Death by Indulgence Page 12

  ‘Oh dear, that’s my fault,’ Ella gasped. ‘I’m so sorry. I’ll fetch it straight away.’ She finished ironing out a tablecloth with the flat of her hands, laying the table with protective placemats and several sets of cutlery.

  Harry winked at Ella as she pulled the door to.

  Schubert began to wheeze as they cantered down the corridor towards the stairs. ‘I’ll take it. You rest, Schubert. It’ll take me two minutes to deliver a jug of iced water then I’m off to soak my feet and have a shower. All these silly rumours were clearly a load of old nonsense, they just want to eat and drink in the privacy of their room. No need to worry, just like you said.’ Her words gushed forth like a fast flowing waterfall.

  Schubert didn’t argue. He couldn’t muster enough breath to speak. Ella moved off, leaving him, arm braced against the wall. His cheeks blew in and out like a set of pink bellows as he waited for the lift. It would take him to the ground floor where he could make his way home for the night.

  ‘Thank you, Schubert, it was very gallant of you,’ Ella said.

  Still unable to speak, he mimed the doffing of a cap in recognition of her words.

  Racing back to room number fifteen with a large cut-glass jug balanced on a silver server, Ella swore to herself. ‘This is so fucking wrong.’

  She hadn’t informed Mal by text, she hadn’t any way of smuggling a camera into the room, she had no way of predicting what she was about to let herself in for. Despite all the warnings from her inner conscience, she knocked on the door and entered.

  ‘Stay where you are for a second,’ Leonora called out. She held a mobile phone in her hand and lined up a photo shot of Ella in the doorway. The door was held open by a smiling Harry who said, ‘Great, that should do the trick. Mr C will be royally pissed off. Let’s have my phone back and I’ll send him that one for starters.’

  Four chairs were placed at the table in Harry’s room and he motioned towards an empty one. ‘Ella, please join us.’

  ‘Thanks but I’m not really supposed to fraternise with guests. Besides, I’m not at my best after a shift. What I need most is a shower.’

  ‘How long will you need? We’ll wait for you. Please accept our invitation, there’s pudding enough for all.’ Harry had a face every aunty would want to squeeze and his invitation was incredibly tempting. Ella was hungry and the trolley groaned with delicious appeal. ‘I’ll be offended if you don’t. I might even complain to the management…’

  ‘Twenty minutes max.’

  ‘See you in fifteen.’

  ‘Okay, fifteen it is. Don’t eat it all before I get back.’

  Ella ran to her room and was unbuttoning her blouse as she stepped through the door. She greeted Gordon with a cheerful hello, as she sprinkled a few flakes of fish food into his tank, standing in her underwear.

  ‘I’m off to a late supper with the Napoleon of Buxham’s and two of his wenches. Wish me luck.’ Standing in the shower, sponging soapy shower gel across her body, she searched for inspiration. How on earth was she going to plant a small camera into that room without getting caught? If she took her handbag, it would look contrived. She needed to take her room key, a couple of tissues, and lip-gloss, so perhaps she could take a small clutch bag.

  At top speed, she applied minimal make-up, lipstick, mascara, eyeliner, and then released her hair from the shower cap, brushing the long thick locks into reasonable shape. She abandoned the idea of court shoes in favour of comfortable flat ones and slipped into her favourite acid-green wrap dress. Easy to wear, didn’t crease, and the colours made her feel confident. Squirt of perfume, a final check in the mirror.

  ‘How do I look, Gordon? Good? Now I must go.’

  The goldfish let one small bubble escape and rise to the surface of the water in his round bowl. She took that as affirmation. In her haste and rising excitement she failed to make contact with the outside world and didn’t register her rising euphoria.

  Harry was wearing the same linen trousers and T-shirt that he had when he had drawn her the week previous. He smiled. When she entered further into the room Ella was astounded to see Trudy and Leonora lying on the bed, in each other’s arms, naked. Only when Harry strolled to a chair to collect his drawing pad, did Ella understand.

