Chasing the Lies

By Terri Allan

Susan Frazer a high flying auburn haired beauty deceived her men. Most of her male partners seemed not to know or even care she shared her affections. Finally someone did care enough to do something about it, but who?
Wendy Davis a young street wise teenager came from a dysfunctional back ground. Being so aware of her environment didnt save her from pain and humiliation.
Becky Saunders appeared to be a quiet, shy and timid female, but the truth was very different. Why did someone feel a need to teach her a lesson?
The gorgeous police Sergeant Debra Walker was on the case; she too liked men, and had a deep sexual desire for one of the suspects. Could she separate fact from fiction? Would her emotional feelings cloud her judgment?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris UK
• Release date: Oct 7, 2013
• ISBN: 9781483698212

Terri Allan

After a series of mundane jobs, the Author spent many years working for a large group of local newspapers in West London. As almost a decade and a half past and with the company growing out of all recognition, Terri Allan moved on to the financial services industry. A number of successful years past before Hotel and leisure became the next project. ‘Chasing the Lies’ is the author’s first novel.

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

Susan Frazer slammed the taxicab door shut, blocking out the cold blustery March wind, today accompanied by a heavy downpour. Normally she would walk the short distance from the local railway station to her apartment, but not this Friday evening. There was no way she intended to get soaked to the skin, as would certainly happen if she had walked the ten minutes from the railway station to her apartment in this weather. Sitting back in the cab, looking at the rain belting down on the windows, Susan thought over the highlights of the day and, indeed, the past week at work. She felt very happy with what she had managed to achieve; it had been an extremely profitable few days. As a senior financial adviser working for a large insurance company based at Kingston in Surrey, she had been given two leads to follow up by her branch manager a couple of weeks ago. She had become quite friendly with her branch manager, Benjamin Taylor. He often favoured her with company leads, partly because he knew she would most likely make sales from them and partly because he quite liked her too. Both leads he had passed to her recently resulted in company pension plans, which would earn her a sizable commission. In addition, she had written another contract on Tuesday for a couple of businessmen who wanted to insure each other—key man insurance. The annual insurance premium for the privilege of protecting each other was quite substantial, well into the thousands.

Standing five feet six tall in her bare feet and being rather on the slim side helped to make her look tall and elegant. With the added benefits of being blessed with curves in all the right places, she was an extremely attractive twenty-four-year-old. The local gym was the place she visited at least three times a week to keep her young body in trim. As she would usually wear a tight-fitting black leotard with thick grey leggings, she was often subjected to boring chat-up lines from the male patrons, but she purposely showed them little interest. She was pleasant with them, smiling as she would turn down any offer made to her. There was no way she would date or possibly sleep with someone who frequented the same gym as she used. She considered that it would come back to haunt her. But she had to admit some of the fellows were worth a second glance, particularly their bulges and well-shaped rears. Although she had been a member of the gym for more than three years now, it was surprising just how few people she knew to pass the time of day with. There was one girl of the same age as her with whom she did have coffee most times after a session; however, she didn’t socialise with the females outside the gym. Although a proven saleswoman, she was often shy when meeting new people and normally needed to be introduced, unless of course it was men chatting her up.

Her dyed auburn hair was cut short in a bob style, which meant little time was required each day to make herself look good—an important consideration when time in the morning was scarce. Susan always dressed smartly as would be expected of someone in her profession. Her work outfits only consisted of either a skirt suit or a trouser suit; she never wore a dress during the day. Spending substantial sums of money on clothes was her only real weakness. She found it hard to pass by certain clothing stores without popping in to buy something. Her style of dress for work and pleasure differed dramatically. When not working, she often wore short skirts which showed off her long shapely legs, along with scanty tops revealing plenty of her ample cleavage. There was also no crossover of friends from work to pleasure. She had been successful in making sure they were two separate parts of her life.

The traffic that evening seemed heavier than usual, probably she thought because of the foul weather. Rain in street light conditions always seemed to slow traffic to an almost standstill, which was something that as a non-driver she didn’t understand. Learning to drive was something she had been putting off for years; she was the only one among her girlfriends who didn’t drive. Whenever she went out for the evening, she and her friends would use cabs, or someone else would drive. In her head, she totted up what she had earned this week alone in commission—an additional 3,000 pounds. A beaming smile came over her lips, lighting up her pretty face. She was on course to pick up a substantial commission cheque for more than 10,000 pounds already this month, and there was still a week of the period left to work. It would be the biggest month’s cheque she had pulled from the company in the five years she had been working there. Although she regarded her salary cheque as more than generous, Susan regularly collected a monthly commission in excess of 5,000 pounds. Her combined take-home pay was often in the realms of 6,500 to 7,000 pounds a month. Ten thousand pounds worth of commission in one month had been her personal target to reach for two years or more.

The taxi suddenly slid to a halt, blasting its horn as a couple, arm in arm and heads down not looking where they were going, dashed in front of the cab. The cab’s headlights picked up the surprised expression on the couple’s face. Susan could see the driver waving his arms in the air and shouting some obscenities to the couple, as he pulled slowly away from the scene, staring rigidly at them. Gazing out the windows through orange-tinted rain droplets appearing to be stuck to the panes of glass, she watched a man fighting with his umbrella. With the contraption being blown inside out, the gusty winds seemed to be winning their personal battle. Although the weather outside was dismal, bad enough to put most people in a dull mood, Susan was in a happy frame of mind. For the past few months she had felt this way, a far cry from how she felt just over eight months ago when her mind was in turmoil. For a moment, she thought of those days, a normal occurrence when she had nothing of interest to occupy her usually active mind. The thoughts which rushed through her mind always made her feel sad, but just for a second. This evening though, she could feel her eyes welling up.

