Trespass (P.I. Johnson Carmichael Series - Book 2) (10 page)

The blonde woman wiped her face with the corner of a paper serviette.

‘You do make me laugh, James,’ she said, stretching a hand across the table, hoping he would embrace it. Noticing the gesture, he reached out and their fingers entwined. ‘I wish today didn’t have to end,’ she added.

Benold put his baguette down on his plate and swallowed.

‘It doesn’t have to end just yet, you know,’ he said, a broad grin growing across his face.

The blond woman blushed slightly. She knew he was married, but right now that just didn’t matter.

‘What are you suggesting, Mr Benold?’ she asked playfully.

He leaned in conspiratorially, ‘I know somewhere we could go: a bit more intimate. We could, you know, talk.’

He winked as he said this and the blonde woman blushed again.

‘It is the middle of the day,’ she whispered. ‘What would my boss say?’

‘Call him. Tell him you’re not feeling well and won’t be going back to the office this afternoon.’

‘I couldn’t do that,’ she said pretending to be hurt by the suggestion that she would be prepared to risk her job for a fling.

‘Melissa, you know I like you, right? I want to take you away from this place and show you a good time. Just call your boss.’

The way he was staring into her eyes made it clear what his intentions were, and it sent a shiver down her spine. She looked around to make sure nobody was watching them.

‘Just what did you have in mind, James?’ she asked coquettishly.

He leaned in closer, ‘There is a hotel I know, not two minutes’ walk away. I know the Manager so I’m sure he will give us one of the luxury suites. I want to take you there, open a bottle of champagne and make love to you for the rest of the afternoon. The room comes equipped with a hot tub and a sensational view of the city. Can your arm be twisted?’

She had to admit, it did sound appealing, but one thing still bothered her.

‘And what about your wife? How would she react if she knew what you were planning?’

‘I told you before, Melissa: My wife doesn’t understand me, she never has. She is probably off shagging her tennis coach as we speak. You don’t need to feel bad…I don’t do this kind of thing usually…it’s just I’m bewitched by your beauty and I need to have you in my arms. I’m the kind of person who usually gets what he wants.’

She didn’t doubt the last statement but she was pretty sure that this certainly wasn’t the first time he had propositioned a young woman in the middle of the day.

She weighed up the proposal for a moment before saying, ‘Okay, I’ll call my boss. You go pay the bill and meet me back here in two minutes.’

He grinned broadly again. He lifted her hand and gently kissed it, before rising and heading to the till to settle the bill. The blonde woman removed the mobile phone from her handbag and dialled her boss’ number. He answered after one ring.

‘Yeah?’

‘We’re on,’ she said in hushed tones.

‘When? Where?’

‘He’s taking me to the hotel around the corner for champagne and sex. Give me ten minutes to get him naked and then come in snapping.’

*

Carmichael hung up the phone. Melissa Elkridge had worked for him for the last three years, initially as a secretary to help manage his contracts and appointments, but more recently as a honey trap. The blonde wig she was wearing to cover her own red hair, had been specifically created for this job, but had been carefully clipped on so that it wouldn’t fly off in a sudden gust of wind or heated moment.

When Frankie had first come to see him he had asked her just how far she wanted him to go in order to catch her philandering husband in the act. She had said to go as far as was necessary to get a quick divorce and substantial pay out. He had told her the premium package they offered was to get an employee to take the subject to bed so that he could be caught in the act. She had seemed quite pleased with this proposal and so the trap had been carefully set.

Once he had established where Benold liked to meet his women and where he liked to take them afterwards, it had been easy to plan his downfall: all he needed was for Melissa to catch his eye.

He had phoned Benold a week before, posing as a possible new client looking to use the trading company to ship some goods in from Holland. He had arranged to meet Benold at a bar in Southampton’s Ocean Village but had deliberately missed the appointment. Melissa had been carefully positioned at a nearby table in the bar. When Benold was about to leave the bar, she pretended to have a loud argument with a boyfriend on the phone, knowing that he would be able to hear. Of course, the presence of a newly single, short blonde woman, caught Benold’s eye and he was at her table within two minutes, flirting and ogling her rather ample chest. They had arranged to meet when he was next in town and had gone out for dinner the night before but she had told him that she never slept with men before a third date. Date three was today.

