by Gavin Graham
“So, you thought you’d teach her a lesson. By breaking into her house and killing her,” the Inspector switched gears, raising his voice slightly.
“No, please, you can’t say that!” he had tears in his eyes now. “I didn’t kill her, it must have been him, that smarmy wee bastard.”
“If you can’t have her no-one else can, is that it? So, you had to put an end to it, it must have been torture for you seeing her have fun with other men like that. So, you went up there to her room and tied her up, you raped her and then you cut her open. Didn’t you? You killed her, just like you killed the Connolly woman too!”
“Oh, Jesus, is that what happened to her? He gutted her, like a fish? Please, no…” he was breaking down in tears, a hysterical wreck. Either he was a very good actor or the man was genuinely innocent.
The Inspector and Siobhan shared a look, they were getting nowhere.
“The man that you refer to Bill went back to the bar for a drink, there is no way he could have killed her, we even have him on CCTV inside the pizzeria, sitting at the bar.”
“No, I watched him, he took off in the other direction…”
“Well, he has a solid alibi and right now you are looking like our prime suspect.”
Moffat was, indeed, a smarmy bastard and had been more than happy to go in for questioning.
The Inspector stared him dead in the eye, trying to work him out, he was a mystery wrapped in a shroud of oddball. “So, you were having sex with the barmaid at the time of Sandra O’Hara’s murder, correct?”
“Correct.”
“A fairly solid alibi, by all counts. You like the larger ladies then, eh? That barmaid was quite a handful. Skinny girls don’t do it for you?”
“True, I’m not into the skinny ‘supermodel’ type, never have been.”
“I like a slim figure myself.”
“Not me, Inspector. I like bit of meat-on-the-bone.”
“I can remember your old mum, she had quite a figure, hadn’t she? It was a terrible shame the way she just disappeared like that…”
Siobhan frowned, alarmed by the callousness of what he had just said. She glanced at the Inspector out of the side of her eye, unsure of what he was playing at.
“She is still with me though, every day, Inspector. The dead can be somewhat persistent, in their own way…”
“Oh, you don’t have to tell me laddie, I know all about the adamant persistence of the dead… But, why would you say that she is dead, as she was only reported as missing, are there any significant details that you mysteriously failed to indulge in your statement?”
“No, it’s just my way of dealing with it, that’s all. Better to consider her dead, then I can have closure, deal with it more effectively.”
“So, you don’t think that your mum or your dad, or both of them, might turn up one day?”
“No, Inspector, I don’t. And, if my dad ever turned up I wouldn’t want anything to do with him, he was a bad person.”
“So, why would you go on a Tinder date with the O’Hara girl? After all, you must have known she wasn’t your type? It seems to me that you don’t need it anyway, if you can just sit at a bar and within no time at all be having sex in the backseat of your car with a sexy little plumper, just yer’ type too. So, why use Tinder?”
“Why not? It’s just a bit of fun…”
“Wasn’t much fun for her, she ended up dead.”
“Well, I didn’t kill her Inspector. I just don’t have it in me, I detest violence, I’ve never even killed a fly.”
“Does the barmaid have any tattoos?”
“What?”
“You were having intercourse with her, you saw her body, right? So, I’m asking you if she had any tattoos?”
“No.”
“No? Are you sure about that?”
“Not really, it was dark, and I wasn’t paying that much attention.”
“You were fully engaged in sexual intercourse with an attractive young girl that apparently is your ‘type’, and you didn’t pay much attention?”
“I like to close my eyes and just enjoy the ride I’m afraid, I was more focussed on feeling her, than I was on looking at her. Sorry, that’s just how it is. Look, are we finished here?”
“Aye, for the moment. If we have any more questions we’ll be in touch.”
“I’m always willing to help, Inspector, and I sincerely hope that you catch the guy who committed this horrible crime,” he offered them both a solemn handshake.
