Death is a Service Rendered

This suited Piers fine. They checked the timetable and that she had money then finally as she left the car, he gave her his card again. He warned her not to get involved with anyone else until they arranged a proper appointment... with a promise to bring either Brian or one of her own friends with her. It was a small station in a small town, but on the mainline. He watched her buy her ticket from a machine. She waved and disappeared into the station platforms.

It was a phone call that alerted Quinn to his coming, Piers realised. Quinn spoke to someone. But why had he then left the mill in such a hurry? Quinn should have waited for Piers to arrive. Piers did not fear harm from Quinn. Unlike the others who had died, Piers would have been forewarned. And he could take care of himself. He would have persuaded Quinn to give himself up, or he would have called in the police if that failed. But then, he hadn't reckoned on the presence of Cally, so why would Quinn have left.

And then it struck him. How could he have been so stupid! Brian had spoken to him. And now he knew exactly where Quinn was going. Swinging the Jag around the car park, he sped off.

*

When he arrived at the gates of Catherine's house, they were still as dilapidated as before. It was becoming dark. There was no sign the gates had been opened or that the driveway had been used by vehicles since he had last visited.

But the house was still a long walk away and this time, he pulled the gates open and drove up the driveway. It might just as well have been off-road given the bumps and scrapes he experienced along the way.

"I'm sorry Catherine." He whispered to himself, "I need you again, like I always do."

*

Piers knocked on the door and leant against the timber post of the porch. He looked back down the driveway, relieved that Quinn hadn't reached the house first but thinking at any moment he was going to hear the sound of tyres on gravel. He didn't know how long it would take Quinn to find out where she lived. The rising winter moon stabbed through the trees and he heard rooks disturbed for some reason somewhere in the distance, settling in the uppermost branches. Still nothing. He knocked again and heard the sound of barking dogs, somewhere deep inside.

Muffled shouts and the sound of closing doors led finally to the sound of the door bolts being pulled out. The door opened and a tall, excruciatingly thin man-boy, with thinning hair and a schoolboy scowl stared down at Piers.

"Oh, it's you again. She's asleep just now, though the fucking dogs have probably woken her up."

"Hi Simon, yes sorry about that... and are you well?"

Simon ignored the pleasantry and turned towards the hallway. "Mistress is in the drawing room." And with that, he disappeared through a side door, Piers presumed to where the dogs had been shut into the kitchen.

Piers entered the room with the bright white walls with minimalist white furniture sat sparsely in the centre with the only luxury being a cowhide floor-mat and a small Arkana coffee table. Catherine sat in that incongruous wingback orthopaedic chair facing the glass wall opposite that looked onto the main reason the house was there: the view. At this time of night, all that could be seen was the reflection of Catherine asleep, her chin rested lightly on her breastbone, her thin hands placed loosely on the armrests. She looked even older than he had seen her just a matter of weeks before. But she was still beautiful in that parchment way of old ladies who grew ever more serene with age.

Catherine had always reminded Piers of his favourite actress, Joan Greenwood, as she was in her later years and when Piers was a young boy watching the old black and white films on television. Piers pursed his lips. He doubted he had properly loved anyone in his life... but if there was someone, Catherine came closest. He reluctantly sat next to her on the edge of a sofa and shook her gently on the shoulder. She opened her eyes and smiled when she saw him.

"Back again, Boy. You must be irritating the hell out of Simon, eh?"

"Not my best friend I think. Can I get you anything?"

Catherine waved at the table where there was a water jug and glass and Piers poured her some water. Without barely an acknowledgement, certainly without grateful thanks which would have been unseemly, she sipped and handed it back.

"Simon will be making supper soon. Do stay. Do turn on more lights dear, it seems the sun has gone."

Piers rose and switched on several additional wall lights which cast soft oranges and yellows across the stark walls. The room immediately felt warmer and less antiseptic. He sat down.

"If you don't object, I was hoping you would allow me to stay for a few days anyway. I'm afraid that I'm going to be a terrible nuisance."

