The Mistress - an Erotic Noir Novel (12 page)

He dropped the letter then at last put his arms around her. “Oh
Eva, what have you gotten yourself into?” the old friend
muttered, taking hold of her and pulling her against his chest for
comfort.

“I don’t know,” she sobbed against him,
completely losing herself in the fear and sorrow. “Do... Did he
kill her? Is he going to kill me?”

He stiffened a little then relaxed, stroking his arms over her
back and hair. “Oh Eva, I won't let him kill you. I swear,”
he pressed his cheek to her head and hugged her tighter, “stay
with me and I’ll make sure nobody can ever hurt you again. I
promise.”

His possessiveness made her push him away, her eyes up at him as
she shook her head, “That’s not what I’m here for!”
she practically screeched, her face red as she stared at him. “I
just need to know what to do and the drugs he gave me...” she
trailed off, grabbing for her briefcase and the envelope, shoving it
back in.

They had worn off mostly by now, but she could still feel their
lingering presence with her limbs feeling so weak, her flesh feeling
unseasonably warm.

Looking hurt again he said, “Well... what do you want me to
do, Eva? I... I can’t help you if you keep putting yourself in
these horrible situations,” he pleaded.

“Going to see my Professor isn’t a horrible situation!
It was because he’s assaulting women! Not just me, Martin!”
she sobbed, wiping away her tears until she no longer cared. “He
might have killed someone! He could kill me next! This isn’t
about us,” she cried.

“And Doctor Sinclair might go to jail because of it, and
Turing gets rewarded for it? How can I live with myself?”

She could see him swallow anxiously before him, her yelling at him
had made him exceptionally uncomfortable. “Just leave it be,
Eva. If Sinclair is innocent, as you say, then they’ll know the
truth. She probably killed herself,” he said. “The rest
is just the papers being sensational, you know how it goes.”

She could feel her anger rising within her, but it was as though
his words steeled her and she nodded. Swallowed back her revulsion,
she gave him a sad, lost look, “Thanks Martin. You’re
probably right. I just need to go sleep this off. It’ll all
look better tomorrow, right?”

Giving her a weak smile he reached out and touched her hands, “And
whatever happened with Turing, you and I can work through it, okay?
This letter and stuff... we’ll see him ruined, I swear. But you
need to avoid these guys in the meantime, okay?” He gave her a
hopeful smile, looking concerned and worried.

“Yea, yea, I know. I, look, thanks Martin. I know you have
my best interest at heart, just,” she took in a deep breath,
“Just it’s not fair. I didn’t want any of this.”

Nodding to her weakly he said, “I know. I know that, I do,
none of it is fair.” He gave a lopsided smile, “I wish I
could’ve done something to keep all this nonsense from
involving you. I tried, I did.” Swallowing anxiously he said,
“Have they questioned you about Dr. Sinclair, Eva?”

“They asked if I saw anyone at the party, but that was it.
Were you there? Did they question you?” she asked curiously,
her shoulders dropping and making her look more relaxed.

Nodding a bit he said, “Of course I was there. Mrs. Sinclair
always invited me,” he shrugged his shoulders, “not that
she ever said two words to me really. Guess she figured it was
courtesy, what with me being her husband's assistant. But a few
questions, they spoke to everyone there a bit. Most of us didn’t
see enough to be bothered much by them.”

“I’m sorry I missed you,” she sighed. “Did
you see Turing there?” She was already seeming much more like
the Eva he knew, her hands stopping their nervous, rage filled
shaking and her face becoming less reddened with anger.

Looking aside and pondering it he said, “Maybe... y-yeah, I
think I did.” With a furrowed brow he looked back to her, “I’m
worried Eva, you want me to escort you back to your place?” he
asked, already going for his coat.

She paused, looking like she was going to reject him out of hand
before she nodded, “I think that’d be best.”
Buttoning her own jacket once more, she held onto the briefcase
tightly, “I’m just so tired, Martin.”

