The Mistress - an Erotic Noir Novel (16 page)

Allan put a hand back to her protectively, ushering her to wait at
the top of the stairs as he began to move cautiously towards the door
at the opposite end of the hall.

“Don’t!” she breathed, her brown eyes widening
in fright, but she didn’t move to stop him.

Away from him at the stairs, she only watched as Allan walked up
to the door and cautiously pushed it open further as he peered
inside. She saw the grim look form on his face before he said,
“Teach. Something’s happened here.”

She moved forward, fear ushering her on as she gazed passed the
muscled man’s body, “What?” she whispered before
seeing it.

Inside the room she saw a man face down on the floor, but despite
the position, it was obvious to her immediately just who it was.
Terrance Russell’s sleek black hair and old world style stood
out to her like a sore thumb.

Before she could go to him, Allan stepped forward, bending his
knee and checking the man, lifting his head to see if he was
conscious at all, with no results.

“We have to call the cops!” she practically screamed,
her voice sounding so shrill and strange to her before she realized
just how loud she was being. “What if they’re still
here?” she asked, panic trailing up and down her spine as she
took a step away from the seemingly-dead man. “Who would do
this?!”

Allan turned Terrance Russell over and out of one of his pockets
spilled a necklace, gold and elaborate. Nodding to her, the large
protective man then stood up, though they heard the sound of a door
creaking coming from the hall outside.

Eva could swear her heart stopped and she took a step back towards
Allan, “Is he still warm, Allan?” she murmured.

Nodding to her he said, “Yeah, he is.” Though he was
up and to the door already, looking out it boldly.

She had moved back, her eyes trailing down the body and moving
beside it, her voice soft, “Terrence?” she whispered.
“Terrence?” She wasn’t a trained medical student,
but she had taken some classes, and she was more adept in searching
out any elusive pulse.

The British man was obviously alive at her inspection, whatever
had happened to him, he seemed unconscious rather than dead. Though
he barely breathed she saw signs of him being drugged, and though it
might be enough to be fatal—she had no way of telling—he
was alive for the time being.

Allan exited into the hallway meanwhile, boldly going off to
investigate the sounds.

Her gloved hand slapped Russell’s face, trying to bring him
about, “Stay with me. Wake up. Wake up, Terrence, you creep,”
she hissed. She thought back to their night together and the warm
excitement, that first time bliss caused her actions to have more
power and drive behind them. Even if he was a creep, she liked him.
Her eyes glanced to the necklace, and she puzzled at it for only a
moment before she went back to trying to save the man.

She turned around and was about to request something of Allan, her
eyes widening to see his absence.

She could hear talking coming from outside in the main foyer,
Allan’s husky voice the only one able to carry into her fully,
saying, “What are you doing here?” Sounding accusatory in
his defensiveness over her.

She cursed in a most unladylike manner before glancing around the
room for a possible weapon, giving Terrence’s face a final
smack before she stood up. “Wake up, Terry, you idiot.”

Russell didn’t budge, but the best makeshift weapon she was
able to find was a small statuette made from a heavy metal. It would
definitely do some damage were she ever able to hit someone with it.

She grabbed it in her gloved hand as she moved towards the door,
standing just to the side and away from the entrance, flanked to the
side as she tried to hear what was being said. Unable to hear from
there she had to exit into the hallway before she could make out
anything more.

“How dare you question me, boy,” came the haughty,
stern voice of an older professor. “What right do you have to
question anyone in here?” and she recognized that as Turing
speaking below.

She cursed under her breath as she moved towards the stairs.
“Professor Turing?” she sang out, sounding so pleasant
and jovial as she moved towards them, keeping her weapon in hand but
trying to act more neutral about it.

The hawkish professor below looked to her with some surprise. He
was on the steps, though it was hard to tell whether he had been
coming or going when Allan interrupted him. “Miss Perkin’s?”
he said, “You’re here too?” he asked, looking at
the two of the young students above sceptically.

“I had heard Sinclair was released, and... well, it doesn’t
seem that was right at all,” she frowned, trying to appear
natural in her lies. “Still, I was hopeful and decided to check
his room, but it doesn’t seem touched. Wait... why are you
here?”

