A Soul Apart E-Book

Kristina Howells

• Herausgeber: BookRix
• Kategorie: Abenteuer, Thriller, Horror
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2015

Beschreibung

The bride was brutally murdered on her wedding day. The Inspector called out to the crime scene was most surprised by the events that followed. The ghostly figure that died by the lake comes to the Inspector in a dream. It was in this dream; he would hear her tale of events that happened.

Leseprobe

Kristina Howells

A Soul Apart

BookRix GmbH & Co. KG81371 Munich

Part One: Mount Mac-Carven Present Day Summer

Inspector Fielding could hardly believe what he saw when he arrived at the castle in Mount Mac-Carven. The bride seemed so young, and healthy, but there she was beside the moat, lifeless, with her blue eyes and mouth wide open looking up at the assailant.

 “Who could have done such a terrible thing?” thought the Inspector, as he continued to look around for any clues.

 The groom stood beside him, along with the other guests who found her. They were all looking teary as if it was surreal. The Inspector tried to take it all in. He took his notebook from his pocket, and started to examine the guests’ posture and facial expressions. He tried to take a mental note to see if anyone was hiding anything, and secretly note it down.

 Then something caught his eye. He politely asked the guests to return home. He did not want them to see it, or to disturb the strange-bloodied object lying on the floor beside the body. At first it looked like a piece of mirror glistening in the moonlit sky, but as he bent down, he examined it further. He saw the bride holding the rather large carving knife.

 “Could it be a suicide Inspector?” The groom asked whilst standing next to him.

 The Inspector didn’t say anything. He just stood there and stared at the tall, thin brown haired and grey-eyed man. He waited to gain his thoughts before replying. He didn’t want to give away his thoughts, or what he was thinking. He had to be clever.

 “I’m not sure. Like I said, I would like you to go home and leave it up to me. I will come and interview you about the event when I am good and ready,” he bellowed.

 The groom said nothing; he turned his back on the Inspector and returned home. The inspector glanced behind as he had his back to him. He wanted to find out his posture. It seemed rather bizarre but nothing to worry about for the moment. The Inspector had to find out the real cause of death. A woman holding a carving knife in her hand was something that meant suspicion.

 “Why would a woman want to commit suicide?” He quizzed as he examined the area around her body.

 “I hope the forensic team come quickly and take the body away for examination into the cause of death. It all seems really weird,” he muttered.

 A short while later, Inspector Fielding saw the flashlights of the forensic team. He felt a sense of relief as they came closer towards him and the body.

 “What happened?” The forensic officer asked.

 “It is a hard one. From the outset it looks like suicide.” He exclaimed, “I do not know. It seems too bizarre. The blood stained dress is not easy to define.”

 “I totally agree. Who would wear red on the day they get married?”

 “It’s obviously the bride.” The Inspector replied, as he watched the forensic team get on with their job.

 The forensic team took photographs of the body. They looked meticulously for any clues that could point to a murder. Where the body was lying, they put police tape up so that people were not to cross the line. This was done so that if they needed to return to the scene in the morning for further clues, they knew this wouldn’t be disturbed.

 “I think it is all for this evening. We will have to return in the morning when the light is better.” The forensic officer said, as he closed his case after putting in the evidence he found around the body.

 “Ok, I’ll come down to the station tomorrow, and sit in, on the autopsy.” The Inspector replied.

 “No problems.”

 Soon the body was taken away in an ambulance to the morgue at the police station. There it would lie in wait, until the autopsy was performed to determine cause of death.

 “See you tomorrow.” The officers said, as they left Inspector Fielding alone trying to piece together what really happened.

 Soon the Inspector was alone. He could hardly fathom out this affair. He had never seen anything like this in the whole of his career. Mount Mac-Carven was not a place where murders occur. In fact the only time Inspector Fielding had been involved in solving a crime was when Mrs Macready lost her beloved pet dog. She thought that a tourist had taken her dog. It turned out the dog was hiding in a kennel.

