I had phoned the police, and they had arrived faster than I had expected. I sat in the kitchen of Miss Johnson's flat at a small coffee table and stared at the tablecloth. Opposite me sat Alice who was as silent as the grave. I looked up to find her looking at me, but she then quickly looked away. We had already given our statements and I could heard the police officers walking about in the living room.
"Look.." I began but was interrupted as a tall, wide man came into the room and called my name.
I sighed and followed him out on the stairs.
"Allow me to introduce myself," said he. "I am Inspector Rockford. I'll be taking on this case. You have already given a statement to officer Jennings, Mr. ...Erh?"
"Wakefield. Ira Wakefield. As I've told your man, I'm a private detective. I do not know Ellen Johnson. But I thought she might have information about the case I'm working on, seeing as she worked for my client?"
"Wakefield? Are you related to Charles?" he asked.
I nodded and thought to myself: Just how many connections did my father have?
"What might this case be about? Do you believe it's tied to the murder?"
"Murder?" I said. "It is murder then?"
"Erh, no. Forget what I said. I do not want you involved. Anyway, I may get back to you later, but you are free to investigate your case. Just don't leave the city. May I have a number to contact you by?"
I shrugged and gave him the number to Newcomb's hotel.
"Please, sir. The girl, Miss Kite, she is not involved. She only gave me directions! You don't need the question her further."
Rockford nodded and called for an officer to escort Alice out. She and I then walked down the stairs in silence. Not until we reached the door did she say something.
"That girl was murdered."
"What?" I said. "Don't be silly. She may have been ill. It happens a lot."
I didn't want Alice more worried than she already was.
"Didn't you see it? I saw at least one wound! I'm sure!"
"I wasn't really looking. It might have just been your imagination."
I of course was absolutely aware that Ellen Johnson had been murdered. The question was why.
We stepped outside on the pavement.
"Goodbye, Miss Kite!" I said.
"No," She said. "This just got interesting. You're not getting rid of me. How can I go home without knowing what happened to that poor girl?"
She scribbled a telephone number on a piece of paper from her pocket, and handed it to me.
"Call me when you know something, Mr. Wakefield! Or maybe before!"
She turned and walked down the street. I just stood there realizing that I had no means of transportation. The hotel was far from here.
I decided to just begin walking. If I could get a ride along the way I would be lucky, but that was not going to happen in this posh neighborhood.
It was evening and the light was fading. The surroundings changed drastically as I walked. Soon it was dark and I was in the inner city in a nightclub district. I was beginning to lose all hope of getting back to my bed. I stopped and took a cigarette out of the silver cigarette case, which I might have 'accidentally' taken from my fathers belongings before departing for England.
I lit it and looked around. There it was. A tall sign. If it could it would have been spitting in my face. It read:William Lacey's Exotic Photography Studio
Located above the Hibiscus Club
I almost dropped my cigarette. Could this be the same man? There was only one way to find out! Two young men came swaying down the street. I approached them and asked for directions to the Hibiscus Club. The first one laughed at me. The second got sick on his shoes. I asked again, and the first one gave some very doubtful directions and began to insult me before dragging his friend along. If I hadn't been in a hurry, I would have punched him.
The Hibiscus Club was, contrary to my expectations, very easy to locate. When I arrived, I saw a beautiful facade with huge doors and widows. I saw lights burning on the second floor as well. Around the entrance were a horde of people. They were all festively dressed with exotic accessories and the women wore less than the weather or prudence dictated.
As I got near, I heard lively swing music coming from within the club, and wondered if they would let me in. The crowd parted slightly for me as I made my way through. It was obvious, that I was easy to spot among these rich young birds.
I opened the heavy door and stepped inside. The walls of the entree were covered with yellow drapes and the furniture was handsome mahogany. Through the door at the end, I caught a glimpse of the club ballroom, which was similarly expensively decorated and swarming with people.
A young man with sharp features and golden skin walked towards me with a clipboard.
”And you are, sir?” he asked with a rather hostile tone.
”Ira Wakefield. I need to...”
”You are not with the private party on the balcony,” he said while glancing at his list.
”I'm sorry, sir! The ballroom is full!”
”But I have to see...”
”We're full, sir! Goodnight!” said he while glancing at my clothes.
”Look here, sir! I may not be fancy enough for the club, but I'm not here for the club! I came to see Mr. Lacey!” I shouted.
The man looked at me.
”At this time of night?”
”It's urgent! Do you know him?”
The young man nodded.
