Death Of a Temptress

by P. F. Ford

  He suddenly realised he was in his pyjamas.

  “Err, I’m not exactly dressed for guests,” he began.

  “I’ll go then, shall I?” She pouted.

  “No! No. That’s not what I mean at all,” he said. “I just wasn’t expecting anyone. I certainly didn’t expect you to turn up on my doorstep clutching a takeaway and a bottle.”

  “So, is that a yes?” she asked. “Only this food’s going to get cold.”

  “I’m sorry,” he said, stepping back. “Please come in.”

  She came through the door, carrying her gifts, lingering in front of him long enough for him to inhale her perfume as she passed. Ah yes, he remembered, Chanel Number Five. He thought she smelled every bit as good as she looked, and right now, she looked pretty fabulous.

  She marched straight through to his tiny kitchen and began opening cupboards looking for plates and dishes.

  “Here” she instructed, offering him the bottle. “You find some glasses and open this, while I sort out this food.”

  Obediently, he did as he was told. Suddenly he didn’t feel so tired. Maybe tonight wouldn’t be quite so boring after all.

  By the time he’d found two glasses, opened the champagne, poured the drinks and handed one to her, she had the food laid out on the table. It was very cramped, and one or two dishes steamed away on the side, but there was more than enough to be going on with. He sat opposite her.

  “I think we should toast Sergeant Dave Slater and his dogged persistence.” She smiled, her green eyes sparkling.

  They clinked glasses and sipped their drinks.

  “It was a team effort,” he said, slightly embarrassed at her praise.

  “I think we should also toast the fact that I can see I was behaving very badly and being very selfish,” she said.

  She raised her glass and clinked it against his again.

  “No hard feelings?” she asked.

  “No hard feelings,” he agreed.

  They took another drink.

  “Can I also ask you to toast the resumption of friendly relations between us?” she asked.

  They clinked glasses and drank again. She reached for the bottle and topped up their glasses.

  “Whoa,” said Slater. “You’re in a hurry! Are you trying to get me drunk?”

  “Good heavens no.” She gave him a coy smile. “I’m trying to get both of us drunk.”

  “Do you think that’s necessary?” he asked.

  “Oh, it’s not necessary,” she agreed. “But it does help to remove any inhibitions, don’t you think?”

  “We’ll just have to wait and see, won’t we?” he said.

  There was an awkward silence while they sat and watched each other. It was one of those ‘what’s going to happen next’ situations, but the moment was lost when Slater’s stomach began growling loudly.

  “I think we should probably eat,” he said, red-faced. “I haven’t eaten all day, and we don’t want it to get cold.”

  As they began to eat, the tension between them eased and Slater began to relax. He had to admit she was very good company, very easy to be with, and very easy on the eye, too. She had that great talent of being a good listener as well as a good talker. She soon got him talking about the Ruth Thornhill case and how they’d come to the conclusion Beverley Green was the murderer.

  “So how does it all fit together?” she asked him.

  “You’re not asking about this because you’re going to be defending her are you?” asked Slater, wary of letting his guard down too far.

  “Good God, no! I’m far too close to get involved. Conflict of interest and all that,” she explained. “I’m just curious to know how you did it, that’s all.”

  And so he told her about Ruth and her double life as Ruby. He told her about Beverley carrying on for years behind Paul’s back thinking he didn’t know, but he had known all along. About how Beverley had tried to make Ruth’s life a misery and how Ruth had gained her revenge by becoming Ruby and seducing Paul.

  He told her about how Paul had found Ruth a job up in London, and then found a flat where he could be with her up in town. But, somehow, Beverley had found out and wanted revenge.

  So she’d persuaded Sebastian to drive her up to Clapham so she could spy on Paul and Ruby. Then she’d heard about the Brazil nut protein and how it could be transmitted through sex. All she had to do was arrange for Paul to eat some brazil nuts before he had sex with Ruby.

  “But how did she get him to eat Brazil nuts at the right time?” Jenny asked.

  “She used to pack him a bag full of healthy snacks to take with him every week. You know the sort of thing – dried fruits and seeds, energy bars, that sort of thing. Then on the week that mattered, she added Brazil nuts. She knew what would happen because she knew about Ruth’s allergy, but Paul had no idea. He was like a walking time bomb for Ruby that week.”

  “But how did she know about that, what’s it called? SPPA?” she asked.

  “There was a TV show that featured it,” he told her. “She says Paul watched it with her and he was really interested, but it was on a Wednesday. Paul was in London with Ruby.”

  “And I suppose Beverley knew that Paul’s rare blood group would lead you to him quite easily?” she suggested.

  “Exactly,” confirmed Slater. “She was pretty cute about the whole thing. But we think we’ve found evidence to prove Ruby’s body was kept in the freezer in Beverley’s garage, and they’ve found Ruby’s mobile phone. I’m betting Beverley’s finger prints will be all over it.”

  “But don’t you think your case is a bit flaky?” she asked. “There’s plenty of circumstantial evidence against her, but there’s just as much against him. It’s his word against hers about the Brazil nuts. And can you really believe he didn’t know about her allergy? I’d fight tooth and nail on that if I was defending her. And what about the TV show? He could have seen it when he was with Ruby. And how could she have seen it if she was with Sebastian, sat outside Ruby’s flat? Then there’s the freezer. He’s got access to it as well, you know. And she could argue he hid the mobile phone.”

  “Ah!” said Slater, triumphantly. “That’s why it’s a good job we’ve got our secret weapon. Sebastian can prove where she was on the night of the murder. He was her accomplice in removing the body and bringing it back down here and storing it in her freezer. He also helped her take the frozen body back up there and dump it in the river. Sadly for Beverley, her accomplice isn’t made from the same stuff she is. No amount of sex with her could ease his conscience in the end.”

