabric of her trousers.
As I said, we serve the richest of the rich and the most powerful of the powerful. You mentioned earlier that the Commissioner was involved. I suppose Mr Nelson called him directly. That is the way things are done.
“That was Nelson’s explanation,” Norris confirmed.
Chiara smiled. “You may have noticed that this hotel is quite hidden. We don’t advertise because we don’t need to. Either you know where we are, or you can’t afford us. It’s been that way for at least a hundred years. We’re a bit like a secret society, but there’s one golden rule that we all follow. No one is allowed to break the law. Usually, this rule is important when politicians use our rooms. She shrugged. “Even I wasn’t hired primarily for my skills, but mainly for the fact that I can’t recognise our guests from the tabloids or TV.”
“You mean…” Evans leaned forward now.
“I’ve been typecast, if you like.” Chiara replied with another shrug.
“And how does the hostess service come into the picture?”
“The same as anywhere else. Where people stay, people have needs, even the rich and powerful. We don’t take girls off the street and force them to sell their bodies. The services we hire usually provide companionship. And anything above that is between consenting adults.”
“Of course!” Evans and Norris said in unison and Chiara laughed, “I see we understand each other.” She leaned forward again. “You have to understand, the management of this hotel would be powerful enough to make something like what happened to poor Mrs Smith go away. But they have actively chosen to help do the right thing. I bet there are people up at the head office calling in favours to make your job easier.”
Evans looked at Norris. “That would explain the rush on the lab work and the crowd at the crime scene.”
Chiara smiled knowingly. “This hotel is the last bastion of ethics in the world of the rich and powerful. Mrs Smith was, in a way, part of this hotel’s family and everyone here will work to help you find whoever is responsible.”
“Miss O’Riordan, Chiara, don’t you think we’re capable of doing our job ourselves? Without you or the other people in this hotel telling us who to investigate, or in your case, who not to investigate?”
“True. But as much as I was typecast as the blind woman who manned the telephones, you were typecast as the one who could find the murderer”.
“You were not typecast as the blind woman, dear, and you know it. You were typecast as the omnipotent oracle, able to solve everyone’s problems.”
The voice from the door had startled them, they hadn’t closed the door behind them when they had entered and now there was a small but athletic middle-aged woman standing in the doorway. Even if Norris hadn’t recognised her voice, he would have known immediately that this was Ruby.
She held a file in her hand and entered the room.
“Hello, you must be DCI Norris? And you are?” There was a protective tone to her voice.
“Sergeant Evans, ma’am.”
“Ruby will do.” She gave Evans a wry smile and then looked over at Chiara.
“So, what did I miss?”
It was clear, this woman was used to controlling the room and the conversation. Norris shrugged. Chiara O’Riordan’s words had made him think. Contrary to all the rules of police work, he felt he should let the situation unfold. If Chiara was right, he was just a pawn in a chess game, hopefully to be used for good.
He decided to fill Ruby in on the details of the case, which so far had been few and far between.
She confirmed that her agency had sent someone to keep Mrs Smith company, but to everyone’s surprise, she told them that it had been a woman called Melody, who had been specifically requested by Mrs Smith.
Ruby had sat down on the armrest next to Chiara, keeping a protective eye on her, and now that Norris had finished, she furrowed her brow. “This file is Melody’s information, you can call her, visit her. Interrogate her. But I promise you she left Mrs Smith safe and sound in her room. We know nothing about her either, she valued her privacy. I have spoken to her myself on several occasions, she usually just wanted company, sometimes male, sometimes female. But she was one of the talking customers. If I remember correctly, she was a devout Catholic. Her marriage was basically over, her husband ignored her and all her needs, but she would never divorce him or sleep with another man”.
Norris looked at Evans and noted with approval that she had written down the gist of this monologue.
“Do you have any details about her husband?”
“I’m sorry, as I said, she was very secretive. But since she could afford this hotel and our services, there’s a good chance the family is rich.”
Evans turned to Norris, “Linwood mentioned semen. Then someone must have been with her after Melody, as women do not ejaculate.”
“Well, at least not semen,” Ruby smirked and Chiara nudged her.
“We should check the security tapes.”
“There aren’t any.”
“What do you mean?” Norris looked at her, stunned. “No cameras?”
“Many of our guests prefer their privacy.” Chiara admitted.
“We can still check the CCTV in the area.” Evans tapped her pen on her notebook. “I wonder, Ruby, if, as you said, she was so Catholic she wouldn’t divorce and never sleep with another man, maybe it was a rapist after all?”
Ruby shrugged, “I do not employ rapists, and I am one hundred percent sure that no one could walk in off the street and get into her room. This hotel is a very secure place. Every visitor must be buzzed in at the front desk and after hours only people with the right passwords or codes are buzzed in”.
