The Storyteller's Muse by Traci Harding
‘What?’ Gabrielle was surprised at him. ‘A second ago you were horrified your friend has become embroiled in this —’
‘Spooky would understand completely.’ Peter lifted the man in question onto the bed with Gabrielle’s aid. ‘This could be my one opportunity to speak with Em without interruption, I have to take it.’
Gabrielle’s mouth was gaping open in shock, but then she closed it and merely frowned in quiet objection.
‘He’s not in any discomfort is he?’ Peter felt he looked very comfortable on the bed.
‘Besides the fact he’s been hit on the head twice, and probably has a massive hangover, you mean?’
‘If we call a doctor and Pettigrew is still in there, he’ll be carted off to the looney bin most likely, if not prison. Let’s not forget he just tried to murder me.’ Peter opened the wardrobe searching for something to use as binders, and grabbed a few ties. ‘Finally, a good use for these,’ he ribbed Gabrielle, who’d insisted he should buy them.
‘One of these days you’ll take me out to dinner.’ She grabbed one from him and began tying a foot to a bedpost.
‘Name one restaurant whose food is better than Mrs E’s?’ He grinned, as he tied the other foot.
‘Well,’ she grabbed up another tie, to secure one of their captive’s hands, ‘when you have date nights like this, how could a girl possibly complain?’
‘I know.’ Peter felt a twinge of guilt for having never taken her anywhere special — that wasn’t arranged or that didn’t end in a life-threatening situation. ‘I suck at romance.’
‘No you don’t,’ she insisted. ‘I love how completely super weird we are together.’
‘Me too.’ Peter returned her sincere smile, and as they finished securing their possessed guest, they kissed over his unconscious body.
Em was waiting for him in the packed-up studio warehouse, just as before, but now she was seated on a lounge appearing far more relaxed and she motioned for Peter to come sit beside her.
We are at liberty to talk now. Peter was seated.
Yes . . . now I finally know what a holiday feels like. Her smile was one of gratitude.
Perhaps you should take the chance to flee this place, Em? Peter was quite sincerely concerned more for her eternal welfare than obtaining the climax of his book; if push came to shove he could probably piece something together.
You’ve worked so hard to bring my story out that I could hardly leave here before enlightening you as to what transpired that day. She took a deep breath to steady her nerves. After his first visit to the warehouse, when Pettigrew discovered he couldn’t get in to me, he left his henchman to guard the exit to the locked fire door on the ground floor to ensure I didn’t get out.
Did you speak with him?
No. He did all the talking. He yelled his vile intent from behind the locked fire door in the foyer. I was told of his plan to frame Henry and seize all his assets, including me. He kept referring to me as his little she-man, it was disgusting. His trouble was that he was assuming I was hiding because I was afraid of him.
Weren’t you?
No. I was so angry about what he’d done, I was afraid that I would be the one going to jail for murder. She stared deep into Peter’s eyes. And I’m sure I don’t need to explain why I would choose death over that fate. I would rather be killed than live in prison, or be left to the will of Pettigrew’s sick little fantasies. So, when he returned, I left all the entryways open. Needless to say old Proudfoot could not have been more delighted.
‘My dear Lady Fairchild, I knew it was you.’ Pettigrew sent his man back downstairs and entered the open warehouse alone. ‘You’ve finally come to see reason?’
‘No,’ Em replied. ‘I can see no reasoning behind your actions whatsoever.’
‘I told you, I always get what I want.’ Pettigrew eyed the many paintings that remained in the gallery studio, including The Lovers. ‘And this is quite a prize.’
‘Take it! I never cared for the fame or the money.’ Emeline threw her hands up.
‘Well that’s very gracious of you, I shall certainly take both the fame and the money off your hands — quite legally, I’m afraid. Being that everyone now thinks I am Em Jewel. My prior fascination with you, and your fascination with yourself —’ he motioned to the many pictures Em featured in ‘— made that all too easy to believe.’
‘Admiring the finished work holds little fascination compared with the creation of it, the one joy you, my Lord, will never know.’
