The Mistress - an Erotic Noir Novel

by J. E. Keep

  Allan paid no heed to the destruction of Martin’s door that they left behind, leading the way as he went off. “What are we lookin’ for there, Teach?” he asked, sounding more interested in knowing if he should expect trouble than anything else.

  “Letters,” she answered as they hailed their cab, “but I don’t know who else might be there, so... we need to be careful. Hopefully the detective will be around.”

  Chapter 11

  When the two of them arrived she saw no sign of the detectives cab outside the manor, though reaching the door she found it quite unlocked, the door in fact, slightly ajar. This put Allan on edge and the large man put an arm in front of her as he tried to peer inside. “Maybe you should wait out here,” he cautioned quietly in his deep voice.

  “I’m not going to leave you alone to these animals,” she hissed as she stayed close behind him. “Just be quiet, and don’t start anything if you don’t have to. Pin them to the ground if you must,” she said, and there was a hint of inappropriate interest piqued at the end before she returned to her steely gaze, “I need to get up the stairs into the study.”

  The two made their way up the stairs and she found the door to the deceased woman’s office wide open. Perhaps it had been left that way from when she and Max had departed yesterday, but her caution was leading her to be suspicious and she felt like they weren’t alone.

  She tried to remain quiet, her footsteps so soft as she moved to the woman’s desk. She didn’t even instruct Allan to be vigilant, trusting entirely that he would be as she tried to grab some of her correspondence.

  The correspondence was obviously picked through. Max had gone through it just yesterday of course, but what remained was tedious and uninteresting except for a pair of letters from a distraught young woman about a professor having abused his authority and used her. It was light on details, but the young Ms. Cynthia L, as she signed her letters, must have been the one who tipped Sylvia off to Turing’s abuses, she realized.

  She wasn’t sure how she felt, knowing that Sylvia had been the one to write the letter to Turing. With the possibly planted vial, she felt almost certain that it had all been an elaborate ruse, yet under the surface something bubbled her blood. The letter from Cynthia was there, corroborating her own evidence, yet Max hadn’t taken that. Her lip trembled as she looked it over, thinking back to what he had said about it being inadmissible. Yet here was evidence that he had that pointed to Sylvia’s own awareness of Turing’s misdeeds.

  Her prior violation hit her in the gut and made it seem more personal as she folded the letter. Why would Cynthia go to Mrs. Sinclair of all people?

  She was so lost in her complicated thoughts that she heard nothing before Allan said, “Did you hear that, Teach?” his voice softer than she’d known it to ever be. “I think there’s someone here,” he said, moving back out into the hallway.

  Eva glanced behind him, pocketing the letter and turning. “Be careful,” she pleaded as she moved towards him, her breath held. “We should leave, Allan.”

  Nodding to her they exited out into the upstairs hallway again, and both their eyes were drawn towards the open door at the end of the hall. It hadn’t been like that when they first arrived. She could swear it.

  “I’m scared,” she admitted to him as she made her way towards the stairs, desperately reminding herself to avoid the weak, old spots in the boards. She remembered all too well how poorly her stealth had been at the party, and it was causing her stomach to churn.

  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... could
n’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?”

  He shook her, “Oh come on, Eva! Don’t act innocent!” he yelled. “It’s enough I’ve had to put up with you selling yourself out to all these old men over me, but don’t pretend like you don’t realize it’s your own damn fault! Turing never did that to any women who weren’t asking for it already!”

  “If I was asking for it, he wouldn’t have had to drug me!”

  He released her arm holding the statuette and went for something in his pocket, pulling out a syringe full of the amber fluid. “You let him! That’s how it always goes for us,” he stated with such conviction of truth.

  Her gaze dropped to the syringe, backing away, “Martin, what are you doing?” She trembled and almost forgot the weapon she held in her hand, her eyes growing wide. “Why do you have that?”