The Velvet Caress

by C. P. Mandara

  The very next morning proved to be equally dull. Breakfast was an uninspiring tray of yellow and brown goo, which might have been porridge and scrambled eggs, but then again it might not. I decided not to risk it, in any case. Thankfully there was a cup of coffee and a slice of toast that accompanied it, and these looked palatable enough. Taking a good swig of the black stuff I looked heavenward and rolled my eyes. Please tell me someone was coming to rescue me today. I needed a shower, a change of clothes and some heavy-duty meds, not necessarily in that order. Some decent food would also be nice. Most of all, I just wanted to have a chat with my wife and clear the air. Khalil's call yesterday had me breathing a bit easier, but I knew there was a lot of ground we still needed to cover.

  Pushing the virtually untouched breakfast tray away from me, I rubbed at my tired eyes. They might make prison look rather glamorous in the movies, but in reality it was just a whole lot of thinking time that had you bored and frustrated in a matter of minutes. Perhaps that was the point of it. Plenty of time to repent? I had no further time to ponder the joys of prison, or lack thereof, because the hatch to my cell door snapped back and when they were satisfied I was where I was supposed to be again, it opened. Hallelujah, I thought. Time to get out of this place. Unfortunately, that thought was a little premature.

  In the doorway stood a man who blocked out every inch of light from beyond the hallway. He must have been six foot three inches tall at the very least, and he was built like a brick shithouse. Suffice to say, he was fucking huge.

  'Meet your new roomie,' said the prison officer. 'You two are both looking at life in prison, so you should have lots to chat about.' He plastered a fake smile across his face, winked, and then slammed the door shouting, 'Play nice,' as he left us to it. Marvellous. I wondered briefly if Jonathon would get here in time to scrape what was left of me up off the floor. There was a fifty-fifty chance, I thought.

  Mr Big slammed himself down on the bed, and the whole room vibrated as the steel plate tried its best to take his weight. It was a close run thing, but somehow the steel held up. He then picked up my half-eaten breakfast tray and proceeded to finish it. I wasn't about to stop him. Besides, there was a possibility he'd be a bit more friendly on a full stomach.

  When Mr Big had finished he drew his forearm across his lips, in lieu of a napkin, and then licked up the debris. Yum. He then turned his attention my way, and tilted his neck as he sized me up.

  'What you in for?'

  'Attempted murder,' I said. There wasn't much point in telling him I was innocent and let's face it, it wasn't going to do much for my street cred round these parts.

  'Murder or manslaughter?'

  'Oh it's definitely a murder charge. I like to think things through beforehand.' I smiled at him, wondering what kind of damage he could do with those fists. Seriously, his hands were the size of dinner plates.

  Nodding at me, he then ran a hand through his scraggly red beard before asking, 'Who'd ya do in?'

  'My wife.' He nodded again, and then licked his lips. The last bits of scrambled eggs around his beard were then hoovered up. I felt vaguely nauseous.

  'Was she sleepin' around?' He gave me an almost sympathetic look, but I didn't make the mistake of assuming we were friends just yet.

  'No, she was just fucking irritating.' I wondered if he might take the hint after that and shut the hell up. It was wishful thinking on my part. He looked a bit taken aback for a moment, but then he grinned.

  'They all are, aren't they?' Then his face grew rather cunning. 'You're probably better off fucking a man anyway. With a spell of twenty or thirty years behind bars you'll forget all about women. I guarantee it. Besides, with a face like yours you'll be getting lots of attention whether you want it or not.'

  I did not like the direction this conversation was going in.

  'So, what are you in for?' I asked brightly, hoping to steer the conversation away from dangerous ground.

  'Robbery, assault, murder and possession,' he said.

  I almost wished I hadn't asked.

  Crossing my fingers tightly I hoped Mr Hammond would be with me shortly. With any luck he would solve all my problems. I'd just have to hope Mr Big wouldn't manage to create any new ones in the near future.

  'They've found the poison in your apartment.'

  That was the first sentence Mr Hammond said to me as we sat down for my legal consultation. I nearly fell off my fucking chair. This was turning out to be the day from hell.

