Act of Exposure (23 page)

'Mr Sigmund
denies this. He said it was to do with other things - with a
financial scandal. He states that Mr Candel informed him he had
evidence to the effect that the wrong man is being tried.'

'That's his
story. There's always some fantastic excuse with the likes of him.
All bum bangers are the same.'

Abigail's face
reddened. 'Regardless of your vulgar comments, Inspector, you still
have a case to prove. My client is not denying he was there, but he
refutes that any homosexual act took place. He was there because
Candel claimed that he had vital information regarding corruption
in high places.'

Bennet
sniggered on the other end of the phone. 'That isn't what Candel
said.'

'Then Candel
was lying.'

'How do you
know that, Miss Corrigan? Unless of course you yourself are
otherwise intimately aware of Mr Sigmund's likes and dislikes.'

Abigail
swallowed what she truly wanted to say. So far, Bennet had not
recognized her as Carmel, and she had no intention of aiding the
recollection.

'Well, I
certainly won't be able to question Candel, will I, Inspector?'

Bennet
sniggered. 'Not after the last bum bang he had, Miss Corrigan.
Let's face it, the last bum bang he had literally blew his
mind!'

Abigail
slammed down the phone.

Contrary to
her usual physical state after making enquiries, she was seething.
Paul Bennet was an arrogant pig. But it wasn't just his arrogance
that was troubling her.

As Carmel, she
had picked him up at the club - or rather, he had nagged her into
accepting his company. His good looks coupled with a hint of danger
drew her to him. Against her better judgement, she had gone with
him. Archie, she remembered, had helped her make her decision. "As
a favour to me," he'd said, and she'd gone along with it.

Handsome as he
was, she suspected Paul Bennet might also be violent, but like a
magnet, such an assumption only heightened his attractiveness. Like
many women before her, she thought she could counteract such a
character trait.

Sensing this
fact though, she was alert to any signs of violence from him. She
simply could not afford to be bruised or injured by him, so she had
gone along with everything he had wanted her to do. Even now, she
could remember the tightness of the rope around her wrists and her
ankles, the creeping fear as he had gagged her mouth and covered
her eyes. Only by a superb effort of self-control had she endured
all that happened next.

Without a
doubt, she had heard the clicking of a camera as she had lain there
trussed up like a game fowl. Obviously, Paul Bennet liked to keep
pictures of his sex sessions. But it had not stopped merely at
taking pictures.

He had caned
her behind and oiled her anus. Then, as he pushed his fingers into
her rear portal, she had heard the clicking of a camera.

He put other
objects inside her, taking one item out, and putting another
in.

For the first
time since tuning into her 'other' life, she had felt defiled.

After he had
pushed himself into her oiled passage, and sent his river of semen
into her hallowed depths, he untied her, asked her to stay the
night, and asked also whether he could see her again.

Fear had
gripped her, yet she congratulated herself on her self-control.
'No,' she had said. 'I don't make a habit of second dates.'

His fist had
clenched, and she had stepped back before it could connect with her
face.

Luckily, he
had drunk too much to be as quick on his feet as she was.

She left.

On the next
occasion she saw him at the club, he made a beeline for her,
threatened to make a scene if she didn't go with him. She had
refused, and when he had starting shouting and lunged at her, she
had brought her foot up into his crotch, and with mute delight, had
smiled as the softness of his scrotum and the sleek confidence of
his face had crumpled under the violence of her kick.

Archie's
'boys' had taken over from then on. He was instantly banned, though
Archie did take him into the office first.

For what, she
didn't know for sure, but could guess. Paul Bennet was a policeman.
No matter what his status, no matter that those of higher office
than him frequented the place, it was wise to keep him sweet.
Keeping him sweet meant payola. A hundred pounds? Possibly. Perhaps
more.

She wanted to
ask Archie Ringer about Paul Bennet, and also about Douglas
Dermott-Embledon. She would also refer to the article in the
papers.