The morality of the job was something that Carmichael tried to ignore and he did this by reminding himself that if the philanderer wasn’t a cheat, he wouldn’t be in the position to be caught. That, and the fee he would receive, was enough to keep the voice in the back of his mind quiet. Business in the last twelve months had been pretty steady and he had managed to build up a decent nest-egg of savings and was planning to blow most of it on a well-deserved holiday. He was currently toying with the idea of going somewhere tropical for three months and just forgetting about normality. He had always dreamed of going travelling one day, and he certainly wasn’t getting any younger: now was as good a time as any he figured.

He watched as Benold helped Melissa to her feet and exited the café. The hotel where they were headed was a small but rather exclusive place, undoubtedly paid for by the company. The manager of the hotel understood his guests’ requirements for privacy and his discretion was guaranteed by the handsome cost of a room.

He placed the
Canon
in its bag and was about to get out of the car when his mobile phone started to ring. He looked at the display but did not recognise the telephone number. He could see Melissa and Benold were about to walk away and whilst he was eager to pursue them, he knew he couldn’t turn down potential new business. He accepted the call and held the phone to his ear.

‘Johnson Carmichael, Private Investigator, no job is too big.’

‘Mr Carmichael, I need your help,’ said a frightened voice.

‘Okay,’ he replied, eager to end the call as quickly as possible. ‘Can I suggest you phone my office and make an appointment with my secretary? I’m in the middle of something right now.’

‘Please, Mr Carmichael, I’m desperate. I need your help.’

‘That’s fine, Miss. I’m sure I’ll be able to help, but now isn’t a great time. Please, just phone my office.’

‘I did that, there was nobody there.’

It was a fair point: Melissa was clearly busy on other tasks.

‘Please, phone the office and leave an answerphone message. I promise, I will call you back,’ he said as he watched Melissa and Benold turn a corner.

‘You don’t understand, Mr Carmichael,’ persisted the voice. ‘I need your help…today. I’m willing to pay you fifty thousand pounds if you will agree to take my case.’

Carmichael froze, nearly dropping the phone.

‘Say that again.’

‘I said I’ll give you fifty thousand pounds if you’ll meet me today and take on my case.’

The lure of the money was too good to say no outright. Fifty thousand pounds was plenty of reason to postpone his holiday.

‘Okay, Miss…wait...what’s your name?’

‘It’s Lauren.’

‘Right, Lauren,’ he said, quickly looking at his watch to confirm the time. ‘I’ll be back in my office by three o’clock. Can you meet me then?’

There was a pause on the end of the line before the woman spoke, ‘Yes, okay, I can meet you at three.’

With that the line went dead. He wondered what kind of ‘case’ warranted payment of fifty thousand pounds, but, before he had time to consider just what he would be prepared to do for such a sum, he remembered his existing case. Slamming the door, he ran across the road and jogged down the street to try and catch up with the couple.

Melissa followed Benold up the front stairs of the building and swiftly through the lobby. He seemed to wave in the direction of the front desk but did not stop to collect a key, suggesting that he had already planned the details of this tryst.

So he always intended to take me to bed
, she thought as his tight grip on her arm whisked her towards the elevator block.

It seemed like he was in quite a hurry to get upstairs. The lift doors opened and they boarded, exiting on the third floor. The elevator ride had been quiet, with neither person speaking but a nervous energy enveloping them both.

Melissa had completed a business studies course while at college six years ago but had soon discovered that her future did not lie in a classroom, and opted out of going to University. She had told her parents the reason was that she didn’t want to get lumbered with debt so soon in her fledgling life. They had accepted her argument with the relief that they would not have to fund such a course. She had taken the first job she could find, working in a local supermarket in the Lordshill area of Southampton, and she had managed to stick it out for nearly a year before growing bored with serving customers on the store’s cigarette kiosk. She had left the supermarket when she managed to secure a job doing filing and administrative work in a small solicitor’s office but this only lasted three months before boredom kicked in once again. Her next job had been working in a florist near to her parents’ home, where she was still living at the time. She found she had an aptitude for creating colourful bouquets but the pay had been poor and she had grown frustrated with still living with her parents and had needed to find a place of her own.