Her silken lies didn’t seem to be having the desired effect,
“Released? Didn’t you hear? He’s in the hospital,”
he said with no small degree of derision.

Before that could sink in, however, another familiar voice came
from near the front door, “And Dr. Turing’s the one who
put him there,” came Martin’s voice. The meek young man
dressed in another one of his dour sweaters and ties emerging almost
directly beneath where Eva stood. “The police are looking for
him right now, Eva.”

“The hospital?” she gasped, her hand going over her
mouth. Suddenly nothing else mattered but that, at least for the
moment. “Is he going to be okay? What happened?” she
moved towards the two men with Allan by her side, forgetting her
revulsion of them both, forgetting the sticky web she found herself
in.

Turing nearly snarled at Martin he seemed so irate, “You
little pissant! Me? How would they have even got that idea if you
hadn’t put it in their heads!” He remarked, looking ready
to lash out at the meek young man. “You’re the one behind
this whole thing, aren’t you?”

Martin spoke to her directly instead of responding to the irate
doctor, “He’s in bad condition, Eva. was given an
overdose of one of Turing’s concoctions,” he stated,
pointing at the hawkish man in his brown suit. “If Allan can
get a hold of him we can keep him for the police!”

The phial she had taken from her apartment earlier was still
stuffed in her coat pocket, along with letters from Martin, Sylvia
and Cynthia. Her eyes burned at Martin before she licked over her
lips thoughtfully. She didn’t believe him. Not for a moment,
and not how easily it all was handed to her. It was too coincidental.

She took a step, moving toward the Sinclair’s phone, “How
could he have been drugged?”

Martin furrowed his brows, “Does it matter? I don’t
know!”

Before more could be said Turing made a dash for the door and
Allen took off after him, the two bursting out into the cold. Despite
his age, the small professor made an impressive sprint in the face of
the athlete and the two were gone within a flash.

She, for her part, ran for the phone, dialing the memorized number
of the detective as quickly as she could muster.

Martin was beside her almost instantly. “I checked up on him
last night,” he was saying to her as the call was put through,
“after what you said. I was looking out for you,” he said
with wide eyes. “He’s a scumbag, Eva. And we’ll
take him down.”

The familiar voice of the operator came through on the other line,
“How may I direct your call?”

“Detective Max Eisen!” she practically shouted, her
eyes looking to Martin worriedly, “I’m at the Sinclair
house, I need him here, please! Something’s wrong!”

The operator went silent for a moment before she heard her click
back in, “He says he’s on his way, miss, is there
anything else you’d care to tell us?”

Martin was talking over the woman though and Eva could barely hear
her, “None of those old fools is worthy of you Eva, and Turing
deserves worse than what jail can offer,” he insisted. He put
his hand around her wrist, “I’m glad you were here for
this. I was going to do it myself if I had to. For you.”

“Martin and I will tell him everything as soon as he gets
here! My friend Allan is chasing Turing right now!” she tried
to drop as many names as possible, though she struggled with
Terrence’s. “We’ll need an ambulance, if things go
bad!”

The woman on the other end took note and asked her something more
but she couldn’t hear it over Martin’s incessant talking
and that wide-eyed stare he was giving her. “They’re all
horrible, Eva. Come with me and I’ll keep you safe until this
all blow overs. We shouldn’t just wait around here.”

“I didn’t hear you,” she tried to wave Martin
off, her finger pointed to indicate just a minute as she pressed the
telephone received closer to her ear.

Again the woman's words were muffled out as Martin tugged at her
arm, though she managed to make out an “on their way”.

“Come on, Eva,” he insisted. “We need to get out
of here. Haven’t I always been there for you? Whenever you’ve
needed someone? Just trust me and come on!” He raised his voice
rather uncharacteristically, so odd for meek Martin.

“Martin!” she screeched as she dropped the phone,
succumbing to his tugging, “Martin, we didn’t do anything
wrong! We have to stay and help Allan!”