Pettigrew forced a smile. ‘Oh, I have imagination,’ he assured her as he moved closer, but Em stood her ground and showed no fear. ‘And it’s been working overtime imagining how we shall amuse ourselves.’
Em merely raised her brows. ‘You really are completely self-absorbed, aren’t you?’
‘No. Like you, I am completely obsessed with you.’ He circled around behind Em, and then reaching around into her crotch he groped her privates. ‘My little man-whore —’ He ground his erection against her behind.
‘Is this the part where I am supposed to cower in fear of your great manhood?’ Em queried, unaffected by his efforts to demoralise her. ‘Or is this strange seduction technique, supposed to excite me?’
Pettigrew swung Em around, and he was fuming that she was not intimidated. ‘I’m betting you’re still a virgin, little pussy boy, and I’m going to show you what you’ve been missing.’
Although he gripped both her arms tightly, Em shoved the man backwards with super-womanly force. ‘Just one problem with your plan, old man.’ Em grinned with satisfaction at the shocked look on her aggressor’s face. ‘You’ve only met Emeline, but there is a man in this body as well, one younger, stronger and fitter than you.’ Em raised both hands and beckoned with all eight fingers for him to attack again. ‘And you sent all your muscle downstairs.’ She pointed out that might have been a mistake.
‘I have other ways to make you cooperate.’ The Lord pulled a gun from his coat pocket and aimed it at her. ‘Take off your clothes, now.’
‘And if I don’t?’ she challenged, preferring that he pull the trigger.
‘Then you’ll become part of my refurbishment of this property,’ he threatened. ‘No one will notice an extra pillar here or there.’
‘And you get the fame you always wanted,’ she guessed the happy ending to his tale.
‘Well, you don’t exist,’ Pettigrew outlined how easy they’d made it for him. ‘No one has ever seen you, nor will they have cause to look for you. You can just vanish as you always wanted to.’
‘And be your sex slave.’ She found it difficult to comprehend his depravity.
‘Just me, and a few close friends.’ His smug air was completely repulsive.
This was a monster who would never stop eating his way through good souls so long as he lived. But she was not going to award him the opportunity to break her spirit.
‘I will never be yours,’ she told him with all confidence. ‘So give it your best shot.’
‘Hot or cold makes no difference to me.’ Pettigrew pulled the trigger.
THE END
‘Ah!’ Peter awoke and sat straight upright, startled by the feeling of having been fired upon.
When his heart stopped racing, he noted it was dawn outside. ‘I need to get to the computer.’ He scrambled out of bed to dress and as he turned to head out the door he confronted Gabrielle, who looked like she hadn’t had any sleep. ‘At last, you’re awake. How did you go?’
‘Amazing!’ He was excited. ‘I think I know where we might find Em’s body. I need to write, and make phone calls.’ Peter didn’t know where to start, but kissed Gabrielle and went to run downstairs.
‘But what about Spooky? Are you just going to leave him possessed and possibly concussed?’
‘Oh, crap, I’d forgotten about that.’ Peter was torn. ‘I guess we should exorcise him first.’
‘What do you mean, “I guess”?’
‘Do you need some sleep first?’ Pete
‘No!’ she insisted, perhaps thinking he was looking to buy some writing time — which was exactly what he was doing. ‘I need to know that we are not going to be arrested for assaulting this man!’
‘Copy that.’ Peter’s reasoning capabilities finally kicked in. ‘Let’s just leave the window open this time.’
‘We can. Pettigrew has already been banished from here and won’t be able to retreat into the house.’
‘Can we banish him from this world altogether?’ Peter thought that would be more convenient.
‘I’d need Grandma’s help to do that,’ Gabrielle said. ‘I can’t make a spirit leave, who is not at peace.’
‘So call Alejandra in,’ Peter suggested. ‘If Pettigrew is here, he can’t be detaining her.’
‘I haven’t heard from her.’ Gabrielle appeared a little concerned. ‘She’s not with Em?’
