The Flaming Girls - Chapter 6

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Chapter Six – Like A Stone In Your Shoe

Samantha and Charlie went shopping and spent a tidy amount of Robin’s money on an evening gown and shoes. They had become close friends working together in the salon and although technically Samantha was Charlie’s employer, they were more like companions and confidants.

Charlie told Samantha everything about herself and Samantha was astute enough not to appear sorry for Charlie, knowing that Charlie hated that, but there were times when she experienced heartfelt sorrow for Charlie when she described periods of her life where she had been rejected and abused.

“If you hurt that girl Robin I’ll renounce you as my brother,” Samantha said one day when Robin got off early and came to the salon to pick up Charlie after work.

Samantha told Charlie things about Robin that she guessed Robin would never tell her. He was an excellent swimmer and all-round athlete but had injured himself before the trials for the English swim team. Although he was handsome and athletic he was hopeless around women and had only had one serious relationship with a girl named Emily Waters.

It had lasted three years and Samantha had never warmed to Emily who kept her nose in the air and looked down on the Sparrow family. Robin was infatuated with Emily and it broke his heart when he found her in bed with one of his friends. Emily had laughed at him and told him that he had been a cuckold for most of their relationship.

After this, Robin had become withdrawn and surly and had not been with another woman as far as Samantha knew. It was also when he had transferred to Chelmsford from The Met.

“But how can he stand being with me after being cuckolded by Emily? I am a… I was a prostitute,” Charlie said.

“Exactly! But I think your uniqueness and the fact that you only did what you did in order to survive is part of what makes you attractive to him,” Samantha speculated.

“I have to admit that I had concerns that Robin saw me as a charity case. Did he tell you what he said to me when I was in hospital?” Charlie asked.

“Yes he did and I think that hatred had been festering inside him since Emily betrayed him. Men are complicated Charlie, you know that. It’s possible that he went from despising you to feeling sorry for you and then on to loving you,” Samantha said.

“He does love you, you know. He confided in me that if it came down to you or the job, he’d give up being a policeman to be with you.”

“He keeps telling me that he loves me and I genuinely feel that he does. But deep down inside I wonder how we can make a go of it. I still haven’t told him that I love him you know,” Charlie admitted.

“Do you?” Samantha asked.

Charlie looked away wistfully and changed the subject.


Modern Girl magazine hit the newsstands on same Saturday as the Essex Police Ball. Samantha came to Charlie’s flat to do her hair and makeup and help her dress for the ball while Robin went to the formalwear hire service to rent a dinner suit.

Glenda had debated whether to attend in uniform, as some of the other PCs and WPCs were going to do, or to buy a ball gown. She was worried that her figure had blown out to the extent that she would not look good in an evening dress but when she tried on a teal satin gown, low-cut with spaghetti straps, both she and the assistant in women’s fashion had been impressed with how good it looked. The dress clung to her curves but did so such that she looked voluptuously sexy not dumpy. Glenda splashed out and bought the dress.

Chief Constable Bard was hoping that his wife Alicia would not want to attend the ball; she hated social events and saw them as a chore but she surprised Edward when she told him she was looking forward to attending.

All serving policemen and women were eligible to attend the ball but as a matter of practicality only about a quarter of Essex Police could actually be present and the Chief Constable ensured that there was an even split between the ranks. Invitations had also been sent to the gentry and privileged personages in Essex as the ball was as much about networking and public relations as it was a celebration and social event.

All of the invitations were sent out ‘plus one’ and Glenda hated the fact that she would be there without a partner especially now that Robin had told her that most of the station either knew or suspected that she was sleeping with Edward Bard. It was so cliché; a junior WPC sleeping with a superior to advance her career. But Glenda didn’t even have that. Edward had kept her on as his senior liaison officer so he had unfettered access to her; she felt like a chattel.

“Fuck it!” Glenda picked up the phone and dialled Ruffe.


Charlie stepped out of the rented limousine in front of the Chelmsford Shire Hall which had been backlit and the entrance emblazoned with floodlights for effect, and those people waiting outside the hall all turned to gaze at her, not only Detective Sargent Robin Sparrow who was waiting patiently and rendered speechless when he saw her.

The chauffer opened the door and a long shapely leg sheathed in diaphanous high-sheen nylon and shod in four-inch cherry-red heels emerged. A matching leg swung onto the pavement but was glimpsed only briefly before the skirt of a blood-red satin evening gown closed around the legs and the rest of Charlie’s body appeared at the car door, bending her head slightly under the sill as the driver helped her out of the car.

Samantha had hatched the plan for Robin to meet Charlie out front of the hall so he could see her in her new gown for the first time at the ball. Sam had paid for the limousine as a gift to Charlie.

Robin rushed forward, almost bowling the chauffer over in his eagerness to take Charlie’s hand. Charlie stood erect and smoothed out the blood-red, floor length, figure-hugging dress that flared slightly from the waist and was split at the side from the hip. It was worn off the shoulder and Charlie's meagre décolletage, narrow waist, wide hips and perky buttocks complemented the gown perfectly.

She had accessorised with matching necklace, earrings, and bracelets; all silver set with faux emeralds. She carried a red sequined clutch purse, with sliver hardware.

Sam had done an outstanding job on Charlie’s makeup and hair. Gone was the Bowie-eque shag, replaced by a layered bob with all the individual waves overlapping each other hovering just above her shoulders looking attractively delicate, coloured in differing shades of red. Her eyes were smoky to emphasise her emerald green eyes and her lips blood-red to match her gown and pick up the highlights in her hair.

Charlie felt overwhelmed but also elated to be at the ball and to be the focus of the crowd’s attention. She had gone to the extreme to please Robin, almost as a gesture of gratitude and to ensure he would be proud to have her on his arm and not be embarrassed by her.

And Robin was overcome by her countenance. Charlie had never looked more beautiful and feminine; his heart soared when he saw her, any trepidation he had regarding taking Charlie to the ball disappeared when she alighted from the car.

Charlie took his arm and Robin leaned in and kissed her chastely on the side of the mouth so as not to ruin her makeup when what he wanted to do was take her in his arms and kiss her passionately.

Charlie felt like she was walking on a cloud and could hardly feel her feet; she was glad that she had Robin, dressed eloquently in a black dinner suit and looking handsome, to lean on, especially when they ascended the sandstone steps.

Robin showed his invitation at the door, acutely aware that many in the crowd were staring at Charlie. He paused to examine the seating plan and then guided Charlie through the large double-doors into the ballroom proper. He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw Glenda Savage and Ruffe Ingersoll standing together sipping champagne and he escorted Charlie over towards them, actually glad to be lost in the crowd.

“Don’t you look gorgeous,” Glenda leaned in and kissed Charlie on the cheek.

“You too Glenda, absolutely lovely,” Charlie replied.

Robin kissed Glenda on the cheek and shook hands with Ruffe; both men seemed glad to have each other’s company and scooped fresh drinks from a waitress as she passed.

The men complimented each other’s partners, getting the preliminaries out of the way.

“Charlie, let me compliment you on your story in Modern Girl. I saw it today and I thought Maggie did a magnificent job but you are undoubtedly the triumph of the article,” Ruffe opened the conversation.

Robin looked surprised.

“I knew that you were considering giving Maggie an interview but I didn’t know you already done so,” Robin looked questioningly at Charlie.

Glenda gave Robin a withering look and Robin felt a cold chill despite the warmth of the room.

“Yeah, we did the interview and the photo shoot last week at Fringe Chic,” Charlie glared at Ruffe.

“Hey! You made us promise to keep it secret until the article was published. It hit the newsstands this morning,” Ruffe shrugged his shoulders and sipped champagne.

“What about you Glenda? Were you part of this?” Robin fumed.

“Don’t drag me into this. The first I knew about it was when I bought the magazine this morning; I naturally assumed you knew,” Glenda looked over her champagne glass, waiting for the sparks to fly.

“Why do you care Robin? It’s my life. There’s nothing in the article that isn’t true and in case you’re worried, your name is never mentioned,” Charlie suppressed her anger; she didn’t want this to ruin the night.