  'They've found what?' I understood the sentence. I just couldn't believe it.

  'The poison that was used to try and kill Jennifer. When they searched your apartment it was sitting there on the dining room table.'

  'Then that was really clever of me, leaving it lying about where the police could readily find it.' I forced my tongue into the roof of my mouth as hard as I could. It stopped me from screaming, and I'd been doing far too much of that lately. 'Are there any signs of forced entry and has the CCTV been checked?'

  Jonathon stared at me. 'That was my first avenue of thought, and no, there were no signs of forced entry. Whoever did this was a pro. They also managed to take your camera offline.' He paused and cleared his throat before continuing, 'I asked the security guard on the reception desk if he'd seen or heard anything, but he was away from his desk helping an elderly lady upstairs who'd had a funny turn. He had to call an ambulance for her.' I barely heard a word he said. The shock of what he was saying was just sinking in. There was a very real possibility I could be spending an extremely long time behind bars. When Jonathon coughed politely I managed to form a response.

  'Which conveniently leaves us with nothing,' I said quietly.

  'I'm afraid so, and there's worse news to come, Mr Matthews.' He pushed the cup of coffee he'd brought my way. I didn't really want any more coffee, but it seemed childish to refuse the gift, especially when prison coffee wasn't half as good. Gripping the polystyrene cup tightly I took a small sip of the steaming hot brew, and wondered what else could have happened in the last twelve hours or so. This was a nightmare I wasn't going to forget for a while.

  'I'm sitting comfortably,' I said wryly. 'Let's have it.' Quite a few possibilities were already running through my mind. The most worrying was that Jen might have had a relapse, or done a runner. Mind you, where would she go? She was terrified of her father, and rightly so judging by the mess I now found myself in.

  'There's plausible enough reason to suggest you could get hold of the poison.' Mr Hammond looked very grave indeed, but I didn't understand why. Couldn't anyone get hold of the poison? It was a plant, wasn't it? To my knowledge I didn't have the stuff growing in my back yard, so I failed to see what he was getting at.

  'I'm not sure I follow you,' I said by way of a reply.

  'The poison Jennifer had was from the plant monkshood, also called aconitum napellus. It just so happens that one of the companies you part own manufactures it. I believe they ship it out to the Far East to be used in homeopathic medicine.'

  'One of Leyland's companies.' I stuck several fingers in my eyes to convince myself I was still alive and not languishing in a pit of Satan's somewhere. God dammit. 'Can they prove that what they've found is the same poison that was administered to Jen?' I knew it wouldn't be, but proving it would be another matter entirely.

  'I'm not sure. That's what forensics are trying to do now, at a guess.' Jonathon gave me a serious look and sighed. That was never a good sign, coming from a lawyer.

  'Bail is going to be astronomical,' I whispered.

  'If they grant it.' His look was sympathetic, but it was clear he didn't think it was likely. 'I'll apply for a hearing as soon as possible, but I wouldn't get your hopes up. Is there anything else you can tell me that might help your case?' Mr Hammond began rifling through the manila folder on his lap. At a guess he was gathering lots of papers together for me to sign.

  'I don't think so. If anything comes to me I know where to reach you.' I shook his hand and watched as he p
acked up his brown leather briefcase, getting ready to leave. I was left dumbstruck. I'd fully expected this mess to be ironed out quickly. In fact I'd counted on leaving today. What the fuck had just happened?

  All I could think about was Mr Big, back in my cell. It looked like we'd be spending a lot of time together. I decided then and there that I'd better brace myself for disaster.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven - Jennifer

  I felt much better when I woke up. My head was clearer, the pins and needles behind my eyes had gone, and the sight of sunlight didn't make me physically sick. This was an improvement over yesterday. Yesterday! How long had I been asleep for? Hours and hours judging by the bright light streaming in through the windows.

  Struggling upwards I managed to prop myself up with a pillow behind my back as I scanned the room for a clock. Finding one over the door, it was to realize that half the day had gone already. It was nearly eleven o'clock. Mark was going to be spitting chips if he was still sitting in jail.

