White Lies (21 page)

“What about guests who are dominant? Can you provide submissives for them to play with?”

“In certain circumstances, yes, but the sessions are monitored. We can’t afford to find a would-be dominant is really a homicidal sadist who’s seen too many re-runs of
Hostel
, can we?”

Meinwen laughed. “I suppose not. What about gay men? Are they catered for?”

“If they agree to the no-sex rule, yes. I have male dominants and male submissives on hand, or at least available at short notice.”

“What about John Fenstone? Was he one of your professionals?”

“Quite often, actually. He was very popular among both genders. Sometimes the women couldn’t even tell he was gay, he was that good.”

“I can imagine!” Meinwen thought about Jimmy’s sexual skills. If John was half as good, he’d have been popular. “His brother is just the same.”

“His brother? I didn’t know he had a brother.” Rebecca shook her head. “It just shows, doesn’t it, how little we know people.”

“John didn’t talk about his family?”

“Not once. I take it you knew them?”

“Only James. I never knew John.”

“That surprises me if you know Richard Godwin. They were very close. I know John spent as much time at The Larches as he did here, though I think it was personal there.”

“Yes, I only discovered the relationship when I found Richard’s sigil on a ring belonging to John. Jimmy didn’t even know he was gay.”

“You never notice what’s right under your nose, do you?” Rebecca pursed her lips and Meinwen wondered who she was thinking about. “Have you seen enough? The rooms on the first floor are all purely vanilla but those on the second floor are kink aware. Apart from the guest rooms, which have anchor points in the walls and ceilings, we have a schoolroom, a nursery and a war room. There’s also a gymnasium, sauna and beauty salon, but those are available to the vanilla guests as well.”

“You seem to have the perfect setup.” Meinwen trailed a hand across the surface on a leather-covered spanking bench. The dull sheen of the covering stirred a desire of being strapped to it and caned. She imagined Jimmy’s breath on her naked arse. She swallowed, recovering enough to return to the purpose of her visit. “So who do you think murdered John?”

“Murdered him?” Rebecca sank backward, leaning against the St. Andrew’s Cross. She did it so beautifully Meinwen wondered if it had been rehearsed. “I thought he hung himself?”

“That’s what people were supposed to think. The police have reopened the investigation. Any guesses who might have wanted him dead?”

“None at all. He always satisfied his clients.” She flicked up her turquoise eyelids. “Professionally, I mean. I’ve already said there was no sex between the staff and the guests. There were those guests who wanted more, naturally, but he was a stickler for the no sex rule.”

“That makes sense if he was gay, particularly with the female clients.”

“Yes, of course.”

“What about when he was off duty? Did he see any of your clients then?”

“If he did it was without my knowledge. He signed a contract with me forbidding him to poach. Other than that, what he did off duty and off the premises was no concern of mine.”

“Even if he was having sex with them?”

“Especially then. Deniable culpability, you see?” She straightened. “Let’s go to my office, shall we? I don’t feel comfortable talking in here.”

“I thought it was soundproofed?”

“It is but still...” Rebecca took a deep breath. “I don’t feel right talking about such awful things in a place of positive mental energy.”

“That sounds odd, referring to a dungeon as a place of positive energy.”

“Does it?” She stalked toward the door, obviously expecting Meinwen to follow. “Remember, everyone who enters the dungeon does so willingly, master and submissive, dominant and slave. Despite the pain inflicted, there is pleasure on both sides of the whip.”

“I suppose so. I’ve never really looked at it like that.”

“You should.” She stood to one side as Meinwen left the room, turning off the lights and closing the door. “It’s like ancient monuments, Stonehenge and the like. They always feel peaceful, don’t they?”

“Of course.”

“But think how much blood they’ve seen. Compare my dungeon to your average police cell and you can see how positive they are.” She turned the key and gave the door a pat. “You can keep your churches and your synagogues. This is where I come if I want to be at peace.”

“I should take your advice and build a dungeon of my own.” Meinwen followed the smaller woman back to the reception desk, then into an office behind. It was as different from the dungeon as it was possible to imagine. White walls and clear lines, a window overlooking the back yard and a range of monitors covering the hotel. The desk looked to be straight out of an office supplies catalog, with a leather office chair behind it and a plain wooden one in front. The only concession to luxury was an antique wingback seat and round coffee table next to the window.

Rebecca sat at her desk and gestured for Meinwen to sit in the wooden chair. “Where were we?”

“John Fenstone shagging clients in his own time.”

“Yes, of course. As I say, I know nothing about that. If he was, he was doing a decent job of it. They kept coming back.”

“All of them? He didn’t poach any of them permanently?”

“I don’t think so. There was the usual amount of wastage. Nothing out of the ordinary.”

“Wastage?”

“Clients who stop coming. Clients who fail to turn up for their bookings.” She shrugged. “It’s pretty common. They get cold feet. A guilty conscience. Their wife finds out.”

“No one springs to mind with regard to John?”

“Not really.” She turned on her computer screen and began to navigate her system. Meinwen caught a flash of the green baize of solitaire as she minimized it. “Where are we? September? Two no-shows. That was pretty normal.”

“How much did he make?” Meinwen reached in to her bag. “I have his little book of income here.”

Rebecca raised an eyebrow. “Do you indeed? Let’s compare the records you have to the records on here. Give me a month.”

Meinwen flipped through the pages to the month before Jon’s death. “August, week nineteen. John made seven hundred here.”