“Look, what’s done is done. Let’s go to our table, eat the rubber chicken dinner and enjoy the ball. I got a hot young lady I’m itching to dance with,” he slapped Glenda playfully on her ample buttocks and she feigned anger but was flattered.

What made Glenda feel even happier was that Edward and Alicia Bard were standing with a small crowd of people close by. Alicia, looking very matronly in a nondescript shapeless off-white lace gown, flat shoes and her hair piled high on her head and only a smidge of makeup. She looked more like Edward’s mother than his wife.

Edward had been eyeing Glenda off since she arrived and she could sense that he was unhappy that Ruffe had escorted her. Glenda knew that Edward disliked Ruffe intently and when Ruffe slapped Glenda on the arse, she saw Edward grimace.

The four of them made their way through the throng to their table; the MC for the evening had requested that everyone be seated so they could start the event.

“Please don’t let the magazine article spoil our evening,” Charlie whispered in Robin’s ear and he nodded curtly and pulled out her chair so she could sit and eased it under her when she sat.

Ruffe did the same for Glenda. There were four other couples at the table: two from Essex Police, a local politician and his wife and a local businessman and his wife. Ruffe being naturally gregarious encouraged everyone to introduce themselves as the waitstaff fussed around pouring wine and taking orders.

“Hey I know you!” Daniel Shutter, the businessman smiled at Ruffe.

“You report for The Daily Sun,” he gushed.

“Guilty as charged,” Ruffe took an impromptu bow.

“Hey I’ve been following your Essex Slasher pieces. Sorry to bring up shop at a social event but do you chaps think you’ll ever catch him?” Daniel looked around the table at the policemen.

“All I can say is we are working hard to do so. Say Daniel, is that your new club-restaurant that just opened on the high street?” Robin knew the best way to get a businessman to change subject was talk about his businesses.

“Yes but wait. Are you? Are you the Charlie?” Daniel looked incredulously at Charlie who blushed and lowered her head.

“I saw the article in Modern Girl today. You are an amazing person and I have to say you looked magnificent in that photo spread, didn’t she dear?” he blathered, turning to his wife.

Daniel Shutter’s wife Muriel looked far from impressed and she just grunted and nodded at Charlie.

The comment piqued the interest of the other table guests and conversation centred around Charlie’s article, her brush with the Slasher and her newfound celebrity. Muriel Shutter and one of the other policeman’s wives obviously did not approve of Charlie but the rest of the table were fascinated by her.

“And you Sargent Sparrow. I think it’s quite generous and chivalrous of you to escort Charlie to the ball after all she’s been through. Above and beyond the call of duty I say,” he lifted his glass in a toast.

Robin became angered that the other guests thought he had bought Charlie to the ball as a chartable act. Charlie sensed his anger and took his hand under the table and squeezed it.

“Let them think what they want. I know you love me and that’s all that matters. It’ll keep them from prying further,” she whispered in his ear over the din of conversation and the police band playing dinner music.

Robin squeezed her hand in return and gave her a wan smile.

Ruffe managed to change the conversation to Tottenham Hotspur’s recent two nil win over West Ham and the men spoke about football while the women endured it. Muriel Shutter and the other disapproving lady left the table to talk to other couples seated elsewhere. Charlie switched seats with Ruffe so she could talk to Glenda.

“You should have told him Charlie,” Glenda admonished her friend.

“I know that now. I just wanted some independence,” Charlie sighed.

“Well you have it now and you also have celebrity. A lot of people here are going to be talking about you tonight and Robin’s going to get the third degree at work. Don’t worry he’ll stick by you and I count you as my closest friend so we’re all in it together,” Glenda stroked the back of Charlie’s hand.

“Really?” Charlie knew that she and Glenda were friends, but being told she was Glenda’s closest friend made her feel very happy.

“You know when I bought this dress the one thing I didn’t think of is how am I going to take a piss?” Charlie joked.

“I feel like I’ve been trussed in a satin cocoon,” Glenda chuckled.

“But you look fantastic in it,” Charlie complimented her.

“I believe I do. And that prick Edward Bard can see what he’s missing out on,” Glenda replied and they both giggled.

Dinner arrived and the men ate heartily while most of the women only pecked at the lukewarm poultry, stodgy veggies and congealed gravy, too scared they would spill food on their gowns or pop a zip. Desert was Pavlova and received the same treatment.

The dreary thank-you’s and complementary dribble that made up the bulk of the speeches finished just as the tables were being cleared and the band began to play dance music. Edward Bard and his wife went onto the floor and danced the first waltz, as was the tradition and were quickly joined by other couples and eventually the ball was in full swing.

Robin took Charlie onto the dancefloor despite her reluctance. She hadn’t danced since school and there she had taken the male lead; here she had to dance backward and in high heels as the famous quote goes. Not that it mattered to her, she clung to Robin during the slow numbers and he was delighted to hold her in his arms. Her scent, the soft caress of her hair, the feel of her delicate body against his, the glimpse of those impossibly long legs when her dress opened, the delicate brush of her lips on his face, made it all worthwhile and he forgot about the magazine article.

Ruffe was dancing with Glenda who was surprised that she was actually enjoying herself. Ruffe was an accomplished dancer and quite handsome with his chiselled blonde Scandinavian looks and tall svelte figure.

“So Maggie did a great job with Charlie’s interview and those pictures were amazing,” Glenda said as Ruffe whisked her around the floor.

“She has a knack for getting people to open up. Charlie certainly did. I’m not sure Robin is going to be happy when he reads the story,” Ruffe replied.

“It’s certainly tell-all, that’s for sure,” Glenda agreed with him.

“How long have you two been together?” Glenda asked.

“Maggie and I? We’ve been friends since we were both studying journalism at Oxford. We get together when she’s in town but she travels a lot. She’s off on Monday to New York to interview some new band,” Ruffe sniffed.

“Oh. I thought you were a couple?” Glenda said, a little shocked.

“More like friends with benefits; like you and the dark knight over there,” Ruffe nodded to where Edward was dancing awkwardly with his wife who he held at arm’s length.

“He is no longer getting any benefits from me and I think I ruined our friendship,” Glenda chuckled.

“Really?” Ruffe pulled Glenda closer and pressed against her and his hand drifted to her buttocks and gave it a squeeze.

“Mister Ingersoll, what kind of woman do you think I am?” she said primly.

Ruffe balked and distanced himself a little from Glenda.

Glenda stepped back into him and pressed her body against his and placed his hand back on her buttock. She leaned into him and bit his earlobe.

“I am that kind of woman tonight. I want to have some fun,” she licked his earlobe and then smiled at him.

Ruffe smiled back and held her close and Glenda was quite satisfied to see that Edward Bard was fuming as he watched her misbehaving.

Ruffe and Glenda took advantage of the free drinks and were soon both tipsy, alternating between sitting down to drink and then getting up to dance. Ruffe was taking liberties, holding Glenda very close feeling her ample bosom press against him and placing his hand on her bountiful behind. He made no attempt to hide the erection tenting his trousers and blatantly rubbed it against her.

“You are becoming very forward there Mister Ingersoll,” Glenda teased him.

“You haven’t complained Miss Savage,” Ruffe smiled down at her and squeezed her buttocks.

The lights in the ballroom had been dimmed now that dinner was over, there was some subtle ceiling lighting and a spotlight or two reflecting off strategically placed mirror balls. Glenda took advantage of the gloom and slid her hand down and squeezed Ruffe’s cock through his trousers.

Ruffe stuck his tongue in Glenda’s ear and she giggled.

“Wanna come outside for a smoke,” he slipped his had inside the split in her dress and stroked the plump V of her sex through her gauzy knickers.

“I don’t smoke,” Glenda said gasping as Ruffe fondled her quim.

“Neither do I,” Ruffe sighed as Glenda worked his cock.

