Saving Tara Goodwin (Mystery Book 1) (43 page)

‘Well don’t just stand there, you idiot, open the frigging door and let him in.’

The door was suddenly pulled open, ‘Sorry sir, I didn’t know you were there.’

‘That’s okay. So give me a lift to the cottage, would you.’

‘Ah. Sorry sir, but you see, Mrs A would like you to stay at the manor tonight.’

‘Really? So why’s that?’

‘We don’t know, sir, and she’s gone out now.’

‘Okay. Well take me to a decent pub, and I’ll go on to the manor by taxi.’

Samantha gave a long sigh when the Bentley came rushing over the old stone bridge, because whatever was going to happen, there was nothing she could do about it.

Staring through the kitchen window, she could hardly believe her eyes when a huge ugly woman flung open the car door and heaved her incredible bulk up and out of the car, and as she stared, the gargantuan woman snatched open the boot and dragged out a pathetic and bedraggled young woman.

Samantha froze as Michaela grabbed the woman’s hair and pulled her stumbling up the path, and before she could make sense of what was happening, the kitchen door crashed open and the woman was dragged inside, and looking up, Michaela saw Samantha, and in surprise, released the woman’s hair while her dark eyes filled with lust.

When she finally spoke, her disembodied voice sent a shiver down Samantha’s spine.

It was a voice like no other, between an animal growl and a whisper from the grave.

‘My, my ... And what do we have here?’

She tried to stay calm, ‘I’m Samantha, Samantha French, and you must be …?’

‘My name is Michaela, and you, my fine beauty, must be my little Sugar Plum Fairy, and when I’ve put some life into this trash, you can dance the night away for me.’

Turning, Michaela picked the woman up as if she weighed no more than a feather, and laying her out on the kitchen table, lifted her grubby skirt, and taking a hypodermic, placed the needle to a vein in the woman’s thigh.

‘It has to go here because this little junkie has been shooting-up for so long she’s more dead than alive and there’s no other veins left to use.’

Samantha winced as the needle went in, and after injecting, carefully placed it into a sharps-bag, and looking up, smiled when she saw the look on Sam’s face.

‘Now don’t tell me you’re shocked, my pretty one.’

Samantha shivered, ‘No. But I was just wondering …’

Michaela gave her a smile of brownish yellow teeth, ‘Oh? And what would that be?’

‘Well, if some food might be better for her.’

‘Don’t be stupid, she’s reached the end of the line, her death will be a mercy.’

4
2

Prowling around the darkened cottage, Lucinda checked that they were leaving everything unmarked and as normal as possible.

But as she watched the twins tying and wrestling Christiana and the Russian into bags, she couldn’t quite understand how it all fitted together, for although everyone seemed to be using the cottage as their base, it seemed like a big operation just for Christiana to discover the priest hole.

And how did the Goodwin girl fit in? She was the odd one out, with Angela first wanting her dead and then sending her to that floating hotel,
Polyvotis.

It was all very odd. And why had Chrissy, having found the priest hole, taken the diary and photo copied the one-time pad. Why did she do that?

Well, whatever their game, they would soon be safe in the annex and she could find out, and as Glenndenning’s pretty little plaything was now safe on board his yacht,
Polyvotis,
her beloved priest hole was safe once again.

Thinking of it all, she suddenly laughed out loud.

‘Oh, Mr garage man, won’t you be surprised when you come home and find that all your scheming little friends have disappeared. Explain that if you can.’

Feeling much happier, she stepped into the back garden and saw Martha walking up from the Land Rover, ‘And what are you doing? You should be gone by now.’

She held out the Colt .45, ‘I found this on that foreign man.’

Lucinda glowered, ‘So it was him in my frigging house. Well that explains it.’

Samantha had spent a miserable evening, just pulling the corks of endless bottles of wine and serving banquets of food to Michaela, while all the time glancing with despair to the wretched sight of that poor drugged woman.

‘So, should I offer her some food as well?’

‘No, the bitch will only throw it up, and I don’t want her stinking mess all over me, and anyway, she’ll be wanting another shot soon, and then we can start the party.’

She laughed, but the horrible sound was more like a drunk, heaving in the gutter.

‘That’s when the little junkies are at their best.’

She chuckled like a blocked drain.

‘You see, when they’re screaming for a fix, they’ll do anything, and this piece of trash is certainly going to earn hers.’