Chiara nodded in agreement.
“What about the sex toys?” Evans looked at Ruby, “Do you think she brought them? If she was so Catholic, would she use them on herself?” She blushed a little as she saw the look on the other woman’s face. She thought even Chiara was smiling.
“They were hers. She was a very lonely woman, emotionally and sexually. I think she came here for a weekend to use them. I remember her telling me once that she was even afraid to use them at home.”
“Poor woman.” Chiara shook her head.
Norris phone rang and he got up and excused himself to take the call in private.
Ruby watched him go and leaned down to Chiara’s ear. She looked at Sergeant Evans, smiled and whispered something in her friend’s ear.
Chiara smiled and nodded.
Evans snapped her notebook shut a little louder than necessary. “Excuse me, but we are still conducting a police investigation here, whispering secret information to each other is something I cannot condone.”
“Sorry, it was just a personal question.”
Evans opened her mouth but at the same moment, DCI Norris re-entered the room.
“I think we are done here, for now. We will probably have some more questions, soon.”
Norris hadn’t sat down again, and Evans stood up too.
“Thank you for your cooperation.” Norris looked at them, “How can I reach you for any further questions?”
Ruby handed him one of her business cards and Chiara stood up and walked over to her desk, opening a drawer and pulling out a small card. It just contained her phone number.
“Sorry, you’ll have to write my address on here yourself.” She held the card up and Evans took it from her hand, clicking her pen to signal that she was ready to write.
“6B Whitehaven Mansions, Sandhurst Square, London W1.”
“Quite the posh address,” Evans commented with a smile.
“I may be typecast, but I’m not cheap!”
She turned to where Norris had been standing, he had taken a few steps towards Ruby to get the file and apparently, Chiara hadn’t noticed.
“Would you keep us informed of any new developments?”
Evans and Norris looked at each other, now for the first time it was obvious how little she saw.
Norris had to think about the request for a moment. Then he nodded. “Yes, we will.”
Smiling, she turned her head, “Thank you. And you might want to look for her husband around Winchester.”
“Winchester?” Norris scratched his stubbly chin.
“I spoke to her last night, her accent. She was from the Winchester area, and the dialect wasn’t watered down like a Liverpudlian who’d lived in London for, say, the last thirty years.”
“How did you do that?” He sounded stunned.
“How close was I?”
“It’s been twenty-seven years.” He nodded, “We’ll check the mobile for numbers and activity in the Winchester area. Thanks again, bye.” He nodded to them and left, followed by Evans, who mumbled goodbye as she passed.
A few hours later, Chiara O’Riordan was standing in her kitchen when the house phone buzzed. Her doorman announced that a Sergeant Evans was there to see her. She told him to let her up.
She was waiting at the open door when she heard footsteps approaching.
“Good evening, Sergeant.” She smiled at the approaching figure she could just make out in the dimly lit stairwell.
“Bronwyn, please.”
“Off duty then, I presume?” Chiara stepped away from her door to gesture the other woman inside.
“On my way home, but I thought I’d stop by with the latest developments. But only if I don’t interrupt your evening off.”
“Please, come in. I suppose Nelson told you about my day off?”
Evans nodded shyly. When Chiara didn’t react to the gesture, she remembered: “Yes, um, yes. He did. Sorry, I seem to forget immediately that you’re blind, I keep nodding.”
Chiara smiled. “Come in and join me for dinner, I was just about to cook. And I’ll take it as a compliment that you forget I’m blind”.
“Hmm dinner, one of my favourite words.” She stepped inside and Chiara closed the door behind her.
“Please make yourself at home, I just have one very important rule, don’t move the furniture.”
“For obvious reasons,” Bronwyn nodded, “I’ll do my best.”
Chiara smiled, “I only need to finish up and put the casserole in the oven, I’ll be right with you.”
The apartment already smelled of onions and garlic and something fried. It smelled delicious. Evans decided to stay in the living area of the open plan apartment. It felt better not to interrupt Chiara while she wielded sharp instruments and hot pans.
She wandered aimlessly around the living room, looking carefully at the collection of music on one of the shelves. When she heard Chiara approaching, she turned to see her standing in the doorway, searching the room for her. For some reason it felt strange to call out ‘I’m here’ in this woman’s living room.
“I googled.”
Chiara turned to her and smiled, a little grateful it seemed. “You googled?”
“Retinitis Pigmentosa, that’s why everything’s so bright here, isn’t it?”
“Yes.” She walked over to Bronwyn and held up a bottle and two glasses, “Some wine while dinner’s cooking?”
“Why not, I’m taking the tube home anyway.”