 Mount Mac-Carven is generally a quiet village. It has been isolated from the main world since it existed. It strangers rarely come from the outside to visit it. Whenever there was outside visitors, it was often to visit the castle in the summer, or when people got married. It was only the rich and the wealthy that could afford to get married in the castle. It was not popular amongst the masses.

 The owner of the castle was no longer around. He lives abroad now. He rents it out to an entrepreneur friend of his by the name of Mr McGrath, who organises weddings. Over the years they have been successful. This year was bad news for the castle.

 “The death of the bride would start bad rumours. If it is suicide of course,” the Inspector thought, as he went to his car to go the short distance home. “And who was she? This I need to find out. I need to know what her life was like. How she met the groom? Everything about her, it is the only way I am able to put away the person who did this too her.”

 Inspector Fielding was soon home to the place where he was temporarily staying at in Whittle Bay. It was a twenty-minute drive away from Mount Mac-Carven. When he got home, the image of the poor woman wouldn’t leave him. She certainly had an impact on him, and his thoughts. Thinking no more about her, he poured himself out a large whisky before retiring to bed. It was there the analysis started to play on his mind further, as the woman came to him in his dream.

 “Shush, do not be afraid. I want to help you find my murderer. I want justice done.” She soothed, as she sat beside him on his bed.

 The Inspector laid frozen stiff. He didn’t know if it was real or a dream. Instead he allowed her to take hold of him, and show him everything he needed to know. It is by allowing her to do this will he be able to get close to the truth and nail the person who did this.

Whittle Bay Two years prior

Then without warning the bride started to tell her story. Inspector Fielding listened intensely as she spoke about the time she met her husband.

 “It was the most amazing day I ever had. I had been with my five friends shopping in Whittle Bay. We decided to make it a weekend. You see, we had all recently been divorced. It was something we would never forget, the wind and the rain blowing against us, as we made our way through the old cobbled streets, looking for something amazing to wear.

 Then, as the wind got stronger, we felt quite tired continuing our campaign for a nice party frock to celebrate being free and single. So I suggested to my friends about going back to my house overlooking the seafront for a glass of champagne and canapés, whilst we wait for the wind to die down.  All agreed and there we were at mine.

 My entire team of friends made themselves comfortable in the living room, while I poured us all out a large glass of champagne. It was amazing, we were all laughing and having fun reminiscing about our ex husbands. It was like being teenagers all over again.

 After two bottles of champagne, one of my friends Samantha whom I had known since I was a child, and who had been divorced for two years wanted to go men hunting. I was only too pleased to accompany her.

 “We will go and find toy boys, and show them what real women are,” she squealed, after gulping down the fifth glass.

 Quickly finishing our champagnes we went out back into the bay, looking for young men to buy us drinks and give us a thrill. It was amazing. We made our way into a rather trendy looking bar, frequented by city businessmen looking for a cheap thrill. They were men who came in gangs from the city and stayed overnight in five-star hotels. These men were rich, filthy rich. They won’t stop at nothing from getting what they want.

 My friends and I often went into this bar. Our ex husbands had also been part of the city gangs, making a fortune, and we too out of our divorce settlement. It was part of our culture. It had become our way of life.

 We started to get a taste of the good life, champagne, caviar and exotic holidays. We had become ingrained. It was like an addiction. Find a rich man, marry and then divorce. If possible have their child for more money, if not then go on to the next.

 Nearly all of my friends and I have never had children. We didn’t want to. We felt it was not right bringing them up in a world where their mother was changing rich men like women making hot dinners. It was not correct.

 Free and single we would then start to chat up the gorgeous young men. Most of the men that we spoke too were in the early thirties. We didn’t like to talk to anyone younger. They were to us, deemed as a child. We wanted men not boys.” She laughed.

 Inspector Fielding didn’t find her funny. He found the slim, blonde-haired figure in front of him rather lost. It seemed she used to like using her looks to gain what she wanted. Men to her were like objects. Once she had finished with them, she dumped them for another model. He couldn’t give his opinion. He just had to listen to her, and get to know the truth to the person who killed her.

