Broken Blue: The Complete Series

by Amy Cross

  He opens his mouth to reply, but I can see that I've caught his attention. He's actually considering my offer.

  "Why would I make all of this up?" I ask. "Why would an upstanding member of society come here today and spin such a fantasy to you? I'm a respectable man, Inspector Matthews, or at least I was before all of this started. I allowed myself to be drawn into this game, until finally it was too late to recover. I merely wish to extricate myself from a situation that has become intolerable, and also to save future generations of young ladies from meeting the same fate as those who have already been fed into the river". I pause. "You're a man of the world. You've seen the vile things men can do to one another. Can you really not believe that this game could be real?"

  We sit in silence for a moment. "I'll give you one chance," he says eventually. "Just the one. Make sure you don't abuse it, or I'll have you strung up for wasting police time, do you understand?"

  "I swear, you won't regret this," I say, gathering up the documents and stuffing them back into the leather case. "Keep hold of these," I say, getting to my feet. "I shall be in touch in the next few days, with the information you'll need in order to catch these people red-handed. I promise you, all will become apparent. I only wish the truth were not so horrific".

  "You only get one chance," he says again. "After that, you'll be lucky if I don't write you up for wasting police time".

  "One chance is all I need," I tell him. "Just promise me that if I contact you and tell you to be ready, you'll come".

  He pauses for a moment. "One chance," he replies. "Just one".

  Shaking his hand, I feel an overwhelming sense of relief that perhaps I have found someone who is willing to give me the benefit of the doubt. Still, the hard work is ahead of me. If I cannot deliver solid evidence of the game to Inspector Matthews, there is a danger that not only will I find my life brutally ended, but the game itself will go on and on for many more years. I cannot bear the thought that ten, or twenty, or a hundred years from now, there might be more girls who find themselves falling victim to the game. For the sake of future generations, it is imperative that I end the game as soon as possible.

  Three

  Today

  "Maybe you should turn your phone off," Rob says, as we stand outside his house and wait for his band-mates to pick us up. "It's kind of annoying how it keeps ringing like that".

  "Yeah," I say, "sorry". Reaching into my pocket, I pull out my phone and see that once again my mother is trying to get hold of me. I get that she's worried about me and that she wants to know what time I'll be home, but I've told her that I'm with friends and I don't see why she can't just accept that fact. I haven't told her, however, that I'm going to Exeter and won't be coming back for my father's funeral, but I figure I can wait until I'm out of town before I drop that bombshell. Something tells me she's not going to be too pleased.

  "Seriously," Rob continues. "It rings, like, every ten minutes".

  "I'll put it on silent," I say, making a quick change to the settings. To be honest, I don't know why I haven't turned it off entirely, but there's a part of me that feels like somehow that would be a mistake. I guess I still feel, deep down, that there's a chance I might change my mind and go running back to my mother's house in time for the funeral. As long as I at least have that option, I can keep telling myself that my decision isn't final. Still, I keep thinking about my mother sitting at home, waiting for me to walk through the door.

  "Are you sure about this?" Rob asks suddenly. "I mean, your Dad's funeral is a pretty big deal".

  "It's nothing," I say. "It's just some big tradition. Why does it matter if I stand in a room and stare at a box? My Dad's body is there, but his soul is gone, and that's all that matters".

  "But what about his ghost?" Rob says. "What if, like, his ghost is there, and he's wondering where you've gone?"

  "There's no such thing as ghosts," I reply, "and anyway, if there were, why would he care? He'd totally want me to get on with my life and do what I want to do. He'd hate it if I turned down this opportunity because I felt like I had to go to some stupid ceremony".

  "You really think so?" he asks.

  "Totally". I pause for a moment. "He once told me a story about how he hitched all the way up to Manchester when he was a student, just so he could see some band. I can't remember who it was, but he always said it was one of his best ever experiences. I guess this is just my version of doing that".

  "Still," he says. "It's the guy's fucking funeral. Are you sure -"

  "I'm totally sure," I insist, kind of wishing Rob would just accept my decision and stop pressing me. "A funeral's just an excuse for people to act like they give a damn, but most of them can barely remember my Dad. I'll probably mark his memory better while I'm in Exeter. All this funeral talk is just bullshit. It's a conventional, traditional, conformist exercise in communal posturing that in no way reflects the feelings of the people who show up. I don't want to go to some room and talk to people who're just there to pretend like they give a shit about my Dad. Most of them probably don't even remember him anyway".

  Rob stares at me for a moment. "I like you," he says eventually. "You're not like most girls. You cut through all the bullshit and just make a stand for what you believe in. It's pretty fucking refreshing".

  "Thanks," I say, feeling as if I'm blushing slightly.

  "I mean it," he continues. "Loads of girls talk the talk, but you totally walk the walk. Like... most girls would bitch and moan about going to their Dad's funeral, but they'd still fucking end up going. They'd sit there with a sour look on their face and just suck it up. But you, Elly, you're fucking coming to Exeter with the band. Like, who gives a fuck about your Dad's funeral, right? It's just a body that's gonna be burned and scattered".