Chiara walked over to the sofa and put the bottle and glasses on the table, “Would you like to pour, I usually use my finger to see how full the glass is and I’m afraid the wine might taste of onions then.” She laughed.
“Yes, of course. But be careful, I pour like a Welsh girl.” She waited until Chiara had sat down on the sofa, then handed her a glass.
“You said you had news?”
Evans sat down next to her and nodded, then remembered, “Yes. I have no idea how you did it, but the first results from the forensics team are back. The coroner is still looking for answers, but he also sent a preliminary report. It doesn’t look good for that girl, Melody”.
Chiara put down the glass. “What do you mean? Haven’t you talked to her?”
“She was a bit lower on the priority list, since Mrs Smith had apparently called room service right after the logbook shows Melody leaving. And there was still that semen stain, implying she had male company.”
Chiara nodded. “If she called the kitchen directly, I wouldn’t notice it unless I tried to call them at the same time. But why does it look bad for her then?”
“The coroner’s report mentions a poison that takes up to an hour to kill. She could have poisoned herself and disappeared before it took effect. Also, the semen stain came back as artificial semen, used in a rage of personal toys.”
“Oh.” Chiara looked worried. “Then there’s no male intruder after hours.” She frowned. “What did she order in the kitchen?”
Evans smiled. “Just the breakfast the maid took to her room in the morning.”
Chiara picked up her glass again and sipped her wine thoughtfully. “Does the girl have a motive?”
“Honestly? I don’t know. We’ll pick her up in the morning for an interview.” Bronwyn took a sip as well. “Ah, I forgot to tell you! You were right!”
“I’m always right.” Chiara grinned mischievously. “But what was it this time?”
“Winchester. Smith was her real name after all. Her husband was devastated when the colleagues from the local precinct visited him. He will come up tomorrow, to talk to us.”
“Hm.”
” It seems the Winchester colleagues have been on their toes, as the guy is someone high up in the Catholic Church and involved in cathedral business. And he seemed really shaken.”
Chiara nodded silently. “Has the coroner found out how the poison was administered?”
“Not yet, all the food and drink in the room has been cleared. But it is still possible that the suspect took the tainted items with him. We’re still waiting for some lab results from the autopsy.”
A beep came from the kitchen and Chiara put down her wine. “Dinner is ready, would you mind taking the glasses to the table? I’ve already set the plates.”
“Sure.”
Chiara disappeared into her kitchen and Bronwyn was struck again by the ease with which she moved around her own four walls. She heard the oven open and within seconds a delicious smell filled the room. She waited until Chiara had put the casserole on the table and taken her seat, then sat down and placed her glass next to Chiara’s plate. When she heard the sound, she fumbled with her outstretched fingers until she found the thin stemmed glass. “Thank you.”
“Oh, I must thank you. I haven’t had a properly cooked meal for weeks. But it seems I’m taking someone’s place, or why else did you cook for two?”
Chiara laughed, “When I cook, I usually make enough to last at least another day. My freezer is always well stocked with home cooked meals for the busier days.”
Bronwyn watched in awe as Chiara plated her food. There was something special about her movements, they seemed so controlled, and she was completely focused on the task at hand. Bronwyn was mesmerised.
“Can I ask you something?” Bronwyn managed between bites.
“Go ahead.”
“How did you do that with Norris and Liverpool, what gave him away?”
Chiara shrugged, “Nothing really gave him away. I talk to so many people every day and I’ve been trained to listen for different accents to better connect with customers, it’s just a thing that comes with the job.”
Evans made a sound of amusement. “There’s no way you’re going to get me right.”
“Wales would be too easy. I spent some time there.” Chiara shrugged and grinned. “I can hear the northern Welsh accent, but there’s something mixed in.” She furrowed her brow. “Is it from all the tourists who visit Llandudno? No, one of your parents, with a surname like Evans, probably your mother. Scandinavian? Danish?”
Evans stared at her, mouth agape. “From Copenhagen, yes.”
Chiara grinned proudly. “Now I get to ask one.” She had finished her plate and set it aside, leaning slightly forward on her elbows.
“Shoot.”
“Are you a proper lesbian or more the bi-curious type?”
Bronwyn dropped her fork, swallowing her last bite of her aubergine. “Like. I mean.” She cleared her throat. “How did you know?”
“I asked first, lesbian?”
“Yes.”
A winning smile spread across Chiara’s face as she stood up, glass in hand. “Are you finished?”
“Yes.”
“Is the wine still in the living room?”
“Yes.”
“I see you’re working on cutting down on the nodding.” She grinned. “Let’s get back to the bottle.”
“Yes.” Bronwyn chuckled, “to both.”
She sat on the sofa and watched as Chiara dimmed the lights before turning to face her. “Would you pour again?”