As Samantha gazed blankly to the pathetic woman, Michaela suddenly shouted out.

‘Well? Have you got your music ready?’

She jumped out of her thoughts, ‘Music?’

‘Oh, come on, don’t be stupid, you know damned well why I’m here.’

Shuddering, she felt as if this woman’s mad world was taking over her mind.

‘Well, speak, my pretty, tell the lovely Michaela what you’re going to do for her.’

Huddled in a heap on the floor, the woman began to moan, but Michaela glared at her, the food sloshing out of her mouth and dribbling down her hairy chin.

‘Ah, so you’re getting the wobbly shakes are you, you filthy disgusting piece of shit.’

Samantha quivered as the wretched woman crawled over, her vacant eyes now pleading.

‘Oh no, not yet, little rat face, you’ll have to scream till the party gets started.’

And with a kick from her massive legs, sent the woman sprawling across the kitchen.

‘And if you screw this up, I’ll stick bleach in your veins.’

Samantha thought her head would explode, her hands shaking uncontrollably as she dressed in the fairy outfit, and while adjusting the stage lighting, saw Michaela stomp in, pulling the woman by the hair, and settling her massive bulk on the sofa, watched as Samantha turned off the room lights and placed the CD into the deck of the music centre.

‘Don’t start yet, my pretty, I’ve got to settle this little wretch at the hot spot.’

Frowning at her words, Samantha tried to look through the glare of the lamps, but all she could see was the vague outline of Michaela on the sofa and the cowering movements of a slim forlorn shape, the unkempt clothes being stripped off her, and though it was warm in the room, Samantha became covered in goose bumps when the young woman was thrust down and disappeared between the mountains of Michaela’s flesh.

Trembling, she opened her case, and taking out the wand, set the music to play, and when the lullaby of music filled the room, Samantha nervously began to perform.

As the tinkling, sensuous music played on, Samantha let her shredded emotions become lost in the erotic rhythm of her dance, but all too soon the beautiful music came to an end, and in the abrupt silence, a guttural voice bellowed out across the room.

‘Bravo. Bravo … Do it again, my pretty.’

Samantha shook, when in the hushed silence, all she could hear was the woman’s sobs, and for the first time, had to admit, that by using her charms to live the high life all around the world was nothing but a lie, a sham, and this evil woman, Rattenegger, had exposed it for what it really was, and now she felt contempt and utter disgust of what she was doing, defiling Tchaikovsky’s sweet music with obscenity.

Twitching, her emotions burst as she re-set the music, and didn’t want to dance again, she didn’t want to be here, all she wanted was to help this poor woman, to rescue her and take her away, but she was trapped, trapped in Angela’s evil game.

Quivering, she tried to dance, but her body was unwilling to perform to the music, her thoughts on fire, her stomach churning to the revulsion of everything in the cottage, and then, through the lights, saw the woman’s thrashing body fall still, and slide to the floor.

Frank had memorised the route to the local pub, and passing the evening with a meal, thought back to the conversation he’d overheard from the lodge.

So why was Samantha entertaining someone at the cottage tonight, this, Miss Piggy?

And why was the Church Warden starting work at midnight, it didn’t make any sense.

The only church on the estate was that beautiful church sitting lonely in the copse of trees in the buffer zone, that haunting old church with the graves that shouldn’t be there.

Waiting for the right time, he found the evening was warm with a clear starry sky and just enough moonlight to guide his way, and it was almost half past eleven when Frank reached the security lodge, and walking over to the check-in window, saw the keepers passing their time with a game of cards, and climbing over the massive gates, he listened, but nothing could be heard.

Setting off at a fast pace, he’d hardly reached the rutted track, when back along the avenue he heard a horn blaring at the gates, and looking back, saw the glare of lights coming through, but instead of carrying on down the avenue towards him, the lights went to one side of the reception area, and when they dimmed and went out, realised that the Church Warden had probably arrived but was being kept waiting until midnight.

Making his way down the rutted track, he heard noises some way ahead, and stopping for a moment, listened, and although the sounds were coming closer, he couldn’t figure it out.

Sometimes it sounded like an animal in distress, crashing wildly along the edges of the track, and other times it sounded like a child, breathless, crying and panting, and as it drew closer, he heard whimpering.

Moving cautiously forward, he strained to see through the shadowy gloom, but stopped when the noises came closer, and staring into the darkness, could hardly believe his eyes.

