Destroying Angel (27 page)

Paul Berner replaced the receiver and reached for his jacket. The quick check told him the calls were coming from Susan’s number, and could only mean that she was in some sort of trouble. Biting off more than she could chew seemed to be something she was good at, yet he felt a definite sense of obligation towards her, following the foul-up with Joe Cooper’s boys.

A fast drive took him to Susan’s flat. He got out of his car and looked and listened cautiously for anything unusual. There was nothing obviously wrong, so he made his way carefully up the stairs to her door. It was closed but not locked. Nor did it show any signs of having been forced. Puzzled, he pushed it open and peered inside. Nothing appeared to be amiss and there were no unusual sounds. He went in, and then stopped short as he looked into the living room.

Susan was lying on the floor, naked and in tight bondage. Her wrists were strapped into the small of her back and immobilised by handcuffs, and her thighs were pulled up tight to her chest and strapped in place. A linen bag covered her head. She appeared to be totally helpless.

He paused, wondering what the hell was going on. The phone was near her head and off the hook. Other than that the room was as it should be. He wondered if she’d been attacked and left tied up, but there was no sign of a struggle. It actually appeared to be bondage of an erotic nature, and it gradually dawned on him that it must be a very elaborate sex-game intended for his participation and pleasure.

Susan’s flatmate had obviously put her in the bondage and left her for him – certainly, there was no way she could have put herself in such a position. The apparently desperate phone calls were clearly intended to increase Susan’s own fantasy and heighten the enjoyment of the game. And the open door provided the conclusive proof.

Well, if sex in bondage was what she wanted, then sex in bondage she was what she would get!

Berner surmised he was supposed to be the white knight come to rescue her, only to get turned on by her naked vulnerability and take advantage of it before letting her go. It was a role he had no difficulty in falling into, and he intended to take full advantage of the situation before untying her.

‘Kinky bitch,’ he muttered as he started to undo his trousers.

The flatmate would probably be out all night, but if she did return he’d be more than happy to involve her in the little game. He undressed slowly, admiring Susan’s nude body. She squirmed and mumbled throughout, obviously enjoying her helplessness.

When naked, Berner knelt and laid a hand on the silky sweep of her hip, the sudden contact making her writhe and moan all the more. ‘My, my, you are turned on, Susie. I’ll have to make sure I don’t disappoint you, not that I’ve ever disappointed a lady before.’ He grinned smugly at the thought of his own immense sexual prowess and surveyed the length of her tightly trussed body. ‘I must say this is a very nice treat, Susie. A little thank you for all my help?’

Her squirming became more pronounced. Still, there was no need to hurry; the more turned on she got the better. And the novelty of the hood made his cock throb powerfully; no need to remove that while he enjoyed himself. He began to explore her body with one hand, while nursing his bursting erection with the other. Her position accentuated the swell of her hips and thrust her bottom out in smooth curves of creamy white flesh. He stroked and pinched, and then remembered her predilection for spanking and began to smack her. The flesh reddened quickly, bouncing and quivering under his slaps. He started with his fingertips, then used a cupped hand to cover more of her unprotected flesh and produce a satisfying retort as he spanked her.

By the time her whole bottom was an even warm pink, he could resist the temptation no longer. He crouched over her, and Susan tensed as he rubbed the bulbous helmet against her juicy opening, and then pushed until he sank smoothly in to the hilt. Susan’s pussy was warm and tight, encasing his cock beautifully in a gripping sheath. He took his weight on straightened arms and began to fuck her, moving with long, slow strokes.

Their position soon became uncomfortable, and so he rolled her onto her knees without interrupting his steady rhythm. Susan squirmed so much she almost dislodged him, and her muffled expletives grew in volume until he was sure the neighbours would hear, but her unreserved passion merely increased his own and drove him on to screw her harder and faster.

‘Bloody hell, but you’re a wild one!’ he panted, his exertions causing the sweat to sting his eyes.