 “This night I found my ideal toy boy. He was not like my ex-husbands. In fact he was rather different. I normally went for tall, dark hair, brown eyes, and skinny types. This time, a man with a group of his colleagues kept on staring at me. I daren’t approach him. It was not our style. We liked men chasing us. It gave us a thrill.

 When he came over and spoke to me, I felt an instant attraction. I wanted him. I had never felt like that about anyone. The plump, blue eyes, short and blonde hair man with a moustache gave me the tingles. It is not easy to explain. I felt wet, and I was desperate for him.

 He introduced himself as Simon, and thirty-five years old too. I knew that he was going to be the one. I felt it. One could say it was natural instinct, the six senses. He too felt the same as I did. At the end of the evening, I parted ways with my friends and I went back to the hotel where he was staying at.

 Once inside the five - star hotel, he led me to his bedroom. I couldn’t wait to feel him, and to touch him. It had been two years since I last had a man.

 When we got into the room we passionately kissed.

 “Close your eyes, please,” he whispered in a deep, melodious, and relaxing voice.

 Without any hesitations I closed my eyes, feeling a flurry of butterflies in my stomach. My eyes now closed, I allowed myself to be taken into the unknown.  I could hear his breath, graceful and slow, and smelled his aftershave strong and masculine at the same time. His lips then brushed against mine. It was slow and tender, almost feather-like, which made my nipples stand on end pointing out like traffic cones through my dress.

 His hands started to caress my face as our kiss deepens, his tongue playing against my lips, before dipping into my mouth to flutter against mine.  I moaned against his lips, and then I opened my eyes, to see his eyes fixed onto mine.

 “Eyes closed, my beauty,” he whispered, as he gently swept his thumbs down over my eyelids forcing me to keep my eyes closed.

 I suddenly felt his hands drop to my shoulders, and he very slowly caressed them with his fingertips.  It was amazing, I never felt so wet. None of my husbands before had made me feel like this.

 “You’ve got the most incredibly soft skin I’ve ever felt.”  He groaned.

 I couldn’t help myself and I started to run my hands up his torso, feeling the muscles tense beneath his shirt.  My eyes were still closed. I continued to touch him by running my fingertips over his face, feeling him, and seeing him with my hands. I then used my tongue, and kissed him hard. I had past the point of wanting. It felt so right and so perfect, as I allowed his hands to undo my dress and leave me almost naked with just my silky-string showing.

 He brought his lips to my neck, and he kissed me lightly, before dropping to his knees, tasting my navel with his tongue. The sensation of his moustache against my skin filled the darkness behind my eyelids.

 Placing his hands gently on my hips, he guided me into lying on the bed. His fingers caressed the outline of my waist and hips before quickly pulling down my string. He left me trembling, and wanting his weight on top of me.

 The soft weight of fabric glances over my body, its weight as heavy as air.  There’s a silken feel to what’s caressing me gently, and I felt it kiss my nipples as Simon brought it over my breasts and my shoulders before stopping.

 “I’m going to cover your eyes with this scarf.” He said, as he places the scarf over them, tying it together from behind.

 Once the scarf covered my eyes, he began to kiss me deeply and passionately. I felt his tongue fighting against mine, his breath hard and fast against my face, as he continued to torment me.

 I moaned against his lips, and with no control left, my body arches against his, wanting every bit of contact I could find, wanting to be as close to him as possible. Still locked in a kiss I wished this could have continued forever. I pulled him on top of me, his pelvis against mine, and we moved against one another.  Needing just more of him, I took his shirt off breaking our kiss momentarily.  Then he slipped his fingers inside me, finding my g-spot and caressing it slow and hard.

  “I want you, every single inch, of you.” He groaned, as he continued to caress my g-spot in a way that no man had ever done.

 “I’m yours, take me,” I moaned.

 I then grabbed his shoulders and pulled him towards me.  He fell on top of me, and I sighed as our lips touch.  As our kiss deepens, I wrapped my legs around his waist, and my body pulses toward his on its own accord.  His arms slipped under my shoulders, and one hand cradles the back of my head to pull me in to a much deeper kiss.