Ruffe reluctantly disengaged from Glenda, glad that the dim lighting camouflaged his erection. He took her hand in his and led her to the doors. Once outside the ballroom and in the foyer of the building it was obvious that their plan to proceed outside would be a disaster as it was pouring rain. Ruffe held onto Glenda’s hand and led her up a marble staircase to his right. Once at the top of the stairs and out of public view Ruffe whipped Glenda against the wall and pressed his body against her and kissed her.

Glenda fumbled around Ruffe and found the handle to a nearby door. If she remembered correctly it was an office and nobody would be in it tonight.

“In here,” Glenda said around Ruffe’s insistent mouth.

Glenda pulled Ruffe into the office and Ruffe closed the door and slammed Glenda against the wall and ravaged her. His hands were everywhere, under her dress, inside her bra, squeezing her buttocks.

“Fucking dress!” Glenda slipped off the straps and pulled down the bodice so that Ruffe could get to her ample bosom. He lapped at her breasts and nipples while Glenda cradled his head, encouraging him.

She wanted it fast and brutal.

“Over here!” Glenda pushed Ruffe off her and staggered over to the office desk.

She bent over it and offered her big fat backside to Ruffe.

He dropped his pants and stood behind her, a rather useful erection protruding from his groin. He pulled aside the gusset of Glenda’s satin granny-panties and poked a hole in her tights. He slammed his cock into her sloppy wet cunt.

Glenda was so wet that Ruffe could smell her pungent stench.

Ruffe grabbed Glenda by the hips and began to fuck her hard and fast, bringing his cock all of the way out and then slamming it all the way back inside her.

“Guh! Guh! Guh!” Glenda grunted every time Ruffe’s cock slammed into her sodden minge.

She put her hand inside the waistband of her knickers and tights and found her sloppy cunt inside the thatch of pubic hair, she opened her thick labia and pressed her finger to her clitoris and rubbed it hard. Waves of pleasure reradiated from her cunt.

Ruffe interrupted Glenda. He pulled out of her, spun her around lifted her onto the desk. She opened her legs wide and Ruffe slammed his cock back inside her and Glenda closed her big thighs around Ruffe to keep him close. They could kiss now while they fucked and the base of Ruffe’s cock stimulated Glenda’s clitoris. She wrapped her arms around Ruffe and pulled him tight against her as she orgasmed, screaming obscenities into his mouth.

Ruffe pushed Glenda down on the desk and slammed his cock inside her all the way and ejaculated; his scalding semen filled her slippery twat and dribbled down the crack of her buttocks, soaking into her knickers.

When Ruffe had finished coming Glenda pushed him away from her and scrambled around the desktop until her hand found what she was looking for. She snatched up the box of tissues and took a handful and began to wide herself between her legs. Ruffe snatched a handful and wiped his cock.

“If you’ve got spunk on my dress Ruffe I’ll kill you,” Glenda whined.

“Oh fuck off Glenda; you wanted it as much as I did,” Ruffe grinned.

“Yeah, I suppose I did. You fuck pretty good for a skinny, Scandinavian, newspaper reporter,” she joked.

“Hey! Enough of the Scandinavian, you copper bitch,” Ruffe pulled her into his arms and kissed her and she let him.

“Ok. I’ll go down first and then you go and pretend to have a smoke and then come join me,” Glenda said.

“So that no one knows we snuck away for a fuck?” Ruffe stated the obvious.

Glenda nodded.

As she walked away Ruffe failed to tell her that back of her dress was caught in her tights.


Robin and Charlie danced the night away both noticing and commenting about how close Glenda and Ruffe were dancing.

“Who would have thought? What a strange couple,” Robin commented.

“Really! Is that the pot calling the kettle black?” Charlie smiled up at him amused.

Robin got it and smiled back at her.

“Drink?” Robin nodded at the bar and Charlie nodded her assent.

Robin went to the bar and got them both drinks while Charlie sat at their table, rubbing her feet; it had been a long night on the dance floor. Muriel Shutter and the other policeman’s wife who had displayed their dislike of her left the table again as soon as Charlie sat down. She was used to being shunned by some people so she didn’t care; she now had a circle of good friends and a man who loved her.

Robin came over with the drinks and they both took some time to relax and chill out.

“I’m going to the ladies,” Charlie whispered in Robin’s ear over the din of the band.

Robin nodded and leaned back in his seat and surveyed the room feeling very contented.

Chief Constable Edward Bard slipped into the seat beside Robin, his face fixed with a scowl.

“Good evening sir,” Robin offered his hand.

Edward looked at Robin’s hand like he was holding turd but he eventually reached out and shook it limply.

Edward Bard was in foul mood. He had seen Glenda and Ruffe canoodling on the dance floor and watched them sneak away. If Alicia wasn’t watching him like a hawk he would have gone after them. His wife had been distant all evening and he suspected that some evil cunt had told her that he was having an affair with Glenda. As much as they had tried to keep the relationship discreet, tongues till wagged. Unfortunately for Robin he was the only target on which Edward could inflict his venom.

“I hear your little SCI hasn’t produced anything productive. Probably time to shut it down,” Edward swallowed his whisky in one gulp and waved his empty glass at a waiter hovering nearby.

“On the contrary sir we have some ideas but we need to refine them and follow them up before we pass them on to the CID Task Force,” Robin countered.

“I’m moving Glenda on and as I only set up the Special Crime Investigation team as a favour to her, there is no need for me to let your motley crew continue to waste police resources,” Edward considered the bottom of his empty glass.

A waiter put a fresh drink in front the Chief Constable and then looked inquiringly at Robin who shook his head.

“And you need to seriously consider what you’re doing or you’re likely to end up on the scrapheap with her, or maybe even discharged from the service as unsuitable,” Edward picked up his fresh drink and sipped it.

“I beg your pardon sir?” Robin asked incredulously.

Edward reached into his jacket and produced a copy of Modern Girl, one of many that had mysteriously appeared and had been circulating the room. He slapped it down on the table.

“You can’t get it right can you? You vilify that thing within earshot of the media and then you do a complete turnabout and start shagging it,” Edward said through gritted teeth.

“How could you bring her here? You mug! People thought that you had brought her here as a charity case and then you carry on like a love-smitten schoolboy on the dance floor.”

“She, him, it, whatever, is a common prostitute… a fucking transvestite prostitute. And you get her a job with your sister cutting hair in London. At least she’s with the other freaks in Soho I suppose. If you had kept your tryst with the miscreation secret it would be tolerable; but this! This!” Edward slammed the flat of his hand down on the cover of the magazine to emphasise his point.

“I want your SCI wrapped by the end of next week. No more press releases from that Scandinavian shitraker, the tranny goes back to hawking her arse or cutting hair – I don’t care which and Glenda reports to my office for reassignment Monday week and you go back to CID.”

“Then you can come in and hand me your resignation or if you still want your job you can take a demotion to Detective Constable provided you dump her; your choice,” Edward arose unsteadily before Robin could answer.

“Make the right choice Sparrow; other than making some stupid errors of judgement recently you’re really not a bad copper,” Edward patted Robin’s shoulder heavily and walked away.

Charlie noticed the line-up at the ladies as soon as she entered the corridor. A couple of women were leaning against the wall smoking, contrary to the building regulations. Charlie rummaged in her clutch for her own cigarettes and then she looked up and saw a delegation of women blocking her way.

Alicia Bard, Muriel Shutter and the surly policeman’s wife stood in front of her with their arms folded. The other women sensed that trouble was brewing and squeezed past them and left them alone.

Muriel Shutter held up a copy of Modern Girl and spat on it, dropped it on the floor and ground her heel into it.

“You’re going to the wrong toilets Mister. The men’s is down the next corridor, I don’t think they have a toilet for perverts,” she hissed.

“What the fuck are you even doing here? You admitted yourself that you’re a prostitute and really a man under that lipstick and powder. You’re a fucking disgrace and dishonour us all for even being here,” the policeman’s wife chimed in.

“Why don’t you just leave and take that other whore with you,” Alicia said bitterly.

“Other than you three I don’t see any whores here,” Charlie countered.