Rebecca opened the relevant tab. “No, he made three that week. Two hours on Wednesday and one on Saturday. He was booked for Sunday but canceled, look.” She pointed to a block that had been shaded out.

“He might have taken your client privately.”

“He’s a little sod if he did.” Her finger whitened on the mouse. “If he wasn’t dead, I’d kill him myself.” She leaned back in her chair. “I take it John was the motive for your visit all along. Are you even in the scene?”

“Yes. No.” Meinwen bit her lip. “What I said about Robert Markhew and Richard Godwin was true, though I’ve pretty much kept myself to myself since. At least until Dafydd showed signs of wanting that kind of relationship with me.” It was only a partial lie. Dafydd did want a relationship with her, just not a kinky one. His idea of kinky was spray-on chocolate sauce. She raised her eyebrows and leaned closer. “Truth be told, although I wanted to speak to you about John Fenstone, I took the opportunity of coming here to get a few tips on being a dominant. I didn’t think I had it in me.”

“I see, and you think pulling the wool–” She gave a tight smile. “Leather hood over my eyes was the best way to approach the situation?”

“I hadn’t really thought about it like that. I’m sorry.”

“So why should I give you this information? What have you got to do with any of this? Are you the police?”

“Me? Good gracious no, though anything I discover I will turn over to them.” Meinwen smiled, reaching over to lightly touch her arm. “I really am a friend of John’s brother. He wanted to know what happened. It was him who asked me for help.”

“As I said earlier, I wasn’t even aware John had a brother. He never mentioned him.”

“Jimmy was in prison for a while. A bit misguided, but all right when you get to know him.”

“A villain with a heart of gold?” Rebecca snorted and reached in her top draw. “Isn’t that one of the great modern clichés?”

“I suppose so. I trust him though.”

“But we’ve established your credentials as a liar.” She drew out a packet of cigarettes and a lighter, then crossed to the window to open it. “Do you smoke?”

“No.” Meinwen put her hand up, palm outward. “No thank you.”

“Good for you, unless you’re lying about that too.” She lit a cigarette and leaned out of the window.

“Should you be smoking? This is a workplace, after all.”

“Yes. Technically I’m breaking the law by smoking indoors at a workplace.” She blew smoke into the damp air. “Call the police if you like. I’m sure they’d like to hear our conversation.”

“I don’t think that’s necessary.” Meinwen stood. “I’ll tell them anything I discover about John’s murder, but I don’t need to mention minor affairs that don’t hurt anybody.”

“Like telling me you were here with their full knowledge and cooperation?” Rebecca snorted. “Do me a favor. What are you really here for? Money? You can’t blackmail me. I stay exactly on the right side of the law. The line may wobble one way or the other on occasion but I pride myself in never crossing it. I’ve invested too much in this business to see it topple to a loophole in the law.”

“Honestly, I’m looking into John’s death. That’s the absolute truth.” Meinwen crossed over to the bank of cameras. Did any of them record John with an angry client? “Do you keep the tapes for these?”

Rebecca blew smoke out of the window before she glanced her way. “For a year. It’s all digital. We pay an off-base firm a monthly fee for back up and storage. It streams continually to their servers.”

“Does it cover every room?” Meinwen spotted a sticker on one corner of the monitor and made a mental note of the service number. She had a nagging feeling she recognized it.

“No. Only the lobby, staircases, dungeon and playrooms. Mostly it’s there to monitor for antisocial behavior, fires, that sort of thing but we track the playroom scenes in case of lawsuits. We had someone claim they were physically harmed once and we were able to prove the marks on her back and shoulders weren’t received here. It turned out she’d done them herself and tried to sue us to pay for her cosmetic surgery.”

“I see.” Meinwen played with the controls. “Is it possible to go back over John’s sessions? Perhaps there’s a clue to his killer there.”

“I can’t let you look at footage of our clients. It would be an invasion of their privacy and a breach of the data protection act.”

“The police would be able to get a warrant for it.”

“Then let them.” She stubbed out her cigarette and took out a piece of gum, using the foil wrapper to wrap the cigarette butt and dispose of it in the bin. She crossed the room, reaching across Meinwen to turn the monitors off. “If they produce a warrant, it clears me of breaching data protection. I can give them the tapes, but not you.”

“I see. Very wise, I suppose.” Meinwen turned and leaned against the bank of monitors. “Still, it galls me to know the answer could be right there, just waiting to be spotted.”

Rebecca’s phone rang. “You’ll have to remain galled.” She answered the ring. “Shadow.” She listened for a few seconds before responding. “We’re in my office. Down in a moment.” She terminated the call and smiled at Meinwen “This should take the edge off your frustration. Your pony’s ready.”

“Really?” Meinwen pushed herself off from the monitor desk and went to follow Rebecca, but the smaller woman stood to one side, waiting for Meinwen to precede her.

They went back down the stairs to the stable yard where Rebecca put a hand on Meinwen’s arm to stop her going any further. “Charlotte?”

The stable woman, Meinwen supposed she’d be called the groom in this situation, led Dafydd out by a pair of reins attached to a metal bit in his mouth.

“Wow.” Meinwen stepped forward. The bit, coated in rubber lest the steel chip Dafydd’s teeth, was attached to a leather halter over the Welshman’s cheeks and jawline, a separate strap connecting each to another terminating on the bridge of his nose. The whole assembly was fastened with buckles at the back of his head and finished off with blinkers for his eyes and a pair of perky horse ears made of leather.