"Of course, Simon will no doubt make up one of the spare rooms for you. I take it that when you say "nuisance" what you mean is that I am being used as a convenient hiding place from the police, eh? So, tell me more of what you found out about Alicia. I fear you didn't tell me everything before."

Again, Piers could only mentally sit open-mouthed in awe at her complete mastery of understanding him.

"Her name was Alice. Brian asked me if I would act as an agony uncle for some of his private clients in his lifestyle dating agency website. It was only because his regular guy had taken a few weeks off abroad for a well needed break that I agreed. I kept it anonymous because I usually prefer to deal with private clients discreetly and in person. Anyway, Alicia, as I knew her then, was one of the clients but it became obvious pretty quickly that she wasn't in the market for a partner."

"So, why did you encourage her."

"She was so obviously naive about the lifestyle, but so desperately wanted to learn that I felt she might make good material. Anyway, to cut the story short, I said who I was and that I would be prepared to offer her a free consultancy... just the one, to get her started." Just like another that he discovered had gone wrong that evening he thought. "I gave her references and a few weeks later, she made an appointment and turned up."

"You were smitten I expect, Boy. You never could resist the pretty, feisty ones."

"You have no idea. I didn't tell you the whole story the last time. I didn't say how much it tore me in half when I first saw those police photographs of her in that chair. How it stopped my heart to enter, even if only in pictures, into that dammed hotel room again."

Piers paused and stared out at the now dark and impenetrable window. She touched his hand delicately.

"Anyway, we spoke for a long time, way longer than I had intended. It took a while but she started to display the real person and it took every skill I had to get past the stiff, mask-like bravado she had constructed around herself. Alice was a Domme to the very core, trapped in a world where she had the slight, pretty looks of the terminally doomed to be a powerful man's PA. Her photography business was up until then, her only way of expressing her real feelings. She could "capture" the person, tell them how to move, dress, look, everything."

"It was probably too late by then I suspect"

"Too late for what?"

"Too late to mould her into a likeness of me, Boy."

Piers merely blinked and said nothing. He poured some more water and drank it all.

"So, over the next few months, I taught her how to be her proper self. We were never lovers, but it became clear that her kink was going to be administering pain and dominance of the male. Sadly, it was mainly sexual with her and she was never going to go much further than that, but it was enough to set her straight. At least that was what I thought."

"And then you went to see her for the final time."

"To be frank, I was about to end it with her; say that her teaching was at an end and it was time to move on. I was going to offer contacts and if all had gone to plan, she would have left my life in good health and continued her own."

"Did she like you? Love you even?"

"No, I was just another tool, a skill to acquire and move on with. She was ambitious, too much in a hurry as well. I had probably helped to turn her into someone just a little too cold, but at least I thought that she was now ready to face the world again with a better understanding of who she was, so I was content with that."

"But, do get on with it Piers."

"She called me, unexpectedly at the office, and I went home, picked up some things and went to the hotel. It wasn't one we had used before, we never did repeat hotels, and so it took me some time to find it. She was there, sitting in that same chair, self-confident, flushed with excitement and I could see that she was just a little wired up."

"Drugs?"

"No, just drunk with the pleasure of anticipation. I'm only sorry that I wasn't in the same frame of mind."

"So what happened. By the way, if you say it ended with you killing her, I will be very disappointed in you."

Piers looked sharply into her face but saw her smile and he smiled ruefully in return.

"Well, anyhow, we played a little, but it wasn't really happening and so before too long she cut it short. She said that in any case she had a business partner to see and we didn't have much time. I can't pretend I didn't show some irritation, but we didn't have a row about it. What I did do was introduce her gently to the idea that it was time we parted."

"And her reaction surprised you."

"Catherine, will you stop doing that! Yes, of course you are right, she did surprise me. She said that she had been feeling much the same way recently, she had meant to tell me anyway that it was time we ended. I formed the impression that her business partner was also my replacement. And she even found enough empathy within her to thank me for everything I had done for her."

"What do you mean, "enough empathy"! Haven't I always said that any Dominant who has no empathy is incredibly dangerous. They can seriously harm their subs!"

"I know, I know... and yes she did have trouble seeing other's point of view. But I spent a lot of time on the rules of play: especially if the techniques could harm other people. She took it all in: saw the rules for what they were and I had no qualms."

