Angels Bleed (Fallen Angels Book 1) (7 page)

Saul paused for a moment, taking in the images, obviously upset by the last picture. ‘So, there was no evidence at all to suggest that Madame Evangeline was real?’ he said, rhetorically.

‘None.  In fact, while most of her recollections of Madame Evangeline have at least a basis in fact, her story about the night Michael died seems to be almost totally fictitious.  We feel that is also part of the trauma during her last hours before killing him.’ 

Saul was about to speak just as the phone rang.  Dr Ennis picked it up.  ‘Hello.  Ah Celia.  You have him, great.  Can you put him through please?’ he said, putting his hand over the receiver and addressing Saul. ‘Dr Hanlon is in.’

‘Hi Ben, its Gordon, Gordon Ennis.  Sorry it’s so early. Wanted to have a quick chat about Rebecca Angus if you have five minutes.’ he began, listening for a second.  ‘Oh, sorry, bloody receptionists!’ he exclaimed, skin suddenly reddening under his collar again.  ‘I was after Benjamin Hanlon, he’s looking after a patient we transferred down there two weeks ago.  Is he in do you know?’ he asked, vehemently jotting down Celia’s name on a pad in front of him, underlining and overwriting it harshly, over and over as he continued on the phone.

‘No, he’s an Irish fellow, in his sixties.  Enjoys his single malts.’ he paused as the person on the other end talked, face reddening continually, and the ferocity with which he was overwriting on the pad breaking through pages.  ‘Of course there is someone with that description working there.  Is this some sort of joke!  I have been dealing with Benjamin Hanlon for three months now.  He is an Irish gentlemen.  Three weeks ago a court order was issued in his name to transfer Rebecca Angus into his care.  Two weeks ago we transferred her.’ he shouted, standing up as he did so, listening to the reply.

‘You can assure me as much as you want, Sir.  I know there is another Dr Hanlon.  I have e-mails, I have correspondence and I have been ringing him at your bloody hospital.  Now I don’t know what game you are trying to play, but….’ he paused.  ‘Hello, hello.  He hung up, the bastard hung up.’ he stabbed zero on the phone.  ‘Celia, get me Broadmoor again, and make sure it’s the right fucking Dr Hanlon this time.’ he finished.

The colour started to drain from his angry features, his expression one of astonishment as he looked at Saul.  ‘That was Dr Hanlon.  Not the Dr Hanlon I have been dealing with.  But the only Dr Hanlon at Broadmoor.  He is adamant about that.  He is also adamant that there isn’t a Rebecca Angus under their care.  They have no record of her at all.’

6:02 am

Dr Hanlon came back into the cell, an empty bucket in one hand, a cup of steaming tea in the other. 

‘You’ve been gone a while, I thought you just went for a pee?’  Rebecca asked rather curtly.

Dr Hanlon smiled at her as he positioned the clean bucket back under the seat from where he had removed it earlier.  ‘Rebecca my dear girl, you aren’t the only patient I have to look after.  Would that you were, life would be so much simpler.  Now, I am going to take your head restraints off so that you can have a decent cup of tea without drinking through a straw.  I am trusting you, so don’t let me down.’ 

He expertly loosened the buckles on the straps with one hand.  Rebecca let her head sag forward and then circled it around her neck, revelling in the release, her eyes rolling with the simple pleasure of the movement.  ‘That feels good.’ she said as Dr Hanlon raised the cup to her lips and she took a few sips.  ‘That feels even better.  I haven’t had a cup of tea for…god I can’t even remember how long.  I can remember plenty of times tea being drank around me, when they were on their breaks.’

Dr Hanlon let her have a few more sips, then sat back down in his seat with a gentle groan as his knee bones cracked while bending.  ‘Tell me, was Dr Ennis ever involved in these break time sessions?’

‘Oh yes, he was always involved.  Perhaps not in the way you are thinking though.  It was only ever six of the orderlies and eight of the guards that played with me.  The women were the worst.  By that I mean they were the more aggressive.  The men were just trying to get me off, or get themselves off.  I seemed to be some kind of challenge to the women, an affront to their femininity, an aberration they had to punish.  Either that or they just got off on the violence of the action rather than the sex.  No, Dr Ennis never touched me.  He only ever watched.  I would see him, his features framed in the oblong observation orifice of the door to my cell.  I knew that look on his face.  I had lived his voyeuristic eyes devouring every last morsel of the depravity that was being exacted in front of him.  The frenetic vacillation of his face told me he was masturbating.’ she said, calmly.

