Chapter 6

By the time that Ian and Fiona reached the abandoned building site, the place was a hive of activity. A constable lead the pair over to one of several skips that littered the area, "She's in this one," he said almost unnecessarily.

The Inspector grunted his thanks and peered in. Before him, laying on a pile of builders rubbish, her sightless eyes staring at the sky, was the naked body of a young woman. A quick mental comparison of the girl's face with a photograph supplied by her family confirmed, in the Inspector's own mind, that this was, indeed, Brenda Finnigan. "That's her," he told his sergeant as he backed away from the skip. "Is the doctor about?"

"Yes, yes, Ian... I'm here. And before you ask, I don't know but it looks like a single blow to the head, several days ago, and it could have been done by any reasonably fit adult, man or woman. More later after the autopsy."

"Hump! As useful as ever. Thanks anyway, doc," said the Inspector to the medical man but with a twinkle in his eye. Then, turning to his sergeant, he added, "Right - go and pick up that fat slug of an assistant manager. He might be at home, he might be at work... but I want him in my office ASAP!"

As it happened, Steve was neither at work nor at home. He was, in fact, hiding in his lockup, surrounded by the bits and peices of his trade. He was a very worried man for he had a whole load to hide and he didn't have a clue about what to do.

Over in Mayfair, Carol was settling into her first night at the brothel. Being a little lost, she was shadowing one of the more experienced maids about and was wearing a small badge with the word 'Trainee' written on it over her left breast. So far things had been quite quiet and Carol was getting on fine with the other girl, Jane, who was basically showing her over the building. Now the pair were hanging round in the foyer waiting for something to happen. Behind her desk, the receptionist was polishing her nails, rouging her nipples and looking bored... an expression that vanished immediately the door bell rang.

After checking on a monitor screen and clearly recognising the person outside, the girl nodded over to the maids. "That means you're to let him in, Carol," Jane explained. "Take his hat and coat, lead him to reception, then put his gear into the cloakroom. By the time you're finished with that, reception should have done their stuff and they'll tell us where to take the client." Carol nodded to indicate that she understood and got on with the job. As she lead the elderly, silver-haired man over to the desk, she was surprised to hear the receptionist welcoming him and referring to him as 'Your Grace'. Carol shot a quizzical look over to Jane who mouthed the word 'Bishop' back to Carol who then ran her eyes over the man more closely as she'd never even seen a bishop before let alone expected to meet one in a brothel.

"Please take His Grace up to see Janis in room 216," the receptionist instructed.

Taking her lead from the more experienced girl behind the desk, Carol asked His Grace to follow her before heading off towards the lift. As she waited for the doors to open, she felt the hem of her dress being lifted before the man placed his hand gently upon her buttock where it stayed and began a gentle, if continuous, cycle of squeeze and release. The lift doors opened and, without removing his hand, the Bishop followed Carol inside. "Are you new here?" he asked conversationally. Carol agreed that she was new and, indeed, this was her first night. "And how are you finding it so far?"

"Truth to tell, I'm finding it very strange in that sense that I'm riding in an elevator with a man I've never met before who's feeling up my bum and I'm just letting him do it while holding a very normal sort of conversation at the same time!"

"You'll get used to it," the man said just as the lift stopped and the doors opened. Carol stepped out and turned right. "No, my dear," the bishop interjected, "I think you'll find that 216 is this way."

Feeling herself blushing, Carol thanked him and started up the corridor to the left with the man still playing with her buttock. They soon reached a door with the correct number attached and so Carol knocked and then opened it up, ready to allow the bishop to enter... but, instead, he propelled her in before him. "Good evening, Janis. I trust you are well?" the elderly man said to the room's sole occupant.

Carol's eye opened wider for the woman who was sitting on the bed was wearing a shinny, bright yellow Macintosh along with wellington boots and a matching sou'wester hat! "Good evening, Your Grace. Yes, I'm fine... and you?"

"Tolerable... tolerable. Have you some cream, my dear?"

"Of course, sir... as you always require." Janis eased herself off the bed and, crossing over to a small refrigerator set in the corner of the room, pulled out a 500 millilitre aerosol of whipping cream which she handed over to the bishop who removed his hand from Carol's bum to accept it.

Janis crossed over to Carol and lifted the front hem of the maid's skirt. "It's worth it," she whispered.

'What's worth it?' wondered Carol as the bishop walked towards her shaking the can as he came. He flipped the top off with his thumb then, using his spare hand, he stretched the elastic waistband of her knickers out before starting to squirt the contents of the aerosol into the resulting gap. Carol flinched as the cold gunk touched her and rapidly started to fill all the available room. Once there was no more space available between the cotton and Carol's flesh, the bishop released the elastic which then snapped back into place, squashing the cream and sending a few small drops flying. Janis then released Carol's skirt and stood back as the bishop fished out a twenty pound note which he then forced down Carol's cleavage and into her bra. "Thank you, Carol. You may go now."

"Thank you, sir," she replied and waddled towards the door, the cream already starting to leak through the material of her knickers and ooze its way down her legs. By the time that Carol got back to the ground level, the cream had smeared itself all over her and had even found its way into her most intimate crack As the lift door opened and she stepped out, she was walking gingerly holding the material of her panties way from the flesh of her groin which caused both Jane and the receptionist to burst out laughing. "You knew that was going to happen, didn't you?" accused Carol with no real venom her voice.

"Of course," Jane replied, "but he pays well for the privilege. God, your face when you stepped out of that lift! Priceless! Just be glad he didn't use the golden syrup 'cos that takes ages to get out of your pussy hair. Better head off to the changing room and sort yourself out..."

But the time she got home, Carol had added another ten pounds in tips to her income and hadn't had to do anything out of the ordinary to earn it. Letting herself into her flat, she eased off her shoes and sighed... it had been a tiring shift and all she wanted was a cup of tea and then to go to bed. What she didn't want was the light on the answer-phone flashing urgently away... but, being the conscientious sort she ignored her better instincts and pressed the 'play' button. Steve's panic filled voice boomed out, "Oh, God, Carol! They've found her! It was on the local radio - the cops have found Brenda. What are we going to do? Where are you? Oh, fuck, what a shitty mess! Call me on my mobile as soon as you get in."

Carol closed her eyes and sat down, her own nerves kicking it. If it wasn't bad enough to have killed someone, having a witness and accomplice like Steve was just too much! Picking up her handset, she dialled Steve while simultaneously making sure that the tape in the answer-phone had been thoroughly erased. "Steve? It's me, Carol. When the hell are you?... The lockup?... Right, stay there and do nothing. I'll be round in about ten minutes, okay? My mobile?... The fucking batteries died earlier. Gotta remember to charge the freaking thing more often."

Twelve minutes later Carol was knocking on the door to the lockup. It swung open just an inch or so and Steve's eyes peered out, instantly recognising Carol. "What took you so long? Are you sure you weren't followed? What the hell are we going to do?"

"One thing at a time, you dumb shit... and let me in!"

Apologising, Steve held the door open a bit further and Carol squeezed through. At least he'd had the sense to pull the Transit inside so that it wasn't left standing in the yard, she thought. "Right - so what did you hear on the news?"

"Just that the cops have found the body of Brenda bloody Finnigan on a buildings site, that's fucking all. What more do you want them to say?"

"Oh, for god's sake, Steve, calm down. Panicking isn't going to help us at all. Anyone else know you're here?"