Chapter 6
As Flint Stryker was making his remarks, the door opened and Janet Boyington stood there. Stryker stared at her curiously, a longing gleam in his eye. In her simple, white negligee Janet looked extremely girlish and attractive.. .Certainly she did not look very dangerous.
"Miss Boyington," Stryker said, "I shall try not to inconvenience you more than is absolutely necessary."
She nodded without looking up or taking the trouble to see what kind of person the detective might be. Janet did not care who he was. All she knew was that she must undergo another ordeal of painful questioning.
"I am Flint Stryker," explained the detective. "I am here to try to clear up the murder."
"Yes-I know," she said without looking up.
Stryker addressed himself to the others: "I wish to speak with Miss Boyington alone, if you don't mind.. . "
When they were alone, Stryker pointed to a chair.
"Please be seated, Miss Boyington," he said politely.
Janet sat down, and Stryker went to the door to see that it was securely closed. Satisfied that no one could interrupt them, he returned and took a seat near her. After a pause, he said:
"Miss Boyington, I can understand that this affair has been a great shock to you. I needn't tell you I sympathize with you thoroughly, and I don't want to do or ask anything that will distress you. But a murder has been committed, and if I am going to clear up everything and remove the suspicions that have been aroused, I must have the cooperation of everybody In the house-and especially you."
Janet nodded, and she looked at him for the first time.
"Yes, yes," she faltered. "I want to do anything I can."
"Thank you. Where were you born."
"In San Francisco."
"Do you remember your mother at all?"
"No. I don't remember either my father or my mother very well. I was too young when they died."
"There is no one who would inherit this money from your, or have any other reason for wishing you to get it?"
"Oh-no-"
"Are you now engaged to be married?"
"No. Mr. Thomas wanted Fred to marry me; but we couldn't-we, we were like brother and sister.. . . "
"Then you have no reasons for suspecting any one?"
"Oh no-no!" And her voice broke. She struggled to control her emotion, but only partially succeeded. Stryker saw the rise and fall of her tits and wanted to reach out and fondle them. A voice deep inside whispered, "This one is good fucking," and he agreed wholeheartedly. I must get into that cunt, he thought, and was already imagining how it would feel to thrust his cock into her.
"Sorry," she said, somewhat calmer. "I haven't been like this before. I haven't talked about it to anyone-I couldn't. I've tried to keep from reading the papers-but I had to. I read them all, and they've been getting worse about me every day, until it seems as if the whole city-How is it possible that they can intimate such horrible things?" Looking up at him fearfully, she asked: "Shall I have to go through a trial?"
He smiled reassuringly. "Not if we can prevent it"
She smiled gratefully, and from that moment it seemed to her that a bond of sympathy and friendship had been established between them. This man, this stranger, spoke kindly and promised to protect her. Her fear of her interrogator vanished; she wondered if all detectives were so good-looking and had such an amiable smile. She drew her thighs close together, responding to a glow of warmth rising in her crotch. She caught herself wondering what it would be like to fuck him, and how big his prick was.. .
"Tell me," he said, "you went to your room early that night-about nine-thirty?"
"Yes." (I wonder how long his shaft is?)
"You heard Fred Thomas leave the house?"
"Yes." (What if I told him he turned me on? Would he do anything?)
"You saw him go?"
Janet reached for the question, hesitated, then said: "Yes, I saw him go."(Better pay attention.) "You were looking down from the upper hall?" Janet started violently and looked at him in blank astonishment.
"Yes," she stammered.
Stryker was silent for a few moments. Then, suddenly, he demanded:
"Why couldn't Fred have stayed there that night instead of going away in bad weather like that?"
"Why, it didn't begin to rain until long after midnight," she replied, involuntarily, not realizing the importance of her answer.
"Then you heard it rain?" he asked quickly.
"Oh-yes-yes," she stammered, with some confusion.
Stryker stood looking at her in silence. All at once she turned, and her eyes encountered his steady gaze.