“He’ll be fine!” Martin insisted, dragging her
towards the back hallway beneath the upstairs landing. “Just
TRUST me, Eva!” he demanded, sounding so much more demanding
than she’d ever known him to. “I’ve done so much
for you, can’t you just trust me over these old fools you fall
for!”

“I haven’t fallen for anyone!” she defended
herself as she was tugged along, feeling anger begin to burn brightly
against her fear, “Martin, stop this! What have you done?”

“You shouldn’t have ignored me all these years, Eva,”
he said as the two of them went back through the manor, him leading
her towards the library she met Gregory in but two nights before.
“None of this stuff would’ve happened if you’d just
been with me.”

“Martin!” she tried to tug her arm from him, “What
are you saying?” Her fear ran through her, and she could feel
her face warm, “Martin, were you at my place last night?”

Into the library the two of them went, “I was watching your
place to protect you!” he insisted loudly, anger edging his
voice. “And I chased off Turing. For you!” His grip on
her was painfully tight, “He would’ve drugged you and
worse if I wasn’t there!” Then his gaze turned harsh,
“But you were out tarted up with some other man again!”

“I was hiding in a hotel you dolt! I knew my apartment
wouldn’t be safe!” She was red faced, partially out of
embarrassment, but also out of anger. “Why are we here?”
she asked, suddenly feeling the fright overcome her once more, “I
thought we were leaving?”

He pulled her in close, grabbing both her wrists as he moved
against her. “We are gonna hide at the guest house,” he
said as he pushed them out through the glass doors into the snow
outside. “You liked it there with Sinclair, right? Why not me,
Eva? Why not me? Don’t I deserve it?” he said in a low
voice.

“Martin, you’re scaring me! Why have you been watching
me anyways? What I do is my own business!” Her eyes were wide
with fright, and she tried to pull away, but his strong yank proved
too much, “What have you done?”

“Everything!” he yelled in the cold yard as he dragged
her across the white, snow falling about them. “I did
everything
for you, Eva! And you never gave a damn,” he
said, looking almost crazed. “Never gave me my due credit,”
he reiterated.

Suddenly soft he said to her, “Sinclair’s murdered his
wife, Russell’s dead, and we’ve got the evidence to put
Turing behind bars for what he’s done. Now there’s only
us, Eva.”

The lump of dread in her throat grew, and she found it hard to
breath. She couldn’t hear Allan or Turing, and no sirens yet
echoed in the distance. She stumbled onto the snow as she was
dragged, though the motion was entirely planned on her part, her shoe
falling off in the process.

“Martin,” she whispered, limping without her heel,
“I’m scared...”

Bending down he put his arm around her, lifting her and carrying
her to the guest house, “You don’t need to be anymore,”
he insisted taking her to the door. “I’ll look after
you,” he said in a soft voice, opening it up and moving in with
her. “Like I would’ve before if you’d only
listened.”

Dread filled her, but she knew Max would be looking for her. Max
and Allan would find her and protect her. She just had to stay alive,
stay safe. Ply Martin with what he wanted to hear and then it would
all be fine.

It would all be fine.

She repeated it to herself silently as she struggled from his
grip, “Martin, listen... couldn’t we just talk? Why are
we out here?”

Pulling her into an awkward embrace, he stroked her brown curly
hair. “I love you, Eva. Don’t you get it? We were made
for one another. I’ve known that since I first saw you across
the street from me, playing,” he murmured as they nestled
against the wall beside the room where Sinclair had tied her down.
Though now things were so different, and she could feel the weight of
the statuette still in her hand. She’d not let it go all this
time in her desperate situation.

She swallowed, her body trembling against his. “Martin....
did you hurt those people? Did you hurt Sylvia? You can tell me,”
she said, but her voice shook as much as her body.

He grabbed her so tightly at that question, “I only tried to
help
her! Like I did for you,” he rasped, anger in his
voice. “You foolish women won’t see reason in front of
you though! You turn to these backstabbing fools instead of the nice
ones you can trust!”

“I didn’t turn to anyone! I was just having a bit of
fun!” her eyes widened at the grab, her grip tightening on the
statuette. “Why were you so cruel when I told you about Turing?
Why did you say it was my fault?”