It was a
Tuesday night, and although it was not her night to dance, she went
along to the Red Devil Club, her black wig neatly framing her face.
Her blue eyes, camouflaged by black contact lenses, were alert,
aware of every lewd glance, every hot look. No one could have
guessed her true identity, and no one would have wanted to. She was
all black and red, a stunning contrast to her white skin. She was
beautiful, and appreciated as she was.

'Hiya,
doll!'

Carmel, the
dark-eyed beauty who glided rather than walked through the darkness
of the club, the tables, the seated and standing customers, ignored
them, but took note of who they were.

A tall
American was eyeing her up and down and licking his lips like some
old hound about to get dinner. She laid her hand flat on his chest,
pushed him gently to one side, but used him as an excuse to wend
her way to a door marked private that opened into a marble-floored
passageway. Turning immediately right, she walked to the end, and
entered Archie's office without bothering to knock.

Archie was
sitting behind his desk, head back, eyes closed, and moaning as
though he were having the most beautiful dream. He must have heard
her enter because suddenly his eyes flicked open. They had a wild,
glazed look about them as if he wasn't really seeing her. Abigail
glanced round the room, half-expecting to see that he was watching
some horny video or had some lean youth in there naked and twirling
on the spot so he could see everything he had to offer.

There was no
one and nothing.

Archie himself
glanced down into his lap and gulped before looking up at her.

'What... um...
do you want, Carmel?'

The long,
lithe woman, who he could half-fancy if she had been a boy, closed
the door firmly behind her.

Much as she
loathed him, she put on her warmest voice. 'I'm sorry to disturb
you, Archie, but as our agreement is up for renewal shortly, I
thought it prudent that I come along and smooth over any problems
that might have occurred in the last few months.'

'Problems?'

His eyes were
as wide and vacant as his voice.

'Yes. Like
that bit of trouble with Paul Bennet. It's just that I remembered I
never thanked you and the boys for rescuing me from him a while
back. I owe you for that.'

At first,
Archie looked as though he wished she weren't there at all, let
alone apologizing for something he'd already forgotten.

His soft lips
stretched into a smile. 'Do not trouble yourself, pretty lady. The
matter was taken care of and forgotten. Our agreement will be
renewed, I can assure you. One appearance, once a month. Same as
before.'

'Thank you for
that, but you understand, I could not help being concerned. I
believe he was a policeman.'

'Yes. He
was.'

'An
inspector?'

'Yes.'

Archie was
blinking and seemed suddenly sparing with his words. It was out of
character.

Abigail -
Carmel - persisted. 'I hope I didn't make any trouble for you. It's
not entirely diplomatic to ban someone like him, is it?'

'No. No. Not
really. Not really.'

He seemed to
be gasping suddenly, his breath coming in short, swift rushes mixed
with a low groaning noise. If both beringed hands hadn't been
resting before him on his desk she would have been sure he was
masturbating.

Apart from
raising her eyebrows slightly, her expression did not betray her
thoughts.

The groaning
stopped and Archie cleared his throat.

He sighed. 'My
dear Carmel. Do not trouble yourself about the gentleman
concerned.'

He made as if
to get up from his desk, then stopped. His hands disappeared into
his lap. There was the unmistakable sound of a zip being fastened
before he got to his feet. Abigail - Carmel - eyed him
speculatively.

Her need to
help Stephen overwhelmed her curiosity. 'I'm sorry if it caused any
trouble. I presume you gave our policeman friend some incentive to
prevent his naturally inquisitive nose from sniffing any
deeper?'

Archie took
hold of her arm and laughed as he guided her towards his office
door.

'Indeed I did,
young lady. Indeed I did!'

'Did he cost
you very much?'

She knew she
might appear over inquisitive herself, but she just had to know
exactly what bribes someone like Bennet was likely to accept.

Archie
hesitated before he answered. There was a speculative look in his
eyes, and he had sucked his bottom lip into his mouth.

His hesitation
disappeared just before he smiled.

