Most Gracious Advocate (Terrence Reid Mystery Book 4)

by Mary Birk

  “I had his room ready, and told Lord Reid which one it was. They should be all set.”

  “While we’re on the subject of guests, I need to warn you, we might have to start doing some entertaining,” she said, though Terrence’s reaction to her casual suggestion that morning about them going out more and doing some entertaining had been less than enthusiastic. He’d made a face like she’d suggested he put on a tutu and dance a ballet.

  “No problem. Tell me when, and what you want, and I’ll take care of things.”

  “Thanks, but I won’t leave it all up to you.” Gesturing toward the intersection they were approaching, Anne said, “I’d like to take a different route home. I want to drive by some gardens I restored last year.”

  “You won’t be able to see much in the dark.”

  “Maybe they’ll have the gardens lit up. We installed lights all over, especially around the water features.”

  “Don’t tell me you’re talking about Lynstrade Manor.”

  “I just want to drive by.”

  “Lord Reid told me I wasn’t to let you go there.”

  “Let me?” Anne was barely able to tamp down her outrage at the paternalistic tenor of Sebastian’s words.

  “For your safety.”

  “I’ll be perfectly safe. I just want to get a quick look.”

  Sebastian turned the car into the road she indicated, and twenty minutes later, they were in front of Lynstrade Manor. Anne rolled down her window so she could see better, but the house and grounds were totally dark.

  “You’d think they’d leave some lights on.”

  “Maybe no one’s home.”

  “Maybe. Drive slowly, so I can see better.”

  Sebastian brought the car down almost to a crawl, and Anne pulled out her camera.

  “Stop here a moment. With my night lens, I might be able to get a decent shot.”

  “I’m not sure that’s a good idea. What if someone comes out and asks what you’re doing?”

  “It’s a public road. Besides, it’ll just take a moment.”

  The sigh from the front seat said he didn’t want to do it, but Sebastian stopped the car.

  Anne got out, set her camera’s shutter to the slowest speed, and stood completely still while she took shots at different angles. Contrary to what Sebastian had said, it looked like people were indeed home. The driveway, though dark, was full of cars. People were definitely there.

  When she was finished, she hopped back in the car, trying to ignore the niggling feeling of guilt that Terrence would be upset about what she’d done. After all, she hadn’t gone on to the grounds, or inside the gate. He couldn’t possibly have any objection to her taking photos from the road. Especially at night when no one could see her.

  She leaned her head against Michael’s car seat, suddenly exhausted from a day frantic with activity, and let the movement of the car lull her into a not completely guiltless sleep.

  Chapter 10

  LIZZIE WAS SICK to her stomach from what she’d been forced to do. After she finished with the Master, she’d had to do the same thing to the two guards. Then a fourth man came in, the young man who’d met her in the restaurant and pushed her in the car. No gold cross in his ear now. Now it was a big diamond, and he wasn’t at all the polite, Christian boy she’d thought he was. He’d been rougher with her than the guards had been, shoving her head up and down on him. He seemed to enjoy more of a sense of entitlement than the guards, and the Master treated him better. With the guards, the Master had given her detailed instructions, but when it was the young man’s turn, the Master watched with approval, making suggestions or comments now and then.

  Afterwards, she felt dirty and humiliated. Her jaw and knees ached. She’d not even wanted to eat when they brought her the plate of chicken stew. But she knew if she didn’t eat, the Master would be angry, and he’d push the button that controlled her collar, shocking her again. At least the food had been cut up into small bites so it was easier for her to eat without using any hands.

  Now the film of her doing what she’d done to the men played in front of her, the sound too loud to let her sleep. The Master told her to study them, then they’d show her films of how she could do a better job. He gave her an injection of something to keep her awake, and for the first hour or so, he’d had the young man who abducted her, his name seemed to be Albert, touch her and put his mouth on her, until she’d convulsed with intensity in a way she knew was wrong. They’d filmed that as well, she was sure. They filmed everything. except when the Master was with her.