The three women narrowed their eyes and gritted their teeth.

“Oh, here comes the other whore now,” Alicia pointed over Charlie’s shoulder.

Glenda had entered the corridor and was approaching, adjusting a shoulder strap on her gown.

“What’s going on Charlie?” Glenda asked as she approached.

“What’s going on is this maleficent perverted man in a dress is trying to use the wrong toilets,” Muriel screamed, pointing at Charlie.

“He’s not welcome here and neither are you fat home-wrecker,” Alicia added.

“Charlie is twice the woman of any of you harpies and if you have an issue with your husband putting his cock around, maybe you should consider opening that plugged-up pit between your legs Alicia. Now if any of you would like to take this further I’m sure Charlie and I can sort you out and send you home crying,” Glenda stood beside Charlie.

“You three look like you couldn’t beat the skin off a rice pudding and I’m versed in self-defence and Charlie here has taken on the Essex Slasher. Any of you tarts fancy being punched arse-up bring it on… together or one at a time,” Glenda challenged.

“That’s the sort of behaviour I’d expect from your sort. Common as dirt!” Alicia replied but the fear in her eyes was evident as was the reluctance of the other two women to engage physically.

“Don’t go home angry; just go home ladies,” Glenda and Charlie stood aside so the three women could leave.

“Whores!” Alicia called out as she scuttled past.

“Frigid old frump!” Glenda called after her.

Charlie and Glenda burst out laughing and clung to each other as they nearly collapsed laughing.

“Just as well they didn’t want to fight; I’m pissed as a parrot,” Glenda chuckled.

“And I can fight alright but not in this skin-tight satin sheath,” Charlie added.

They both went into the ladies and stopped at the mirror to fix their makeup; Glenda’s was particularly smudged and Charlie had a good idea why.

“I’m going to be a while Charlie, I need to do a little housekeeping and change me knickers,” Glenda cackled as she closed the door to her cubicle.

“Too much information Glenda,” Charlie sniggered and went into another cubicle.

Being a transvestite in this situation was actually an advantage. As was usually the case the ladies loo had been overburdened by the crowd and the cleaning staff had not been able to keep up. The floor was soaking, there was toilet paper everywhere and the seat looked manky. There was no way Charlie was sitting on that and letting her gown touch the floor.

She opened the split in her dress and pulled her knickers and tights down her thighs. She hadn’t taped because the gusset of her tights and her snug-fitting knickers kept her genitals in place so she was able to piss standing up. She sorted herself out and left the cubicle to wash her hands.

“You ok in there Glenda?” she called out as she dried her hands.

“Just wiping away the last of Ruffe,” Glenda called back, rather drunkenly.

“Again, too much information. I’ll see you at the table. I think it’s time we called it a night don’t you?” Charlie tossed that waste paper in the bin.

“Couldn’t agree more; see you out there,” Glenda called back.

Charlie come out of the ladies surprised to see a line-up of women waiting to use the loo. Word had got around obviously. She shrugged her shoulders and walked down the corridor and nearly collided with Walter Middleton who was coming the other way from the gentleman’s lavatory.

Charlie froze. She was speechless and unable to move, she leaned against the wall to stop herself falling to the floor.

“Hello Charlie; nice dress,” Walter said flippantly as he walked passed her, not even looking back.

Charlie thought she was made of sterner stuff. She envisaged that if they ever found the Essex Slasher she would kick him in the balls or at least give him an earful of cheek. She had imagined being on the witness stand and pointing to him in the dock telling the court… ‘it was him milord’. But all she could do was lean against the wall, legs like jelly, trying not to puke as she shivered with fright.

No more than a minute passed until Glenda found her that way.

“What the fuck Charlie did those women come back? Did they do something to you?” Glenda tried to get through to Charlie who was incoherent.

“It was him,” Charlie thought she was shouting but it was barely a whisper.

“What?” Glenda leaned in closer.

“It was him. It was the Slasher,” Charlie murmured, still shivering.

Glenda slapped Charlie across the face.

“Charlie! Charlie! Get your shit together. Say that again,” Glenda said excitedly.

“The Essex Slasher just came out of the pisser and walked past me like I was nothing. He’s here Glenda! He’s here!” Charlie found her voice and was screaming.

“Where did the fucker go?” Glenda shook Charlie again.

“In there! In the ballroom!” Charlie was starting to gain control of her faculties.

“Let’s go find him,” Charlie pushed past Glenda but Glenda grabbed her shoulder and stopped her.

“Wait up sister, let’s go find him together,” Glenda took Charlie's hand and they entered the ballroom.

It was impossible to see properly with just the ceiling lights and the reflected lights of the disco balls, faces were brilliantly lit for a millisecond and then they became dark and fuzzy as myriad little squares of light passed over the crowd. Charlie looked frantically around the ballroom with Glenda hanging on to her. Glenda thought briefly of trying to find Robin but they might lose the Slasher so Charlie and Glenda started going from table to table trying to find him.

They both figured he would not be on the dance floor after what had just happened. It didn’t help that all of the men were wearing dark suits so he had no distinguishing clothing.

Glenda suddenly stopped and pulled Charlie to her and shouted in her ear.

“He’ll be leaving. He won’t stay around now that you have recognised him. We’re wasting our time let’s go to the door and we’ll see if we can catch him on the way out.”

Charlie nodded and they pushed their way through the crowd to the door.

They arrived at the top of the sandstone steps at the entrance to Chelmsford Shire Hall just in time for Charlie to recognise a man getting into a late model Bentley which had been brought around to the front by a valet. They could just make out the face of a woman in the passenger seat but Charlie was sure it was the Slasher getting into the driver’s seat.

The car pulled away and lurched into the traffic to the tooting of horns.

“Fuck he got away!” Charlie lamented.

“The fuck he did!” Glenda growled.

“Kilo Mike Alpha three seven five, Kilo Mike Alpha three seven five, Kilo Mike Alpha three seven five,” Glenda kept repeating the sequence.

“Glenda! Glenda!” Charlie was overexcited and distraught.

“Shh. Shut the fuck up Charlie! Kilo Mike Alpha three seven five, Kilo Mike Alpha three seven five,” she kept repeating it.

Glenda ambled down the steps as fast as could in her tight dress and rushed over to the valet.

“Pen! Pencil! Paper! Anything! Kilo Mike Alpha three seven five, Kilo Mike Alpha three seven five,” she screeched.

The valet looked at her like she had escaped a looney bin.

Glenda snatched a parking stub out of the valet’s hand and a pen from the pocket of his red waistcoat. She scribbled on the flimsy cardboard while the valet tried to snatch back his pen and paper.

“Fuck off, I’m a police constable you idiot,” Glenda held the pen and paper away from the valet.

She held the parking stub up to the light and read what she had written on it ‘KMA 375’.

“Gottcha you bastard!” she hissed.

“Any idea who was driving that car?” Glenda asked the valet who still regarded her as some sort of maniac.

“We don’t put names on parking stubs. We just put the ticket on the keys with a lackey band and rip off the stub and give it to the driver and park the car round the back. When the driver picks up the car we just check that the numbers match,” the valet explained.

“I didn’t think it would be that easy,” Glenda sighed.

“Don’t go anywhere, one of my colleagues will be here to interview you soon,” Glenda said authoritatively.

The excitement and adrenaline had sobered her up.

Glenda and Charlie went back inside to find Robin. He was seated at their table looking dejected.

They both excitedly poured out their story and finally Robin roused himself and began to listen.

“Come on let’s go into foyer so I can hear you properly; I’m only getting every second word,” the band had switched from classic ballroom dance music to contemporary pop music and it was hard to hear over the screech of guitars and drums.

“You go first Charlie,” Glenda said catching her breath as they stood in the corner of the foyer.

Ruffe had found his colleagues and was smart enough to know that something important was afoot and the best way for him to find what was to remain silent and listen.

Charlie explained how she run into the Slasher coming out of the gentleman’s lavatory and then Glenda filled in the remainder about the search and seeing him drive away.