“Of course.”
Chiara sat down close to her and handed her the empty glass.
“What gave it away?” Bronwyn held the glass out to her, and when she didn’t react, she carefully took her hand and placed the glass between her fingers.
“Thank you.” Chiara smiled appreciatively. “Nothing gave you away. At least not to me.” She blushed. “When Ruby joined us, she knew from your first sentence that you were my type, it’s the timbre of your voice and your accent. And she noticed the way you looked at me and the way you kept crossing your legs. That’s what she whispered to me.”
Bronwyn felt her throat dry up and swallowed audibly.
“She told me I turned you on. Was she right?”
Bronwyn nodded, her mouth too dry to speak.
“Are we nodding again?”
“Sorry. Yes.” She swallowed again. “And yes. You turn me on.” She blushed; glad Chiara wouldn’t notice.
She felt a cautious hand touching her thigh and put her hand over it. Chiara’s fingers closed around hers.
“I must warn you I am not very experienced.”
“Explain ‘not very’.”
“There’s no big gay scene in north wales and I broke up with my girlfriend when I moved here.”
Chiara turned her head inquiringly. “Nothing since?”
Bronwyn shook her head.
“You’re shaking your head, aren’t you?”
Bronwyn sighed, “Sorry.”
“Have you ever slept with a man?”
“Never.”
Chiara leaned forward, “What about toys or little helpers?”
“No.” It was only a whisper.
“When was your last orgasm?”
Bronwyn snorted. “It’s been a while.”
Chiara leaned closer, lust in her voice, “Would you like to refresh your memory?”
Another audible swallow was all she got in response, and it was enough for her to lean in for a kiss.
The moment their lips met, Bronwyn let out a soft moan and Chiara needed no further confirmation. She broke the kiss but stayed close to the taller woman’s face. Without looking, she put down the glass she was holding and tried to focus on Bronwyn’s eyes. “Blue?”
Bronwyn nodded again, a shiver running down her spine. This time she was convinced that Chiara had seen her.
Kissing and undressing each other with every step, they made their way to Chiara’s bedroom.
“You’re beautiful,” Bronwyn kissed her fiercely. “Do you want the light on?”
Chiara grinned as she searched the taller woman’s lips again. “How thoughtful.” Her lips curled against Bronwyn’s chin. “But I have better ways of seeing you.” She slowly pushed her onto the bed and crawled over her, beginning to map her body with kisses, licking and nibbling at the more sensitive areas.
“So, you’re a 3D scanner too!” Bronwyn giggled and inhaled sharply as Chiara suddenly cupped her mound, parted her lips and placed a finger against her sensitive button.
“You’d be surprised! The Welsh scene may be lacking but imagine all the things you can learn at an Irish Catholic all-girls school.”
Gently she began to massage her, dipping her fingers in, noticing that Bronwyn wasn’t as wet as she had thought.
“Do you need more time? Or would you like some lubricant?”
Bronwyn sighed. “This is as wet as I usually get. I’ve never tried lube before.”
“Really now?” Chiara rolled over to her bedside table and fumbled for the drawer.
Seconds later Bronwyn felt her lubricated fingers parting her lips again. Chiara knew what she was doing and covered all her sensitive parts with the slippery liquid. Bronwyn moaned. She felt the urge to push against Chiara’s hand as she felt her fingers enter her. She felt her tongue on her sensitive nipples, sucking and kissing her breasts as her fingers played her like a well-tuned violin. Bronwyn already felt an orgasm coming on, and it was as if Chiara felt it too. She slid deeper into her, curling her fingers just as Bronwyn erupted, moaning and panting loudly and mumbling in Welsh.
Chiara kissed her way up to her mouth. “So you’re a loud lover. I like that, but it really has been a while, hasn’t it?” She grinned. Bronwyn was still panting. “Sorry, Chiara bach.”
Still kissing the taler woman, Chiara began to press herself against Bronwyn’s thigh. “Bach, I know, it means little one. But what was that Welsh thing you said before?” Bronwyn grinned. “I’ll tell you later, but something tells me I have more pressing business to attend to. If you excuse the pun.” She kissed her and turned Chiara onto her back. “You know I have a secret superpower too.” She whispered between kisses, slowly working her way down Chiara’s silky body, spreading her legs to kneel between them. Her mouth close to her lips she whispered, “You know, Welsh is my mother tongue.”
Chiara felt the words spoken so close to her sensitive skin and moaned, spreading her legs even further the moment Bronwyn spoke.
The other woman chuckled. “Open sesame.” She lowered herself between Ciara’s legs and cupped her with her lips. Licking and sucking, she flicked her tongue over her clit in a way Ciara had never experienced before. She found her own moans growing louder as Bronwyn expertly licked and “tongue fucked” her.