 His chest is pressed against mine, and I can feel his heart beating; the rhythm of his tongue moving against mine is equal to his heartbeat, and I realized my body is throbbing in time with his.

 I scraped his back lightly with my nails, pulling him towards me in my need to be pressed skin-to-skin against him.  He moaned, and then quickly, he moved down my body, running his moustache against my skin, causing me to gasp.

 Finally, we were both naked after taking off the rest of his clothes; he slides between my legs and barely enters me.

 I moaned against his mouth, not wanting to beg, but knowing I would have no choice if he kept on being so playful.  I rotated my hips, trying to gain any ground, to get more of his instrument in me.

 He took my hips in his hands and slides in, slowly and hard.  I groaned as another orgasm began building. 

 “I want to feel you come,” He murmured, and that was all it took.

 My hips arch against his and I cried out. At the same time as I came, he did too. It was electric. It was like our bodies were meant to be. We were like two peas in a pod. I had never made love like that.

 After making love, he gently brushed my hair out of my face and he kissed me softly.  Finally able to move, I got off his body and lied down beside him, completely exhausted.  His arms wrapped around me, and as he kissed my shoulder, I was able to relax my body against his and drifted off into a deep sleep.

 The next day we woke up and repeated the love making again. I didn’t want it to end. We knew that it had to. So afterwards we exchanged numbers and met up every weekend, staying at different five-star hotels in the town.

 It didn’t bother me. I knew it wouldn’t be right if he came back to my house. I didn’t want him to see who I really was. I enjoyed being with him. Then one day after about a year of seeing each other, he came knocking at my door rather frantically. I was quite surprised to see him.

 “I really need to see you.” He exclaimed.

 “Of course come on in.”

 Once inside he got down on one knee and produced the biggest diamond ring you had ever seen. He then asked me to marry him. The lovemaking was extraordinary. I wanted him every time I saw him. He had a way of making me horny and I likewise.

 “Will you marry me?” He asked nervously.

 Without saying a word, I bent down to kiss him and whispered yes. After that our lovemaking went from strength to strength. It was amazing. My friends were beginning to get jealous of me. They could see how he made me feel. It seemed like they wanted the same. A while after I had been seeing Simon, I started to spend less time with my team of friends.

 Samantha was the only one who was in contact with Simon and me. He liked her a lot. I could see that she liked him too. Often I had imagined they had a thing for each other. Then, when he asked me to marry him, I knew that this was not the case. I was being suspicious for nothing.”

 Inspector Fielding didn’t know what to say. He could see that something was not quite right by the tone of her voice. He listened intently as she explained how they met. He felt that the relationship was based on sex. He didn’t think it was based on love.

 Could he be wrong? Time would tell as he continued to listen to her.

Whittle Bay Wedding preparations

The plans for the wedding were in full swing. The bride felt uneasy. She didn’t know if she was doing the right thing in marrying him.

 “You see Inspector. I already told you how we met and the relationship we were having. I really felt nervous and I did not know why. Maybe my instincts were telling me something. I was not so sure.

 I just dismissed them as nothing. I organised my friends in helping me. You see being my fifth wedding; I had to do something differently. I’d already walked down the aisle in white and cream, and a light pinkie white colour. I couldn’t keep wearing those colours so I went along with red.

 Red according to many meant a symbol of love, and a feeling of togetherness. When I told my fiancé, he didn’t dispute the choice in the colour of the dress. The actual design was to be a surprise. He liked surprises. It flattered his ego when I turned up to his business functions dressed up as a young lamb, showing off my assets in front of them. It made him feel important and powerful. In such a way that he would lead me away from the function and take me to a secluded room where we could be alone, and locked it.

 There the heat began in my cheeks and worked its way as a flutter to the pit of my stomach, making its way down between my legs. He really knew how to turn me on. I really wanted him. He knew that too.