  Pressing the call bell beside the bed, I waited impatiently for a nurse to arrive. Thankfully I didn't have to wait too long.

  'Nice to see you awake young lady. We'd been wondering if you were going to make an appearance this morning. How are you feeling?'

  Although the voice indicated my nurse was male, I had to make sure with a visual check. Yes, yes, I know it's very stereotypical to think that all nurses are female, but it still took me by surprise. When I did get a good look at him it took me a couple of seconds to pull my tongue back up from off the floor. Damn. This guy was hot. Not just a little bit hot, but molten metal style hot. He wore a perfect James Dean smile with devilish intent, had short dark chestnut hair that gently curled at his temples, and the bluest eyes I had ever seen. They made a Caribbean sea look murky, I kid you not.

  It looked like he was used to women becoming tongue-tied around him, because he filled in the awkward silence for me.

  'So, you pressed the call bell. I'm guessing you might be a little hungry? You totally missed breakfast, but I'm sure we can sort you out with an early lunch.' I nodded weakly. Mark had totally revved up my libido lately to the point where I probably wanted to jump anything that moved. This was ridiculous.

  'Is there any chance you could get hold of the police officers who want to talk to me? I'm ready to see them now,' I shot out breathlessly. Discreetly trying to slide myself further under the duvet, in the hopes it would cover my red-hot cheeks, I felt rather foolish.

  'You sure? There's no rush. They'll wait.'

  'I'm sure. And thank you.' I also wanted to have a chat about getting rid of the catheter I found myself unpleasantly attached to, but I decided that could wait until later.

  'You're very welcome, Mrs Matthews.'

  Time dragged extremely slowly with no sign of the police and no word from Mark. It had been a good day, though, all in all. The doctors had confirmed that all the tests they'd run yesterday had been fine, and it looked like I'd somehow managed to come out the other side, mostly unscathed. They said I wasn't out of the woods yet, and that there may well be lingering after effects that I'd discover as I was recuperating. Dr Menzies reeled off a list of unpleasant things I could expect to experience, such as blurred vision, paralysis, pain, numbness, dizziness or fainting episodes. They were the minor ones, in any case. I was given strict instructions to report back if I experienced any of these or indeed anything unusual.

  After my check-up I cornered one of the female nurses and asked about my catheter. She immediately told me off for getting out of bed again, but I indicated that this meant I was fine and perfectly capable of making my way over to the toilet. She said she'd talk to the matron and get back to me. When she didn't I bugged all of the nurses repeatedly, at frequent intervals until they gave in.

  Getting rid of the ridiculous hospital gown, I changed into some pyjamas that had been dropped off for me earlier, and put on a robe. The label inside each read La Perla, and I reckoned they must have cost a small fortune, but had to admit that they felt divine. Being dressed in plastic paper isn't a particularly nice experience, necessary maybe, but not at all pleasant.

  Now I had some money, which had also been dropped off earlier, I immediately repaid my debts. Placing a fifty-pound note in my sleeping donor's wallet, I felt a little better about stealing from him. He was still unconscious, so I thankfully didn't have to apologise to him, but he certainly deserved a little something. I then set about making myself more comfortable, and basically trying to amuse myself until the police got here. Time drags on forever when confined to a hospital bed. My options were limited to playing upon the Internet, daytime TV, reading or completing word searches or crosswords - none of which particularly appealed, so I tried them all.

  By the time the police finally managed to traipse up to my bed it was nearly dark. I'd been going insane with worry, wondering if Mark was coping behind bars, and though I'd told myself on numerous occasions that my husband was a big boy, it didn't make me feel any better. Think of all the things he's done to you in the past, I tried to reason with myself. It didn't help. I'd enjoyed most of those things anyway, and just thinking about what my father had done to Mark made me go cold. He'd been retaliating in the only way he knew how, and I wasn't going to resent him for it.

  Retelling the story correctly, I confirmed that I didn't know who'd given me the poison in Escape, but I gave them as good a description of the man as I could. I didn't hold out any hope that they would find him. I also told them I suspected my father was behind the whole thing, but they made a noncommittal response. If I had no evidence there wasn't a lot they could do.

