The Atlas Murders by John Molloy Page B

she controlled the pace of movement until she could no longer hold
back the flood as they both fell over the chasm, Henry giving her a hard smack
on the bottom as she screamed enough to arouse the neighbors. They lay
exhausted together for some minutes before she sat up straight. Still coupled
she smiled.
    "That was wonderful, for
me, how about you?"
     "Absolutely fantastic!
I hope you didn't mind me spanking you as you were climaxing?"
    "Actually, it was the
first time anyone has ever done that to me and I always wanted to be smacked
hard. It increased my pleasure tenfold. It was the greatest sex I have ever had
in my life."
    Switching off the lounge
lights, they moved to the large four poster bed, Henry drew her into himself
and nuzzled her, his hands moved along her back and he could feel her silky
flesh begin to quiver. Now their love-making was leisurely and more intense. After
they were both thoroughly sated, their bodies still entwined, they fell asleep,
intoxicated with the lust and rose scented linen.
    Henry awoke from a deep,
dreamless sleep. The sun was peeping through the heavy royal blue curtains. He
was surprised to find himself alone. It was nearly eight o’clock.
    He found a note from Vera’s left
on the kitchen table.
     
    “Dearest Henry,
    I apologize for not being
there to get your breakfast. Feel free to help yourself to whatever food you
fancy .When you are ready, please let yourself out and put the key through the
letterbox.
    Love,
    Vera”
    Henry savored the unique
taste of the fragrant Java coffee beans and crunched buttered toast liberally
spread with delicious home-made marmalade. He thought about young Oswyn Welland
and scolded himself for not questioning Vera more thoroughly. He was sure she
would have had more information. But of course nature took over. He smiled as
the wonderful memories swam him around, buoyant in a warm sea of relative
contentment.

     He walked through the
beautiful Hyde Park back to his lodgings. He was in time to share a cup of tea
and some well-trodden gossip with the rotund landlady.
    She skirted and skimmed
around his nocturnal absence but made quite clear the vacant room was
chargeable. He spent the morning in his room wandering the world, marking in
the voyage of the S.S.Rangoon in his atlas; he drew a line from one port to
another and noted the dates and how long her stay in each was. He was surprised
to see that she spent up to two weeks in some places, probably discharging and
then loading. Good grief, he thought, is it possible I could be in some of
those countries in the very near future - a working adventure. His thoughts
turned to young Oswyn Welland. Vera must feel very resentful, but would she
deliberately try to vent her anger and disappointment with the father and
mother on the son? He would talk to her again when he had more information from
Vincent about the case. The full truth would probably never emerge - these country
estates held more concealed secrets than the Vatican.

 
     
    Chapter Nine
     
    At one o’clock the next day,
unannounced, Henry popped into the shipping office and took Vera to lunch in a
nearby restaurant.
    After they had eaten she
continued the story of Oswyn and Alice.
    “Alice Whittle had just
turned nineteen when she met her untimely death. For four generations her family had
worked at Thurrock Hall. They lived in a cottage on the estate for which they
paid very little rent. All in all, the estate families enjoyed a decent and
happy existence. Alice Whittle's mother gave birth out of wedlock. Whisper, rumor,
and innuendo were rife among the staff in the great house, but not a word was
spoken outside these confines. The father of the baby was Lord Percy himself.
It would appear that even the attentions of the French tart weren’t enough to
satisfy his lust!
    Alice grew up a beautiful and
somewhat privileged young girl, spending much of her time at Thurrock Hall with
her mother. She took up full time employ at age seventeen as