'I suppose I
could tell you. In fact, seeing as you have been with me a while
now, I think I can safely take you into my confidence and initiate
you into the inner circle of enlightened individuals who partake of
my services. I have asked you to go upstairs with them before, but
you know my policy. The decision is yours. No one here is forced
into entertaining my more important acquaintances.'

What am I doing?
she asked herself.
But it was too late. She had asked, and Archie had answered, and
with his answer had come an invitation, an invitation she did not
necessarily require.

If it were not
for Stephen and his plight she would have clung onto her
independence, her aloofness to whatever other people in the club
got up to in the upstairs rooms. For Stephen, she would sacrifice
her principles and her body, if necessary.

She smiled at
Archie, nodded in the affirmative, and whispered a long yes.

'In half an
hour, I will take you upstairs. For membership of this inner club,
Bennet was willing to stomach being banned from the main club. Like
some of our other members, those who wish to preserve their
privacy, he enters from the back staircase.'

And Hardiman
too, she thought to herself, unless the predicament she had left
him in at the Ritz had encouraged him to mend his ways. She doubted
it, and knew she had to do her best to avoid the man. Next time she
saw him it might be revenge he was wanting rather than sex.

So slow had
been their progress to the door, and so even-toned had been
Archie's voice, that she was hardly conscious of being back in the
marble-floored passageway before the door closed behind her.

Being of a
naturally inquisitive nature - a bit like Bennet to some extent -
(perhaps that had been where the attraction lay that had made her
accept his invitation?) she walked down the passageway, lifting the
spikes of her black high heels so that she made as little sound as
possible.

Taking a deep
breath, she slid her fingers around a bright, brass knob, and
turned it. The door opened, and she peered in. There was nothing to
see. The room was in darkness, and she dare not switch the light
on.

She became
suddenly aware that Archie's door was about to open, and not
wishing to be considered nosy and perhaps lose her part-time
vocation - at least, not until she had helped Stephen - she stepped
quickly in behind the open door.

The knob in
her hand, and the door almost closed, she heard Archie's voice, and
she heard someone else too.

With the door
open no more than an inch, she peered out. Realization of what
Archie had been doing hit her like a bag of set cement.

When she had
entered his office, he had seemed to be in ecstasy, and
accordingly, she had looked all around for some instrument of
arousal. She had seen none. She also remembered his hands
travelling to his lap and the sound of a zip being fastened. For
one moment, she had thought that perhaps she had caught Archie
having a swift hand-job whilst leering at some naked youth.

The truth now
hit her as she watched the naked dwarf stalk out of Archie's
office, his penis reaching almost to his fat little knees.

She gulped.
What was this? Her impression of the world of dark nights and
brightly-lit clubs had always been in direct contrast with her
other world of lengthy tomes and shuffling judges in red gowns and
white wigs.

Alluring it
might have been, seedy even, sordid. But it was also real,
tangible, and fulfilled that half of her nature the law could not
provide for.

The appearance
of the naked dwarf and the realization of what he'd been doing
below Archie's desk made her pinch herself. It made her wonder
afresh at her acceptance of Archie's offer to go upstairs.

Never having
been there before, she had only guessed at what might go on up
there. It had occurred to her that those with sexual hang-ups went
up there to thrash around wildly with some raging nympho in
private, but the appearance of the dwarf made her wonder.

Like an
escapee from some adult fairytale, he had come out of Archie's
office and marched off towards the door at the very far end of the
passageway, and hence - she supposed - to the rooms upstairs.

What, she
wondered, awaited her up there?

Because more
hefty questions were still in her mind, she had not considered the
personal consequences of a trip upstairs. But someone was intent on
damaging Stephen's reputation and she was certain the perpetrator
was one of those who frequented the rooms above. It was no longer
enough that Stephen be proved innocent. Whoever had orchestrated
such a thing and paid Carl Candel for his part in it, now had to be
brought to book. It could also be assumed that whoever had arranged
the meeting between Stephen and Carl, had also arranged for Carl to
be murdered.