She came fast and hard and louder than she had in a long time.
Bronwyn crawled beside her, spooning her from the side. “Not so quiet yourself, are you?”
“Welsh seems to be good training for a flexible tongue.” She grinned, panting.
“It’s also quite interesting what you learn at a Catholic girls’ school.”
Chiara smiled solemnly. “Once we got over the Catholic guilt, we had a lot of fun.”
“Say no more, I come from a long line of Methodists.” Bronwyn smiled and hugged her.
“I see you got over it too.” She snuggled closer. Again, her hand wandered down the body of her new found lover. “I think I would be up for another Welsh lesion.”
When Bronwyn awoke the next morning, the sun was rising. There was that warm golden morning light coming through the half-darkened curtains. She looked around, not sure for a moment where she was. Then she remembered.
Chiara was sitting in an armchair, close to the window, a silk robe wrapped loosely around her, the morning sun giving her hair a reddish golden glow, it felt as if she was looking at Bronwyn.
“Good morning, are you watching me sleep?”
“Listening to you wake up.” She smiled. “Good morning. You slept through some messages on your phone. And there’s coffee next to you.”
Bronwyn sat up with a start, “Where’s the phone! What time is it?”
Chiara smiled. “Next to your cup, I looked for it a while ago when it wouldn’t stop ringing. As for the time, not seven yet.”
She picked up the phone and scrolled through the messages. “Sorry, I need to check these.”
“I’ll leave you to it, I’ll be in the kitchen.”
When Bronwyn left the bedroom, Chiara was sitting at the dining table, a healthy breakfast for two in front of her. She smiled. “That looks great, but I’m sorry I have to go, I have to be at the station in about half an hour. Melody turned up there a few minutes ago for an interview. And the coroner has sent the report. This is all very strange.”
“Half an hour?” Chiara looked up, “then you have time for a bit of breakfast.”
“By tube, thirty minutes is cutting it close.”
“Leave it to me, I’ll take you.”
“I don’t think I want you to drive.”
Chiara snorted. “I don’t drive. But I know people who do. You sit down and eat and tell me what’s weird and I’ll get you a car.”
Bronwyn obeyed, smiling and grabbing a crumpet. “Strange is the coroner’s report. There’s no poison in her stomach, but it’s in her bloodstream. Linwood’s last update was that he was checking her again for injection marks.”
“Hm.” Chiara pulled a piece out of her croissant, “Any developments on a motive?”
Bronwyn shrugged and chewed.
Chiara tilted her head towards her, “Was that a nod or a shake?”
“I’m sorry it was a shrug, really I don’t do that on purpose. I just come from an area where three grunts and a shrug is a full conversation.”
Chiara laughed. “We’ll work on that, but now explain the shrug.”
“I don’t know. The missed calls were Norris telling about Melody. Until we talk to the husband and the girl, we don’t know anything.”
“Who would inject a middle-aged, churchgoing woman with poison in an upmarket London hotel?”
“Don’t forget the array of toys she brought, maybe there’s some weird sex cult thing going on.”
Bronwyn giggled.
“Trust me, I would know about the sex cult.” Chiara winked.
“Can I come with you when you talk to Melody?”
“No, that’s police business.” Bronwyn’s voice became stern.
Chiara frowned. “But the Sergeant could meet a friend for tea later and brainstorm with her?”
“21 West Cafe. Around three.” Bronwyn agreed. “But if anyone asks, we just bumped into each other.”
“Something that happens to me quite often.” Chiara grinned. “Thank you.”
“What about my ride to work?” It’s getting late.
Chiara held up her phone. “I can text without looking, I’ve already ordered you a cab, on my account. Tea’s on you, though.”
It was a quarter to three when Bronwyn sat down in the small café, she had seen it last night and remembered the bright interior, something Chiara would hopefully appreciate. She looked around and chose a sunny spot, a small table near the window. That way she would see her when she arrived. She had barely sat down when she saw Chiara approaching. This woman she had met less than 48 hours ago and who already had taken to bed.
It was the first time she saw her in an unfamiliar environment. Once again, she was struck by the poise with which she moved. Head held high, she moved her white cane in front of her, occasionally tapping the kerbstone or navigating an obstacle. Suddenly it was impossible to forget that she was blind. Blind and able. She saw her stop at the cafe, a waitress opened the door and they talked. As the waitress looked around, Bronwyn gestured to her, she nodded and held out her elbow for Chiara to grasp. Holding on to the waitress’s elbow, her cane motionless in front of her, they made their way towards Bronwyn.
“There you are,” the waitress’s tone was friendly as she placed Chiara’s hand on the back of the empty chair in front of Bronwyn.