Shaking her head, she hoped to remove the thoughts, which proved unsuccessful this time. They all came flooding back. She had planned to be married by now and hopefully pregnant, but to her deep sorrow, fate brutally intervened. Her long-time boyfriend of four years and first real love, Thomas Dexter, known as Tommy, was killed at work eight months ago. He had worked as a motorcycle patrol officer with the metropolitan police force and had done so for a number of years. On that fateful night, he had been on duty as normal when it was said the brakes on his bike failed while chasing a car. The resulting headlong crash into a lorry coming from the opposite direction killed him instantly, so Susan was later told. In a way, she was fortunate to be in the company of her mother when she received the devastating news. A couple of uniformed officers had tracked her down at her parents’ home, as it was their sad duty to break the news to her. Understandably, she broke down on hearing the news. She remained in tears for days after.

The recently completed police enquiry found the accident was partly Tommy’s own fault, as he had been told to put his bike in for servicing. Knowing his marriage to Susan was only two weeks away at the time, he had been allowed to put off the servicing of his bike until he was away on his honeymoon. It was a strange conclusion reached by the enquiry, as it was known there were spare motorcycles around for that very purpose. The service manager was also reprimanded for allowing Tommy to continue to ride the machine knowing it was due for a thorough overhaul. The powers that be moved the service manager to another area, probably to defuse any possible repercussions which could later occur. None of this satisfied Tommy’s family or indeed Susan, but she was wise enough to know that whatever the result of any further enquiry, nothing would bring her beloved Tommy back to her.

For the first three weeks after receiving the devastating news of Tommy’s death, Susan naturally moped about. She felt ill most of the time, constantly bringing up any food she forced herself to eat. It was next to impossible to carry out the most mundane chores without bursting into floods of tears. The insurance company she worked for was very understanding and told her to take as much time off as she needed before returning to work. During the first few days after the death, she had to cancel the wedding service, the reception, and of course the honeymoon. She did have help from Tommy’s closest friend, Alan McFarland, who, like her, was very upset over the sudden death of his best friend. Both sets of parents, Tommy’s and hers, helped Susan get through those first few weeks, but strangely it was Alan she wanted to be with. She felt at that time he was the only one who really understood the almost unbearable pain she was going through. With Alan, she often sat and discussed her shattered dreams. However, by the end of the fourth week, she wanted something more to take her mind off the tragedy, and to her, work seemed to be the obvious solution. It would give her a purpose to get up in the mornings. It would take her mind away from constantly thinking about the tragic death of Tommy. There would be other things to talk about and do. Speaking with prospective clients would focus her mind on business and away from Tommy.

Today, Susan had in the main come to terms with the death of her fiancé. It wasn’t so much she had forgotten about Tommy; she could never see herself doing that, but it was more a case that he only entered her mind maybe once a day now, as opposed to every second for the first month or so after the tragedy. She began seeing Alan McFarland on a regular basis and inevitably the pair became more than just friends. For a while, they were passionate lovers, spending every spare moment together. Susan’s parents seemed happy with the situation, as it had only been very recently they had been informed about the relationship of their daughter and Alan. They had been allowed to believe their serious friendship had only recently developed, instead of about two months after Tommy’s death. Neither Susan nor Alan wanted people to think it was a ‘rebound’ relationship. Her mother told her life must go on, and it was the right to move on. But unfortunately for Alan, after a couple of months together, he found he was not the only man Susan was and had been seeing. There were a few, but very recently, she had met another man she found almost irresistible in the bedroom department. For some reason, he seemed able to turn her on just by touching her. She was annoyed with herself for submitting to this male, whom she didn’t much like in all other departments, and he wasn’t particularly good-looking either. She had more or less decided it was time to ditch this new indulgence, and not just because of Alan. Being so easily turned on by someone she didn’t much like made her feel vulnerable. One thing she hated was not being in control of a situation, and she certainly wasn’t able to control her feelings towards this latest man.

Alan McFarland was a big man with short jet black hair and quite handsome. He was also a serving police officer, who had not long ago been promoted to CID. He had started with the police as a community beat officer, then after two years managed to join the real police, as he called them. As a bobby pounding the streets, he soon got himself noticed. He made numerous arrests which stuck, as he was known not to pussyfoot around nastily behaved kids. On the surface, he was a modern politically correct police officer, but the real man was somewhat different. He was not opposed to turning a blind eye to certain crimes if it got a result he was after. His reputation for getting results quickly came to the notice of a number of serving detectives. He was regularly asked for by CID, to carry out special work, so it wasn’t too difficult to gain promotion to their department once he had passed the required exams. Now a plain clothes officer, he was in his element. He had become, as he saw it, ‘one of the boys’. He mixed socially with his work colleagues, forcing Susan to get to know a few of them too. It was the only thing about her relationship with Alan she wasn’t completely happy with and had often told him it probably wasn’t such a good idea to spend so much time in the company of other serving police officers. She didn’t want a situation where most of her friends were coppers. Some of her other friends would not be so keen to spend time with her. Like most people who had a wide circle of long-time friends, some of hers worked, but a few, particularly males, made a living by dubious means. They happily bought or sold things which ‘fell off the back of a lorry’—not the kind of people who would feel at ease in the company of coppers.