Putting on his overcoat he took her out into the cold, the snow
beginning to fall again. “I bet,” he said. “It’s
been exhausting with just dealing with all the hoopla surrounding
this mess,” he sighed as they walked to the edge of campus
together. “You should have seen the look on Dr. Russell’s
face when he saw the dean talking with Turing this morning and not
him.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if we found Turing dead next,
then,” she rolled her eyes glibly. “Worst part is, Turing
didn’t even seem glad for it,” she sighed. She didn’t
lace her arm into Martin’s, yet she stuck close by him as her
voice quieted, “I don’t know how someone like you manages
around these parasites.”

With a wry laugh he remarked, “Me either, Eva.” It
wasn’t long before they were back to her place and he gave her
one of his puppy dog eyed looks, “Are you going to be okay?”

“I’ll be fine. And hey, looks like I’ll be
making more of your classes after all.”

“I wish, Eva,” he rolled his eyes and sighed. “They’ve
already appointed someone more qualified than me who’ll fill in
should Dr. Sinclair’s absence be more permanent.” He gave
a shrug of his shoulders, “Not a surprise to me, they did the
same thing a couple years back when that professor of mathematics
died. They don’t let us TAs take over that easy. Still...
would’ve been nice, huh?”

“Would have been,” she agreed as she opened her door.
“Thanks Martin. Be careful, alright?” she bid him before
finally resting against the wall of her home.

Giving her a light smile he bid her a final farewell, watching her
enter safely before he finally turned to leave.

It wasn’t until she was alone, in the privacy of her own
home that she went to her bedroom, her hand feeling under her skirt
to her panties, smelling her fingers with a mixture of terror and
revulsion.

To her great relief she detected nothing. Whatever he’d done
to her, it did not seem to extend to outright penetration of her
quim.

Her entire body shook as she crashed down on her bed, relief
spreading through her. The weight of the stress just lifted off her
shoulders, and she hadn’t realized just how much it had
frightened her. She had never intended for things to get sexual with
the odd professor, despite her innuendo and teasing, and hadn’t
prepared for such an eventuality.

It was a long while before she managed to struggle off the
mattress once more, however, making her way to the briefcase and
reading the enveloped letter once more.

She was so tired, and she could barely make sense of it. Why did
he have it with today’s paper? She went to her dressing robe
and found the detective’s card, rolling both the letter and it
between her fingers. Surely the officer could make more sense of it
than she, and if Turing hadn’t done anything, then there’d
be no harm done. Yet what if he figured out she had implicated him?

Either way, he would figure out she crossed him. At least the
police may be able to understand better than she. She sighed, walking
down into the main house, grabbing for the phone.

It didn’t take long before one of the operators spoke to her
after leaving her name, “Detective Eisen is out of the station
at the moment, miss, but,” she delayed, looking over a note on
the other end, “he left special instructions should you call.
He’s at the Sinclair manor right now.”

“Special instructions,” she murmured dumbly before
politely thanking the woman and wishing her a good evening. Forcing
herself to get ready, she pulled on her coat, tucked the letter
inside, and set off along that familiar path.

Getting a cab to take her to the manor, she arrived as the snow
fell and the mighty home looked desolately lonely. Aside from the one
vehicle parked outside—undoubtedly the detective’s—it
looked empty and unused, which seemed so strange for such a large
place after seeing it full of life the night of the party.

The front door was unlocked, but closed with the policeman
doubtlessly somewhere inside.

She thought better than to barge in, and removed her thin glove to
knock, the sound resounding along the empty rooms and corridors
within.

The knocks on that great door did not garner her any attention
right away, and so with her patience waning she opened the door and
went inside. The great main foyer was empty, the place empty of
sounds, but she could see there was a single door open upstairs
leading into a side room.

“Detective?” she asked, her voice sounding so small in
the grand house, and she felt smaller still. What had happened
earlier still was bothering her and even as she tried to push the
events from her mind, she was still on edge. “Are you there?”

She shut the door behind her, taking a few steps in towards the
stairs.

It took a while but eventually she saw the rugged face of Max
Eisen poke itself out from the door. “Miss Perkin’s,”
he said, his heavier voice carrying so much clearer than hers across
the empty hall. “What brings you here?” he asked,
stepping out and leaning on the railing, looking down at her with a
reassuring smile. In that usual trench coat of his, he looked bulkier
than he was, like an older, blonde haired, green eyed version of
Alan.