  He was with her now, drinking what she thought was probably whiskey while the film played. He’d taken his hood off, but Lizzie still didn’t recognize him. She was sure she’d never seen him before. How had he decided to make her his victim? Had they kidnapped Rosie, too?

  The door opened and one of the guards brought in a wide-hipped girl with light brown hair wearing a brown robe. Lizzie guessed she was about nineteen. Her makeup was smeared from crying and she kept her eyes cast down. Albert went to her and took the robe off. Lizzie kept her horrified gasp locked inside her chest at the red, angry welts that crisscrossed the girl’s back. Was this Rosie?

  The Master frowned, then asked the question Lizzie had been thinking. “Who’s this?”

  “One of the maids.”

  “What’s her name?”

  “Sofia. She’s Russian.”

  So not Rosie. Maybe Rosie had escaped.

  “What did she do?”

  Albert shrugged. “She’s got a fiancé back home she didn’t think wanted her to fuck me.”

  “And?”

  “I think he did.” The smirk on Albert’s face made Lizzie’s skin crawl.

  “Does she speak English?”

  “A little. Mostly Russian.”

  “Can you tell her what you want her to do?”

  “Well enough. I have some Russian and she has some English.” He took a whip from the guard that brought the girl in. “She’s started to learn this language, as well.”

  “What do you have in mind?” The Master’s voice held a tinge of interest.

  Lizzie could not believe the nightmare she was living through, and began praying out loud. “Hail, holy Queen, Mother of Mercy—”

  “Shut up.” The Master’s voice came out harsh, but distracted.

  Lizzie didn’t stop, even knowing she risked being shocked again. She was more than a little surprised when no shock came.

  “You’d better mask up, Master.” Albert motioned to the camera.

  “Aye.” The Master went to the side of the room where a box sat and drew out two black half-masks. He put one on, and handed another to Albert. “Let’s have the girls wear masks, as well. It’s helpful with their inhibitions.” He selected one white and one black mask. “Lizzie gets white.” He handed it to her, and she put it on, not ceasing her prayers.

  “Aren’t you going to stop her?” Albert asked.

  “No, she can pray all she wants until we start filming. It won’t do her any good.”

  Albert took the black mask to Sofia. The girl hesitated, and he looked exasperated. “She’s not very obedient.” He slapped her, an impersonal slap. The girl wobbled from the impact of the blow. Albert handed her the mask again, and this time, she put it on.

  The Master stood up and went over to the Russian girl, inspecting her. “She’s got a fiancé?”

  “She did. I doubt he’s going to want her back after I’m through with her.”

  The Master considered. “Nice body, good face.”

  “Yes.”

  “Don’t whip her anymore. You don’t want to mark the merchandise.”

  “Some men might find the whip marks make her more interesting. Like grill marks on a steak.”

  Lizzie kept choking out the words of her prayer, horrified at the cruelty in the men’s voices.

  “No more.”

  “Whatever you say.” Albert gestured to the guard who controlled the camera to start filming,
then he beckoned to Sofia. She obeyed slowly, as if she were frightened, but when he lifted his hand, she scurried to him.

  Albert smiled, his mouth hard and wicked. “I like my women pierced.” He pulled three iron rings out of his pocket, then eased Sofia over to the bed. The Master gestured for Lizzie to get off the bed, and pointed to a chair. She quickly obeyed. Albert said something to Sofia and she lay down on Lizzie’s bed.

  Albert first fastened Sofia’s hands with the restraints, then her legs.

  The Master told the guards to bring a bottle of brandy and some glasses. When it came, he poured a generous portion for himself, Albert, and Lizzie. He gave the bottle to Lizzie, and gestured to the Russian girl.

  “She’ll need a couple of drinks for this. And stop that praying. It’s beginning to bother me.”

  Continuing to pray silently, Lizzie took the brandy to the shackled girl and held it to her lips. After Sofia swallowed, Lizzie gave her more.

  Albert held up a hand. “That’s enough. We don’t want to waste good brandy on her.”