He leaned over, offering the tea again, shaking his head disconsolately.  ‘How can you be so calm about that Rebecca? It is abuse, plain and simple abuse.  Regardless of the fact he never touched you, he was aware and involved in the act.’

‘Perhaps. Don’t confuse the legality with the morality of the act.  They are very different.  What you would consider to be morally reprehensible is not necessarily illegal.’

‘I am very clear on the legality of what you are telling me, Rebecca.  It’s encouraging to see you raising the philosophical question.  In this instance it is illegal.  As much as you feel complicit in not discouraging them, as much as you have an empathy with Dr Ennis’s voyeurism, as much as your sexual preferences may not be morally acceptable to some, you were allowed to be systematically sexually abused by fourteen people by a man who was charged by the state to look after your welfare, to protect and nurse your fragile mind. A mind I may add, that is showing me an exceptional level of self-awareness.’  He gave her another sip of the tea.  ‘Tell me about Madame Evangeline?’ he asked.

She smiled a crooked smile, a wicked glint in her piercing eyes. ‘Well, now you
are
talking morally questionable.  Hannah was the only lover I ever had.  When I killed her, I promised myself that I would devote my life to bringing Michael up.  And I did.  Until he left home and went to University, I never had another lover, I never had a single sexual encounter and never even masturbated, not once in all that time.  My focus was Michael, my life was Michael.  When he left I felt utterly lost.  Oh, I talked to him most days and he came home at least twice a month, mainly for me to do his washing.  But he had his own life, his own interests and his own friends and didn’t need his mollycoddling mum any more.  I was alone.  I was lonely. I didn’t have a Scooby about relationships.  There had only ever been Hannah.  How sad is that.  In my forties and not a clue how to date.’

‘One of the girls from work was getting married and she invited me out on her hen night.  I know she was expecting me to say no.  I had every time anyone else asked me.  This time I said yes.  I had to get out there somehow and at least try to find some friendship, even if it was just with my work colleagues.’

‘I fussed for weeks building myself up for that night.  I bought and changed twenty six dresses before settling on the one I wore, a simple black A-Line, very short on the leg, but elegant.  I had my hair straightened and my nails done.  You might not believe it now but I used to be pretty.  There were thirteen of us including the Hen and we initially went for a meal on the deck of the Cruz Bar, a boat on the river right in the centre of Leith, next to the Customs House.  It was a great venue, good food, lots of smutty girlie talk and an ideal opportunity to people watch Leith life.  I was nervous and very reticent in the early conversations, but after a few Jager Bombs, I loosened up a little, watching and talking to the girls more than people watching.’

‘It was around ten when Sammie, the Maid Of Honour, announced that we were ready to head off to the next venue.  She wouldn’t tell us where that was.  We all had to put on blindfolds.  A slight chill of excitement, of anticipation ran down my spine as I put mine on.  She then led us in a slightly drunken conga out down Bernard Street.    We sang all the way, passing numerous pubs and clubs, being cheered on by the night time revellers, some of whom copped a sneaky feel or fondle, which was tantalising.  After about ten minutes we arrived at our destination and Sammie led us, still blindfolded, into the venue.  The crisp evening air outside immediately changed to a warm, close atmosphere, sudden aromas of musk and pot invading my senses, the gentle, disjointed confusion of light Jazz entering my ears.’

‘’Right Girls.’ Sammie said, ‘After three, take your blindfolds off:  One, two, three!’ she announced.  We took them off and girlie shrieks, some of excitement and some of shock rang out above the ambient jazz, as we took in the room.  It was dimly lit, with small booths around the walls, cigarette and pot fumes adding to the haze.  We were in one of the booths, looking out into the room where there were tables in front of a stage.  On the stage were two very voluptuous blondes, totally naked, pole dancing for the women seated at the tables.  In the booths that were occupied, we could see lap dances going on with the women sitting in them.  In one corner, a quartet of beautiful women, dressed in spats, white cuffs and collars, hair sleeked back, moustaches drawn on their lips, but naked otherwise were the source of the music.’