She relaxed immediately, her shoulders slumping and a wide smile
breaking past her lips. She wasn’t feeling proud about how
frightened and paranoid she was this evening, and she moved up the
stairs towards him, and the security she hoped he brought.

“I called your office... Why was there special instructions
for me?”

Moving from the railing he watched her approach and gave a shrug
of his broad shoulders, “I thought you’d have more to
tell me,” he said. “Call it a hunch,” he remarked
with a smile that was quite convincing and charming all at once. “So
what
do
I owe the pleasure of this meeting to, miss Perkin’s?”

“I... well, I have more to tell you I guess.” She
could feel her stomach roil in protest of even telling someone else
after how Martin had reacted, but as she stood in front of him, she
was determined. Her hand shook as she opened the coat, grabbing the
envelope. “I took this from Dr. Turing’s office.”

Furrowing his brow slightly, Max extended a hand somewhat
hesitantly. He’d left his hat behind somewhere, and his short
hair was free, albeit a bit wild, though that only added to his
masculine good looks. “Took?” he repeated questioningly.

“Yes,” her eyes dropped, her face going a bit red. She
couldn’t look at him, “I’d gone over there to speak
with him about pharmacology. He told me of a new drug he’d been
perfecting and I stupidly tried it. When... I awoke, I took the
letter from his desk.”

Raising a brow, the police detective looked quizzical at her
explanation. Though all the same he took the letter, opened it and
read. The reaction he gave wasn’t entirely what she hoped for,
though he seemed concerned. “You took this from him today?”
he asked in that husky voice of his.

“This morning,” she agreed, her brows puzzled.
“Well... afternoon. A couple of hours ago, I guess. Why?”

Folding the letter back up and sliding it into the envelope again
he handed it to her. “Is there anything else you care to tell
me about your involvement in any of this, miss Perkin’s?”
His expression softened, but it was obvious to her he wanted to know
more despite his reservations in asking. “I’ll do what I
can to help you, but holding any information back won't be in your
best interest.”

She looked down at the envelope in her hand, feeling her eyes burn
as tears threatened her. “Is... Is this not good?” Her
voice cracked and she stared at the detective. “Does this not
help at all?”

The man was obviously troubled by her reaction, and he reached
over and rested a strong reassuring hand on his shoulder. “It’s
useful, but... it won’t be admissible like this. Stolen by a
civilian and handed to an officer? That’s tricky. We’ll
need more,” he hesitated and took a deep breath. “But
before I can do that, miss Perkin’s... can you tell me about
what you were doing the night of the party?”

“I didn’t do it,” her lower lip trembled, just
like her hand. She swallowed as she tried to steady her voice, but
she failed. She had been such a perfect student, an ideal daughter.
She never threw fits and was always polite and engaging, level headed
and calm, yet the way she shook before him made her seem so frail.

Her shoulders rolled in and she looked up at him, past the brim of
her charcoal hat, “Why do you want to know what I was doing?”

His brow furrowed, his strong, reassuring hand squeezed her
shoulder a bit tighter. He looked for all the world like a man who
wanted to hold her and comfort her quite dearly, but he was a
professional first and foremost, she could see that. “I don’t
believe you did do it, Eva,” her name sounding so pleasant in
that husky voice of his. “But you aren’t telling me
everything about the night, and I didn’t become a homicide
detective by believing beautiful women at face value. No matter how
much I may want to, nor how genuine they seem.”

She wiped at her eyes, her gloves soaking up the threatening
tears. “Do you think Sinclair did it?” she asked, her
voice still warbling as she took a small step closer. “Do you
want to prove he did it or that he didn’t?”

Taking in a deep breath, she could tell he wouldn’t have
endless patience for her stalling, regardless of his emotions. “I
want the truth, Eva, that’s all. I’m only interested in
finding the truth to all this. Nothing more nor less. And I can’t
do that with partial information.”

She trembled against him, trying to inhale and catch her breath,
to steady herself, and failing. Her nerves were frayed, and that
strong hand on her shoulder was more distracting than comforting.
Being back in this house, seeing the familiar halls and looking at
the room he’d come from, she could feel her body scream at her.