"Hmm, I'm not sure about that. But go on. And then?"

"I asked her about who she was about to see. Another sub she had found without telling me about him? She just laughed, told me to mind my own business. I was not to worry that I was going to have competition. But all she said was that she had found someone who wanted to go into partnership with her. Set up a dungeon, specialise in web-work."

"Web-work. Never heard of it...I thought I knew all of the rope and straps techniques, but webs?

Piers smiled grimly. "No Catherine, using the internet to reach others in the lifestyle. More a branch of the pornography industry than what you are thinking of."

"I see, I assume you didn't approve."

"None of my business. Anyway, I left on good terms, that was the main thing. But I wish I had stayed."

"So the killer of poor Alice came to see her. Most likely this partner of hers."

Catherine then paused and tilted her head.

"Wait a minute Piers, why didn't the police find traces of you in the room?"

"I have no idea. I can only assume that the place was wiped clean as a whistle. And I mean really well. We didn't use the bed. We didn't have sex or in any way make a mess. I can only think that as the murderer cleaned up his own traces, he cleaned mine as well. And there were two visitors remember."

"Two? What do you mean two?"

Piers then told her of the police theory that the murderer had brought his own victim, probably under duress, used plastic sheeting to contain the body after Alice had witnessed, terrified, the torture and killing.

"But you don't know who either of them were or why one killed the other, or more pertinently, why Alice had to be there?"

"I have a hunch."

At that moment, Simon entered and Piers motioned Catherine not to talk about this in front of him.

"Shall I bring a tray Mistress. One for Mr Fellowes too I suppose?"

"Don't be impertinent Simon, yes, bring trays. And one for yourself, I want to see you here kneeling by me."

"Yes Mistress."

During the meal, Catherine spoke of nothing but her ailments, the people who had come to see her, or as she put it, to see if she was dead yet and other trivial matters. Piers spoke very little, keeping a wary eye on Simon. There was always the possibility that Piers would be named as a fugitive on some media or other, though he could see no sign of a television, radio or other internet device. He felt that perhaps these things were forbidden here.

After dinner, Simon cleared things away and soon he heard some barking and the door slam.

"He will be taking the dogs for a short walk. He'll probably sulk somewhere with a cigarette. He really is becoming tiresome." She sighed.

"But I need him more than he needs me now I'm afraid."

Piers felt there was no answer he could give that wouldn't sound patronising. She was visibly tiring now and it was time he came to the point.

"Catherine, we are going to have a visitor soon."

"Who?"

"I'm sorry Catherine. It is going to be the person who killed Alice and the other poor sod."

"What do you mean, bringing him here?" For the first time, Catherine looked uncontrolled, and he could see panic in her eyes."

"Don't worry, Catherine, I've come prepared. I expect he will be here sometime tomorrow. He will find out your address, but it will take him some time. But he knows I know he has killed, but that I haven't yet told the police. He will want to, shall we say, negotiate."

"So why not call the police?"

"Because I can't prove it. I need his confession."

"Who, damn you Piers, stop playing games with me Boy." She rose to stand from her chair but Piers gently pushed her down again."

"Don't, please Catherine. Let's wait until the morning when he arrives. I may be wrong yet."

Then all the lights went out.

Catherine reached out and clutched Piers' arm. "That doesn't happen here. Something is wrong Piers. Simon!"

"Please, please stay quiet. Sit here, wait for Simon. I will look. Do you have torches."

"In the cupboard, by the front door. Where we keep the dogs' things."

"I won't be long. Stay here."

"Simon, please Piers, send Simon to me!" Her voice took on a pleading, vulnerable tone that Piers had never heard before. That was the moment when he became truly unnerved. Darkness he could cope with, a murderer, he could handle. A distraught, suddenly old, Catherine was too painful to contemplate.

He found the torch without any difficulty, feeling his way along the smooth walls. There was a moon out and the light filtering through the glass of the door was enough to see by. He didn't switch the torch on but used what light there was to open the door and look out. There was no sound. Not even the sound of dogs. Piers chose not to shout out for Simon for reasons he couldn't explain. A primeval reaction, he was sure of it.