 I then closed my eyes. He took hold of my hand and led me to the black couch in the corner of his office kissing me as he laid me down onto the couch. There he knelt above me, undoing his tie, taking off his jacket and unbuttoning his shirt. He then unzipped the back of my dress and it fell on the floor, leaving only the stockings and the lingerie I was wearing.

 “Simon,” I groaned as he started kissing me.

 His moustache made me want him more as I felt him kissing my skin, and licking my hardened nipples. My hands were exploring his smooth skin and tight muscles and warmth of his chest. I would then continue to explore his body by unzipping his trousers and taking out his hard instrument, gently playing with it like it was a toy in a forward and backward motion.

 He started to groan with delight. I loved feeling him inside of me. Making love in this office was a real turn on. He too was turned on. Then before I knew it, I could feel his instrument grinding inside of me. I dug my nails into his skin and moaned at each thrust. The electricity was building up and shooting between our skins like cables do when fusing together. The electrical charge was so enormous that we climaxed together.

 The climax was not over. He wanted more of me. So he reached down and found my g-spot. His thumb and forefinger pinched the swollen mound, sending me over the edge. The sensation was incredible it left me shuddering.

 Simon kissed me and sat up. Doing the same I watched him dress himself. I loved looking at his body it was so perfectly toned. His suit, which was impeccably tailored, looked ruffled. He didn’t care. He was happy to show me off as his future wife. I quickly got dressed myself, before we left the room and returned to meet all the other guests at the function.

 So you see Inspector Fielding, in these circles wives and girlfriends were important. A sexy and glamorous wife meant a good wage, and it boosted the man’s career.”

 The Inspector was not so sure. He never had a beautiful or glamorous wife. He didn’t know what it was like. All he had to do was go on her words and try to take it all in.

 “During much discussion on the wedding arrangements we would have to talk about the guests we were inviting,” she enthused. “He had to be in control. He was in control of everything. Unlike my previous marriages, we were both in control and planned things together. This time I had no control.

 The guests I was allowed to bring were my five friends whom I’d known for at least twenty years or more. We kind of grew up together. The rest of the invites were for his family.

 He had hundreds to invite. A small village hall was not big enough to put them all in, and as money was no object to him or his family. He decided on getting married in Mount Mac-Cavern castle. I was not disappointed it had a good reputation. His family organised the rest. I couldn’t tell you the price. It is a secret. Only the groom, my husband knows that. I do not care anyway. I am no longer alive to worry about it.”

 “Of course,” the Inspector smiled. “So do you know if your husband was good friends of the people who rent the castle?”

 “That I do not know,” she replied after a short pause. “I do know that in there circles everyone knows each other. It is a very elite community, only money talks. My husband had his best friend, who was the best man to help him.

 He helped to choose the ushers, and to ensure the ushers knew what they were doing. He helped to arrange the venue, organised the reception and made sure the witnesses knew what they were doing.

 It seemed my husband and his best friend knew what they were doing. I didn’t ask any questions. Except for my best friend Samantha, who had to liaise with them? The reasons for this were due to the fact I chose her to be my maid of honour.

 She was a great help. She helped me out with my other weddings. She was always assisting me and advising me. She helped me choose the red dress. In fact it was her idea. I thought it was a good one, after all I was not a young bride by any means.”

 “What do you mean? Did she choose the dress for you?” The Inspector surmised rather confusingly.

 “Well in a sort of way yes. She gave me suggestions. It was my choice in the end. She even suggested the colours of the bouquet. I should have red and white roses. She said they would go with my dress.

 When I got round to having the dress fitted, I looked wonderful. My blonde hair seemed to go with the red dress. It looked like a perfect combination. In terms of wearing a veil, I didn’t see the point of it. So I just stuck to a diamond tiara. It was the same tiara I wore at my previous wedding. You know something old well this was it.

 My husband was not really a fan of tradition. He was often persuaded and influenced by his father, Count Farthing. He always went with tradition. When we announced we were getting married. His father was not best pleased. He wanted his son to have a young wife, one who could have children and keep the family estate and title going.