  ‘What do you think?’ he asked, showing her his outline sketch. Not waiting for her to answer, he placed his hand in the small of her back and directed her to the table where a selection of desserts had been laid out. ‘Yours. Pile up a bowlful then come over and lie on the sofa next to me. You must be tired. Put your feet up. You eat. I’ll draw - but first, another teaser for dear Mr C to dribble over. Pick up your spoon, dip it in the cream then lick it slowly.’ Harry used his mobile phone to take the short video clip. ‘Here we are in my room. Ella has such a gentle tongue. Merry Christmas, Mr C.’

  Cackling laughter could be heard from the bed. ‘Trudy ate my strawberry!’ Leonora announced.

  Ella found the food to be mouth-wateringly moreish. Every so often Harry would glance sideways, watching her eat and when her plate was empty, he stopped drawing to refill it. ‘Eat up; don’t be embarrassed, we left you plenty. Girls do you want thirds?’

  They didn’t need encouragement. Leonora and Trudy rolled to opposite edges of the bed and raced each other to the dining table, surging flesh undulating, breasts swinging. There was a complete absence of self-consciousness. They were stripped bare, holding bowls of creamy dessert facing each other and grinning between mouthfuls.

  ‘Magnificent creatures, aren’t they?’ Harry stated.

  ‘Is this what they get paid for?’

  ‘Sometimes. It depends what mood I’m in. Other times I dive right on in, but this evening I’m tormenting myself by drawing their beauty before I behave like a beast.’ He didn’t smile. ‘Would you pose with them? For a photo? I don’t wish to keep you. You must be tired. But I could draw from a photo instead. Naturally, I’d pay.’

  Ella’s head was buzzing. She had managed to place her clutch bag, flap open, on the table. With no idea what was being filmed or recorded on the surveillance camera disguised as a protruding torch, she had to decide whether to take the next risky step or not.

  ‘Naked?’

  ‘You’re a life model aren’t you?’

  ‘Yes, you know I am.’

  ‘Then what is the problem?’

  ‘Nothing. I’ll get undressed.’ Her heart beat faster than she could imagine possible and Harry watched as she undid the ties on her dress. Nervously she kicked off her shoes, and she heard him catch his breath when she let her bra fall.

  As they bounced back onto the bed, Trudy and Leonora seemed intent on recruiting her. ‘With a figure like that you could make a grand a night. Depends on how far you are prepared to go, mind you. What shall we do, Mr D? The three wise monkeys? The three graces? What about the three little pigs?’

  Harry jumped up. ‘Great. The three wise monkeys. We’ll draw lots.’

  Trudy posed on the edge of the bed; legs crossed at the ankle, arms extended, locked at the elbow and placed as props behind her. Finally, with a sugar coated choux bun wedged into her mouth, she sat still, her eyes wide with mirth. In an unsteady kneeling position to Trudy’s left, Leonora had her hands raised to her ears, her breasts resting against Trudy’s shoulder. Ella was asked to lie with her head in Trudy’s lap, facing upwards. She placed her hands on her eyes, as instructed, and bent both legs, but there wasn’t much space between the aprons of fatty flesh and Trudy’s knees on which to lie. The whole set up was a precarious one.

  ‘No, that’s no good. Ella’s boobs disappear under her armpits and I keep losing my balance,’ Leonora said.

  Ella almost slithered from the end of the mattress as she sat up.

  Harry reappraised the tableau as the girls discussed alternatives. For Ella the fun had overridden any nerves, and she had begun to enjoy the experience. It was the liveliest art class she had ever posed for.

  ‘I could use those two pudding bowls,’ Leonora
said, pointing to the table. Once she had gathered the necessary equipment and returned to the bed, Harry carried on giving instructions. ‘Ella, let’s make use of a linen serviette as a blindfold, that way you can use your arms to brace yourself the other side of Trudy. One hand on her thigh, the other on her shoulder. Good, now hold still.’ Harry tied the blindfold.

  ‘Leonora, hold the bowls up to your ears. Rest your back against Trudy’s left side. Gently. Now turn your head towards me. Great. Ella. Aim your chin towards your right shoulder. Lick your lips. Yes. Good. Trudy, give me that surprised look again. Superb, my lovely girls, really top class. Worth every bloody penny. Leonora look at the lens and flash those lashes at me. Excellent.’