He turned and walked to the side of the house. There was a small outbuilding some metres away from the main building. Piers jumped back as he saw a wire fizzing and sparking on the damp ground. The electricity cable had been cut away from its mounting against the house where it entered. He was here.

Was Catherine safe after all? Should he go back? Damn, where had he come from, he was sure it would have taken time for him to work out where he was, surely? He walked around the side of the outbuilding and then stopped. On the ground lay a heap of bodies. Piers finally switched on his torch and played it over the bundles. Two dogs and a man lay still where they had fallen.

"Oh, Christ!" He muttered and dropped down to Simon's side. His head lay at the wrong angle and he saw a damp depression on the side of the skull. Something very hard and powerful had staved in the whole of one side. He didn't look at the dogs, still tied together with their short leads which were still clutched in Pier's hand. Nearby, there was a woodman's long handled axe.

Piers had miscalculated. His man was far more dangerous than he had thought. He was a fool to think he could do this.

"My dear Fellowes! How charming of you to think of me. And how wonderful that clue of yours was."

Piers turned to the slight figure that was silhouetted against the moonlit woodland.

"Hello Quinn, I am just wondering how you managed to find me so soon."

"Ah, but that is the problem. You see I was already on my way to see you. Brian, I am afraid, might be an astute businessman but his intelligence is rather limited to keeping the books straight. He called me you see. As a friend. He wanted to tell a friend that you had as he put it, "gone a bit funny" and told me everything you had asked him to do. And that he had suggested seeing Catherine."

Piers breathed deeply and cursed. That phone call!

"As well you might, Piers, as well you might. Shall we visit our good friend, Catherine, perhaps I can tell her a different story."

Piers made to move to the door, but stopped rigid when Quinn suddenly produced a shotgun.

"Make no move Piers. An axe was all I needed for our pets here. You, however, will have this in your face."

"So what now Quinn? I want to know why you killed Alice."

"Ah, you see, I didn't. Poor Alice killed herself. Probably through greed I suspect."

"How did she do that Quinn? What happened?"

"How did you decide it was me, Piers, eh? I am curious."

"It was after the gig I took DS Grave to. I remembered that you said you had sorted out your problems with your mother's will. And that you told Ross that you were fitting out a dungeon. There was only one person that you or I would go for equipment if we wanted the best. And only one reason why Chaz couldn't be told who was behind it."

"True enough. But not enough to think of me as a murderer. Me, I mean how could you think that? After everything we have shared together."

"Yes, we did share, Quinn, didn't we. We shared a lot about your life. How you were treated by a mother made in hell if ever there was one. Manipulative, spiteful, yet maternal, hugged you close. Too close sometimes, inappropriately close perhaps though you never admitted to that. Yes I remember what you said about her and how I turned your feelings from negative ones of harming her, of then harming yourself to ones where you directed your energy to positive feelings of play, seeking the love of your submissives and finally, after many, many sessions, of love of yourself."

"So, then I am your fault. You created both a killer and a victim, eh?" Quinn laughed and Piers winced at the truth.

"Maybe, well, it ends here. Now I know for sure, it's time we called in Ross, eh. Let's end it here. Who was the man you killed? And why? What went wrong Quinn?"

Piers no longer cared about the answers. He had a strong feeling that his life would last only as long as he could keep Quinn busy with his love of having power over life and death. Did Quinn see himself as a rival?

"Stupid East European, Ukrainian maybe. I met him at a club. Called himself Gregor, but I doubt it was his name. A nobody. He thought he was a big man in the club scene, but all he did was hang around looking for a way to make money. So I used him to buy and store the things I needed."

Piers noticed that the "dear boy" and plummy accent had vanished. Quinn was returning to his core self. It sounded mean and tired of pretence.

"Greed did for both of them. I found out that he had brought Alice in, or maybe it was the other way round, and they were going to rip me off. Take my equipment and set it up for themselves. He hadn't a clue of course about why I was making some, shall we say, adjustments. Fuck, if they had used it, they would have killed someone!"