The taxi finally came to a halt. Susan scrambled about in her purse to pay the driver while still seated in the back, before facing the full onslaught of the wild weather outside. Turning up the collar of her long black overcoat, she slowly opened the taxi door. The wind was still howling, and the rain seemed even heavier than it had been when she had first got into the cab. It was so hard it hurt her face as it fell against her skin. Dashing across the pavement, she ran up a few steps of a four-storey house; her apartment was on the first floor. She stood under the small storm porch for protection, while she searched in her handbag for the front door key. ‘Shit,’ she mumbled aloud. ‘I should have found the keys before getting out the taxi.’ The lower parts of her legs were now becoming drenched from the slashing of the rain droplets, as they hit the concrete steps. At last, she found the keys and quickly opened the main door of the house. Closing the door on the weather outside, she was pleasantly surprised to find how warm the hallway was. She had fully expected it to be freezing cold as usual. The hall seemed oversized and bare of furniture; only a large ornate staircase wound its way up to the other floors. It had recently been painted, and the smell of new paint still remained, a smell she didn’t much like. Mail addressed to all the owners of the apartments in the building was simply scattered on the floor behind the front door. Susan looked through the mail, collecting the ones addressed to her. Her letters were mainly bills. ‘They must have fixed the central heating in the hall at last,’ she thought.

Just then, a chap who lived in the apartment above hers threw open the front door. ‘Hi, Susan,’ he groaned, fighting to close the front door against a strong gust of wind. ‘What a bloody awful night out there!’

‘Yes, it is, Bill,’ she replied, watching drops of water from his overcoat drip all over the newly laid hallway carpet, as he rushed up the stairs to his apartment.

Opening the door to her apartment, Susan kicked off her high heel shoes, leaving them to sit under a small mock antique hall table. Throwing down her keys and handbag on the table, she switched on the lights. Her apartment was warm and inviting, a far cry from how it was when she had bought it. After Tommy’s death, she had spent quite a few thousand pounds in having the place redecorated and furnished. She loved the finished result. While the work was being carried out, she had spent more time round at Alan’s three-bedroom house, which was only a stone’s throw from the apartment. But of late, she hadn’t seen so much of him. Life had become a little complicated, to say the least. Tonight she knew Alan was working, so she was looking forward to pampering herself which she hadn’t done for a couple of weeks. Susan knew that when Alan told her he would be working late he usually meant he would be going for a drink with his work colleagues when they had completed their shift. It was a habit he had got into fairly recently. The habit didn’t much please Susan, which she thought was probably why she allowed herself to indulge in this new affair. Alan had also recently developed another habit which irritated her. Sometimes after a session with the lads, he would call round to her place, letting himself in with a key she had given him some months ago. Often it would be one or two in the morning, but only ever at weekends. He would reek of booze, something else she didn’t much like. To be honest, there were times she liked to see him, but more often than not, these days she hated seeing him at that time in the morning. She had thought about somehow getting her key off him, but she knew it probably wouldn’t stop him from ringing her bell at two in the morning. But in the end, she knew she loved him dearly.

Next to the table, in the hall, stood a decorative black painted coat rack, with an umbrella stand attached to it. Removing her wet overcoat, she hung it on the rack and strolled into the kitchen. She put on the kettle, as she really fancied a refreshing pot of tea. While it boiled, she went round the apartment, turning on all the lights; she was not that fond of being in the dark. The whole apartment was warm as usual and lit brightly. She removed her jacket and placed it over a kitchen stool. Next she loosened her skirt and blouse, then sat on another stool to enjoy her freshly made cup of tea. She looked round the kitchen. There were dirty cups in the sink, along with a few unwashed plates. Opening up the dishwasher, she placed them all inside, then returned to her stool to finish her drink. All the appliances in the kitchen were new. The washing machine she personally had never used and wasn’t sure how it worked. All the washing, ironing, and dusting she left to a paid home help. This middle-aged woman visited her place twice a week, on a Wednesday and Saturday morning, but Susan did try to keep the place tidy all week.

An hour later, she was soaking herself in a bath full of scented bubbles. Coloured candles surrounded the perimeter of the tub. For a second or two, Tommy entered her mind, which again was usual when she was alone in the bath. Shaking her head to remove the sad thoughts, she cast her mind to Alan. Over the period of time, she had become very fond of him. He was her rock, something stable in her otherwise chaotic life, although rarely did she show him her true feelings. In her mixed-up brain, he was the one she could count on to always be there for her, but of late he had been questioning her behaviour. For the first time, she felt he doubted her explanations. Her thoughts turned to sex. She was feeling horny this evening and felt a little disappointed she wasn’t seeing Alan tonight, or even if she did, it wouldn’t be until much later. He was always ready to make love to her whenever she felt the urge, which in her case was quite often. He was a gentle lover, but at the same time took charge. She sighed at the thoughts of what they had got up to a couple of evenings ago. After a minute or so of massaging, she found a way to relieve the sexual pressure she felt, allowing a muffled scream to pass her lips as she reached her peak. Her body shivered with pleasure, disturbing the water enough to splashing out one of the candles. She soaked herself for another half hour.

Allowing the large towel she had just used to dry herself to fall to the floor, she stood naked in her bedroom, studying her splendid form in front of a full-length mirror. She had shaved her armpit and bush while in the bathroom, as she wanted to make sure she looked good. And she did. Little did she know someone else was also studying her shape from another room. Turning to her side, she looked at the reflection of her trim stomach; she was dreading the time when it would no longer be flat. Grabbing a towelling robe from the back of the bedroom door, she slipped it on and began drying her hair. It was still early evening, only 8.30 p.m. ‘Should I go down to the local bar and grab a bite to eat or not?’ she pondered. Being alone in a bar was not her idea of fun, and she also knew it wouldn’t be long before some smart or perhaps not so smart fellow tried his luck at chatting her up. Could she really be bothered with all that, getting dressed, putting on make-up? It would all take time. Trying to decide what to do, she walked off to the lounge.

In the doorway of the room, she stood frozen to the spot. There before her, lying naked and prostrate on the settee, was her latest lover, the one she was thinking about ditching. He smiled at her. ‘Good evening, Miss Frazer, you look beautiful this evening,’ he said quietly. To see him there was a shock.