‘Em said Alejandra was chasing up Pettigrew. But if she didn’t find him, or thought Em was still in danger, she could have returned to her vigil.’
Gabrielle went quiet for a moment, her attention turning inward. ‘Nope, nothing.’
‘Not to worry. Can we trap Pettigrew in something, perhaps, until we locate Alejandra?’
‘I am not a Bruja, my abuelita only taught me a few simple protection spells!’ Clearly she thought he was expecting too much.
‘Gabrielle,’ Peter took hold of her shoulders. ‘That’s totally cool, but I really think you should sleep before you attempt anything.’
‘Peter! We’ve waited long enough!’ She glanced into the bedroom, to see their victim still hadn’t budged. ‘I wish he’d just stir, at least. I checked his bumps and they don’t look too bad, but —’
‘Well, there you go. Spooky tends to be a night owl and he sleeps late anyway.’ Peter attempted to reassure himself and Gabrielle. ‘If you sleep while he sleeps it will buy me some time to do some digging around. Did you get the files on the property when you visited the council the other day?’
‘Yes, I copied all the information from the time Em Jewel Holdings did their initial conversion, until after the period when Penelope frequented the property.’
‘Please tell me that information was not on your new computer.’
‘It was,’ she said mournfully. ‘But there are printouts in that file I gave you with the articles about Henry in it.’
He kissed her. ‘You are the best research assistant ever!’
She finally cracked a smile. ‘What are you up to?’
‘I’ll fill you in on the details when you wake.’ Peter resumed his course for the stairs.
It was a little disappointing to find that there was no structural reinforcement done on the property during the period in question, at least, none that had included submitting plans to council. If there had been new work, Peter could have focused his investigation on those areas. ‘Just because it isn’t in print doesn’t mean it isn’t there.’ Peter considered going back down to the site and taking these blueprints with him. Still, he wasn’t a builder and was no expert on reading blueprints. But he did know a builder who had a vested interest in his cause.
‘Phone number?’ He headed to the telephone desk where he’d left it, and referencing the number he typed it into his mobile. He thought to check the time before he hit the call button. It was just on seven o’clock. ‘Not too early for a tradesman.’
When Mr and Mrs Eddington arrived for work, Peter was seated on the stairs awaiting them with his car keys and blueprints in-hand.
‘Good morning, Peter,’ they both greeted him. ‘You are going out?’ Mr Eddington closed the door behind them.
‘I am, but I just wanted to advise you that Gabrielle is sleeping in the spare room, she didn’t get much sleep last night, so try not to disturb her.’ Peter noted them suppressing grins, and he felt they had entirely the wrong impression. ‘We had a little incident.’ He didn’t know quite how to put this. ‘My dear friend Mr Burns is tied to the bed in my room.’
‘Pardon?’ Naturally the old couple were shocked.
‘Mr Burns had a bit of a bad trip, mixed with too much whisky, I’m afraid,’ he explained.
‘Drugs!’ Mrs Eddington looked to her husband. ‘We haven’t seen any acid casualties in this house since the seventies.’
Mr Eddington nodded to agree, and Peter was relieved they were taking it all in their stride. ‘I’m afraid he might hurt himself if we let him loose.’
‘Very good, sir,’ Mr Eddington acknowledged. ‘You’re the nurse.’
‘Call me if he wakes,’ Peter requested. ‘I’ll be back as soon as I can.’
The man who owned the construction company contracted to site manage the project at 4 Kismet Way was waiting for Peter on-site when he arrived.
‘You must be Steve.’ Peter climbed out of his car to greet the builder, who was quietly admiring Peter’s old Aston.
‘Yeah, Pete is it?’ He shook Peter’s hand. ‘Nice ride.’
‘My prize possession.’
‘Well, I wouldn’t be bringing anything I prized onto this lot,’ Steve commented.
‘You’ve had problems getting this structure down?’
Steve shied away from saying too much. ‘My client wants to sell this property, and you’re an interested buyer, far be it from me to put you off. You had a proposition for me, you said?’