“I have his registration Robin! We’ve got the fucker!” Glenda said excitedly.

“We need to tell the Chief Constable to stop the ball and get the Task Force down here now and start interviewing people. CID can run the licence plate down at the station,” Glenda was almost breathless.

“You two stay here. Glenda you come with me,” Robin had come out of his fugue and was ready for action.

He half dragged Glenda over to where Edward Bard was sitting with his wife.

“Sir, something terribly important has come up. We have to speak to you immediately,” Robin shouted over the band.

The Chief Constable was well into his cups and his wife was not much better. They had to plead with him to get him to come outside into the peace and quiet of the foyer.

Robin nodded at Charlie who had recovered her composure and told Edward what had happened in the corridor leading to the conveniences and then Glenda took up the story.

“We have him sir. We have the bastard!” Glenda said excitedly.

Edward stood nonplussed for what seemed like an eternity as he ruminated on what he had just been told, meanwhile Glenda and Robin had to hold their tongues and wait patiently, worried that the Slasher was right now fleeing and making an escape to who knows where.

“So let me get this right. The Essex Slasher was invited to the Essex Police ball and came along with his wife. He went for a piss and when he came out he ran into the err… the woman whose throat he had slashed and nearly killed and is the only person in the world who can identify him and all he did was compliment her on her dress.”

“He went back into the ballroom and escorted his partner to his car and drove away but conveniently not before WPC Savage gets to write down his number plate,” Edward looked in turn at Robin, Glenda and Charlie.

“And all of this happens right after I tell you that I’m disbanding your SCI, putting WPC Savage back on the beat, and demoting or sacking Detective Sargent Sparrow,” he shook his head in disbelief.

“I’m not stopping the ball. I’m not bringing in CID to interview my guests. What do you two take me for? An idiot!”

“The Mayor of Chelmsford and the Lord Mayor of Essex are in there,” Edward nodded at the ballroom doors.

“Half the elite of Essex are in there! ‘Excuse me Sir and Madame, might you have been sitting with The Essex Slasher tonight, can I take down your particulars?’”

“Don’t be so fucking daft! I’m not going to take the word of that!” he pointed at Charlie.

“And you would have me believe two police officers I’m considering sacking! Fuck off; what do you take me for?” Edward seethed.

“The last act of your useless little shitty Special Crime Investigation team will be to hand that registration number to CID on Monday. It will turn out to be useless. Christ it’s likely to turn out to be the licence number of the vicar.”

“And all because a transvestite prostitute happened to look up while she was sucking someone off in the bogs and saw some bloke who she thought she recognised who had fucked her up the arse and knifed her when he found out she had a cock,” Edward turned to walk away and Robin grabbed him by his coat and turned him around, his fingers clenched into fist.

Ruffe leapt between Edward and Robin and took Robin’s hand off Edward’s shoulder.

“Smartest thing you’ve done tonight Ruffe, maybe Glenda fucked some sense into you,” Edward straightened his jacket and turned to walk away again.

“It was him! I saw him! It was him!” Charlie cried out.

“Take her home Robin; she’s already made a fool out of both of you.”

“Feel free to suck a few cocks in the parking lot on your way out Miss Ringwald, we have an amnesty on prostitution during the ball,” Edward sneered and walked away.

Both Ruffe and Glenda had to physically restrain Robin to prevent him from going after the Chief Constable.


“Did you enjoy the ball dear?” Walter Middleton patted his wife’s knee but kept his eyes on the road as he drove home at a sedate speed.

Once he was clear of Chelmsford and heard no ‘blues-and-twos’ he figured there was no need to panic.

“It was lovely dear,” Alice stifled a yawn; she was glad Walter didn’t want to stay any longer.

When they got home Alice went straight up to bed and Walter told her he would be up soon. When he heard her footsteps overhead in the master bedroom Walter unlocked the workshop door, entered and locked it behind him.

He took off his dinner jacket and put it on a hanger. He unlocked and opened the large tool box that had never held a tool and gazed at the resealable plastic bags, each of which contained a pair of panties and a single piece of jewellery from his victims. His fingers caressed the bags lovingly and then he opened the drawer beneath the trophies and ran his fingers across the neat blocks of currency, each secured with an elastic band.

Walter had accumulated close to fifty thousand pounds in cash over the years; some of it legitimately but most of it carefully embezzled from Barclays Bank.

In a rented lockup just outside of London was a nondescript but mechanically perfect Morris 1100 with a suitcase in the boot containing everything he would need to make an escape, including forged identity documents that would pass any form of scrutiny.

He had hoped that he would never to have to use his escape plan but he had been a Boy Scout and adhered to their motto of ‘Be Prepared’. But it was not time to panic yet. He still didn’t know what the police knew and what they intended to do with what they knew. He was well versed in police procedures and the first thing if anything he expected would be a knock on the door.

Walter knew that they had nothing linking him to the Essex Slasher crimes other than the word of a transvestite prostitute who had used her celebrity to her advantage and to further her financial gain. She was hardly a credible witness against someone of his standing in the community. But to be safe he would take some necessary precautions.

As the Manger of Barclays Bank he could well expect to be invited to the Annual Police Ball but it helped that he was very good friends with the Chief Constable and played golf with him on Sundays. It gave Walter the ideal segue into asking how the hunt for the Slasher was going and Edward was known to speak freely after a few gin and tonics.

Whilst at the ball he had taken a great deal of delight in hobnobbing with the very people that were searching for him. He had no doubts that should his name come up in any investigation his good friend would warn him out. After all, who would believe a respected Bank manager could be the Essex Slasher. No need to panic indeed; just keep calm and carry on, as was the fine British tradition


Back at Glenda’s flat Robin, Glenda, Ruffe and Charlie drank tea and pondered the night’s events.

“We have no time at all to find out who was driving that Bentley,” Robin was ropeable.

“Ok, we all need to calm down. We all know what’s at stake but it’s nearly one in the morning so there is bugger-all we can do. First thing tomorrow I’ll access the motor registry records and find out who owns the Bentley and then we put him under immediate surveillance. Neither the Chief Constable or CID are going to be interested in anything we say unless we can get concrete evidence that the person is in fact the Slasher,” Glenda said.

“How are you going to do that?” Ruffe asked.

“We’re going to break the law is how,” Robin said through gritted teeth.

“First things first. The Slasher knows that Charlie saw him at the ball so he’s likely to change his mind about finishing the job he started.”

“You’re staying with me tonight Charlie and then you’re going around to Samantha’s and staying with her. She won’t let you out of her sight until this thing is over one way or the other. If you’re not with me; you’re with Sam,” Robin said.

Charlie was about to get her back up but she realised what Robin said made sense.

“I’ll take you to work tomorrow at the salon while Glenda searches for our man at the MOT office, Ruffe you get all your camera and surveillance gear and meet Glenda and I here. Once we know who owns the Bentley and where they live we’ll finalise our plans. Agreed?” Robin said.

They all nodded.

Charlie fell into Robin’s arms as soon as they were inside his flat. She kissed him and clung to him.

“I was so scared Robin. I thought I was brave but I was terrified,” Charlie sobbed into his neck.

Robin held her close and comforted her.

“You’re braver than anyone I’ve ever met Charlie Ringwald and I love you,” Robin nuzzled Charlie’s neck.

“Make love to me Robin. Make me feel safe,” Charlie whispered.

Robin put an arm under Charlie's legs and carried her to the bed. He gazed at her lying there in the red satin gown, the side split was open showing off her long legs clad in gossamer hose. He stripped naked as he watched her, his erection proudly poking out in front like the prow of a ship.

“Do you want to take off that dress; it’s expensive?” Robin smiled down at her.

“Do you want me to take off the dress? You paid for it,” Charlie smiled up at him cheekily.

“I want to fuck you in that red satin dress. I’ve wanted to fuck you all night,” Robin said throatily.

“Then do it,” Charlie got up on her hands and knees and offered Robin her behind.

Robin took the K-Y out of the dresser drawer and opened the slit in Charlie’s skirt exposing her luscious panty-clad buttocks.