‘How did he get in?’ she instantly questioned in her mind. At first, she didn’t answer him. He stood up, prompting her to notice his manhood was erect and already covered with a condom. ‘What the hell are you doing here? And how did you get in?’ she asked in a strong, firm tone. She wasn’t happy, not at all.

He smiled at her, his not so handsome face creased with lines. ‘I thought I would surprise you this evening, and then perhaps take you to dinner,’ he replied, still grinning.

Inwardly, Susan was furious at his cheek. ‘How dare he break into my apartment?’ she thought. But instead of bawling at him as would be normal, she saw an opportunity to have a sensible conversation with the man she planned to dump. He slowly moved towards her and reached for her bosom. She felt her body shudder as he touched her nipple, which instantly became firm. Her legs felt weak. ‘No,’ she said, pushing his hand away. ‘Put some clothes on. I think it’s time we had a proper talk,’ she said. She was horny again, just from one touch from this man. It was the thing she had come to hate about this man the most, his ability to get her going when she wasn’t even thinking about sex. She was one of those women who liked to start the sex game off herself. Normally she got angry very quickly if Alan for example touched her up, when she wasn’t in the mood.

All sorts of questions began rushing through her mind. ‘What if Alan turned up?’ After all, he did have a key, something she now regretted giving to him, particularly as he had never asked for one in the first place. ‘What if Mother or Father suddenly made an appearance? Could this man get dressed in time?’ She also knew it was pointless shouting at the intruder, as he obviously couldn’t see he had done anything wrong. The man sat back on the settee, but ignored her request that he should put some clothes on. She cast a glance at her apartment front door.

‘It’s all right, Susan. I closed it firmly behind me,’ he giggled. ‘But you didn’t when you came home. That’s how I got in.’

Trying to recall her movements when she had first entered her apartment, she couldn’t be sure she had closed the front door behind her. She recalled Bill Scott from upstairs had come in after her. ‘Did he close the house front door properly behind him?’ she questioned in her mind. But she also knew it probably wouldn’t be too difficult for this man to break into her place if he wanted to and felt unable to let it pass without saying something. ‘I really don’t appreciate you breaking into my apartment like this uninvited. I might not have been alone. It could all have been very embarrassing. I might have been in a compromising position with someone.’ As she spoke to him, she found herself struggling not to gaze at his nakedness. ‘At the very least, you should have rung my doorbell, alerted me to the fact you were coming in.’

The man cut off his smile as he spoke, ‘As I said, Susan, I wanted to surprise you. And I remember you telling me you were free tonight.’ Susan couldn’t recall telling him that at all, but guessed she must have. ‘Anyway,’ he added, ‘I didn’t break in, as you put it.’

‘Look,’ she said in a soft but serious tone, ‘we’ve had fun, haven’t we?’ He nodded his head by way of a reply and grinned. ‘Well,’ she said hesitantly, ‘sometimes we realise we might have made a mistake, and I think with you, I have made one. I already have a boyfriend as you know, and I am happy with him. I’m definitely not looking to break up with him. I told you when we started this, it was only a bit of fun.’ His facial expression never changed as she spoke; he displayed a sickly grin, which she found a little creepy. ‘Anyway, I think we should call it a day in our relationship.’ Easing the tension she felt, she began to laugh. ‘How can you expect me to have a serious conversation with you when your penis keeps flipping up and down?’ He was using his muscle to create the effect. The truth was she was becoming aroused by his action, even though in her heart she really wanted to end their friendship. Picking up on her feelings, he stood up and moved towards her again. ‘No,’ she said rather unconvincingly, believing she knew exactly what he had on his mind. He undid the belt on her robe, exposing her freshly shaved bush.

In less than a minute, the pair was wriggling about on the lounge’s carpeted floor. He was deep inside her now, forcing her into the realms of ecstasy. His soft hands were everywhere, exploring her curves. All thoughts of dumping this strange individual had temporarily left her mind. He was the sort of bloke she would like to be able to call on when her sexual needs were not satisfied, someone she could telephone whenever she felt the need, but she knew that to be totally impractical. She had never met a man who could turn her on like this chap was able to do. He seemed to do nothing, but she always found herself submitting to him. For the moment though, only thoughts of more sex were on her mind. She quickly reached another screaming orgasm.

Gently, he withdrew from her; the pair lay exhausted on the carpet for a moment, side by side. Her lungs were gulping in air. Glowing with perspiration, she still had on her robe, with her arms through the long sleeves. Slowly she stood up, her knees almost giving way, her legs quivering. Susan clung to the settee. She re-tied the belt on her robe again, as she strolled to her en suite bathroom. Before long, he appeared in her bedroom ready for more lovemaking. ‘Now, what were you saying about calling it a day on our relationship?’ he asked, still displaying that sickly grin. The last thing she wanted to do now was talk about breaking up, but she knew she had to.

‘I think this should be the last time we make love together. As I said earlier, I think we made a mistake. As you know, I already have a steady boyfriend whom I’m very fond of. You also know what profession he’s in. He could make life very difficult for the both of us. I really wouldn’t want him to find out about us. He would be so hurt. Tonight must be our last time together. Let’s just say this is the last time we make love and enjoy it as such.’ She sat on the bed, looking at the still naked male in front of her. His appendage was by no means the biggest she had seen, but he certainly knew how to use it. There was something about this man’s touch which turned her instantly on, or was it simply because she knew what was to follow his touch?

The man made no reply; instead, he continued to smile at her as he walked towards her. It was then Susan noticed his condom was empty. He hadn’t exploded as he had made out and was still rock hard. ‘Or had he changed the condom?’ She couldn’t be sure. Either way, that told her he wanted more sex which she wasn’t too adverse to. But somehow she had to get this man to realise she was serious in her thoughts. She would make him understand; after all, from the little she knew about this man, she thought him to be quite sensible. Removing her robe, ready for more lovemaking, she patted the bed for him to sit next to her, her super body now completely exposed. ‘Do you understand what I have been saying? This will be the last time we do this together, but let me say, I have really enjoyed you. You have given me a great deal of pleasure.’

