door stood in that sexy little black dress and I must
admit I got a bit... aroused. The next thing I know, you've flung
your arms around me and told me you were glad I'd come.”
Wendy
spluttered with laughter as she tried to stop herself propelling
red wine across the sofa.
“Robert! You
have a dirty mind!”
“Well, you
can't blame me. You look absolutely breathtaking in that
dress.”
“Makes you aroused , you say? How do you mean?” Wendy enquired, moving
her hand up the inside of his leg. As she got to the top, she
cupped his crotch in her hand and squeezed gently. “Oh... that's
how you mean...”
Wendy kissed
Robert's neck as he groaned with pleasure. Standing to pull the
bolt across on the living room door, Wendy lifted her dress an
extra inch or two, revealing a distinct lack of underwear. With
that, she straddled Robert on the sofa and they made love.
CHAPTER
SIXTEEN
The incident
room buzzed with the shrill ringing of umpteen telephones
permeating the very matter inside Wendy's brain. She found she
couldn't even handle simple maths. She was sure there were six
glasses of wine in the average bottle. Four times six is
twenty-four. Or is it? Let's just say it is. Twenty-four divided by
three is eight. Fuck. No wonder I've got a hangover. Wait, maybe
I've done the maths wrong.
“Thirteen
hundred quid's worth of bloody jewellery!”
Umpteen
shrieking phones or one shrieking Culverhouse? It was a tough
choice.
“Sorry,
guv?”
“That's SOCO's
take on what that Bryant bird was wearing when she kicked the
bucket. That begs two questions, Knight. Number one, why the
sodding hell didn't the daft bugger nick it? Number two, where in
the name of all that is holy did a part-time shop assistant get the
cash to buy thirteen hundred quid's worth of jewellery?”
“I don't know.
They might have been presents.”
“Who from, the
Sultan of sodding Brunei? No, Knight, there's more to this girl
than meets the eye and I'm going to find out what it is.”
***
Wendy shrieked
with delight as the sun rose on Mildenheath the next morning. The
sofa springs heaved underneath her as she thrust her pelvis back
and forth. It felt amazing. Warm and soft – just divine. Robert
grinned at Wendy as he held the two warm, juicy buns in his
hands.
“Hot cross
bun?”
“Ooh, yes
please. I was just thinking how soft and bouncy your sofa is while
you were in the kitchen. I must get a new one myself.”
“It's very
comfortable. In fact, I'll let you in on a little secret. I bought
the most soft and comfortable sofa in the shop because I knew I'd
keep falling asleep in it and could justify buying myself a
dedicated reading chair,” he said, pointing to the reclining
leather armchair in the corner of the room.
“Why did you
need to justify it to yourself?”
“Ah, lack of
willpower, I guess.”
“I noticed you
have a lot of books. You read much?”
“As much as I
can. The pen is mightier than the sword, as they say.”
“Indeed. I
guess we should think ourselves lucky that the serial killer isn't
killing people with pens.”
“He used a
sword?”
“Well, no – a
knife – but you get the point.”
Robert switched
the television on. A short, blonde-haired reporter was stood
outside Mildenheath police station.
“Ooh, fame at
last!” Robert joked.
“This latest
murder,” the blonde-haired reporter explained, “is thought to be
linked with two others in Mildenheath which occurred over the last
few days. Specific information from Mildenheath Police has been
scarce with no word as to how these three young women came to meet
their deaths. Their identities, however, were confirmed earlier
this evening as twenty-one-year-old Ella Barrington,
twenty-nine-year-old Maria Preston and seventeen-year-old Nicole
Bryant. Local sources have confirmed that both Ella Barrington and
Maria Preston were known prostitutes operating in the area but it
is thought that Nicole Bryant was not working as a
admit I got a bit... aroused. The next thing I know, you've flung
your arms around me and told me you were glad I'd come.”
Wendy
spluttered with laughter as she tried to stop herself propelling
red wine across the sofa.
“Robert! You
have a dirty mind!”
“Well, you
can't blame me. You look absolutely breathtaking in that
dress.”
“Makes you aroused , you say? How do you mean?” Wendy enquired, moving
her hand up the inside of his leg. As she got to the top, she
cupped his crotch in her hand and squeezed gently. “Oh... that's
how you mean...”
Wendy kissed
Robert's neck as he groaned with pleasure. Standing to pull the
bolt across on the living room door, Wendy lifted her dress an
extra inch or two, revealing a distinct lack of underwear. With
that, she straddled Robert on the sofa and they made love.
CHAPTER
SIXTEEN
The incident
room buzzed with the shrill ringing of umpteen telephones
permeating the very matter inside Wendy's brain. She found she
couldn't even handle simple maths. She was sure there were six
glasses of wine in the average bottle. Four times six is
twenty-four. Or is it? Let's just say it is. Twenty-four divided by
three is eight. Fuck. No wonder I've got a hangover. Wait, maybe
I've done the maths wrong.
“Thirteen
hundred quid's worth of bloody jewellery!”
Umpteen
shrieking phones or one shrieking Culverhouse? It was a tough
choice.
“Sorry,
guv?”
“That's SOCO's
take on what that Bryant bird was wearing when she kicked the
bucket. That begs two questions, Knight. Number one, why the
sodding hell didn't the daft bugger nick it? Number two, where in
the name of all that is holy did a part-time shop assistant get the
cash to buy thirteen hundred quid's worth of jewellery?”
“I don't know.
They might have been presents.”
“Who from, the
Sultan of sodding Brunei? No, Knight, there's more to this girl
than meets the eye and I'm going to find out what it is.”
***
Wendy shrieked
with delight as the sun rose on Mildenheath the next morning. The
sofa springs heaved underneath her as she thrust her pelvis back
and forth. It felt amazing. Warm and soft – just divine. Robert
grinned at Wendy as he held the two warm, juicy buns in his
hands.
“Hot cross
bun?”
“Ooh, yes
please. I was just thinking how soft and bouncy your sofa is while
you were in the kitchen. I must get a new one myself.”
“It's very
comfortable. In fact, I'll let you in on a little secret. I bought
the most soft and comfortable sofa in the shop because I knew I'd
keep falling asleep in it and could justify buying myself a
dedicated reading chair,” he said, pointing to the reclining
leather armchair in the corner of the room.
“Why did you
need to justify it to yourself?”
“Ah, lack of
willpower, I guess.”
“I noticed you
have a lot of books. You read much?”
“As much as I
can. The pen is mightier than the sword, as they say.”
“Indeed. I
guess we should think ourselves lucky that the serial killer isn't
killing people with pens.”
“He used a
sword?”
“Well, no – a
knife – but you get the point.”
Robert switched
the television on. A short, blonde-haired reporter was stood
outside Mildenheath police station.
“Ooh, fame at
last!” Robert joked.
“This latest
murder,” the blonde-haired reporter explained, “is thought to be
linked with two others in Mildenheath which occurred over the last
few days. Specific information from Mildenheath Police has been
scarce with no word as to how these three young women came to meet
their deaths. Their identities, however, were confirmed earlier
this evening as twenty-one-year-old Ella Barrington,
twenty-nine-year-old Maria Preston and seventeen-year-old Nicole
Bryant. Local sources have confirmed that both Ella Barrington and
Maria Preston were known prostitutes operating in the area but it
is thought that Nicole Bryant was not working as a
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