‘’Welcome to Labia’s ladies, Leith’s only lesbian lap dancing establishment.  My name is Destiny and I am your hostess for the evening.  Our desire is to see your desire fulfilled.  What can I get you to drink before the entertainment starts?’ asked Destiny, a very tall, very buxom brunette in a long white evening dress, split from the waist down on either side, her slim, tanned legs visible.  She was stunning and I have to admit, my heart began to palpitate at the sight of her and of the other beautiful women in the room.  Feelings, emotions that had been dormant for such a long time, since before Hannah died, started to nip at me, reminding me that as much as my mind had put me on the shelf, my libido hadn’t!’

‘It was strange watching the reactions of the girls as our ‘entertainment’ started.  As far as I knew they were all heterosexual and they all knew I was gay.  No one walked out in disgust, and everyone took it in the manner it was meant, a Hen Party Experience, but I could tell in the expressions of one or two that this was a bit more than fun.  I could see the sexual chemistry simmering in their eyes, could empathise because I was feeling it too.  Destiny was our ‘entertainment’ and for the next hour she danced for us, slowly and seductively stripping as she did, ensuring that she spent more time with the Hen, but paying attention to everyone.  She was never overbearing, and would always ask, ‘Would you like to….’ before the girls interacted with her.  A few needed encouragement, but with the drink and the pot that started to be freely smoked, eventually everyone at some point had Destiny in their hands, stroking her thighs, squeezing her tight buttocks, gently caressing her breasts, some even tweaking her nipples.  It was honestly a giggle and I don’t mind admitting to being seriously aroused.’ 

‘Was that a pun in there Rebecca?’ asked Dr Hanlon.

Rebecca laughed, ‘Oh Doc, I am glad it’s not mine.  It’s what Destiny would say throughout the evening as one or another of us was touching her.  My eyes were wandering the room, people watching during Destiny’s dances, and I couldn’t help noticing that some of the ‘entertainment’ would take individual ladies away to a side entrance.  Occasionally the odd single woman would go through the entrance too.  Intrigued, I went to see what was going on under the premise of going for a wee.  As I approached the entrance, which was draped in a black curtain with diamante sparkling from it in the dim light, another stunning hostess on the door smiled at me and asked, ‘Would Madame like to watch?  We have some free spaces.’  Not really knowing what she meant, I nodded, and she directed me to bay number six, which was highlighted by a subdued light in the gloomy corridor beyond the entrance, as were a row of numbers, up to twenty.  I thanked her and made my way down towards number six.  The Jazz began to fade as I walked down the corridor, to be replaced by subdued moans and groans.  I reached number six and went through another black diamante curtain, behind which was a small purple velour chaise lounge, edged with brass buttons, facing a black wall with a window in it which was eye height to the sofa.  It was even gloomier in the confined space and it took a second or two for my eyes to become accustomed to the dark and make out what was through the window as I sat down.’

‘There was a small room, the flicker of candles chasing shadow ghosts up the deep red walls.  The whole floor space was taken up by a large bed which was festooned with pillows, cushions and throws.  In amongst them I could see the gently writhing limbs of two women, totally naked, making love.  One was on her back, her legs spread wide while the second was between her thighs, head right up to her shaven mound, tongue quickly flicking over her clitoris which was exposed and hard.  She stopped for a second and both of them looked toward me and smiled, mouthing the word ‘Enjoy’ simultaneously before the second woman went back down on her lover.  Every single part of me was alight at this point, my body tingling with the eroticism I felt watching two beautiful women in front of me pleasuring each other.  I started to touch myself as I devoured their lovemaking, stroking fingers over my breasts through my dress, snaking striations down my stomach, to my own point of pleasure, which was aching with the desire to be touched, to be stroked, to be caressed.  I did just that as I watched them, sliding a finger inside my panties, down over my mound to my slightly parted lips which were moist with my excitement.  I slid the end of my finger inside, taking a little of the juice, taking it back towards my clitoris which I gently started to massage while being a voyeur, pleasuring myself while watching those two beautiful women pleasure themselves.’

She had a wistful look in her eyes for a second as she went quiet, before looking at Dr Hanlon again.  ‘Morally, some may find that unacceptable, but to me, then, it was exquisite, enticing, exciting.  It was the start of a journey.  A journey that led me to damnation.’