There, in the pale glow of moonlight was a fairy with her wings stretched out wide, and as she rushed towards him, her beautiful long hair whirled in a cascading dance beneath a sparkling headband, and it seemed for all the world as if she was running from the Devil.

Rushing towards him, he realised she was naked except for stockings, suspenders, shimmering gossamer and stardust twinkling in her hair, but her expression was vacant, and a darkness suddenly came into his mind when he saw that the fairy was Samantha.

She came on, seeming not to hear, see or be aware of anything, and when she crashed into his arms, there was nothing, no recognition or any sign of consciousness.

Reeling back under the impact, he caught her, and holding her close, spoke her name, but there was nothing, she just looked straight ahead and stood there trembling.

Frank had seen catalepsy before, so if Samantha had suffered such a catatonic shock to leave her like this, there was nothing he could do for her. Taking off his jacket, he slipped it around her shoulders and wondered just what the hell was going on.

He was still trying to make sense of it when a glare of headlights came bouncing over the old stone bridge, and then a dark shape came hurtling down the track towards them.

The car was gathering speed, so scooping Samantha up, he stepped into the woodland and reached the shadows of the trees just as a limousine hurtled past them, and now it was pretty obvious why the Church Warden had been made to wait.

The keepers had been expecting someone to leave, and now she had. Miss Piggy.

Carrying Samantha quickly along the rutted track, all he wanted was to get to the cottage and try to discover what could possibly have happened to turn her into a zombie.

The two keepers nervously smoked cigarettes as they killed time waiting by the gates, and looking over to the battered old van, one mumbled darkly to the other.

‘She’s a cold fish, that warden. Doesn’t say a bloody word. Just sits there.’

And then a noise came from down by the rutted track, and looking, they saw headlights bouncing out onto the avenue, and with a squeal of tyres, the car spun round in circles.

‘Jesus … Did you see that?’

‘Yeah. Looks like Miss Piggy’s not happy, so we’d better open the gates.’

‘What, now? Shouldn’t we wait till she gets here?’

‘Are you having a laugh? Come on, dopey, you’ll see why in a minute.’

Pushing the button, the motors groaned under the huge weight of the enormous gates and seemed to be working painfully slow compared to the car that was travelling at high speed and coming straight towards them.

‘Christ. She must be doing well over a hundred.’

‘Yep.’

‘Well aren’t you going to do something?’

‘Like what?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Neither do I.’

‘Oh well, that’ll be a new pair of gates then.’

‘Yep, and a new Bentley.’

Racing towards them, the car just managed to shoot through the slight gap in the gates, and then disappear into the night as if it had never been there, and hearing the old van start up, they saw the church warden drive away down the avenue as if nothing had happened.

‘She gives me the creeps, that one.’

‘Yeah.’

‘And I wouldn’t want to meet her on a dark night.’

‘But you just have, you dopey sod.’

Frank had just reached the bridge when headlights came along the track behind him.

‘Damn. That was quick.’

Snuggling Samantha in his arms, he climbed down the bank and splashed along under the bridge as a vehicle rumbled over, and then came the gentle closing of a door and footsteps moving away.

Climbing back up, he headed to the left of the cottage, and finding a hidden spot in the bushes, laid Samantha down, and ripping the sleeves from his shirt, tied her up.

‘Sorry, but I can’t have you wandering around, not tonight.’

Leaving her, he saw that the cottage lights were on in every room, but the curtains were fully closed and the kitchen door was firmly locked, and checking all around the cottage, had only just arrived back at the kitchen door when he heard the front door softly closing.

Making his way through the garden, he reached the front door in time to see a shadowy figure disappearing into the gloom and heading off towards a line of derelict outbuildings.

Following, he stepped into the doorway of the old stables, but it was deserted so he checked the workshop next door, but again it was empty.

He couldn’t understand, and felt sure the figure had gone into one of these old buildings, but there was nothing, as if it had vanished into thin air, but as he was about to leave, thought he heard a rumbling from somewhere deep underground.

But then again, it had been a long day.

The front door of the cottage was open, and stepping inside, looked around, but there was nothing unusual, except, although the place was clean, tidy and immaculate, he was surprised at the number of dishes in the sink, and as he stood there, couldn’t figure out what might have happened to cause Samantha to run naked and half mad down the track, and quite probably, given her condition, he never would find out, so all he could do now, was wait until it was safe, then settle her in bed and get himself to Thornley Manor.