”Follow me, Mr Wakefield. I hope for your sake you're not wasting his time.”
He took me through a door to the next room and lead me up a wide staircase. While we walked I discretely eyed the name tag on his jacket. To my surprise it read: Andre Lacey.
At the end of the stairs were a door. He stopped and rang the bell four times. The door opened just a little bit and I could not see the person inside.
”Mel, call for him, would you? I didn't want to just walk in, in case he's sleeping.”
The door closed and we stood in an awkward silence until it opened again. This time it opened wide and revealed a girl in a maids uniform holding a candle. Andre lead me through the door and into a dark hallway.
"The master is working late again," she said.
"I knew he would be in. God forbid he should actually go home!" said Andre Lacey.
"Can we turn on the lights? I can't see a damned thing!" I said.
"No," the maid answered simply.
They opened a door. I had not even noticed it was there at all. There was a red light flooding the room. Along the walls where tanks with chemical and photographs hung drying on strings. The windows were bricked up and the air was thick.
Bent over a table table in the far end stood a strange figure. It was a man in a lab coat, rubber gloves and a surgical mask.
"Father?" said Andre Lacey. "There's some bloke here to see you!"
The man looked up and waved at us to leave. When Andre kept his ground and didn't move a muscle, the man took of his mask and came towards us.
I was rather surprised to find that there should be some relation between Andre and this man for they looked so terribly little alike. He was small, in his sixties with gray hair and blue eyes. He seemed so very English. Only his pointy nose was shared with the exotic, dark haired young man.
"Andre!" he cried. "I'm working! I told you not to disturb me while I'm working!"
He then noticed me, and his facial expression changed. He was surprised, which revealed that he had not at all been listening when Andre announced me.
"I.. Let's go the the studio, shall we?" he said.
He left the coat, gloves and mask on a chair and revealed that he was wearing a suit and smoking jacket underneath. He picked up a pair of square glasses and put them on the tip of his nose.
He led us back down the hall and through another door. As soon as the door opened, a weak light shone upon my face. My jaw dropped, and for a moment I thought I was dreaming.
Inside was a luxurious living room with at least a dozen half naked women! They jumped up as we entered. The maid closed the door behind us. They where all rather exotic looking except for a few. They wore costumes and strange jewelry.
”Girls, don't get up!” said William Lacey and took a seat in one of four large chair by the fireplace.
Andre guided me to mine, but did not take a seat himself.
”Now, young man! You had better tell me what it is you want!” said William Lacey, while an Indian beauty poured him some whisky and lit his cigarette.
”I've come on the behalf of Mr. Newcomb!” I said. ”I am employed by him!”
”Ah, Newcomb! An old acquaintance of mine – terribly irritating man.”
“Mr. Lacey, I take it that he owes you some money?”
William Lacey squinted his eyes and looked at me intensively.
“Just what sort of position do you have?”
“I was asked to sort this mess out,” I said. “I don't want any trouble.”
“Andre, where is your brother? Is he at home?”
“To be honest, I think he's with his girl.”
William Lacey sighed and nodded to his son who disappeared behind my back.
“You can tell Mr. Newcomb, that he had better pay before I find him! My patience is spent.”
“Mr. Lacey, somehow the money must have never reached the agreed place. I am only here to...”
“Ah! That old story again. I do not know whether Newcomb is telling the truth or not, and frankly, I don't care the least. Newcomb will give me what he owes me or I'll cut his wrinkly, old balls off.”
“Mr. Lacey, I am asking you only to...”
“Listen here, Mr. Erh..?”
“Wakefield, sir. Ira Wakefield.”
Lacey paused for a bit. Then he smiled.
“Wakefield you say? Might you be the son of Charlie Wakefield?”
“Yes, sir!” I said.
“Well then, Mr. Wakefield. How rude of me. How could I possibly be so rude to the son of an old... Erh... acquaintance. Sit back Mr. Wakefield. I have a little present for you – just as a token of the deep regard I always have held your father in. Sit back, Mr. Wakefield.”
Lacey snapped his fingers. The girls got up and he left with them – grabbing himself an extra ass on the way out.
I sat up straight and was rather confused. Then the door opened back up and two exotic beauties slipped through.
The first one was the Indian girl from before. She came towards me smiling. She had long black hair in a single thick braid. She wore rings in her ears and nose and golden jewels in her hair and on her arms and ankles. She wore a blue, skimpy, rather suggesting version of a Sari and heavy makeup.