“Fancy meeting you here!” The Sergeant grinned.
“Oh, what a coincidence!” Chiara smiled as she folded her cane. “Thank you for choosing the only brightly coloured cafe around.” There was a warmth to her voice that made Bronwyn shiver.
“I thought you’d appreciate it.”
“I do.” She pulled out a chair and sat down. Her hands touched the table in front of her for orientation. “Have you ordered yet?”
“No, I thought I’d wait for you, shall I read you the menu?”
“Honey, you could read me the phone book.” Chiara’s voice was a low growl.
“You mean by page two you’ll have your knickers in a twist?”
“A wet twist, dear.” She grinned. “Some tea would be nice, sweet and milky, and what’s the sandwich of the day?”
“Bacon, egg, tomato.”
“Yes please.”
They ordered their food and Chiara sat back. “So how was the day?”
Bronwyn sighed. “Melody’s a nice girl, she’s barely 25 and could be the woman’s daughter, if not her granddaughter. And I think that’s how they bonded. She came in because Ruby told her to. And she talked very openly. Mrs Smith had taken a liking to her, and Smith regularly hired escorts to do just that, to accompany her to exhibitions, concerts, and sometimes a nice dinner. Always all expenses paid.”
Bronwyn interrupted herself as the waitress brought their order. Chiara sat up straight with her hands in her lap until the young woman had finished placing the plates and saucers on the table. She just looked down at the arrangement on the table.
“You’ll let me know if I can help in any way?” Bronwyn sounded uncertain, not sure if or how to offer help.
Chiara smiled gratefully. “If you could just describe to me where everything is on the table and on my plate, so I don’t make too big a mess.” She pointed at the sandwich. Take that as the centre and use a clock face. Like tea on two napkins at 9 and so on.
Bronwyn did as instructed, trying to be as detailed as possible. She watched as Chiara carefully touched various items and then finally began to eat, not without placing a napkin on her lap.
She took a bite of her own sandwich before continuing. “Like I said, they bonded over art. Melody is an art history major, and they connected there. She really mourns the woman. Like a maternal friend. As Ruby had mentioned earlier, Melody confirmed that Mrs Smith had once opened up about being very lonely. Her children were grown and out of the house, and her husband didn’t seem to care much for her company and mostly ignored her. According to Melody, he hadn’t touched her for at least a decade.
“Poor old girl.” Chiara sighed. “Any news on the husband front?”
“Not much. Norris talked to him.”
“I’m afraid I sound like Miss Marple, but something is stuck in the back of my mind. Something about Catholic girls’ schools and Mrs Winter. And I can’t make head or tail of it.”
“Oh God, that does sound like Miss Marple. Although I must say I’d be more than interested in hearing more of your school stories. And I am raising an eyebrow, just so you know.”
Chiara laughed. “Thank you for the verbal pointer. Sadly I have to go to work soon. And I think my night shift might interfere with your day shift.”
Bronwyn sighed. “Can I take you somewhere? Underground or bus? Or will you take a taxi?”
“A nice walk to the bus stop would be nice.” She smiled.
Bronwyn had waited with her at the bus stop but had to take a different route to get back to work, leaving Chiara to get to the hotel on her own.
Back in her office, she switched on her computer and adjusted her headset. Kneading her lower lip, she tried to remember everything she had heard about Mrs Smith, trying to put the puzzle together in her mind.
The Catholic school for girls. She smiled as she remembered last night’s events. She could still smell Bronwyn on herself and the memory of her arched back as she had stroked her G-spot sent a shiver down her spine.
Chiara sat up straight as another piece of the puzzle slid into place.
She switched the headset to her mobile phone and dialled the number she had added to her phonebook today.
“Already missing me?”
“Yes but that’s not why I call. Did Linwood check the lube? I think the poison is in the lube. Tell him to check the vaginal swabs, he certainly did some.”
There was silence on the line.
“Bronwyn?”
“How do you know she had lube?”
“Did he check it?”
“It’s with the forensic lab, they should be testing it, but I haven’t heard any news from them. Anyway, I asked you, how do you know about the lube?”
“A middleaged pious catholic woman, well in or already past her menopause, with a bag of sex toys, of course she had lube!”
The silence was deafening.
“Hello?”
“I’ll get back to you.” Bronwyn ended the call.
Chiara smiled. A thought was forming in her mind, and she might know the right person to ask. Her Fingers flew across the keyboard once more.
“You were right about the lubricant.” The familiar Welsh voice greeted her as she left the hotel through the side entrance.
“And hello to you too, Sergeant.” Chiara smiled in the direction the voice had come from. It was too dark here, Bronwyn’s tall, athletic body had disappeared into the void. “Why are you still awake?”