  At the moment he said this there was a squeal from Trudy as the girls lost their balance. Leaning into Ella who toppled backwards, Trudy grabbed at her. Leonora dropped both bowls but couldn’t prevent herself from falling onto Trudy’s lap. She in turn coughed out the oversized profiterole, spraying cream into the air like a wet fart.

  Ella could hear the sound of Harry snapping away, taking photos of the chaos and having landed in an undignified heap upon the carpeted bedroom floor, she removed her blindfold.

  There stood Harry Drysdale grinning as he checked the small review screen on an expensive-looking digital camera. Ella glanced across to where her clutch bag had been left. It was no longer there.

  ‘Fuck,’ Ella said.

  ‘Fuck indeed, Miss Ella Fitzwilliam.’

  23

  The Search

  Friday 26th January

  ‘Mr Neale, we are thrilled to consider your application for full membership of Buxham’s,’ Carla Lewis said, as she pushed her office door open for Konrad to enter. She stood with her back against the architrave not leaving him much room. ‘I take it your recent visit to our restaurant has persuaded you.’ She was somewhat breathless and flighty, and her panting could be felt as warm puffs of air on his neck as he squeezed himself past her. He took great care to aim his pelvis away from her.

  He could tell how much her exuberance was fuelled by his presence from the way she pandered to him. Konrad was familiar with the effect he could have on others. He knew it would pass.

  ‘Mrs Lewis, I understand that your discretion is assured.’ Here he was, a celebrity, who she would believe had a secret fat fetish, a man who would bring increased revenue as well as the need for tighter security. So eager was she to please that he played on her willingness to meet his every requirement. ‘I’m sure I don’t need to exaggerate how important it is that absolute confidentiality is applied to the discussion we are about to have.’

  ‘You have my word on that,’ she said, clasping her hands to her chest as she moved towards the far side of her desk. ‘The reputation of this club relies wholly upon total discretion.’

  Konrad took a seat, his one twinkling eye never leaving her face. ‘Before signing on the dotted line, there are a few things bothering me that require addressing.’

  Carla stood to attention behind her desk. ‘Oh? Such as?’

  ‘The number of CCTV cameras for a start. If the popular press were ever to lay their grubby hands on your security records then my visits would have been recorded, would they not?’

  ‘Indeed, Mr Neale, but there are no cameras inside the building. We are meticulous in our efforts and housekeeping do a daily sweep of all rooms for any devices. I know that you of all people will understand why we would go to such extreme lengths to ensure the privacy and security of our members.’ Carla raised an eyebrow in Konrad’s direction. ‘All CCTV cameras face outward above entrances or perimeter walls where access could be gained. Apart from that there is never a chance of filming occurring in the building or the grounds, which is why we insist on mobile phones being handed in. We used to rely on goodwill but these days it is an absolute rule. No mobile phones are permitted anywhere other than in the privacy of accommodation. The same rules apply to staff.’

  Konrad probed a little further. ‘Talking of staff, what vetting procedures are carried out and what detail is there in the employment contract regarding confidentiality?’

  Carla Lewis didn’t hesitate to give full and frank replies to Konrad’s questions. He knew she would expect him to ask them, and when he had exhausted his list of queries about privacy, he asked to see the facilities that would be available to him as a full member. Carla paused and picked up the membership form that Konrad had completed, buying time.

  ‘Ordinarily I would show you around, but I’m afraid we have several police officers in the building today and you may wish to avoid being seen?’

  Konrad smiled to himself as he answered. ‘That’s very thoughtful of you. Why are they here, may I ask?’

  ‘I’m sorry, I can’t divulge that information.’

  ‘Good answer. I applaud your standards. That is what I hoped you’d say, however, I confess to knowing why the police are here. Harry Drysdale was my wife’s barrister, and we last saw him here in your restaurant the Wednesday after the New Year celebrations. I had a friendly chat with him.’

  Carla Lewis flopped into her leather office chair with such force that the adjusting mechanism couldn’t tolerate the downward load and the chair sank without warning. Buxham’s duty manager for the day let out a cry of alarm, before apologising. ‘Please forgive me. I didn’t realise it was you who breached the rules that evening.’