  “Can’t you give her some drugs? Something to help with the pain?” Lizzie asked.

  “She’s a Russian cow. They don’t feel pain like you would if I did this to you.” The look on Albert’s face, a look that said he’d enjoying doing just that, froze Lizzie’s blood.

  She turned to the man who called himself Master. “Please don’t let him do this.”

  “You can give her some more brandy if you like.” The man’s tone was indulgent, though the gleam in his eyes told her he was no more compassionate towards the poor Russian girl than Albert.

  Lizzie quickly gave Sofia as much brandy as the girl could swallow. Albert soaked three rings in alcohol, then sterilized a needle with a match. He approached the restrained girl and calmly and quickly pierced one nipple and inserted a ring. Before her screaming subsided, he went to the other side and finished that part of the job. He re-sterilized the needle, held up the third iron ring, and spread her legs. “You may want to give her another drink for this one.”

  Lizzie gave a sharp cry when she realized what was going to happen. She threw herself at Albert, who swatted her away as easily as if she were an annoying mosquito. Frantically, she again began praying out loud. One of the guards grabbed her by the arms, pressing them behind her back, and pushed her down on her knees to the floor, while another clamped his hand across her mouth.

  The Master approached her, and unzipped his pants. “Take your hand away. I’ll give her something better to do with her mouth besides pray.” When he had her lips clamped around him, he yanked her hair back.

  “You will learn, my Lizzie, that resistance arouses me.”

  After it was all over, Sofia was taken away and the Master and Albert left. Lizzie had been given water in a cup. She’d been told that if she needed to use the bathroom, she was to call out politely to her guards and they would take her, though the first time she asked, she realized that doing so would be just another part of her ordeal. The guards took her to the bathroom, but the whole time they grinned at her, licking their lips while cupping their private parts.

  Lizzie held up her chin, ignoring them. They could abuse her body, but she would not let them get to her soul.

  Chapter 11

  WHEN ANNE WOKE UP, Sebastian was parking the car in the garage. She carefully unbuckled the sleeping Michael from his car seat. Sebastian held the door from the garage into the house open for her.

  Terrence was sitting on one of the stools at the kitchen island talking to Jack Shelton, who was leaning against the counter. Shelton was about Anne’s height, and more compact than her husband. His sandy brown hair topped a tanned face—of course he was tan, he lived under the California sun, and, she remembered, was an avid bicyclist. She knew little else about him, except that he was divorced. And that he’d caused her more trouble than she could believe.

  Sebastian took the baby from her. “I’ll take him to bed, my lady.”

  “Thanks.” She kissed Terrence, then turned to Jack Shelton, pasting on a smile she didn’t feel.

  To her surprise, the man came over to hug her, smiling and acting like they were old friends. Behind Shelton’s back, she shot a look at Terrence, who shrugged.

  “I brought you some presents from California, Anne, as I’m not sure what all they have here in the wilds of Scotland.”

  Terrence scoffed, “Wilds?”

  “All I know of the country is from the movie Brave Heart. It does seem you’ve made some progress, wearing more clothes and no war paint on the face, but I figured maybe Anne would appreciate some supplies from civilization.” Shelton grinned at her husband, inviting a challenge.

  Terrence didn’t disappoint. “You’re full of shite. The Scots invented civilization—or at least everything worthwhile.”

  “If you say so.” Shelton opened a duffel bag and pulled out a series of packages, setting each down on the counter as he spoke. “I brought peanut butter, See’s chocolate, and pistachio nuts. But I think you’ll like this best.” He picked up a large envelope from the kitchen counter, took out the contents, and handed them to her.

  She looked at him quizzically.

  “It’s an article on the gardens you did at the Grainger Colony. It ran Sunday, in the magazine section of the San Francisco paper. Have you seen it already?”

  She took the article from him, quickly flipping through the pages. They were filled with color pictures showing the gardens at the Grainger Colony after they’d had almost a year to grow into themselves after her renovation.