“Because a certain someone found the murder weapon and we had to investigate.”
“Sorry, not sorry.” Chiara grinned. “Fancy a nightcap?”
“That’s why I’m here, I’ve even arranged to get a car from the motor pool, and I might have brought a late night Corma.”
“You always say all the right things.” Chiara held out her hand.
The feeling of the taller woman’s warm hand taking hers and resting it on her elbow was surprisingly natural and homely.
“Now tell me all the new developments.” Chiara had sat down across from her on the wide dining table. They both had their Corma in front of them.
“As I told you before. You were right. The poison was in the lubricant. Did I tell you, it was nicotine. Good thing I never started smoking.” Bronwyn tore off a piece of naan. “Linwood checked the vaginal swabs, they had the highest readings.” She spooned rice and sauce onto her bread and ate it in one big bite.
Chiara furrowed her brow. “Nicotine, no, you didn’t tell me. Did she die while she was masturbating? I shudder to think.”
“No, she even managed to clean up her toys and put them away, even though the poison got into her bloodstream much faster through the lining of her vagina. She didn’t die peacefully, but at least she had an orgasm, before she died.” Bronwyn sighed. “Well, at least I hope so.”
Chiara took her last piece of naan and wiped her plate clean. “This may put a damper on my plans for the rest of the evening.” She sighed.
“Were you planning to masturbate?” Bronwyn’s smirk was audible in her voice.
Chiara sat back and licked her lips, “No, but I was going to use a lubricant.”
Feeling her arousal rising, Bronwyn clenched her thighs. “I brought a phone book; in case I need to get you back in the mood.” She laughed.
“Now you’re talking.” Chiara grinned. “Did the interview of the husband turn up anything new?”
“He’s an odd one, asked Norris to pray with him for his wife.” She sipped her beer, “To be honest, that guy would be high on my list of suspects, but there’s just no motive.”
“Don’t you think there are plenty of motives, take the divorce issue for example, such a pious Catholic couple couldn’t just get divorced.”
“Yes, but such a pious man could murder?” Bronwyn snorted.
“Did you do a thorough background check?”
“The first check turned up nothing out of the ordinary. We’re doing a second one now. And a unit is checking pharmacies for purchases of nicotine patches and the likes. We asked him to come in tomorrow for a second interview.”
“He’s got a skeleton in his closet, believe me.” Chiara reached across the table and took Bronwyn’s hand. Smiling, she looked down at the groping hand and placed her own on top of it. Bronwyn felt Chiara turn her hand and begin to slowly stroke her palm. She felt Chiara’s index finger slip between her ring and middle fingers, moving slowly back and forth. “I see you have found your own way of non-verbal conversation.”
Chiara leaned forward, “is it working?”
Without letting go of her hand, Bronwyn stood, “Why don’t we go to bed and find out?” she stepped closer and slowly pulled her to her feet.
“Finally!” Chiara grinned.
“Your knickers in a wet twist?”
Their hands still intertwined, Chiara slipped them under her waistband and slowly guided Bronwyn between her thighs, pressing her fingers between her already wet lips.
“I don’t understand how I can have this effect on you.” Bronwyn pushed her finger deeper into her opening. A soft moan was Chiara’s only response. Pressing against her, she slowly led them towards the bedroom.
This time they took their time, undressing slowly, exploring each other’s bodies again. Smiling, Chiara noticed the wetness between Bronwyn’s legs and took her partner’s hand to feel for herself. “See how wet I make you?” She whispered grinning against her cheek and moaned when she felt a finger rubbing her clit. “You’ve made me wet, now make me come, please.” Bronwyn moaned.
“Shh, not so fast. I want to have some fun with you first.” She kissed her way down to the larger woman’s breasts and began to nibble and kiss them. “You have incredibly beautiful breasts.”
Bronwyn moaned and pressed against Chiara’s hand. “And it turns you on when I play with them,” she grinned and bit her nipple gently. Bronwyn whimpered. Chiara crawled closer, careful not to lose the hand between her legs that was relentlessly massaging her clit. She knew she wouldn’t last long, but she also knew it would only take one twist to make Bronwyn come with her. And she knew that this would only be the first orgasm of the night. She allowed herself to let go, grinding against Bronwyn’s hand as she sucked on her nipple and pushed her fingers deeper inside, curling them again to find her G-spot. They exploded together, massaging and caressing each other, savouring the orgasm to the last.
Once again their breakfast had been cut short, Bronwyn had an early shift and had overslept soundly.
Chiara was busy cleaning up the remains of her night when her mobile phone rang.
The voice on the other end was unfamiliar, but the information was important. She listened carefully and asked for an anonymous file to be sent to Bronwyn’s email address.