  Having recovered her composure, Carla leant across the desk. ‘Mr Neale, if you had read the information given to guests you would have known that we have a strict code of conduct. That should have prevented you from disclosing that Mr Drysdale is - was - is a member here.’

  ‘Yes, it was rather unfortunate that I hadn’t understood quite how stringent you are. It was my fault. It was a natural reaction to call out to him. I spied him across the floor of the restaurant as he was heading back from the gents’ toilets. I was with my wife and two friends who are members of The Lensham and District Pudding Club. Harry didn’t seem to object at the time.’

  Carla’s reaction was one of incredulity. ‘He most definitely would have minded! That man and his companion have scrupulously protected their privacy as have we.’

  ‘You mean Marcus Carver.’

  Konrad waited for Carla to reveal her secrets. This she did through unmissable body language. She pushed her chair back from the edge of the desk that separated them, subconsciously further distancing herself from him. Once the back of the chair met the wall, she folded her arms and her eyes narrowed. ‘You’re not here to complete your application for membership, are you, Mr Neale? I may be a little slow on the uptake, but I’m not so naïve as to think that you have suddenly developed an interest in gastronomy. Or that you harbour a penchant for women of more than adequate proportions. I can only assume you are after a story.’

  He liked Carla. She spoke his language. No nonsense, straight to the crux of the matter. She made as if to stand, so he motioned for her to remain seated. ‘Hear me out.’ He rested his hands on his knees. ‘Harry Drysdale is a hell of a barrister and without him my wife would have been languishing in prison and my life would have been flushed down the proverbial. If he is in trouble, then I want to help him. I’m not here to cause difficulties for you or any of your members, unless they deserve it.’

  He tipped his head to one side. Listening intently she mirrored his actions as he continued.

  ‘My friends and I were some of the last people to see Harry before he mysteriously vanished and the news reports say he hasn’t been seen since leaving Lensham on Thursday the fourth of January. He would have been here at Buxham’s because he came here every Wednesday and he sat at table eighty-eight with two fat ladies and Marcus Carver. He did that week in week out, without fail, unless he had a trip abroad or he was unable to get here during a high profile court case out of the area. Am I right?’

  He knew his information was accurate. Carla Lewis remained impassive as he continued. ‘The question is, Mrs Lewis, do the police know that he wa
s here or are they simply grasping at possibilities?’

  With her hands cupping her face, Carla let out a despairing sigh. ‘They think he left the club the next morning. The CCTV camera picked him up walking through the pedestrian side entrance with his friend Marcus Carver.’

  ‘And did he?’

  ‘It certainly looks that way. The touch pad registered the time of the exit at six twenty-seven.’

  ‘You said “the police think he left the club the next morning”. What do you think?’

  Her silence spoke volumes.

  Konrad tried again. ‘If they think he left on the Thursday morning, then why are the police here today?’

  Before Carla had time to generate an answer, there was a firm knock. The person opening the door hadn’t waited for permission to enter. ‘Sorry to interrupt but I need access to your—’

  The man, in a grey suit that required the attention of dry cleaners, stopped short. ‘Well bugger my boots. Konrad Neale, what brings you here? As if I didn’t know.’ He winked.

  ‘DS Quinn. What an unexpected pleasure. DC McArthur not with you today?’

  ‘Yeah, he’s interviewing staff. If I’m not mistaken, you are on my list of customers to question in relation to a missing person’s enquiry. You may well have saved me a journey.’

  ‘Always happy to assist the police.’ A note of derision could be heard in his reply.

  Carla sat with her mouth slightly open.

  Feeling sorry for her, Konrad stood to shake her hand. ‘Sorry Carla, it would never have worked. I can’t accept your kind offer of full membership here at Buxham’s. I’m afraid there would always be a chance that I would be recognised, discretion notwithstanding.’ Konrad couldn’t help the sarcasm contained within his next request to Carla. He and DS Quinn had met before and Konrad hadn’t been impressed by the detective’s acumen. That opinion remained unchanged. ‘Is it alright for DS Quinn to make use of this office to ask me a string of unrelated questions in the vain hope that I might have the answer he’s looking for?’