  “I haven’t. This is wonderful. Thank you.” Anne held up the article to her husband. “Look at this!”

  He put out his arm and caught her around the waist, pulling her down on to his lap. “I saw it, lassie. Nice job.”

  “Thank you so much, Jack. I need to make copies to add to my presentation for this new job.” Then, remembering her hostess duties, and feeling much friendlier toward their guest, she said, “Did you two eat?”

  Her husband pulled her closer. “We were about to head over to the pub. Do you want to join us?”

  “I could, or we could do something easy here, if you want.”

  Terrence looked at their guest in a silent question.

  Shelton said, “Here is fine with me. It’s been a long day.”

  “Then let’s stay in.” Anne got off her husband’s lap, pulling up a stool for herself. “How long will you be in town, Jack?”

  “A few days. I have some business in London, so I decided to stop here first so I can report back to the girls’ families about the status of the investigation. Your husband even let me go with DC Muirhead this afternoon to interview the girl that reported Lizzie Frost missing.”

  “I’m sure he appreciates the help,” Anne said, though she wasn’t at all sure.

  Shelton made a wry face. “I don’t think DS Ross feels the same way.”

  Terrence frowned. “Did he say something?”

  “No, but I got the vibes.”

  “I’ll talk to him.”

  “Don’t. I’d be put out myself if I were him.” Changing the subject, Shelton waved a hand, indicating their surroundings. “The house is great, Anne. Terrence said you’ve done most of the work.”

  “I had a lot of help.”

  “Looks like it suits you guys.” Jack Shelton was being spookily nice.

  “It does. It’s close to Terrence’s work, and it has a large garden—that’s what they call a yard over here—it’s perfect.” She started to get up. “I’m dying for a glass of wine.”

  Her husband motioned for her to stay, getting up to go to the refrigerator himself.

  “Sad news about Susan McLendon,” Jack said. He must have been keeping up on the news from Bodega Bay. “Have you heard anything about how Dougal’s doing?”

  Anne took the glass Terrence held out to her. “Jeanne says he’s doing as well as can be expected.” Dougal McLendon, the Bodega Bay police chief who’d been involved with the FBI i
n the investigation of the murder of Andrew Grainger’s daughter, had been left with four children when his wife succumbed to pancreatic cancer in February. Anne’s sister, Jeanne, had been helping with his children while he got back on his feet.

  “I’ll give him a call.”

  “I’m sure he’d appreciate that.” She snuck a glance at Terrence. Any mention of Bodega Bay carried with it the risk of the subject of Andrew coming up. But the men moved on to talking about people she didn’t know, and Anne let her mind float back to the article, considering ways to incorporate it into her portfolio.

  When Sebastian came downstairs, Anne brought herself back to the moment. “Sebastian, get a drink and sit. I’m making dinner tonight.” She handed him a beer from the refrigerator, then took an apron out of the drawer and put it on. “How about cheese omelets?”

  Sebastian took a drink of his beer. “I made a lasagna, just in case. If everyone can wait thirty minutes to eat, I’ll put it in the oven.”

  “That sounds delicious. I’ll make a salad.”

  “I also made a salad. And garlic bread.”

  She laughed, and took off her apron. “I guess I’ll just drink my wine.”

  Her husband came over to her and kissed her on the head. “You’ve done enough for today. Let’s go sit in the study and talk until dinner is ready. Sebastian, you have everything under control?”

  Sebastian nodded. “I’ll give a shout when it’s ready, my lord.”

  “Thank you. Come on, girl.” Terrence put his arm around her and motioned for Jack Shelton to follow them.

  Anne leaned over and whispered to her husband. “I meant to tell you, we passed Lynstrade Manor on the way from Loch Etive.”

  “I told you . . .”

  “For an empty house, it sure had a lot of people.”

  “What?”

  “I didn’t actually see anyone, but there were lots of vans and cars.”

  “You weren’t supposed to go near there.”

  “We were driving by. It was on our way.”

  “It shouldn’t have been.”