  "Exactly," I reply, feeling kind of glad that Rob sees things my way. I feel like, finally, I've met someone who understands my world-view, which means that I don't have to fight about every single idea that comes into my head. Going to my father's funeral would be a total waste of time; I'd be doing it for my mother, not for my Dad. While my mother places great importance on tradition, and on the different ways of showing respect, my father would definitely be happy to learn that I'm blowing off his funeral in order to go on the road with a band. What I'm doing is very much in my father's spirit, and it's the best way I can honor him.

  "Do you know how fucking cool you are?" Rob asks, staring at me. "I mean, fuck it, I might even write a song about you. It's like you're a total fucking rebel".

  "Thanks," I reply. "Don't worry about the song, though. I'm totally fine with things as they are".

  "I mean it," he says. "You put your money where your mouth is".

  "It's not about that," I say. "It's not like I'm doing it just to make a point or something. I just don't want to turn down another opportunity, just so I can go to some stupid funeral".

  "That's so cool," he replies. "You're so, like, way out there".

  "Yeah," I say, cringing a little at the torrent of cliches that continue to come out of his mouth. To be honest, right now I keep swinging wildly between two extremes: on the one hand, I desperately want to prove a point by not going to my father's funeral, but on the other hand there's a part of me that wants to pay my respects to him. Maybe I'm just falling for the old-fashioned traditions, but I feel as if maybe I should just turn up and take part in the ceremony.

  "You're cool," Rob says, slapping me on the back so hard that I almost jump out of my skin. "You know that, right?" He smiles at me. "You're really fucking cool, Elly".

  "Apparently so," I reply as a beaten-up old van pull into the parking spot next to us. I guess this must be our ride to Exeter, which means it'll be a miracle if we get there at all. I watch as Rob starts hauling his guitar and equipment over to the back of the van, and as the back doors open I get a strong whiff of stale sweat. This is going to be a long, kinda unpleasant journey, and I'm not entirely sure why I'm getting myself mixed up in what amounts to a road trip. Stil
l, anything's better than going back to my mother's house and sitting around, making cucumber sandwiches and waiting for my Dad's funeral. I just have to keep reminding myself that my Dad would approve of me going off like this.

  "So," Rob says, when the van's all loaded up. He pauses for a moment. "You sure about this, Elly?"

  "Totally".

  "I just mean, like, once we get going, there's no way we can turn around and bring you back. You get in the van, you're coming to Exeter, okay?"

  "That's the plan," I reply, stepping past him and getting into one of the passenger seats. There are two other guys inside already, and I don't know them at all, but I figure that's part of the fun. As Rob gets in and the van starts up, I look out the window and watch as we start on our journey. Reaching into my pocket, I check my phone and see, to my surprise, that my mother hasn't tried to call me for a few hours. I guess maybe she's got the message at last.

  Four

  1895

  "You're in a strange mood tonight," says Elizabeth, reclining naked on my bed. "Why don't you come over here and let me take your mind off whatever's troubled you".

  "Soon," I mutter, staring out the window. For the past half hour, there has been a man loitering in the street opposite my home. Although I might be a little paranoid, I cannot help wondering whether Lady Red has sent Mr. White to keep an eye on me. Unfortunately, the man remains in the shadows and I cannot see his face, though his general build remind me very much of Mr. White, and I cannot shake the feeling that I am being watched. If that is the case, then it is reasonable to assume that I was also being watched when I went to visit Inspector Matthews at New Scotland Yard earlier today. I should have done more to ensure I was not under observation, but it seems that at every step I am finding myself tracked and trailed. On the other hand, I am quite certain that Mr. White would be rather more subtle if he were to follow me, which means that the man on the other side of the street is probably just a passerby who is waiting to meet someone.

  "Edward," Elizabeth continues, "please come to bed. I have spent all day thinking of inventive things I would like to do to you, and I must confess I am eager to try them out".

  "Just give me a moment," I say, watching as the man across the street suddenly turns and starts walking away. My mind is racing as I try to work out what this means. Was he watching my house? And if so, on whose behalf? It is certainly possible that Inspector Matthews has sent someone to keep an eye on me. After all, I must have seemed to be a complete madman earlier today. Taking a deep breath, I decide that the only option left to me is to get Matthews the evidence he needs. Turning to Elizabeth, I realize that I have no time to come up with another plan. If I do not get this done soon, my life might very well be over by the morning.

  "Are you ready?" she asks, running her hands over her plump breasts.

  "Almost," I say. "I will be back in a minute or two". As she sighs with frustration, I hurry out of the room and down the stairs, heading for my study. I pick up the telephone and ask the operator to connect me with Lady Red's home in Grosvenor Square. My hands are shaking as I wait for her to answer. "It's me," I blurt out as soon as I hear her voice. "It's Edward. I need your help. I must dispose of Elizabeth".

  "Already?" she asks. "I thought you had barely begun with her?"

  "I pushed her too hard," I reply, desperately trying to think of a convincing story. "I'm afraid she has shown herself to be weak, but she suspects that something is amiss and I believe it would be in our best interests to dispose of her as soon as possible".

  "Can't it wait until tomorrow?" she replies.