"Miss Boyington," he said, "I can't help you unless you trust me. What woke you up?"
Janet did not answer for a moment. Finally, with reluctance, she faltered: "I heard a door close."
"Yes?"
"It seemed later than it really was, and I was a little alarmed. I got up and opened my door."
"You heard voices."
"Yes."
"Mr. Thomas's."
"Yes."
"Did you know who was with -him?. . .Answer me!" Again she was silent. Then, as he repeated the question, she cried:
"No-no-I don't know!"
Rising quickly, Janet went over to the window and stood gazing into the street, her face averted. He followed her. He looked steadily at her, trying to read in her face what was passing in her mind.
"You thought Fred and his father were quarreling-is that it?"
She turned round to face him, apprehension showing in her eyes.
"I may have thought so, but afterward-when I knew what had happened-I knew it couldn't have been Fred."
"Did you hear anyone go away."
"I heard the door bang. But I didn't go down.. . "
"You heard nothing more?"
She shook her head and answered sadly: "The rain kept me awake for a long time."
Stryker was about to ask another question when suddenly Bill entered the room with several papers in his hands. Closing the door carefully behind him, Bill advanced toward Stryker.
"I got them all," Bill said, handing over the prints. Then he looked at Janet and said, "All but.. . "
"Yes, I know," Stryker said quickly. "I'll take care of that in a moment." He turned again to Janet. "Miss Boyington, did you know that you were to be Mr. Thomas's sole heir under the will?"
Janet started as she heard the question, and a faint flush spread over her face. But she turned boldly to him and replied:
"Yes."
"Did you know that Mr. Thomas contemplated re-changing his will a few hours before his death?"
Again she met his steady gaze as she replied, firmly:
"Yes-I had been urging him to do it."
"Thank you," he said, smiling. "That will be all, I think." Then, as if changing the subject, he took up the fingerprint impressions and added, carelessly: "We have here the fingerprints of all the women who were in the house that night except yours, and we'd like yours."
"What do I do?" she asked, with a timid smile.
He explained the process as Bill prepared a card and the ink-pad. Janet made the prints as directed and when it was finished, Stryker showed the prints to her.
"Oh!" she exclaimed, rather apprehensively. "It's so gruesome! Can I go now?"
"Yes. That's all for the present. Thank you."
He bowed politely as she left the room. Then he and Bill quickly compared the table fingerprints with Janet's.
"No, not hers," Stryker said, with obvious relief.
Bill stared. Here they were breaking their heads trying to match prints to the table impression, and Stryker actually seemed pleased when they didn't match.
None of the women they had in view had made the finger impressions lifted from the table.
Stryker said: "Bill, the woman who was in the room that night came from the outside. We've got to find her, wherever she is."
Bill threw up his hands in despair.
"Maybe the police can find her."
They exchanged looks as the sound of voices was heard outside. Footsteps were approaching. Stryker went quickly to the door. As he passed, he said to Bill:
"When I leave the room, come with me. I want to get Knapp out of the way."
Opening the door and thrusting his head into the hall, Stryker called out "You may all come in now."
Floyd Knapp tried to impress people with a manly bearing, and to some degree, as a lawyer, he succeeded. But when the world crowded in upon him, which frequently happened, his nature being what it was, he sought solace from the strength of Cleo Burgess-a woman who knew exactly what he needed and how to give it to him.
When Floyd learned that Flint Stryker had been hired to investigate the Thomas murder, he lost some of his manly confidence and hurried over to the East River, on 81st street, where Cleo Burgess lived in a two-story stone building she had purchased with her earnings as a prostitute.
But she was no longer a prostitute. Actually, Cleo despised men. She had always despised men, even when they were paying high prices for her sexual favors.
They still paid high prices for her favors, but they no longer stuck their cocks in her cunt And she liked her new profession much better.. .it gave her kick, and at last she could enjoy an orgasm and find relief from her tensions of hatred. Floyd Knapp was one of many customers that came to her, though perhaps she got a larger thrill administering to his needs-She was not surprised to see him, even though he was not expected that day and had come without making a previous appointment When he arrived, Cleo ushered him directly to the basement of the building, which she had converted in a play room.
