Craziness - I’ve got to have craziness in my life or I’ll go mad.

“Reg, its Bert here. Bob and Jack are here in the nick” duty sergeant Bert Philips spoke into the telephone. “Yeah. Jenkins brought them in last night but hasn’t charged them yet. No, they’re in no condition to talk. Looks like Bob has been hit by a steamroller. OK I’ll see to it that they don’t say a word, bye”. Philips put down the phone and opens a drawer. He takes out an empty hypodermic and places it in his pocket. He then heads towards the cells. He stops at the cell with the name Bob Allingsworth outside, unlocks the door and enters. On the cell bed is a figure wrapped in a blanket facing the wall. He takes out the syringe and approaches. He reaches out to find an arm, the figure turns and grabs Bert’s hand. The face of detective Michael Jenkins looks up at him and smiles as he says “You’re in it real deep Philips”.

Councillor Reginald Cole thought hard for a moment and then hit the intercom to speak to the temporary secretary that had started that morning. “Yvonne, get me Sir Nigel Forbes-Willington, the junior minister for Law and Order”. “Yes sir” WPC Yvonne Wilkinson got the number and then called Detective Jenkins.

Corruption is like a weed, one must dig it out by the roots or it will grow again. I had hoped that the arrest of his stooges would panic Cole to go to his co-conspirators and I wasn’t disappointed.

I caught the train to London and made my way to Forbes-Willington’s luxury Mayfair home. It was an impressive white Georgian terraced house, 3 stories high. In front of me a tall sophisticated looking woman in her mid-forties started to walk up the steps to the front porch. I followed her, immediately noticing how her slender calves flexed and bulged with well toned muscle. I find muscular calves on a woman very sexy, and this was no exception. Their sexiness was enhanced by being sheathed in black nylons and emphasised by black high heels. As she reached the top of the steps she noticed me following and waited for me. She was about 5’10” with a slender build. Short light brown, slightly greying, hair was cut to expose a lot of her forehead. Her oval face had a look of a serious no-fun middle class professional career woman with thick eyebrows, penetrating brown eyes, a long slender nose and a wide mouth. She wore a severe executive business woman suit - white blouse, steel grey jacket and matching knee-length skirt (with a slit up the back). Over her shoulder she wore a small black leather handbag and in her hand she carried a neatly folded newspaper.

“May I help you?” she enquired in what I thought was a rather snotty attitude. “Not really, I’ve come to see Sir Nigel” I replied. “Well I am Sarah Dean, Sir Nigel’s personal aide and he doesn’t see members of the public without an appointment” she told me. I took out a business card from my top jacket pocket and handed it to her. “Jim Priest’s the name. I am a private detective and wish to speak to Sir Nigel concerning a councillor Reginald Cole and a Lady Helen Windthorpe” I said. She smiled and told me “Oh I’ll make sure he will answer your questions, Mr.Priest”. She opened her handbag and took out a key, unlocked the door, opened it and entered. I followed her into a long grandly furnished hall.

A man, probably Sir Nigel’s valet met us partway down the hall. “You have the rest of the day off, Hawkins. You may leave the house immediately” she instructed. “Yes ma’am” he replied and with a glance at me, headed towards the front door.

I followed the woman, still admiring her calves as they bunched and bulged as she walked, into an elaborately decorated reception room. Standing by the ornate fireplace stood Sir Nigel, a man full of confidence of the power and wealth he had over ordinary common people. “Sarah - and who is this?” he demanded. “This is Mr. Priest” she told him “he is a private detective and has some questions that you will answer”. I caught the steely tone of her voice that matched her phrasing. “I have nothing to say. Kindly leave or my valet will throw you out” he told me. “I’ve given Hawkins the rest of the day off. We are alone in the house and you will answer the questions” Sarah insisted.

She nodded to me and I took this as my cue “Why did you order the release of Lady Helen Windthorpe?”. His eyes went wide and he seemed to whiten “I - I - GET OUT!” he shouted.

“If you won’t explain that right now, perhaps you will explain this!” the woman said angrily and threw down the newspaper onto a coffee table in the middle of the room. I noticed the headline “Minister leaves pregnant mistress, returns to wife”.

Sir Nigel faced Sarah “I am a family man, I must put my family first”. “You didn’t think that until the Prime Minister decided on a family morals campaign!” Sarah retorted angrily. “I’m sorry Sarah, but it’s all over” he replied. “Oh yes, typical man, get his mistress pregnant and then when it comes to leaving his wife, he backs down. Well I’m not letting you get off the hook that easily” she shouts.

“You can have it terminated” “WHAT!” she cries. “You will be provided for of course. I do care” he replies. “If that’s the case why plaster the story all over the newspapers!. Those reporters are making my life hell!” she shouts. “I have nothing more to say. You can leave now” he retorts.

“Well I haven’t finished with you. You arrogant bastard!.” she screams. I watched in amazement as this sophisticated looking woman jumped and swung her right leg right up in a graceful high kick that brings her leg right up fully extended against her chest. Her skirt rides up high to expose long sexy thighs encased in sheer black stockings and suspenders. What a beautiful sight!. Unfortunately for him, Sir Nigel’s head was in the path of the kick and his head is snapped back savagely causing him to stagger backwards into an ornament cabinet, knocking it over and smashing its porcelain contents.

“No man ditches me and gets away with it” she yells “and no man publicly humiliates me without being severely punished”. “My antiques” Sir Nigel cries “You silly cow. Now I’ll have to teach you a lesson”.

He walks towards her with a determined look on his face and takes a swing at her. She ducks and he punches air. He sees her come up, pivot on her left foot, the movement of her skirt as she lifts her right leg to pile-drive her foot into his gut. Badly winded, he doubles up and staggers backwards under the force of the kick. “No, I’ll be the one teaching you a lesson” he hears her say. He looks up to see her leg rising, her skirt hitching up to reveal a glimpse of stocking top, before her foot slams into his face. With blood trickling from his mouth, he is sent stumbling back and trips over the coffee table.

“Didn’t I tell you that I used to be the women’s Karate champion at University?” she calmly informs him as she places her right leg on a chair to remove her shoe and then repeated the manoeuvre with her left leg. This showed off her legs - long, sexy, shapely and firm looking, made unbearable erotic by sheer black stockings and suspenders.

Her ex-lover slowly gets up from the smashed wood. “How dare you hit me. You’re sacked” he tells her, but his voice sounds nervous. The elegant woman moved towards Sir Nigel, spun completely around on her right foot, anticlockwise. Her left leg swings up high in a backward arc, her skirt flying high, to land the sole of her foot against the side of his neck. He cries out in pain, but before he can raise his hands, she completes her revolution by changing the pivoting foot and swinging her right leg around to slap the top of her foot against the side of his head. His head jerks hard to one side showing the power of the kick and he staggers to his right. She brings her right leg back bent at the knee with her body leaning away from him. Her skirt is pulled high exposing the full length of her long shapely stocking-clad legs and suspenders, right up to her crotch and a skimpy pair of black panties. Without lowering her leg she snaps out a swift a kick to his stomach. The air explodes out of his mouth and he starts to lean forward. She brings her foot back once more and snaps it forward into his face, dropping him to the floor, blood flowing freely from his nose.