He seemed to be thinking of something to say, his face showing signs he wasn’t happy. ‘I don’t see any reason for us to call it a day. I know you enjoy our little sessions together. I’m sorry if I frightened you this evening. I promise not to do that again.’

She was smiling sweetly at him now. ‘No, it’s not just that. Our time together is at an end. We both need to move on. It’s nothing you’ve done.’ Before she could say anything more, he was on top of her, pressing himself against her. He kissed her neck, then moved his lips down to her hard erect nipples. Deep inside her, she was away again, in her own little heaven, her trim young body shaking all over with pleasure. Once again, she was ready to enjoy another orgasm.

Something about his lovemaking was different this time. He was not his normal gentle self. He was erratic, pushing himself hard inside her, then almost fully withdrawing. His pumping action seemed to speed up. His hands were all over her, but not gently this time, as they had been in the past. After a while, his hands came to rest round her soft white neck. She began to have an out-of-body experience, appearing to be looking down on them both from above. Although in pain, and having difficulty in breathing properly, she found herself unable to stop another climax and knew he had exploded too this time. Moments later, his hands began to tighten round her throat. Her arms flailing and hitting out at him did nothing to reduce the force he was using on her neck. ‘I’ll teach you not to use people, you bitch,’ he said. ‘I only ever wanted to be your friend,’ he added. She felt as if her eyes were about to pop out; she couldn’t make a sound. Her lungs were bursting. ‘You’ll never treat anyone else in such a way, bitch’ were the last words she ever heard. After a short while, darkness fell.

CHAPTER TWO

Mrs Dashwood limped slowly along the damp pavement. It was around ten the next morning, a bright warmish, sunny, but still windy Saturday—a far cry from the appalling weather of the evening before. As she approached the steps of the four-storey house, she grabbed the iron handrail. Pulling herself upwards, she breathed heavily as she reached the front door. With the key already in hand, the short, plump middle-aged female opened the door. Once inside, she used her considerable weight to close the large door behind her. Almost immediately, she turned to her right and opened the front door of apartment two.

The first thing to hit her when she closed the door was that the hall and kitchen lights were on. Walking in the kitchen, she placed her handbag along with a bulky shopping bag on the table and looked around her. It was very unusual to see just one dirty cup in the sink. Normally on a Saturday morning she would expect at the very least the breakfast things scattered about the sink unit. She then noticed a jacket belonging to her employer on one of the stools. Removing her own coat, she went back in the hall and hung it on the iron stand by the front door. Turning off the light in the hallway and kitchen, Mrs Dashwood made her way to the lounge. The light was still on in this room too. She went round switching off the two upstand lights as well as the main one hanging from the ceiling. She opened up the heavy drapes to let the rays of sunlight in. Mumbling to herself about the lady of the house still being in bed, she began to clean up the kitchen. But first she switched the washing machine on, not feeling too concerned if there were still clothes to be washed in the bedroom. She was upset because she was always paid cash on a Saturday and didn’t much like the thought she might not be paid today. What if the lady of the house was out? ‘No,’ she convinced herself. ‘I would have been left a note or something. But it would be unusual for Miss Frazer to still be in bed at this time of day,’ she decided. ‘So she must be out already,’ she argued with herself. Her mood blackened even more.

After cleaning the kitchen floor, wiping down the work surfaces, emptying the dishwasher, and putting the cutlery back where it belonged, Mrs Dashwood started on the chore she most disliked—the ironing. The clothes in the washing machine were now being tumble dried, which would produce another load of pressing. Walking into the spare bedroom, she found the pile of ironing was not as much as she had been expecting. On her return to the kitchen with the un-ironed garments, she checked the washing machine again. Without exception, ironing always brought more mumblings of discontent from the home help.

It was twelve thirty, and the lady of the house still hadn’t made an appearance. Mrs Dashwood made up her mind she would enter the bedroom and check to see if she was there. The only other time the lady of the house was missing on a Saturday morning a note explaining the situation had been left on the kitchen table, along with an envelope containing the cleaner’s cash. She had kept an ear out for any noises coming from the bedroom, but she picked none up. There had been a time when Mrs Dashwood had bumped into a half-naked man on some Saturday mornings. At least for the last few months, it had been the same good-looking male. He was in fact the only person she had ever seen stay overnight. ‘Sleeping in till noon is long enough, even if she had been out late last night,’ the cleaner decided. First, she gently tapped on the bedroom door and called out, ‘Miss Frazer, Miss Frazer, it’s turned twelve, dear.’ Getting no reply, the woman gingerly opened the door. ‘Bloody hell,’ she muttered under her breath. ‘She’s still asleep.’ Taking bold strides towards the bed, the female stood over the beauty lying motionless under a duvet. With the duvet pulled tight to her chin, the lady of the house appeared to still be in a deep sleep. Gently Mrs Dashwood shook the covered shoulder of her employer. ‘Come on, miss, wake up. It’s twelve thirty,’ she said in a normal tone of voice. Getting no response, she lowered the duvet to the top of Miss Frazer’s chest and again shook her shoulder.

This time she stepped back quickly; the auburn-haired female was cold to the touch. Mrs Dashwood touched Susan Frazer again, just to make sure she really was cold. She was. The cleaner stood looking at the corpse for a second, before slowly backing out the bedroom and moving to the kitchen to sit on a stool. For a few minutes, she wondered what she should do next; her employer was dead. She knew this to be the case because Susan was not the first person she had found dead. The awful feeling of cold skin was the same as she recalled she had felt when another employer of hers died a few years ago. But that person was an old lady who had simply died of natural causes in her sleep. Seeing how Susan was so young, she suspected her death might not be of natural causes and suddenly felt nervous being alone in the apartment. After a full five minutes, Mrs Dashwood made her way slowly on unsteady legs to the telephone in the hall. There she dialled 999.