  'Are you sure this is the story you want to go with?' The elder of the two officers, a tall man with a fierce crew cut and dark greying hair looked down at me strangely.

  'I've already told you that when I woke up I was confused and on a whole load of meds. I'd just had a horrible nightmare. I feel terrible for putting my husband in jail, and haven't stopped worrying since I woke up. Can you release him now?' My words were a little jumbled because they were tumbling over one another, but thankfully the officers seemed to get the gist of what I was saying.

  'I'm afraid we can't do that, Miss. His apartment was searched and some incriminating evidence was found. Are you sure you don't want to change your story? There won't be many secrets left when this goes to court. If he's threatened you we can protect you. We can also make sure you never have to set eyes on him again.'

  'No. No, you've got it all wrong. He's innocent. Someone must have planted something there. I was at Escape when I was given the poison. I gave it to myself. They wanted me to use it to poison Mark, but I refused. My father blackmailed him to marry me. He's the innocent party here.' Both officers looked at each other and the elderly one shook his head. They probably thought I was mad. The story was a bizarre one at best, but it happened to be the truth.

  'Well, thank you for your statement, Madam. We'll be in touch if we need anything else.' With that they stood up to leave.

  'What possible motive could he have for poisoning me?' I wailed, before realizing it was a stupid question. I'd just given them a great motive with the marriage and blackmail thing. What was I thinking?

  Fortunately both officers declined to comment, and the younger one cleared his throat awkwardly.

  'Will he be able to get bail?' I whispered. I had a sinking feeling that if I didn't do something and fast Mark was going to go down for attempted murder, leaving me at the mercy of my father.

  'It's doubtful,' said the elderly officer, although he did accompany it with a sympathetic glance. Whether the glance was directed at my mental health or my current state of affairs remained to be seen. They then gave me a swift nod, before walking away.

  As soon as both of them had left I burst into tears. I seemed to bounce from one disaster to another, and each time they got progressively worse. What on earth was I going to do now?

  Chapter Twenty-Eight - Mark

  Thankfully Mr Big was not in my
cell by the time I was returned to it. Either he had business of his own to attend to, or better still, he'd been moved.

  It was time to get a grip on everything that had happened and figure a way out of this mess. This was not the time to panic. I was going to think positive. You will not be put away for murder. I had to repeat the phrase several times in order to try and make myself believe it, and it was a weak attempt at best. Fine. It was time to be a little more proactive. What could I do to get myself out of this mess? Absolutely nothing, you idiot, because you're in a prison cell. So what was I going to do? Just pace up and down until they got the grand jury ready? That wasn't my style. I could do better.

  Go through everything you talked about with Jonathon, piece by piece, and see if you've missed anything. There wasn't much else I could do, so it seemed as good a place as any to start.

  The trouble was, no matter how many times I sifted through all the details there didn't seem to be any clear way of exonerating myself. Even though I'd never set foot in one of Leyland's companies before, much less had any idea of exactly what they produced, that wouldn't be enough to get me off the hook. I'd just have to hope the police didn't find out I'd been blackmailed into marriage. So far I didn't have much of a motive for murder. I was a newlywed for fuck's sake. Honeymooners were supposed to be deliriously happy and in love. Jennifer had far more to gain by killing me than I had by offing her. This would all come out at trial. Jesus Christ. I was going on trial for murder. This had to be my worst nightmare come true. What if the jury were all women and suffering from PMT on the day they delivered my verdict? I would be Mr Big's plaything for the next twenty years, and that was looking on the bright side of things. Even if Jen was on my side, there was a good chance the jury would think I was manipulating or controlling her in some way. When the sex side of things came out, and there was no hiding them as she'd been poisoned in a BDSM club, everyone was going to serve me up for a good spell at Her Majesty's pleasure. I sat down shakily on the steel bench beneath me. My back was throbbing like a beast, but that was the least of my worries. I had some serious shit to contend with here. I did know one thing, however. If I was going down I wasn't going without a fight.