She had come across Carmichael’s job advertisement by chance when she had got lost on the way to yet another job interview. She had noticed a small leaflet in the window stating that the private investigator was looking for a personal assistant to perform minimal administrative duties. She had gone in and caught him midway through a sandwich. They had chatted about the nature of the role for ten minutes and then he told her that the pay was not great but that the successful candidate would have the opportunity to live rent-free in the small flat above the premises. She had practically bitten his hand off to accept the role. She had started a week later and it had taken her just as long to get the office organised and Carmichael on track.

They had become an effective team. Although the hours could be a little unsociable at times, she was free from her overbearing parents and earning a little bit of cash on the side. She had eventually taken over the role of balancing the firm’s books each month and had been surprised by the size of some of the deposits clients would make for the work undertaken. He had explained that it was the nature of the business: at times things were lean but when business was good, profits were extremely high. She had seen an opportunity to make some extra cash herself, and had suggested that she could help him out on some of the cases. She accepted that his police experience was what made him good at his job, but she was more than able to follow simple instructions and that was how she had become his honey trap. Her hourly rate and free accommodation remained, but she would receive a bonus payment in cash when a job was successfully completed. She had been saving these bonuses up for a deposit on a property of her own; not that she wasn’t enjoying the flat.

Benold fumbled with the room key and eventually opened the door, beckoning her to enter. She did so and was mildly impressed by the room’s size: he hadn’t been lying when he had said it was one of the venue’s more luxurious suites.

A cork popping behind her caught her attention and she turned to see him pouring chilled champagne into two flutes, before returning the champagne to an ice bucket.

‘Wait a minute,’ she teased, ‘have you been planning this?’

He handed her a flute, grinning sheepishly, ‘Ever since I saw you in the bar a week ago.’

What a jerk
, she thought, but said, ‘That’s so sweet.’

She took a sip of the champagne and nearly sneezed as the bubbles tickled the end of her nose. He leaned in for a kiss and she reciprocated to keep up the pretence, hoping that Carmichael wouldn’t be too long. The usual pattern they followed was for him to come in within about ten minutes. By that point she had usually managed to get the victim naked but intercourse would not have officially started.

‘You are very beautiful, Melissa. Do you know that?’

‘And you’re very handsome, James. All this,’ she said indicating the room and the champagne, ‘is quite overwhelming. I feel like I don’t deserve such attention.’

He leaned in and kissed her hard on the lips, forcing his tongue between her lips. She eventually broke it off and said that she wanted to freshen up.

‘Why don’t you start to strip…I won’t be long,’ she said as she disappeared into the bathroom.

He took his cue and quickly unbuttoned his shirt, hanging it carefully on the back of a chair. He then removed his trousers and hung them on the trouser press, before finally removing his socks and flinging them across the room.

‘Are you going to be long?’ he asked casually.

‘It’ll be worth the wait,’ she replied from behind the door, keen to string him along whilst she killed some time.

Benold lifted a small bag up from under the bed and carefully unzipped it, eager not to draw attention to what he was doing. Once open he removed a set of handcuffs and a black leather whip from the bag and quickly pushed it back under the bed. One thing his wife had never understood was his desire to be dominated by women. He enjoyed it as much as he enjoyed dominating them. It didn’t matter whether Melissa would be in to what he had in mind, by the time she realised what was happening it would be too late. He placed the handcuffs under one of the pillows and the whip under the bed, but within reach.