“Do it! Do it hard!” Charlie groaned.

Robin ripped off Charlie’s knickers and then tore out the crotch of her sheer tights. Her sphincter was a crinkled freckle and he daubed it with the lubricant and the put some on his cock. Charlie was hard already and he reached under her and stroked her cock.

“Fuck me darling. Fuck me! Fuck me hard!” Charlie wriggled her buttocks invitingly.

Robin climbed on the bed and pulled Charlie's ankles apart and got in position behind her. He pressed his cock against her sphincter and pushed his cock all the way inside her. Her tight anus was like a silken sheath gripping his phallus.

“Oh god yes! Fuck me!” Charlie writhed; impaled on Robin’s huge cock.

Robin gripped Charlie’s hips and began to vigorously fuck Charlie, making her squeal and moan as he thrust his magnificent manhood in and out of her tight anus, pressing his glans on her prostrate and slipping a hand under her so he could stroke her cock.

“Oh yesss!” Charlie screamed and ejaculated, her semen spattering on the duvet.

“Oh Charlie I love you!” Robin pulled Charlie’s buttocks into his groin and drove his cock all the way inside her and spent his load.

They both writhed and moaned as they simultaneously orgasmed.

Later, under the covers, Robin naked and Charlie wearing only her torn pantyhose, they cuddled. They had made love again not long after Charlie had bent over for Robin, but this time it had been tender and loving and now they lay spooning, Charlie’s derrière pressed into Robin’s groin.

“I don’t know why I feel so scared and so insecure. You’ll never leave me will you Robin?” Charlie whispered.

“Sometimes I feel like I’m like a stone in your shoe; easily cast aside and forgotten about,” Charlie began to sob quietly.

Robin rolled her over to face him.

“I will never leave you Charlie Ringwald. I love and I will always love you. I’d do anything for you, anything to be with you whatever the consequences. My life’s work is to make you happy,” Robin pulled her close and kissed her.

“I love you too Robin,” Charlie whispered.


Glenda had a friend who worked at the MOT and she cashed in a few favours and got the girl to open the office on Saturday morning and let Glenda search the records.

Glenda was shocked when she found out the Bentley was registered to Walter Middleton, Manager of the Chelmsford branch of Barclays Bank. What was even more incredulous was that she knew that Edward Bard played golf with Walter Middleton almost every Sunday because afterwards Edward would meet with Glenda at a motel near the golf course, telling Alice that he would be home late because he was at the ‘nineteenth hole’ while he was actually filling Glenda’s hole.

Glenda went back to her apartment to find Robin and Ruffe waiting anxiously.

When Glenda told her what she knew they were both as flabbergasted as she was. Ruffe went off to scour the newspapers to find a decent picture of Walter Middleton that they could show to Charlie whilst Robin and Glenda pulled out a road map.

Walter Middleton’s address was a small estate near Fryerning, eight miles southwest of Chelmsford which fit the profile of the person they looking for: middleclass, owns a car, lives and works in or near Chelmsford. It would also explain why the Slasher was so good at what he did. Someone with the meticulous brain of a bank manager would be the perfect type of person to plan and execute the crimes without leaving any clues to his identity.

Ruffe returned with a good quality recent picture of Walter Middleton taken at a charity event and he and Glenda drove to London to show it to Charlie who nearly collapsed when they showed it to her at the salon. Swearing her to secrecy they drove back to Chelmsford with Charlie and made their plans.

Sunday morning with Charlie safe and sound at Samantha’s flat Robin, Glenda and Ruffe set off for Fryerning with all of the requisites they needed to conduct surveillance and conduct a burglary. They had also purloined three of the latest handheld radios, which although limited in range, would be perfect for their task. They tuned the radios to a discrete channel so as not to be intercepted.

Robin took up position in a hedgerow near the Middleton estate where he had a good view of the house. He hid the bag containing his burglary tools under some shrubs and used his binoculars to watch the house. He was wearing clothing typical of the type worn by bird watchers and even had a copy of British Birds in his coat pocket in case he was seen or questioned. This ruse also explained the binoculars around his neck.

After dropping Robin off, Glenda and Ruffe parked in a layby near the driveway entrance where they could see the house and the attached garage. Glenda knew that Edward teed off around seven in the morning to beat the rush at the golf course and also so he could finish the round with enough time to spend most of the afternoon and early evening with her at the motel.

Ruffe’s research revealed that Alice Middleton was a socialite and usually attended some social event or another on Sundays so they crossed their fingers and waited.

Walter left first at six thirty, his Bentley passed Glenda’s car and she and Ruffe were in a lusty embrace as he drove past so that he couldn’t see their faces. They hoped correctly that Walter would take no notice as the laybys in the area were often used for lover’s trysts.

They had a long cold wait until Alice’s Cortina finally emerged from the garage around ten in the morning. Robin watched her through the glasses and it looked like she was dressed to the nines for some social soiree. He just hoped it would take up most of the day.

After Alice drove past them, Glenda radioed Robin to let him know. Then she dropped Ruffe up the road about a mile; which was about all the range that the radios had. He too was dressed for bird watching but his job was to lookout for either Walter or Alice’s car returning from the city end of the road whilst Glenda drove a mile the other way and kept lookout there. When they were both in position, Glenda radioed Robin the all clear and he strode purposely towards the country house like he had every right to be there, determinedly pulling on his latex gloves.

His years on the job had made him very familiar with burglary tools and he was inside the house in a trice.

Robin lowered his tool bag to floor gently and called out.

“Hello? Hello Mister Middleton? Hello Mrs Middleton? Anybody home?”

Robin was sure that neither Walter nor Alice had returned and he hadn't seen anyone else in the house while he watched from the hedgerow but who was to say there wasn't a relative or friend staying over or even worse a large pet dog. They really hadn't had time to plan this perfectly. Robin’s piss poor excuse for being in the house if there was someone there was that he was here to change the locks due to recent break-ins in the area.

The house remained eerily silent and Robin wasted no time. He proceeded upstairs and located the access panel to the attic and the rod used to push the panel aside and snag the catch of the pull-down ladder. He gingerly climbed the ladder and using his torch he found a switch which turned on a bare bulb which dimly lit the attic, exposing old furniture, some rusting shelving on which were stored mouldy cardboard boxes, and two large trunks in the corner. The place was dusty and full of cobwebs; if the Slasher was hiding his prizes up here he was doing a great job.

A half hours’ worth of dirty work produced nothing. Robin was a little disappointed, crooks often kept booty and contraband in the attic but not the Slasher.

Robin worked his way methodically though the second floor rooms, checking for hiding places, false bottoms, false walls, loose skirting, anything that would indicate a hiding place but found nothing. Alice Middleton did have an extensive and exotic collection of sexy lingerie, underwear and hosiery which he found surprising and a little arousing he had to say. There was something intimate about clamouring through a married woman’s unmentionables. But there was no time to waste.

Robin checked in on the radio; nothing to report from either Glenda or Ruffe.

The next obvious place was the garage and Robin soon located the door to the workshop and he picked the lock. It was not unusual for a man to lock his workshop to keep out the kids or even the wife but the Middleton’s had no kids and the lock was expensive and heavy duty. Suspicious perhaps?

“Oh fuck yeah!” Robin exclaimed as soon as entered the workshop.

It screamed subterfuge and secrecy. He doubted that a single tool had ever been lifted in the pristine, meticulously-swept concrete floored room.

Robin opened a large metal locker in the corner and found a collection of coveralls and boots, brand new still in their wrappers and boxes and also six duffle coats hanging from hangers. From his tool bag Robin took the Polaroid Land Camera that Ruffe had given him and took a series of photographs. He carefully closed and locked the locker. The big red toolbox on the bench beckoned and Robin went to it and picked the lock.

He opened the first drawer of the toolbox and stared at it; mesmerised.

He gazed at the eight resealable plastic bags, each of which contained a pair of panties and a single piece of jewellery. He could hardly believe it. He took another series of photos and then it dawned on him. Eight bags of underwear… eight! There were only seven known Slasher victims. There had been another!