Detective Chief Inspector Richard Lock stood looking at the naked body of a female lying flat on her back on a bed. The duvet which had been covering the body was now down to her ankles, and a woman in her mid-thirties dressed in a white paper suit was bending over the corpse. On the floor next to the bed lay a towelling bathrobe. ‘She was a bit of a beauty, wasn’t she, sir?’ said Sergeant Gilmore, the chief inspector’s recently appointed sergeant.

Lock looked at the sergeant and nodded, at the same time saying, ‘Yes, she was, Sergeant.’ ‘So what do you think, Doc? What can you tell me?’ Lock asked the female still bending over the motionless body.

‘Strangulation, sometime last evening I’d say,’ replied the female. She added, ‘We have discovered her name to be Susan Frazer.’

The chief inspector nodded again. ‘Any other obvious marks on her body, Doc?’

‘Not that I can find yet’ came the reply. ‘I’ll know more once I have her back in the morgue.’

The chief inspector moved closer to the body. ‘Any sign of rape, Doc?’ he asked, taking a much closer look at the victim’s face, then moving his gaze to her upper thighs.

‘As I said, Chief Inspector, I’ll know more later,’ mumbled the doctor.

The chief inspector had just reached the age of forty and had not been in a particular happy frame of mind since then. For a lot of men, reaching that age could be a milestone in their lives. They think they are beginning to get old, and of course in some cases, it proves to be true. In Richard Lock’s case however, he had a kind of handsome, mature look about him. His wrinkled face seemed to suit him well, while his dark hair was greying at the sides. He was always smartly dressed in a suit, often with a matching waistcoat. Married with two girls, both teenagers now, he had been on the force for twenty-one years. In the main he enjoyed his job, but was not much liked by any of his past sergeants. Standing at six foot tall and with the build of a rugby prop forward, most criminals would never dream of taking him on. He was of both schools. On the one hand, he could comply with all the new politically correct requirements without getting upset; on the other hand, he was not adverse to using muscle when in his opinion it was called. He rarely smiled, but still appreciated beautiful women, like the one lying dead before him. ‘She really was a stunner,’ he muttered to the sergeant and the doctor. His last sergeant stayed with him two years and told everyone how pleased he was to at last be able to move on. As to why the chief inspector was disliked so by his bagmen, it never seemed to get talked about. But other members of his team who didn’t work that closely with the boss only had nice things to say about him.

His newly appointed Sergeant Brian Gilmore came from the Midlands. Standing around the same height as his boss, he certainly wasn’t what one could in the slightest call handsome, but was much more of a trim build. His short hair was dark brown, which matched his lively eyes. His grey suit was of a good cut; he always wore a tie loosely tied round his open-necked shirt. The twenty-six-year-old was coming to the end of only his third month of working with the chief inspector. As yet, he hadn’t made any comment to anyone about whether he liked his boss or not. Unmarried, he was already building a bit of a reputation with the females at the station. Often he would be seen chatting to women police officers in corridors or by the drinks machine, but rarely to men. Although he was pleasant enough, there was something about his attitude and behaviour the chief inspector didn’t much like. But unless he stepped out of line, there was nothing the older man could do about him. So far the pair had managed to be amicable to one another. But it was obvious to all they would probably never be firm friends.

Inspector Lock cast a glance round the room, ‘Nothing in here seems to have been disturbed,’ he said to his sergeant. Gilmore’s eyes seemed to be fixed on the dead girl. ‘Did you hear me, Sergeant?’ Lock said sharply.

Gilmore turned away quickly and followed his superior’s gaze. ‘Yes, I’d agree with you, governor,’ he replied.

Looking once again back at the dead girl, Lock asked, ‘Can you cover her body now, Doc, give her some dignity? We have all sorts of people wandering around here now. No need for her nakedness to be seen by all and sundry is there.’

The doctor looked at the dead girl, then at the chief inspector and smiled. ‘I’m about to have her moved now anyway, Chief Inspector, if that’s all right with you?’

The two detectives strolled into the lounge and looked around, then the boss turned to Gilmore. ‘I recognise that girl. She’s Alan McFarland’s girlfriend. He’s recently joined the detective division as a constable. I’ve seen him with her a few times. From the little I know of McFarland, we’ll have trouble with him, I’m sure. He’s going to be devastated. And that’s to be expected.’ After a pause, he asked his sergeant, ‘Who found the body? It wasn’t him, was it?’

‘No, no,’ replied Gilmore. ‘It was the cleaner. Poor cow, bet she shit herself.’

Lock wasn’t the sort of man who enjoyed listening to that kind of talk. ‘No, I don’t suppose finding the girl dead did much to enhance her day, Sergeant,’ he replied sourly. ‘Where is the cleaner now?’ Lock asked.

‘Oh, she’s been taken down the station to make a statement while everything’s fresh in her mind, guv.’ Lock thought that a good idea and nodded his approval at the sergeant. ‘I’ve only met McFarland once, sir. What’s he like? I mean, do you think he might have done this? After all, he’ll be our first suspect, won’t he?’

Lock shook his head. ‘Can’t see it myself, Sergeant, but you never know. We’ll have to question him anyway. As you say, he’ll be our first suspect.’ He looked at his watch; the time was 2 p.m., and the chief inspector said, ‘I suggest you get someone sensible to bring him into the station and make sure the news of this girl’s death is broken to him gently if he doesn’t already know.’