Melissa sent a text message to Carmichael, saying ‘Five Minutes’ and then opened the door and returned to the bedroom. Benold was on the end of the bed and held his hand out for her. She took it and he pulled her to him, standing as he did. They began to kiss and then he began to kiss her neck and unbutton her blouse. She allowed him to grope at her breasts and to twist her around until they fell on the bed. He was quickly aroused and she did all she could to play along, touching herself occasionally and playing with his average-sized penis.

‘Take it all off,’ he pleaded and so she moved to the edge of the bed and removed her skirt and tights hoping her slow approach would seduce him further.

*

Carmichael dropped a second twenty pound note on the front desk and looked at the attendant.

‘I could lose my job if the manager ever found out,’ said the youth picking up the money.

‘He’ll never find out,’ Carmichael quickly assured him. ‘I only need the key for five minutes and then you’ll have it back. Nobody will know it was ever missing.’

The youth looked around to make sure nobody could see or overhear them and then passed the skeleton key over to the intimidating black man, adding, ‘Five minutes, and then I need it back.’

Carmichael accepted the key and then tore off towards the stairs, camera bag in hand. Three minutes ago he had received a text message from Melissa, the sign that she was nearly ready for him. He reached the room’s door thirty seconds behind schedule and had to pause to get his breath back. He hadn’t anticipated the desk clerk being so difficult to convince. He placed the key in the lock and turned it, carefully opening the door as quietly as he could. As the door opened a creek, he suddenly became aware of screaming from the other side:
Melissa
.

He pushed the door open fully, camera up and snapping as he saw his young protégé lying face down on the bed, her hands cuffed to the frame of the headboard and with no clothes on. Standing above her was James Benold, naked, aroused and whipping her. Carmichael could see six bloody lash marks across her back already and his sudden presence in the room seemed to have gone unnoticed by the fetishist. Happy that he had all the evidence he needed, he threw the camera to the bed and leapt at Benold, the two men falling to the floor in a heap. Benold looked shocked and scared as the large stranger began to punch at him shouting, ‘Fucking pervert!’

Satisfied that Benold would give him no more trouble, he located the keys to the handcuffs and released Melissa. She was whimpering at the pain endured by her back. He found a towelling bathrobe and put it around her shoulders.

‘We better get that looked at,’ he promised.

‘I’ll be alright, boss,’ she lied, not wanting to show her vulnerability.

‘No,’ he replied evenly. ‘I am taking you to the hospital.’

‘Okay. Did you get everything you needed?’

He scooped the camera up and flicked through the photos that he had captured.

‘Oh yeah, this is just what we needed. I’m sorry that…’

‘It’s okay,’ she said again, forcing a smile.

Benold stood up and looked at the pair of them on the edge of the bed.

‘Who the fuck are you?’ he asked, dabbing at a bloody lip.

Carmichael stood up and looked Benold in the eye,’ I’m the private investigator your wife hired to catch you cheating on her. She paid me to watch you cavorting with other women so that she can take your sorry arse to court and get the divorce settlement she deserves, you stupid prick.’

Benold looked stunned by the admission and then had a thought, ‘How much did she pay you? I’ll double whatever the fee is for you not to give her those pictures.’

Carmichael couldn’t believe the man’s audacity.

‘Alright,’ said Benold realising that Carmichael wasn’t even considering the offer, ‘I’ll triple what she’s paying you. Please, don’t give her the pictures. I couldn’t…take that humiliation.’

‘If you didn’t want your wife to find out you were cheating, you should have kept your dick in your pants, you arrogant prick!’

‘Okay, okay,’ Benold said, holding his hands up in surrender. ‘I’ll give you fifty grand to hand that camera over now and to forget about what happened. That’s more than reasonable. What do you say, eh? Let’s be men about this.’

There was that figure again; why did everyone think that fifty thousand pounds could buy you what you wanted?

Carmichael helped Melissa to her feet and then turned to Benold.

‘Fifty thousand you say?’

Benold nodded eagerly.

He put his right hand to his chin as if he was considering the offer and then, quick as a flash, he lashed out and connected with Benold’s jaw, sending the naked man sprawling across the room.

‘I don’t think so,’ muttered Carmichael as he left the room and slammed the door behind him.