 However, with me, it was not possible. I’m now forty, Inspector Fielding, past my youth. My husband didn’t care. He loved mature women, who were sexy and glamorous, and whom he could control.

 Looking back I should have known better. Maybe it was wrong for me to marry him. We had a rather turbulent love affair. The wedding could only spell disaster couldn’t it?”

 The inspector didn’t comment. He started to analyse the situation. It seemed hard to believe what she was saying. It seemed so trivial. It was as if she was giving him clues to her killer. Questions started to appear in his head.

 “Could it be the father? Could it be her best friend or the best man? Could it even be her husband?” He quizzed silently, as he waited for her to continue to tell him the events of what happened.

 “So what else happened during the preparations?” The Inspector demanded.

 “Well,” she slowly spoke reflecting on her thoughts. “We were only engaged for a few months. My husband wanted to get married quite quickly. I couldn’t work out why. All I could think about was the last time I married at haste and repented at leisure. I knew if we did marry too soon there would be problems later. I wanted us to take our time, and enjoy our engagement.

 My husband on the other hand didn’t like waiting for time. He loved results. He thrived on getting results. Our relationship was like this. He didn’t like failure and that included our wedding preparations. He had to be in control. It seemed on the odd occasion it was only him that mattered, everyone else in the world didn’t, and he was like that.

 The best man and he were often away planning secretly. Whenever I tried to quiz him,

“It is for the wedding,” he retorted.

 I was usually alone. I didn’t mind. I was not a young woman anymore. I had already done my share of fighting to save a relationship.”

 “Why did you allow him to control all the wedding preparations?” The Inspector asked curiously.

 “Have you ever been in love Inspector?” She replied.

 The Inspector didn’t know how to reply. He was once in love, a long, long time ago. It was a love affair that injured him badly.

 It all happened some twenty years earlier when he was in his first year in the police force. He was nineteen at the time. He had always wanted to be in the police. He enjoyed looking after the community. It made him feel good whenever he helped to resolve a crime.

 Then one day whilst he was in the coffee shop drinking a strong black coffee after finishing a night shift, he met and fell in love with a local girl of similar age called Andrea. She had dark hair, brown eyes, small and chubby young women. She was training to be a hairdresser at the local college.

 They met up regularly over the course of the year. Inspector Fielding loved being in her company. She would often come round to his house, which he shared with his half brother and mother. She was a welcomed part of the family.

 Then one day, Inspector Fielding went down on one knee and proposed to her, before whisking her off to Sand Bay for a romantic weekend. It was during this weekend that he started to really get to know her.

 “I’ve got something important to tell you. I couldn’t tell you before, because I was afraid at how you would react,” she said.

 “What is it my dear Andrea?” He asked with a look of concern.

 “I was raped by my stepfather. He opened the door, and got into bed with me. At first I thought he was sleepwalking. It turned out he was not. He climbed into my bed, and started to fondle me by lifting up my nightie and forcing me to pull down my knickers. Then he got on top of me and raped me.

 Afterwards he was really nice. He tried to convince me that this was normal. I was only ten at the time. My periods hadn’t even started. I knew what he did was wrong. My real dad left mum when I was only a baby. Then when mum met Jack, and married him a few years later. This became the start of the nightmare.

 Before that night he would often take me to bed and fondled me. I was too scared to say anything. The next day he would give me some money for being a good girl, to buy sweets. It was his way of keeping me quiet.” Andrea cried.

 Inspector Fielding said nothing. He didn’t know what to think or say.

 “How many times did he rape you?” He asked holding her tightly with her head resting on his chest.

 “It happened every few nights until I reached the age of fifteen. Then I started fighting him off. It seemed to have worked. He left me alone. You’re the first person I have ever told. Even mum doesn’t know the full story of what happened.”

 “You need to make an official report to the police.” Inspector Fielding said.

 “I can’t,” she cried.

 Inspector Fielding didn’t bother trying to convince her. He felt a dark cloud had descended upon their relationship. He tried to make the most of the weekend, and enjoy their romantic time together.