  “Now that does make a difference,” she agreed.

  “You know him too, don’t you?” he asked.

  “If you mean do I know Sebastian, yes I do,” she said. “If you mean is he my tennis coach, then yes, sort of. Beverley and I play doubles together, and at one time she insisted he coach us, but frankly he’s got no idea.

  “However, if you mean am I having sex with him, no I am not. He’s not my type. I like a man who wants to be a man. Sebastian doesn’t screw Beverley, she screws him. It’s a subtle difference, but it’s real enough.”

  “Yeah. He’s not exactly the hero type,” he agreed.

  “Well, I’m glad you’ve got him to complete your case,” she said. “Otherwise you’d have to prove Beverley had found out about SPPA some other way.”

  “Like how?” he asked.

  “Maybe she had a friend who saw the programme and told her about it,” she suggested, mysteriously.

  Slater sat there for a moment as her words slowly sunk in. What had she just said? His mind was buzzing, but she was talking again.

  “Now I don’t know about you,” she murmured. “But I’m going upstairs to find your bed.”

  She got up from her chair and moved around the table. As she passed him, she ran her hands across his shoulders and through his hair.

  “Don’t be long,” she whispered, as she walked towards the stairs.

  “But you’re a friend of
hers,” he said. “Aren’t you?”

  “Of course I am,” she said. “One of dozens.”

  He thought about this.

  “Are you telling me you told her?”

  But there was no reply. She’d already gone upstairs. All he heard was the slight creak of the floorboards above him as she climbed into his bed.

  ***

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  More Books In This Series

  In the sleepy Hampshire town of Tinton, major crime is rare, and DS Slater and colleague Norman Norman find themselves with nothing to investigate except a flasher and an illiterate counterfeiter. Things are so quiet, Slater even manages to arrange to go on his long-awaited date with bombshell waitress Jelena.

  But things can change in a matter of seconds, and a dog walker’s discovery of a battered body near a local woodland sends Slater and Norman hurrying to the scene. Before they know it, they have three dead bodies on their hands – and the victims are all related. But with 15 years between the murders, is this just a bizarre coincidence, or could the murders be linked? And with tensions rising within their close-knit team, can Slater and Norman keep it together to solve their latest mystery?

  Click this link to learn more or buy your copy

  When a little old man is found dead in his home, DS Dave Slater assumes he was simply the victim of a traffic accident. He lived alone, after all, and didn’t seem to have any living relatives. But after some strange occurrences at the old man’s home, Slater finds himself probing deeper. He soon discovers that someone seems to be looking for something – but what was the lonely old man hiding, and why is someone so desperate to find it?

  And then there’s Florence – a ghost-like figure who is occasionally spotted around town in the early hours of the morning. Slater can’t shake off the feeling she is linked, somehow. But how, and why?

  Click this link to learn more or buy your copy

  When Diana Woods is found stabbed to death in her kitchen, DS Slater and DS Norman Norman are plunged into another major investigation. The finger of suspicion quickly points at Diana’s estranged husband, Ian – a bully who regularly abused his wife. But as Slater learns more, he begins to wonder if everything is as it seems. When a new suspect appears on the scene, it seems that Slater’s instincts were right. But the evidence seems just a bit too convenient, and Slater and Norman have to face the possibility that their suspect is being framed – and they could be back to square one.

  Click this link to learn more or buy your copy

  Coming soon

  When DS Dave Slater and his colleague DS Norman Norman stumble across, and apprehend, a teenage arsonist, it’s no surprise to either of them when the youth threatens revenge as he’s led away.

  Two nights later, when Slater is dragged from sleep to be told his friend’s flat is on fire, his first thought is that maybe this had been no idle threat. But Norman has gone missing, and when a witness claims to have seen a Russian watching the flats, it soon becomes clear whoever is behind this is far more dangerous than Slater first thought.

  Considered too close to the victim to lead this investigation, Slater is told he has to accept a new boss, but no-one thinks to tell him the new boss is a woman, and at first he feels this could be one change too many. Fortunately, DI Marion Goodnews understands where Slater’s attitude is coming from, and it’s not long before she begins to win his respect with the way she handles the investigation.

  With three major suspects, and the discovery of a couple of clues in an old red telephone box, Slater and Goodnews feel they’re making progress. Eliminating first one, and then a second suspect, they’re sure they know who’s to blame, but when Slater has an unexpected visit from the Russian, he realises they’ve been barking up the wrong tree and the answer was there right in front of them all the time.

  Due to be published towards the end of September 2015, The Red Telephone Box is the fifth book in the DS Dave Slater mystery novel series.

  About The Author

  Having spent most of his life trying to be the person everyone else wanted him to be, P.F. (Peter) Ford was a late starter when it came to writing. Having tried many years ago (before the advent of self-published ebooks) and been turned down by every publisher he approached, it was a case of being told ‘now will you accept you can’t write and get back to work’.

  But then a few years ago, having been miserable for over 50 years of his life, Peter decided he had no intention of carrying on that way. Fast forward a few years and you find a man transformed. Having found a partner (now wife) who believes dreamers should be encouraged and not denied, he first wrote (under the name Peter Ford) and published some short reports and a couple of books about the life changing benefits of positive thinking.

  Now, happily settled in Wales and no longer constrained by the idea of having to keep everyone else happy, Peter is blissfully happy being himself, sharing his life with wife Mary and their three dogs, and living his dream writing fiction.

  Peter has plans to write several more Dave Slater novels, as well as having many other story ideas he would like to develop further.

  As well as writing the DS Dave Slater novels, he also writes the ongoing, ‘digital fiction marmite’, that is the Alfie Bowman novella series.

  P.F. Ford website

  P.F. Ford’s Author Central page

  P.F. Ford on Goodreads