Little did they know then, that he’d fooled them hook, line and sinker…
Chapter 17
An evening of wine & conversations with The Devil
If you invite The Devil into your home then you damn well better be ready to entertain him…
“This is a beautiful house,” Johnny-Boy said to the older woman, who’d invited him round to her Bearsden home for dinner and an intimate evening of raunchy sex. He stood tall in his black suit, sipped his wine and surveyed the premises - nice and quiet - perfect spot for an execution.
The house had an artificially warm ‘country-style’ too it - lots of beige and wood-effects. Like her, it was fake and false, just a hollow shell filled with artificial nothingness.
“Thanks,” she replied, cutting up a tray of lasagne. “This should be ready to eat as soon as it cools down a wee bit. Are you hungry?”
“Aye, I’m hungry,” he was too, not for food, but for the violent stopping of her pulse.
He came to the central-island and placed his glass of Chianti down on a hard marble surface, noticing an unread newspaper that was laid down with front page facing up. The headline read: SUSPECT CLEAR OF SUSPICION AND WAS HAVING SEX WITH ANOTHER WOMAN AT THE TIME OF O’HARA MURDER - EX-HUSBAND WAS THE STALKER.
He smirked to himself and turned his attention to the red-haired slut he was about to murder; prancing around all motherly and full of herself. She wore a miniskirt with ballerinas, her behind was full and juicy; the years passed had done nothing at all to tame the fullness of her curves. On top, she wore a light cashmere cardigan with a low-cut blouse beneath. Her bust was deep and provoking and the mere sight of those fleshy mounds had shown her brazen femininity for what it was - on show and up for the taking.
It was as clear as day.
She was a whore with a good life and a tainted fucking soul; that is why she had to die. Nothing on this earth would keep her alive now for she had asked for it. Asked to dance in The Devil’s arms, to know the tree of life, and be received by the wrath of the ash.
The mature lady noticed him smirking at the paper. “So, you were the last one to see her alive?” she asked, admiring his dark hair, dark eyes and the way that he wore his dark suit; with such confidence and panache.
“I did have dinner with her, but, I obviously didn’t kill her,” it was a lie - he’d raped her freckled loins, pale and weak, then strangled her to death as her eyes had begged for him to stop and to spare her pathetic life. He’d felt her go limp as he came inside, thrusting into her, pounding her. He’d held her dead body tight and kissed its dissipating warmth as she sailed into the void; that great black hole that awaits us all. He’d gutted her too, like a trout, and rummaged around in her gut with his blood-mongering fingers. “She seemed like a lovely girl though, you know, I still can’t get over that happening to her. Apparently, her ex-husband was a bit psycho. Know what I mean?”
“Yeah, I heard. You can never be too careful these days, there’s some real bloody nut-jobs out there, John. They can’t all be suave and sophisticated like you, can they?”
“No, I suppose not…” he smiled, enjoying the irony of her naivety, it was laughable.
“And what about the other girl, the barmaid, the one that you slept with…”
“What about her?”
“She’s made quite a show about you, about what a great lover you are. The Glasgow Herald referred to you as some kind of Casanova, did you read that?”
He coughed, uncomfortably. “N
o, I didn’t.”
“Is it true then, are you really that good in bed?”
“It seems to me, Karla, that you would like to find that out for yourself.” He could smell the longing and the sexual heat of her liquid-soaked kitty. Her mature virility was on high-beam and he enjoyed the feel of her essence, knowing full-well that her wet cunt was burning for him. He would savour the pleasure of ending her pitiful, whorish life, as her body begged to be touched and abused and stabbed.
He coughed, smirking to himself, as if willing her with his eyes to look at something.
It worked, and she smoothly lowered her line-of-sight down to his crotch where she saw the outline of a large, stiffening erection. He smiled some more and tensed his erotic muscle as her lustful gaze settled and lingered upon it, watching as her tongue moved on the upper-lip as she gawped, seeing it move and twitch beneath cloth.
“You see something you like?” he probed her, as the moon shone bright and an open window allowed rustling noises to flow to his ears; from garden creatures that lived in the greens.
“Hmm, you are a very curious and powerful young man. Peculiarly so. I’ve never come across a man, of any age, with such alluring confidence and charisma.”
“I owe that to my parents, I suppose.”