  "It would be far too dangerous to wait," I say firmly. "I am not certain that I can detain her here for much longer. She knows a little about the game, and I fear that she could cause problems".

  On the other end of the line, Lady Red sighs. "How does she know anything of the game?"

  "That is not important right now," I say. "What matters is that she poses a threat. We absolutely must eliminate her. I would do it myself, but I know that such a move would be unwise, and would be against the rules. I need Mr. White to come and do the job, and I think you should be here too".

  "Me?" She sounds a little suspicious. "Why?"

  "I mean for the disposal of her body," I continue. "If Mr. White comes to deal with her, and then we meet you for the disposal. It's traditional, is it not?"

  There's a pause on the other end of the line, and I can tell that Lady Red has not entirely bought my story. Still, all I need is for her to agree. "Fine," she says. "I shall inform Mr. White that he needs to go to your home immediately, and then I shall meet the two of you at the usual place. But Edward... After this is over, we must talk. After the incident with Sophia Marchant, and now this trouble with Elizabeth Cavendish, I feel we should go over some ground rules. There are aspects of your comportment that worry me of late, and I would like to -"

  "Yes, fine!" I reply, interrupting her. "Just send Mr. White as soon as possible".

  Once the telephone call is over, I reconnect with the operator and ask to be put through to Inspector Matthews at New Scotland Yard. When I am informed that he has gone home for the evening, I insist on being connected to his home telephone number, but I am told that he does not have one. Ending the call, I feel a sense of panic rush through my mind, until finally I realize what has to be done. Ringing the bell on my desk to summon my manservant Martin, I quickly write a note in which I inform Inspector Matthews of the latest developments and arrange for him to be in a position to observe everything that happens later tonight when Lady Red, Mr. White and I go to dispose of Elizabeth's body. Entrusting the note to Martin, I send him out into the night to deliver my message personally.

  "Are you ready for me now?" Elizabeth asks as I return to my bedroom.

  "I am," I say, realizing that we have perhaps an hour before Mr. White arrives. As I stand in the doorway and stare at Elizabeth, I start to feel rather bad about the way things have worked out for her. She is to be killed unnecessarily, although at least she will be the last to die in such a way. One day, her death will be viewed as a sacrifice that had to be made in order that this vile game could be ended. I step toward the bed and decide that she should, at the very least, enjoy one final moment of passion before Mr. White arrives to cut her throat.

  "I should very much like to feel you inside me," she says, opening her legs a little, in order that I might see the lips of her vagina. "But I was thinking, Edward, that first I might pleasure you with my mouth".

  "I believe that can be arranged," I say, quickly undressing before climbing naked onto the bed with her.

  "And then," she says, grinning, "I was thinking that perhaps you might do the same to me".

  I stare at her for a moment. "In what way?"

  "With your tongue," she says, reaching down and gently touching herself. "I have heard that some women take great pleasure from having a man's tongue down there. I hope that is something that you might be willing to try, and that the prospect does not disgust you". She leans closer and kisses me gently on the lips, while pressing her warm, wet crotch against my naked leg; I feel the wetness of her vagina on my skin, and the heat from her body. After a moment, she breaks from the kiss and starts to move down my body, eventually taking my hardened penis in her hand. I try to focus on the pleasurable side of this encounter, but all I can think about is the fact that within the next couple of hours, Elizabeth will be dead. If only there were some way to end the game while keeping her alive, but I have run through the situation many times and there is only one conclusion: she must be killed, so that the game will end and no other girl will ever have to die.

  As we continue to make love, I try to heighten her pleasure as much as possible. As she has requested, I use my tongue to stimulate her clitoris, tasting her wetness as she reaches orgasm. Our time together is passionate, and she reaches orgasm three times, and finally she takes my penis in her mouth and I am able to ejaculate into her throat. When the love-making is over, we remain n
aked on the bed, and she turns to me with a look of true happiness in her eyes. Despite everything else that is going to happen to her tonight, I can at least be certain that I have given her a great deal of pleasure.

  "There is something I have been wanting to say to you, Edward," she tells me once she has got her breath back. "I know it is not a woman's place to be too forward, but I feel that you are a very modern man, and I wish to let you know how I truly feel about you".

  I stare at her, rather taken aback by her approach.

  "Oh Edward," she says, smiling, "you look rather terrified". She runs a hand across my chest. "I only mean to tell you that I love you. There, I have said it. I love you, dear Edward, and I can truly hope that you feel the same way, or at least that you believe you might feel the same way one day". She pauses for a moment, as if she is expecting me to say something in reply. "Did I go too far?" she asks eventually. "Should I have kept my thoughts to myself?"

  "No," I say, trying to hide my shock. No girl has ever said such a thing to me, and I am not sure how to respond.

  "It is okay if you feel unable to reciprocate at this moment," she continues, "but I would at least like to think that you will one day share my feelings". She pauses again. "Is that something you think might be possible, Edward? One day, perhaps many years from now?"

  "Yes," I say, even though I know in my heart that I could never love this girl. She is beautiful, and she is good in bed, but I did not enter into this congress because I seek love. I am here purely for the game. Besides, she will not live long enough for me to fall in love with her.