‘Yes, I was wondering if you’d lend me your expert eye on something?’ Peter rolled out the blueprints on the car.
‘Sure, what am I looking for?’ The builder came up beside him to view the plans.
‘Any part of this structure,’ Peter pointed back to the abandoned building, ‘that is not recorded on these plans.’ Peter knew he was asking a lot.
‘You mean like the round columns at the far end of level one,’ assumed Steve, not needing to reference the blueprints.
‘Are there?’ Peter hadn’t noticed.
Steve nodded. ‘I couldn’t work out what they’d been for, as they aren’t structural. I thought maybe they were old water storage pillars, from before the time the mains feed was installed. I never found out as we never got to knock anything down.’
‘Show me?’ Peter headed straight for the gate, but Steve was more wary. ‘It’s okay, your resident spook is not here at present.’
‘You know, then?’
‘That this place is haunted? Yes, I know. But we may be able to remedy that.’
‘You think you can get rid of the . . . disturbances?’ Steve was clearly finding it difficult to decide how best he could serve his client and the abandoned project.
‘With your help,’ Peter warranted, motioning him to the unopened padlock on the gate.
‘Sure thing. Anything’s worth a go.’ The builder appeared a little more keen to risk entry; both he and his client must have stood to lose a lot on this deal. ‘But how do you know the Sparky isn’t here?’
‘The Sparky?’ Peter was amused.
‘That’s what we call it. Fire anything up and sparks start flying.’ Steve decided to come clean about what he knew. ‘Brand spanking new machinery just goes defunct here, it’s like a dead zone for anything electrical.’
Peter nodded in empathy, having seen the entity rip through Gabrielle’s computer, and his phone go dead during his visit to this site the day before. So as Steve opened the barricade, Peter pulled out his mobile to check it was still operating. ‘All good so far.’ He flashed the screen at Steve.
‘That’s a first.’ Steve was impressed, and the fact appeared to up his confidence, as he led Peter down to show him the columns in question. They were large.
‘They’re plenty big enough.’ Peter cast his eye over them both.
‘For what?’ Steve queried, having been unable to figure out their purpose.
‘To conceal a body in.’
‘A body?’ Steve was clearly shocked.
‘Do you know anyone who can X-ray concrete?’ Pete
‘These are hollow, hence my water storage theory,’ Steve advised. ‘And as they’re not structural, we could just jack-hammer into them.’
‘Do you have a jack hammer on-site?’
‘As it happens, I do.’ Steve raised his brow warily. ‘But getting it to fire up could be another matter.’
‘Do you have power to the site?’ Peter expected not.
‘I don’t need it; the hammer is driven with an air-compressor and a diesel engine. But,’ Steve cocked his head, ‘that didn’t prevent it remaining defunct that last time we meant to use it.’
‘Trust me,’ Peter encouraged. ‘Today it will work.’
Two hours and a bit of jack-hammering felled enough cement to reveal the interior and, when they shone a torch within, human remains were discovered.
‘We’re going to have to report this.’ Steve stood staring at the bones in horror.
‘This is a more than half-century-old cold case.’ Peter let him know there was no extreme urgency.
‘These probably were water storage that have just been cemented up. Do you want me to crack open the other column?’ Steve shone his torch light towards it.
‘I think you’ll find there’s only one body to be found here.’ Peter couldn’t take his eyes off the bones, a little sickened to think this was what had become of his talented young muse.
‘You know who this is?’ Steve must have picked up on Peter’s sentiment.
‘I have a fair idea, yes.’ Peter’s phone began buzzing in his pocket.
‘I’ll pack up the equipment then,’ Steve said, as Peter moved away to take the call. ‘Hello?’
‘Spooky’s awake.’ Gabrielle got straight to the point.
‘And is he himself this morning?’ Peter assumed Pettigrew had not escaped.
‘Nope. Pettigrew is still in there and he’s really pissed off. He insists he didn’t kill Em, or Isabella, or anyone! He claims Em is a demon and that she killed him and his manservant. He says you should be looking for two bodies.’