“I bet you do. A nice thing to say, that is, too.”
“Yes, lovely, isn’t it?” he remarked, scowling, and refilling her wine glass. “Drink up dear,” he said.
“Are you trying to get me drunk, young man?”
“Having sex is much more enjoyable when I’ve got a good drink in me. Isn’t it the same for you?” he allowed his gaze to fall down to her cleavage, his eyes lingering as he sucked them and squeezed them in the intent of his mind. He smiled as he devoured her body with his eyes before looking up to see her blush.
Her eyes were wide with shameful, motherly excitement. It frustrated and annoyed her that she was so damn horny. She suddenly imagined him ripping her clothes off right there on the kitchen table, gorging on her bust and relentlessly fingering her, as plates and glasses smashed to the floor. She wanted things that she had never wanted before, demonic things, taboo things, a grand and disgusting orgy of depraved sex and occult magic.
“Well, that is a little presumptuous. But, yes…” she said awkwardly, her silken panties soiled now by the incessant flow of her sexual ooze, “…it is the same for me, I like to lose my inhibitions and just see where it all goes, you know what I mean?”
“Indeed. Well, that is good to hear, because I was born with nothing whatsoever in the way of inhibitions…”
“Well, I can certainly see that,” she said, smiling.
“You look very attractive in that dress, it’s sexy but very classy.”
“Really? I wasn’t sure, do you really mean it?”
“Yes, definitely,” he was putting her at ease, humouring her, leading the naïve skank into a false sense of security. It would confuse her and allow her to welcome the force of the ash, further wanting it, not being scared of it. “Don’t be scared of me, I know what you want, what you need…”
“Is that so?”
“Yes, so don’t fight it.”
“Sorry?”
“You’re a fully-grown, mature woman, with very primitive needs.”
“Hmm, needs?” she was smiling now, naughtily, as she entertained his bold flirtatiousness.
“Sex is a glorious and mysterious thing.”
“Is it now,” she nodded with wide eyes. Her chest was heaving, her heart pounding and she felt the heat rise in her cheeks once again.
“Do you know that sex can be such a powerful act that it can be used to summons the spirits of the dead? I’ve read The Devil’s Guide to Tantric Sex, it’s a good read.”
“Are you being serious now?”
“Oh, I think you know I am.”
He approached her and stood up-close, his staff now fully hard. “Touch it,” he said, casually, with his hands in his pockets.
She was now completely under his control and would do anything that he said, as if under a spell of esoteric hypnosis. She touched at his expensive trousers where his hard-on flexed, strained against the confines of expensive cloth. She caressed its massive curvature. “Oh yes,” she exhaled with excitement. “You are big, aren’t you? That barmaid must have had the most amazing orgasms with this thing deep inside her,” she purred, allowing herself a gentle squeeze, revelling in the guaranteed potency of his Alpha-girth.
He watched the top of her bowed head, as she sucked it dry with her hungry eyes; greedily feeling her way up, down and around it.
He looked down too, to enjoy the look of those motherly hands, massaging his crotch, the way his own mother used to. It made him flush even harder and he suddenly looked to the side, where he saw the ash. It swirled and flowed amidst the humming roar of a fan-assisted oven, seeping from the edges where the oven door was sealed.
It was time for this whore to meet with the great shadow and revel in its beautiful finality.
Chapter 18
Death by sodomy & a broken skull
What happens in the bedroom, stays in the bedroom, especially where murder is involved…
“You know what and who I am, right? Am I correct, or am I wrong?”
“I don’t truly know what or who you are, but I know one thing for sure, you have a nice big dick down there. So, I want you to take me upstairs to my bedroom and fuck me like I’ve never been fucked before. Take me to places that I’ve never seen and show me how you can conjure the spirits of the dead with this powerful muscle, OK? A bit of hard for a bit of soft, yeah?”
He showed her his tongue, like he was The Devil. “Can I lick and taste your whorish, tainted cunt?” he was eager and excited now, to degrade and violate her pulsing smut.