The other one's origins were more difficult to guess. She looked Italian in complexion and had big brown eyes. Her hair was bleached a pale blonde and were curled into ringlets adorned with bows. Her lips were painted a dark red and her face was powdered white in sharp contrast to the rest of her golden body. She wore nothing but stockings, heels and a pair of frilly bloomers.
The Indian girl came towards me and crawled over a divan to get to me. The blonde walk all the way with her hands covering her mouth in a timid manner.
“Excuse me, ladies! Where did Mr. Lacey g...”
As I spoke the Indian girl placed her finger lightly upon my lips. I stopped speaking, and she smiled at me. As she opened my belt I felt the blonde girls hands gently massaging my shoulders.
I wanted to ask whether Mr. Lacey was coming back, but to be honest I was unsure of whether any of the girls spoke English at all.
I could feel my cock growing inside my trousers as the girl removed the belt. She then grabbed my hips and pulled me slightly forward, which caused me to fall further back in the chair. With the help of the other girl she pulled my trousers and underwear down to my knees.
My naked cock lay on my thigh. The girls smiled and the blonde girl lit some incense which quickly filled the room with a heavy jasmine scent. I could distantly hear the music from the club downstairs. The Indian girls came back and got down on her knees between my legs.
The girl took my cock in her hand and began rubbing it. *SNAP*
I looked up and saw the blonde snapping a picture with one of the many cameras placed in the room. She laughed, and I was about so say something, but then I felt the Indians lips on the tip of my dick. I looked down at her and moaned as she sucked it, and my cock grew hard in her mouth. She was cautious, and I grabbed her hair to push my cock further into her.
The blonde one wrapped her arms around me from behind and whispered words in my ear, that I could not understand. I felt her breasts pushing against my neck. The Indian girl was sucking me eagerly and I felt myself getting closer to coming.
The Indian girl stopped and pulled my trousers off completely. The blonde pushed me up in standing position. I felt her running her hands down my back and over my ass before she got down on her knees and crawled under me.
The Indian girl laughed and resumed sucking. I gasped when I felt the blonde sucking my balls. She grabbed unto my thighs firmly.
“Oh.. Oh.. My GOD!” I moaned.
These girls knew what they were doing, and they sucked with the experience of an elderly whore. I could not control myself. I came violently in the Indian girls mouth. I pulled out as I spewed and covered her face. The blonde crawled between my legs and sensually licked it off the other girls face.
They whispered. I stood there with my cock charging at them like a spear. They got up and pulled me unto the divan. The blonde took off her bloomers, crawled up and slowly mounted my cock, letting me feel every inch of her pussy giving as she slowly let me pierce her. She moved back and forth rhythmically and her blonde ringlets bounced on her breasts.
She grinned at me. I didn't see where the other girl went, but I was in ecstasy. I suddenly felt the Indian grabbing my arm and holding them over my head in an iron grip. The blonde laughed and rode me harder. Faster and faster. Harder and harder.
Everything went blurry and I was just about to come when the blonde pulled a shiny blade out of the divan. With my cock still inside her she raised the knife. With a terrifying grin on her face she stabbed me. In a split second I realized why the Indian was holding my arms and panicked, unable to stop her hand. Instead I jerked my body and the force sent both the blonde and myself falling over the edge of the divan. She screamed and midair I felt the knife grace my chest and slicing through my skin.
In shock, the Indian had released my arms. I lay on top of the blonde, holding her knife wielding hand in a firm grip. She clawed at me. I pressed my fingers into her hand, and the pain made her let go. I got up, only to be attacked by the Indian girl. I punched her in the face. She screamed and covered her nose, while blood dripped unto the carpet. The blonde was getting up and reached for the knife. I kicked her in the stomach as hard as I could and ran for the door. The girls screamed behind me and yelled in foreign languages.
I flung the door open and ran down the hallway. Just as I came to the stairs and I turned to see Andre Lacey behind me.
“YOU! You're still alive?” he yelled.
Before I could react he punched me twice. One punch landed in my chest where my shirt was already soaked in blood. I grabbed his jacket and he pushed me up against the wall. I kicked and jerked my body. He staggered backwards and I hit him. I heard the bumping sounds as he fell down the stairs and the horrible crack from his neck as he landed on his head at the foot of the stairs.
With the sound of alarm behind me, I stared down to where Andre Lacey lay dead.
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with this note attached, it has been posted without my permission.
<a href="http://www.lushstories.com/stories/novels/the-wakefield-cases-the-licentious-3.aspx">The Wakefield Cases; The Licentious Life Of Mr. Lacey, Part 4</a>