After a frantic effort Susan suddenly fell limp beneath him, and lay breathing deeply and sighing inside the hood. Her hips twisted and her buttocks ground back against him, and he knew she was close to coming. He was relieved for the respite, and settled down to a steady pumping rhythm, savouring the sight of her spread bottom and his glistening cock sliding in and out of her. As Susan began to shudder in the throes of a powerful orgasm, he gripped her hips, pulled her tight against his groin, and ejaculated deep inside her vagina. His release was so powerful he slumped onto her back, and they rolled, exhausted, onto the carpet.

Ted Gage sat at his desk, watching the sun set over London. He held Paul Eady’s confession, and he was sure there was something wrong with it. The descriptions of the first four fires were accurate to his own memory and read like a story from a children’s adventure book. Eady was evidently proud of what he had done and the way he had managed to elude the police.

The fifth and sixth fires, however, were described in much less detail, particularly the fifth. The seventh was better, but still a far cry from the first four. Possibly he had got bored with writing – but then why make the last one more detailed? Eady had also described his eighth attempt in great detail, even saying he’d had an accomplice who’d got cold feet and failed to show up. Of course, the three fires that had been described less well were also the ones Susan MacQuillan had insisted were someone else’s work. Indeed, she still did, or so Paul Berner said.

It was the description of the fifth fire that really bothered Gage. He cast his mind back to the events at the World of Pine furniture warehouse. The petrol bomb had been thrown across the Lee canal, a fairly impressive throw and one of the things that had made him think Susan MacQuillan’s theory about canal boats might be correct. Gage flicked back the pages and re-read Eady’s description.

I threw the bomb at the window and it went right in. It went up like a rocket and I had to step back smartish
…

The description made no sense. On the far side of the canal Eady would have been completely safe. Gage remembered the fishermen he had seen the next morning. There had been no debris or scorch-marks on the bank opposite the warehouse. Eady was lying.

With his temper already beginning to boil, he marched out of his office. Downstairs, the station was moderately quiet. Gage made straight for the cells. With a nod to the duty sergeant, he took the keys and went into Eady’s cell.

Paul Eady was asleep, curled up on the cell bed. He looked dejected, a lot of his cocky attitude worn away by his time in the cell. This time, there was no duty solicitor and no tape. Gage decided to handle Eady the way he felt the dangerous little bastard ought to be handled.

He shook the little arsehole awake. Eady shrank back and cowered against the wall beneath Gage’s furious and unexpected renewal of questioning.

‘All right, all right!’ he sputtered, putting his hands up to protect his face from the Inspector’s raised fist. ‘I did four, all right! I just said I done the last three!’

‘You wanker!’ Gage snarled. ‘I’m going to throw the fucking book at you! Are you sure you’re telling the fucking truth now?!’

‘Yeah! Yeah, I swear! I wasn’t even there for the fifth one! I ain’t never been there! I just said I done it to look good!’

Gage let go of Eady’s collar and stepped back a pace. He had to cool his temper or he risked getting himself into trouble. ‘You little wanker,’ he spat again as he took some deep breaths and gradually calmed down.

Eady looked up at him sheepishly. ‘I – I tell you what though,’ he offered cautiously, ‘I reckon I saw the bloke what did the last one at that carpet place.’

‘Oh yeah?’

‘Yeah. That’s near where I live, which is why I never did one around there. I heard the fire engines and saw the flames. I wanted a look, so I ran along the canal. You see, I knew I was all right if I didn’t go on the roads. Anyway, there was this boat, right, going along the canal. It must have been two in the morning. There was a bloke in it, on his own. I reckon he’s got to be the one who done it.’

‘Can you describe him?’

‘I only saw him for a second, and it was dark. There was a little light on the boat, though, and I reckon he had red hair and a really red face.’

‘Ruddock!’ Gage snarled. Of all the irate victims of arson, Ruddock had been the rudest shit he’d ever had to deal with. Arresting Ruddock would be an absolute pleasure, and he had no intention of waiting until morning to enjoy that pleasure.