“Oh, my young darling, I just love the way you talk dirty; your confidence is so seductive and deliciously sacrilegious. Yes, lick my pussy, taste and drink me as you wish. You can do anything to me, I like anal too, God I need this so badly right now. Come upstairs, John, please. I need to be abused…”
They went to her room and she shut the door and closed the curtains.
“What is the perversion that you so strongly desire?”
“Sodomy.”
“Good…then remove your panties and bend over for me. Let me feel the tightness of your tight filth.”
“Yes, give it to me, but please be gentle and slow,” she obliged eagerly in response to his command, pulling up her mini skirt and sliding off her panties with a sensual wiggle of the hips, showing him her full and fleshy butt and the tiny, wrinkled slot that she eagerly wanted him to pleasure. Wickedness now sparkled in her eyes and beamed in her demonic grin.
She spell is working, once again…
She moved with sexualised motions and positioned herself over the end of the bed, like a naughty schoolgirl, awaiting the belt. Her well-curved legs were spread apart as she stood and the knickers were stretched-out between her bare ankles. It was a beautifully pornographic and erotic image, he almost wanted to take a photograph, a vile and delicious pre-murder memory for him to cherish forevermore.
He unzipped and moved up to her, taking his piece and sliding the head deep down into the tight valley of her soft, fleshy rear. He caressed with his fingertips, that lovely spot where the lower spine visibly juts out, just inches above the upper valley-crease. He nudged himself further into the enclosed, rosy tightness of her anus. With his knife in one hand, he used the other and stroked at her spinal bone, giving it a gentle tap. The spinal tap was a signal, that he was allowing his victim to control the force of his entry, as he pushed himself indulgently into the dry tautness of her rear-end, allowing her the privilege of easing back onto him, slowly setting a pace that she would be comfortable with before he violently ended her stupid and worthless life.
He didn’t want to truly sodomise her, in the traditionally painful fashion. Not just yet anyway. No, he wanted her to enjoy the feeling as he gently stretc
hed her out a bit and then struck down into the base of her neck with the sharp-end of his blade; and, that is exactly what he did.
He slowly raised the knife high into the air as he forced his penis deep down into her body.
He launched overhead as she groaned with pleasure and he came down to stab her with a downward strike, eerie as it was, cast as a stretched-grey shadow on an ivory-shade wall. She was moaning like a whore as he stabbed her, a truly titillating moment for any sadistic sex killer. Her body sprung back, upright and rigid, like some kind of reflexive response to being stabbed in the neck. She groaned like a mystic who was holding séance and tuning into the presence of spirits.
A pathetic scream tried to escape from her broken and violated body. He drowned it with his hand and the sound was muffled as he clasped a strong grip across her mouth. Her central nervous system was overloading with pain and shock and panic and her lower parts tensed and jerked, delicious spasms, as he truly began to sodomise and rape her dying body, drilling into her tight backside. He fucked her hard now, the way she had wanted it, the way he had promised to do it. After all, he was a man of his word. She was in so much pain and bewilderment, it was a joy for him to feel her onset of death, and it made him ejaculate with his own trembling shudders.
Much joy was had in sodomy and murder…the horn of the demon is strong…
He soon felt the blood rising to her oesophagus and the insides of her mouth where it trickled and licked upon the palm of his hand. She croaked and shrieked as he continued to cum inside her, like the raw onset of a grating pre-puke retch. The retching turned to a kind of raspy gargle and her butt jerked around some, jutting pulsations that spiked individually within each buttock; it caused wonderful sensations to run down the sides of his shaft as his orgasm phased out.
He felt too a rumbling of fluids, erupting in the pit of her stomach as she continued to cough and gargle and choke, a confused response to the blade in her neck and the sperm in her lower-end. He knew what was happening with her, so he let go of her mouth, holding her upright by the shoulders as she slapped a hand up to her own lips, to try and stop the impending outflow. Suddenly, all the blood and vomit rushed to her mouth and her flaring nostrils, drowning out her lungs in the process, and leaving her body in a rancid projectile stream that would burn like Hell. He knew she would try to scream, but it didn’t matter.