Gilmore nodded and instantly made a call on his mobile phone. A moment or two later, he turned to his boss and said, ‘I’ve arranged for that to be done, guv.’ The pair continued to look around the apartment, but was careful not to touch anything. At one point, Gilmore got shouted at by the chief inspector for sitting on one of the settees in the lounge.

Re-entering the bedroom, the chief inspector strolled to the en suite. The delightful smell of feminine perfume hit him hard. He inhaled the appealing odour, while looking around. Candles had burnt down to nothing, but one, although out, still had some way to burn. The bath itself had not been cleaned after use, and a large towel was lying screwed up on the tiled floor. He looked at the female clothing hanging on the back of a chair; he could sense she had undressed in here before jumping into the bath. He was sorrowful; the death of such a young girl upset him. It was something he had never got used to, and he had seen a great many dead females in his time on the job. Calling his sergeant to follow, the pair made their way back to the police station—neither saying much to the other.

In one of the interview rooms at the police station sat Detective constable Alan McFarland, Sergeant Gilmore, and Chief Inspector Lock. McFarland’s eyes were red and sore. ‘Look, Alan,’ said Lock in a very soft voice, ‘you have my full and sincere sympathy. I can promise you we’ll do our very best to catch the bastard who did this.’ There was a pause before Lock added, ‘I’m afraid I have to ask you a few questions, and now would be as good a time as any. As a serving police officer, I’m sure you understand?’

Alan tried to give a smile, but his facial expression hardly changed. ‘Yes, I understand, sir,’ he said quietly.

‘I know you were on duty yesterday evening. What time did you get off?’

Alan thought for a moment. ‘I finished around ten, but then went for a drink with some of the lads. After that, some of us went to Harry Staples place for a nightcap. I got a cab from his place at around three this morning.’ Gilmore was making notes, but at no stage bothered to look up at McFarland.

‘You went back to your place then?’ confirmed the chief inspector.

McFarland, whose head was bowed, looked up and replied, ‘Yes, that’s right, sir. I told Susan yesterday morning I would be working late, so didn’t think it would right to disturb her. Although if I hadn’t gone back to Harry’s place, I might have called round. I wish I had now.’

‘Tell me, sir,’ asked Alan. ‘I heard she was strangled, but… , ah… did the murdering bastard do anything else to her?’

Inspector Lock knew what Alan was asking, so he thought carefully about his reply. Experience told him sex had probably taken place before death, either forced or otherwise, but he didn’t see any point in saying so. He had seen no evidence of rape, no tell tale marks on her upper thighs. Instead, he replied, ‘I can honestly tell you at this precise moment we only know she was strangled. It will be Monday morning at the earliest before we will get a detailed report. But I can tell you she wasn’t beaten at all.’

Alan bowed his head for a second, then asked, ‘What about Susan’s parents? Have they been informed yet?’ Alan’s voice was soft; it was obvious to the two detectives the man was in pain.

‘Yes, Alan, they were told this morning. In fact, it was her father who identified Susan.’

Suddenly, Gilmore piped up, ‘How long had you been dating Miss Frazer, Detective?’

Inspector Lock looked daggers at his sergeant, frowned, and then turned his gaze in the direction of McFarland. Alan looked as shocked by the question as did the senior officer, but after a pause, he began to answer. ‘I have known Susan for many years. She was engaged to be married to my best friend, who was sadly killed less than a year ago.’ Turning to look at the chief inspector, Alan added, ‘You might remember him, sir. His name was Tommy Dexter, killed on his motorbike while on duty in Hammersmith.’

The chief inspector thought for a moment, then nodded. ‘Oh yes,’ he said. ‘I do recall the accident, although I never met the man myself. Well, at least I don’t recall meeting him.’

All three were silent for a while, then McFarland carried on, ‘Anyway, because we were thrown together over what happened to Tommy, Susan and I became close. I suppose we have been dating seriously about five months now.’

Gilmore continued to make notes in his black notebook. ‘One other question that I think does have some relevance,’ said the chief inspector, casting a glare at his sergeant. ‘Can you give us the name and address of her closest female friend?’

McFarland looked up from his head bowed position. ‘I guess that would be Jill Dexter. The two girls have been friends for years, since school I believe. Tommy Dexter was in fact Jill’s brother.’

Gilmore asked the next question, ‘So I suppose that’s how Susan first met Tommy?’ Alan nodded his head in reply, but uttered no sound.

Having written down the address and telephone number of Jill Dexter, the DCI brought the meeting to a close by saying, ‘Rest assured, Alan, I will do my very best to bring the culprit to justice.’

Jill Dexter was in tears, as the two police officers were led into a room where she was sitting. It was eight in the evening, and the two detectives were feeling tired. ‘These two policemen would like a word with you about Susan, dear,’ said the girl’s mother. ‘They promised me they won’t keep you long.’ The tall, elegant woman sat down next to her daughter. Jill looked quite a bit like Susan Frazer. Their build was similar as indeed was the style of haircut and its colour.

Sergeant Gilmore began speaking. ‘Evening, miss, this is Chief Inspector Lock, and I am Sergeant Gilmore. We want to ask you a few questions about your friend, Susan Frazer,’ he said in a matter-of-fact tone.

Lock took over; it was obvious the girl had been told about the death of her friend, and he wanted to ask some personal questions. He knew the girl would require gentle coaxing. ‘You have our deepest sympathy, Miss Dexter.’ It was easy for him to make that statement sound very sincere, partly because he was being so.

Jill looked up and tried to smile at the chief inspector, whose face she found pleasant. ‘How can I help you, Inspector?’ she asked.

Gilmore was about to speak, but was stopped instantly by Lock. ‘What we need to know, miss, is who Susan’s friends were, both socially and at work. The sooner we can talk to them the better chance we might have of catching her killer quickly. We need to eliminate as many of her acquaintances as possible from our enquiries.’