When he opened the drawer below it he was astounded. The bundles of cash all of various denominations were almost hypnotising. He guessed that Walter being a Bank Manager had arranged the bundles in equal denomination and counting the first bundle he estimated there was around fifty thousand pounds, give or take a thousand.

He lifted the camera to his eye and was about to take the picture and then hesitated. There were more important things to do and time was running out.

Robin closed and locked the toolbox and took a screwdriver from his tool bag and began to tap on the skirting board. He soon found the hidey hole and the knife. He gingerly removed it photographed it and put it back. He took a series of interior shots and checked that everything was as he found it. He left the workshop and replaced the lock.

He checked in again with Ruffe and Glenda who had nothing to report. He’d been in the house for nearly two hours and was anxious to leave.

Robin walked over to the fence and climbed back into the hedgerow and ran across the field to the road, talking on the radio as he ran. Glenda picked him up and then they drove off to pick up Ruffe.

“Well don’t be a cunt; tell us what you found,” Ruffe said anxiously.

Robin said nothing but took the stack of Polaroid pictures from inside his coat pocket and passed them to Ruffe who worked his way through them taking his time to examine each one.

“Now you’re both being cunts! Tell me what you found!” Glenda slapped the steering wheel.


They went back to Glenda’s flat after picking up Charlie from Samantha's flat and worked on a strategy. As damning as the photographs were they were virtually useless as evidence. They had been obtained illegally. They needed a legitimate reason for CID to request a search warrant and they needed to find someone in CID willing to do so.

It was decided that Ruffe would hit the microfiche at The Daily Sun to see what else he could find out about Walter Middleton, Robin would take the photograph they had of Walter to the Trunk and Brick pub to see if any of the customers recognised him and Glenda would start returning the files they had borrowed so it looked like they were wrapping up the SCI as they had been ordered to do.

They needed time and they prayed that Walter didn’t panic and make a run for it. He had the nous and the resources to go into hiding, possibly overseas, if he suspected the police were onto him.

Walter on the other hand had played golf with Edward Bard who told him, in confidence of course, that the transvestite prostitute who was making a splash in the print media claimed to have seen the Slasher at the Police Ball but that no one believed her and that it was just another ploy by her to get more attention. He was disbanding the Special Crime Investigation team and likely sacking the two officers involved.

Walter was quietly confident and decided he had made the right decision to keep calm and carry on.

Ruffe spent the day analysing microfiche at the Sun, fending off demands from his editor to post another story and assuring the editor that if he was patient Ruffe would deliver him the greatest scoop The Daily Sun had ever printed.

Robin waited patiently at the Trunk and Brick and when the lunchtime crowd came in he showed the picture of Walter Middleton around but no one recognised him. The evening crowd arrived and he showed the picture to the bar staff and the customers but once again drew a blank. He was about to leave when he was approached by a middle-aged man wearing a duster and flatcap.

“I hear you’re showing pictures around looking for someone who might have something to do with Sadie’s murder?” he asked.

“Sure. Why not? Do you recognise this man?” Robin put the picture of Walter Middleton on table and the man picked it up and put on his glasses and stared at it myopically.

“That’s the fucker that was staring at her all night,” the man said stoically.

“Are you sure?” Robin asked sceptically.

“Of course I’m sure. I’m short-sighted not long-sighted. I quite fancied Sadie Smithers myself so when this geezer kept staring at her I was not a happy man, ya ken? There was something about him; he wasn’t quite right. Smart suit, flash car, and he hadn't been here before as far as I know. A right tosser,” the man said vehemently.

Robin took out his notebook and spent nearly an hour interviewing the man.

When they regrouped Ruffe had news.

“Walter Middleton went to live with his uncle and aunt in his teens before he became a boarder at university. Guess why?” Ruffe had a knowing grin on his face.

“Fuck Ruffe just tell us; this isn’t show and tell,” Robin was impatient.

“Because his mother died in a house fire on the very same estate we were at yesterday. The fire was put down to his mother, who was an alcoholic according to Walter, smoking in bed. Walter escaped unharmed,” Ruffe had a self-satisfied grin on his face.

“Mary Middleton, late thirties, red hair and blue-green eyes,” Ruffe slammed down a grainy black and white picture on the table.

“Walter rebuilt the house on the exact spot,” Ruffe continued.

“Jesus! Could it be his mother was the first victim? Was she the unknown eighth woman?” Robin speculated.

“Eew! He raped his victims before he killed them. You don’t think…” Charlie couldn’t finish the sentence.

“Stranger things have happened. I’m no psychiatrist but I’m guessing Mary Middleton was the first flaming girl. Her description and the fact she died in a fire is too much of coincidence. Maybe he has an Oedipus complex which he transfers onto his flaming girls?” Glenda speculated.

“Again… eew!” Charlie screwed up her face.

“I don’t care what complex he has; he’s a murdering bastard and he needs to be put away,” Robin slammed his fist on the table.

“Do we have enough for CID to get a search warrant? Once they get inside the house and find everything in that workshop he’s done for,” Glenda speculated.

“I’m heading down to the Plough to see Mitch Tarry for a drink. He’s on the Slasher Task Force and he’s not averse to using dodgy evidence to get a conviction. In this case I think he will agree that the means justify the ends. Charlie, I want you to stay here with Glenda, I’ll be back as soon as I’m done.”

“Give me those pictures, the newspaper cuttings and the notes from my witness at the Trunk and Brick,” Robin grabbed his coat and headed out.

Mitch Tarry sat a table in a corner of the pub away from the throng at the bar.

“Here he is, Robin Sparrow, tranny fucker,” Mitch arose from the table and grinned at Robin.

Coming from anyone else the insult would have resulted in a punch in the mouth but Mitch Tarry had a sick sense of humour and was one of Robin’s true friends in the service. He had been out socially with Robin and Charlie and had treated Charlie only with respect.

“And there he is, Mitch Tarry, fat fucker,” Robin grinned back.

Mitch Tarry was quite rotund and his days of chasing down villains were long gone.

Robin wasted no time.

“Don’t ask where the pictures came from because I’m not telling,” Robin began and then laid out everything that the SCI had on Walter Middleton.

“You know my Guvnor fucking hates that bastard Edward Bard so he’s going to love locking up his golfing buddy,” Mitch grinned.

“So there is enough there without the photos to get a warrant?” Robin asked.

“We’ll get the warrant. The only thing that is going to piss my Guvnor off is that Edward Bard will know about it before we crash into that mad fucker’s house. The Chief Constable is informed of all warrants involving serious crimes,” Mitch picked up the clippings, the record of interview and the other evidence that Robin had brought.

He pointed to the envelopes full of Polaroids.

“Robin. You’re astute enough to know why I didn't ask where you got those photographs and they are a great help because we’ll know exactly where to go when we enter the bastard’s house but if I were you I’d burn the fuckers,” Mitch finished his pint and stood.

“I’ll see you get some credit for this. Rub that fucker’s nose right in it,” Mitch tapped Robin on the shoulder and strode away; a man with a mission.

Robin went back to Glenda’s flat and appraised the SIC of the situation.

“Glenda, you need to stand by at the Chief Constable’s office, he’s going to hit the roof when that warrant is served. Ruffe, you probably want to write up the story ready to submit to your editor as soon as Walter Middleton is arrested, Glenda you call him as soon as it happens,” Robin paced up and down the room.

“What about me?” Charlie asked?

“You’re coming with me right now. See you all later,” he kissed Glenda on the cheek and shook Ruffe’s hand.

Robin hailed a minicab and had it take Charlie and he to Moulsham. Charlie protested as he half dragged her down a dingy alley used by streetwalkers and drunks, littered with used condoms and broken booze bottles. Robin knocked on a nondescript door and which was answered by a thin handsome man with long hair.

“Hello gorgeous,” John Benstead looked Charlie up and down lasciviously.

“Knock it off John; you know what we we’re here for,” Robin led Charlie inside.