Chiara hung up and dialled Bronwyn’s number.
“Hi Chiara Bach, I can’t talk now, sorry.”
“Hang on, is the husband still at the station?”
Bronwyn noticed the tone in Chiara’s voice. “Yes. I stepped out of the interview to take your call. I need to get back in.”
“OK, don’t ask any questions, someone is sending you files by email. It’s an anonymous tip. Do you trust me?”
Bronwyn took a deep breath. “I think so.”
“Grab a file, something that looks like you’ve just been handed a pile of information. Sit down, put the file on the table. And ask it politely what it can tell you about Quintinian’s ebay history. Put your hand on the file and tell him it would look better if he cooperated now, no one needs to know the details that way.
“What’s this all about?” Bronwyn sounded tense.
“Trust me. If he hesitates, tell him Agatha of Sicilly says hello and call me afterwards.” She hung up.
There had been no call. Chiara had waited all afternoon, and even at work she had been checking her mobile phone constantly. Twice she had tried to reach Bronwyn or Norris at the station, but both times she had been told they were still in an interview.
She was starting to get really worried, maybe the man had escalated his behaviour? Sitting at the bus stop, she fumbled with her cane, lost in thought, when a car stopped in front of her. She heard a window roll down and then a familiar Welsh voice.
“Who the hell is Quintinian and how did you do that?”
Chiara beamed, “Did it work?” She heard a car door open.
“Get in, the passenger door is open right in front of you, about five paces.”
Chiara laughed and stood up, walking towards Bronwyn’s voice. After four steps she felt the frame of the door and smiled. “You’re good.” She slid into the passenger seat.
“You’re better, and now tell me what I just saw at work?”
“He folded?”
“A full confession. But I need to know your train of thought, since you managed to make it look like I found all the information.” She started the car.
Chiara shrugged. “It was all about the Catholic girls’ school and Mrs Winter and Catholic guilt. Mrs Winter was the pious school secretary, a prayer short of a nun, always guilting us into submission. She made us write commandments and prayers. When I was diagnosed at fourteen, she told me it was God’s way of punishing me for my impure thoughts. She had caught me making out with Gloria behind the gym.
” His what?” Bronwyn looked at her, anger in her voice.
“Yeah, never mind, and believe me, Gloria’s tits were worth going blind for.” She giggled.
“Pictures or it didn’t happen! But now go on. About Mrs Winter, we can talk about Gloria’s tits later.” “Mrs Winter was a false saint. That’s what it came down to. Years later we found out that she had a son out of wedlock, and being the pulpit swallow that she was, there were rumours that his father was the local priest at the time. She used all her pious behaviour to make up for her shortcomings. That got me thinking. When Ruby and Melody both said that Mrs Smith was so lonely, her husband ignored her, there was no closeness, no intimacy, yet he managed to make her feel so guilty that she didn’t even dare to touch herself. I was just convinced that he had an outlet. Either that or he was completely asexual.”
Bronwyn nodded. “You found his lover.”
“Yes, and his breast fetish. Which is the only thing I can begin to understand.” She smiled. “Just promise me you’ll never google Agatha of Sicily.”
“I already did, let me just say, YIKES!”
“Anyway, he had his side chick for years, but he couldn’t divorce his wife, being the good Catholic he was. I couldn’t find out why it escalated now, but I think it was only a matter of time. He had a huge inferiority complex. She took his name when they married, but she was the rich one. She married up and was never accepted by the upper class. He resented her for that too. I think he needed her for breeding and the moment they had a son to carry on the name he was done with her. Too refined, too intellectual.”
Bronwyn nodded in agreement. “He’s a Bible thumper, but not very cultured.” She glanced over at Chiara. “Do you want to know why now?”
“Of course!”
“The bloody literature circle at the parish, they were reading a Poriot novel.”
“A tragedy in three acts?”
Yes, but I don’t think the victims in the book were poisoned with lubricant.” Bronwyn shuddered.
“No, the lubricant was his twist. Mrs Smith was not a criminal mastermind, her mail order parcels were delivered to her address. Maybe he found a receipt or opened a parcel by accident. But I’m sure he knew about her guilty pleasure at the hotel. I guess he found her stash and broke into the tub of lube.”
“We’ll get the details from him in the next few days.” Bronwyn stopped the car outside Chiara’s apartment complex. “Case closed. Investigation finished. What happens between us now?” Her tone was cautiously hopeful.
“Well, I suggest you find a parking space, we go back to my place for a late dinner, and then I’ll show you how to put lube to better use than killing people. And maybe, after you give me another Welsh lesson,” she grinned and put a hand on Bronwyn’s thigh, “I’ll let you try some things from my goodie drawer.”