Again, Jill gave half a smile and slowly began rattling off a list of social friends, both male and female. Gilmore was busy taking notes as usual. After a few minutes, Jill stood up and walked over to the window. Lock thought how strange it was the dead girl so closely resembled this one. ‘As far as her work friends are concerned, Inspector, I’m afraid I can’t help you much there. You see, I never met any of them. Susan always believed in keeping her work friends separate from her close social friends. She was funny like that,’ Jill added, turning to look at the chief inspector. ‘Tell me, how is Alan taking all this? It’s the second time he… ‘ She paused a while, then continued, ‘And indeed me too, have lost someone close in less than a year. My brother was killed only eight months ago. He was a great friend of Alan’s and in fact was about to be married to Susan when he was killed.’

The chief inspector nodded, a solemn expression on his face. ‘Yes, miss, we know about that. Alan told us this afternoon.’ After a suitable pause, Lock asked another question. ‘What about at work? She must have spoken to you about some of the people she worked with.’

‘Not really, Inspector. I mean, I know her branch manager’s name is Ben Taylor, but that’s about it. She never lunched with anyone at work and only went into the office twice a week. She would usually spend Wednesday afternoons and Friday mornings in the office sorting out whatever it was she did.’

Gilmore got in quickly, ‘She must have talked about some of the other sales people who worked in the office? From what I hear, there is always rivalry between top sales people.’

Once again, the chief inspector cast a glare at his sergeant, this time for breaking what he considered was his carefully arranged set of questions. ‘Funnily enough, she never spoke about any of the other sales people,’ Jill replied. ‘I remember asking her if there were any dishy blokes there. But she told me she spent so little time in the office she met hardly any of them.’ The two policemen looked at each other, prompting a further comment from Jill. ‘It was strange really. She often won holidays for winning certain in house sales competition, but she’d never take them. She told me once she didn’t want to spend time with any of the people she worked with. I assumed by that comment other sales staff would have been at the same resort at the same time.’ Turning to her mother, Jill asked, ‘Do you think I should contact Alan?’

The dutiful mature female replied, ‘Not this evening, dear. Perhaps tomorrow.’ It was exactly what Inspector Lock would have said if Jill were his daughter; he guessed at what the older woman would be thinking, ‘Maybe Alan McFarland would turn out to be the killer?’

After having secured the name of the branch manager and the company where Susan worked, the chief inspector knew there was no point in pursuing questions about Susan’s workplace. He had another idea. ‘This dead girl behaved strangely,’ he thought. ‘Why was she so keen to keep her two sets of friends apart?’ He had never come across this situation before. ‘She must be the kind of person who could easily lead two separate lives. Maybe she had another man in tow?’ he thought. ‘Perhaps Alan McFarland was just one of her lovers? Surely this girl Jill knew more than she was saying, but how to get it out of her?’ With her mother sitting by her side, the chief inspector believed there was no chance the girl would say anything of interest. He began to cough quite badly, prompting her mother to ask if he was all right. ‘I could use a glass of water, if you don’t mind?’ The older female stood up, looked at her daughter, and then left the room. The older officer had an idea the girl knew a lot more than she was saying. He took a stab in the dark as to what it might be. ‘Now, Jill, while your mother’s out the room, will you tell us about Susan’s secret lovers?’ The girl looked shocked by the question and stood up again, making her way to the window. ‘I’m sorry to be so blunt, Jill, but we know she was seeing someone else, and as her best friend, we know you would have been told who that person is. So I suggest you get your mother to make us all a cup of tea, or of course we could take you down to the station to continue our discussion.’

Jill turned to face the inspector, but said nothing in reply as her mother entered the room. The woman passed the glass of water to the inspector. ‘You know, Mum, you haven’t offered these policemen a cup of tea. That’s most unlike you,’ Jill mumbled.

Mrs Dexter blushed; it was obvious she was embarrassed. ‘Do you both take milk and sugar?’ asked the mother, before apologising and leaving the room.

‘How did you know about Susan’s other man?’ the girl enquired.

‘That’s not important now, Jill. Who was he?’ the chief inspector pressed. Gilmore looked at the girl with interest, but said nothing.

‘I don’t know his name, Inspector. Susan never told me, honestly. But I know she had been having sex with this chap for about a month. She told me she didn’t like him much, but found him irresistible in bed. She met him while out with Alan somewhere. She never said where.’

‘Susan must have told you something more about this man,’ pushed Gilmore. ‘I mean, what did he look like? Was he short, tall, fat, or skinny, things like that?’ he pressed.

‘No,’ said Jill convincingly. ‘All I know is she only wanted him for sex, nothing more. As I say, she told me she didn’t much like him, but he was able to turn her on unlike any other bloke apparently ever had.’ Jill’s face was flushed; she was feeling conscious of what she was saying. ‘I know she was about to get shot of him, because she was beginning to worry about Alan finding out. She told me she would be doing so in the next few days.’

The mother re-entered the room carrying a tray. She placed it on the small coffee table and began to pour the tea from the pot into cups. ‘No sugar you said, Officers, is that right?’ The two officers looked at each other, neither recalling answering the original question.

‘None for me, thanks,’ answered Gilmore.

‘Or me, thank you, madam,’ said the chief inspector.

Jill, who had returned to the settee, turned to her mother. ‘I have just been telling these officers I didn’t know the name of Susan’s latest man friend.’ Lock was surprised the daughter had told her mother about Susan’s affair; it proved just how close mother and daughter were.

‘So there’s no more you can say to help us identify this man?’ asked the chief inspector.

Shaking her head from side to side, Jill replied, ‘No, I’m sorry, but as I say, I never saw him or was told his name. I don’t even know what he did for a living or in fact if he even worked.’ After a moment’s pause, Jill added, ‘This