“Of course Detective Sargent Sparrow, I know exactly what you’re here for,” John Benstead held out his hand and Robin slapped a wad of cash in it.

“What are we here for?” Charlie was totally confused.

“Just take a seat here love; in front of the camera,” John invited Charlie over to a wooden stool.


Later that night Walter Middleton took a phone call from a good friend; he listened carefully and hung up the phone.

“Ah well; it’s not like I wasn’t expecting it eventually,” he said to himself and took the key to his workshop out of his pocket.

Later that night Walter sat in the antique Lois XV chair waiting for Alice to return from her theatre group outing. He heard her Cortina pull into the garage and then the click-clack of her heels on the stairs.

“Oh Walter, you waited up for me,” Alice had been drinking.

“Yes I did dear,” he smiled back at her.

“Did you want something? Do you want me to put on my sex clothes; I quite fancy a good shagging,” she giggled.

“Yes we’ll do that after, definitely. But first there is something I need to tell you. It’s a matter of life and death… your life and death actually,” Walter produced his knife and spun it deftly in his fingers.

It glittered evilly in the lamplight.


Several things happened the next day.

First thing in the morning Mitch Tarry and the Essex Slasher Task Force raided Walter Middleton’s estate. Alice Middleton was taken into the kitchen for questioning whilst her husband was forced to hand over his keys and accompany the detectives to his workshop.

They found nothing. The place was spick and span, the drawers in the toolbox, the shelves in the cupboards and lockers were bare. The hidey-hole was empty and Walter denied that he even knew it was there.

“I’ve been meaning to buy some tools and get myself set up for some do-it—yourself, but who has the time?” Walter said smugly.

Despite being grilled by expert interrogators Alice Middleton was unwavering in her alibi for Walter for all of the dates and times of the Essex Slasher crimes. Her vagina was tender, but in nice way. She quite liked the way Walter had held her down fully-clothed and violated her on their marriage bed last night, she just wished he’d not left the knife on the bedside table while he did it, it was a little disconcerting.

Glenda was summoned into Chief Constable Edward Bard’s office and summarily dismissed from her position as chief community support officer and advised that she would be starting the night shift, walking the beat on the streets of Chelmsford forthwith. Her application for CID and promotion recommendation had both been rejected.

She was also advised that the Chief Constable’s office had received Detective Sargent Robin Sparrow’s resignation that very morning.

Ruffe pulled the single sheet of A4 paper on which he had typed his story about helping to catch the Essex Slasher from the typewriter and balled it up and threw it in the bin. He took a bottle of scotch from the bottom drawer of his desk and took a long pull. He picked up the phone and dialled Maggie Reardon’s number in LA.

In 1975 British passports were rather simple affairs, hand-written, with black and white photographs and an embossed stamp from the Foreign Office. Security was a lot more lax in these days and the Customs Offer paid more attention to Charlie’s long legs and short skirt than he did to her passport when he stamped it.

“Here we are luv,” Robin indicated the first class seat on the top deck of Boeing 747.

“I still can’t believe this is happening,” Charlie eased herself into the big seat while Robin put his carry-on bag in the overhead locker.

“Well it is. Just enjoy the flight and I’ll explain it all to you once we get to Bangkok,” Robin sat down beside her and ordered champagne from the attentive hostess whose name badge read Candace Pops.

“Funny name for a hostess,” Charlie commented.

“She’s got great tits though. Now let’s continue the discussion we were having in the taxi about the size of the tits you’re going to get,” Robin grinned.

Charlie punched Robin in the arm playfully and he leaned in and kissed her.


Two months later Walter Middleton was on holiday in Scotland with his wife and was walking the streets of Edinburgh by himself when a young woman with fiery red hair and emerald green eyes caught his attention. He stared at her and she began to flame.

His Bentley was parked not far away at the hotel where Alice was taking afternoon tea and looking forward to Walter returning later in the afternoon to give her a good shagging. Everything Walter needed to attend to the Flaming Girl was in a suitcase in the boot of the Bentley. He stealthfully followed the girl, his erection hidden by his long overcoat.

As he followed the girl he once again considered the events of the last few months. It was a shame that someone had stolen his hard earned cash from toolbox but he could hardly report the crime now could he? Never mind, he was well on his way to building another nest egg.

“Now. Back to the girl,” Walter focussed on the prim young woman with the long legs and the flaming hair.

The End

Author’s note: Well readers; did you like the story? Was the ending to your satisfaction? Please let me know by leaving a comment.

Michele Nylons

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Yes this is me

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Not Fully Satisfying

I liked that Charlie got her man, and Robin's likely better off not being a policeman any longer. I'm not happy that pompous ass Edward Bard didn't get what was coming to him or that the homicidal maniac Walter didn't get stopped.

Still, thanks for sharing. Good series right up to the end.

Another very well written story.

A few comments - the first word of the second paragraph must surely be 'Charlie' not 'Robin' to make sense. It seems 'cbee' hasn't read any of your other stories or she would know that you often chose an unresolved ending and not everyone likes that. The story does have a happy ending in some ways and not in others, although we can hope that Walter will finally get to face justice, since his next crime will take place outside the jurisdiction of his favourite chief constable,
Thanks for posting the picture - you look great. I'm looking forward to your next story.

Actually, I've Read Plenty of Michele's Stories

She asked for the feedback I provided:
Author’s note: Well readers; did you like the story? Was the ending to your satisfaction? Please let me know by leaving a comment.


Hi cbee, if I offended you, I apologise.

No Worries

Not offended. Thanks for the apology.

Take care,

Completely agree with cbee

I completely agree with cbee. Certainly, at least one of the four SCI members could have found a way to permanently stop that sick bastard Walter from continuing his murderous ways.

What a great Michelle

Dee Sylvan's picture

Another Michelle Nylons story! I loved it as I read to the conclusion. I love the way you include the inevitable.


Essex Police Ball

Robertlouis's picture

I attended an Essex Police Ball in the early 90s as a guest. A work colleague and friend was a former DCI with the force. I can confirm the chauvinism, the rubber chicken and general behaviour. The one thing that you missed, Michele, and it was rife, was Masonic membership. I’ve never had so many funny handshakes in one evening in my life. It contributes hugely to the siege mentality and closed shop of the police and blights their ability to function in a modern and more tolerant society to this day.

That said, I thought this was one of your very best stories. The seediness of the late 70s was captured perfectly as was the sexual hypocrisy of every major institution. The fact that the Chief Constable allowed his own prejudice and thwarted desire to come before justice was all too typical of the times. (Birmingham Six), anyone?

Robin’s decision to take the money and run, while cynical, was also aligned to the times, and as for Middleton, why risk a charge of murder against a police force and system you already know to be corrupt and rigged?

I thought the ending was entirely appropriate and in context. Middleton would be caught eventually. The truth might come out but would more probably be covered up to save embarrassment of the establishment. And Robin, Charlie and the others live their lives unchecked.

As I said, great story. It would make a great TV series too.


Good to the very end

The first class airline trip to Bangkok totally slipped by me until the end where missing cash is mentioned. Then the penny dropped and I understood. It was a reasonable ending; happy for 2 of our protagonists, and the other 2 can move on with their lives ok. Thanks for another enjoyable story.

>>> Kay

You Can't Win 'Em All

joannebarbarella's picture

Eventually they will get Walter Middleton, hopefully before he adds to his trophy collection, but playing golf with the Chief Constable meant that this was not the right time.

Our protagonists mostly came out of it safely, only I feel sorry for Glenda and hope she didn't get stuck with walking the beat for too long. Ruffe would have just got on with his life and Charlie and Robin did quite nicely in the circumstances.

I liked this story as I usually do with yours, the sexy bits are a signature of yours that I find amusing. The one thing I had to keep grappling with was the difference in monetary value between the 70s and the present day. I had to keep on reminding myself that 50,000 pounds was a lot of money in those days, when 20 to 30 quid was a week's wages.

I'm still chuckling over the Y-shaped coffin.