‘Paul! You moron!’ Susan yelled the instant she managed to spit the red panties out of her mouth. ‘I’m not tied here for your perverted benefit, you idiot! Paulette’s in danger! We have to get to her!’

‘Eh?’ Berner responded blankly, the conceited leer vanishing immediately as he realised he might just have been very foolish. He suddenly felt incredibly stupid, squatting naked with a bag and a scarf in his hands, and his shrivelled penis hanging uselessly between his thighs.

‘Untie me,’ she snapped. ‘Jesus, Paul, talk about having your brain in your backside.’

They dressed hurriedly as Susan blurted out what she now knew. With every breathless word Berner became increasingly frightened that his stupidity and his ego might have unthinkable consequences for Paulette. If anything happened to her as a result of his actions – or lack of them…

Within minutes they were in his car and speeding towards Annabella de Vergy’s house.

Ted Gage hammered on Philip Ruddock’s front door. Sergeant Yates stood behind him, a warrant card in his hand. The door opened and Ruddock stood there, his expression a cocktail of concern and belligerence.

‘Philip Ruddock,’ Gage stated with relish, ‘I am arresting you on suspicion of…’

Ruddock’s whole demeanour quickly became one of weary resignation as Gage read him his rights.

‘Okay,’ he said once Gage had finished, his voice betraying a tiredness and strain that Gage had not expected. ‘I burnt the warehouse, and the other two as well. You can book me for fraud as well, but not murder. That wasn’t me. I had nothing to do with it.’

‘The murder of Alan Sowerby?’ Gage asked curiously, remembering Susan MacQuillan’s suspicions.

‘Yes,’ Ruddock sighed, ‘but it’s not me you want, and I can prove it.’

‘Who then?’

‘Miss Annabella bloody de Vergy.’

‘Look,’ Annabella said, ‘we had better sort this out. We’ll drive over to Susan’s and untie the poor girl, and then we’d better call the police. Then my innocence can be quickly proven and this nonsense settled once and for all. Just let me fetch a few things and we’ll go.’

She and Paulette had discussed every detail of the investigation and the girl was totally convinced that Annabella knew absolutely nothing of any of it. She had never been more than a figurehead at de Vergy Fine Wines, supplying the money to back it and appearing at the more public functions. Philip Ruddock had done everything else, and whatever charges there were to answer to would be laid at his door. Paulette felt a great sense of relief that her faith in Annabella had been justified.

They took Annabella’s Jaguar, making the trip to Susan’s flat in minutes. Paulette climbed the stairs and unlocked the door, calling Susan’s name as she went through to the bedroom, although she didn’t expect a coherent response from her friend.

Susan wasn’t there.

‘That’s very odd,’ Paulette said over her shoulder to Annabella, who had followed and now stood close behind her. ‘She must have managed to get free. It can’t have been easy.’

‘Never mind,’ Annabella said, her tone suddenly hardening. ‘I’m sure she’ll be back soon, and then we can finally conclude this little problem.’

Paulette felt an icy chill run down her spine, but as she turned something solid caught her a glancing blow across the temple, and she slumped to the floor as the room went black and her legs folded beneath her.

Berner stood back from the front of Annabella de Vergy’s brooding house. ‘Nobody here,’ he decided, looking up at the dark and sinister windows.

‘But we’ve got to get in there,’ Susan insisted. ‘Paulette could be in real trouble!’

‘It’s not that simple,’ Berner said. ‘We can’t just go around breaking into people’s homes. We’re not in—’

‘You owe her, Paul,’ she cut him off. ‘And if anything happens to her I’ll do all I can to see you pay!’

The squad car he’d requested only five minutes earlier pulled up just then. Two uniformed constables got out, one of them following Berner’s order and fetching the ram from the boot.

The door gave way on the third blow, bursting inwards in a shower of splinters. As they entered the house, DI Gage and Sergeant Yates arrived.

Gage and Berner compared notes and updated each other on the latest developments while Susan, Yates, and the constables searched the building.

Nobody was there.