But it was not an ordinary play room, this basement of Cleo's. In it were all the instruments of torture devised by the mind of perverted man. For this reason the walls had been soundproofed, and a double-thick carpet spread upon the floor, reaching from wall to wall.
Floyd was surprised to find another woman in the play room. He had not counted on anyone else being there. He eyed the woman apprehensively and with suspicion. Then he looked at Cleo and said:
"Oh, look here now.. .I didn't know anyone else would be here. You didn't tell me.. . "
Cleo glared at him. He seemed to cower beneath her sharp gaze, as if he expected a blow of some kind.
"I was not aware that I was obliged to inform you of anything," Cleo said, a rough edge to her voice. "This is Mildred Collins, a very dear friend of mine. I invited my friend to witness our little party today, so she could see the sort of low-down cur you are, Floyd. You are a low-down cur, aren't you, Floyd?"
"Yes-yes" Floyd answered, as if anxious to confirm her statement
Cleo turned to Mildred and smiled.
"Mildred darling, you make yourself comfortable in that chair in the corner. I will put this worm quickly through his paces and send him along his slimey way.. . "
Mildred crossed the room to the indicated chair and seated herself. Her lips curled slightly as she looked at Floyd Knapp, but there was a shine to her eyes.
Cleo ordered Floyd to strip himself naked. When he hesitated, she struck him a blow across the face with the back of her hand.
"Do as you're told, you lousy shit-ass!"
Floyd cowered and wet his lips with his tongue. But he began to quickly remove his garments.
"That's better!" Cleo snapped at him. Then she walked to a dresser and opened the top drawer. She withdrew one single, large size, silk nightgown. This she tossed to the floor in front of Floyd Knapp, who stared at it with fear in his eyes.
Cleo removed the robe she was wearing and let it drop to the floor. Naked now, she reached up and took a long, black instrument from its place on the wall; it resembled a riding quirt, though it was much longer. Then she crossed to a hard, leather covered bench and sat down. Placing the leather whip beside her, she proceeded to put on a pair of knee-high, black patent-leather boots. When the boots were on, she again took up the whip and crossed to where Floyd Knapp stood waiting, his naked body shivering. She stood in front of him, whip firmly in hand, gazing on his pudgy frame with fierce eyes.
Floyd Knapp stared at her tall, supple body through eyes that glistened with passion and joy. He looked at Cleo, devoured her voraciously, his hands twitching and grappling with his underwear. Then his eyes lowered to the crumpled gown that lay on the floor between them.
"Oh, my-my-"he stammered. "Is that-that-mine?"
Cleo placed one hand on her naked hip arrogantly and threw her shoulders back. This movement caused her tits to jut out and her hips to swing forward. Thus the silken-like clump of trimmed pubis stood prominently forth in the lawyer's field of vision.
"Don't be such a sniffling swine," she snarled at him. "I haven't all day to waste on garbage like you. Put it on and be damn quick about it!"
Floyd scrambled to the floor and swooped up the gown.
"Oh, dear, dear, you sound so firm, so-so commanding," he stuttered, picking up the gown and slipping it over his head.
Cleo watched scornfully as his hands nervously slipped the light fabric over his body and pull it tight. When he had finished, the hem hung barely below his knees. Cleo's features had become a feline, spitting mask of contempt. Her eyes radiated hatred for the creature before her, and more. The look had in it a hatred for all men.
"I'll show you how firm I am, you contemptible pig," she said, swacking the whip loudly against her leather boot. Floyd shivered and trembled in what seemed to be great fear.
"I know you are firm," he said, voice shaking. "You're so strong and firm I'll bet men come running and begging to lick the juices right out of your gorgeous.. . "
"Shut your filthy mouth, pig!" Cleo shouted in a rage. She raised the whip as if to strike him across the face.
Floyd cried out and dropped to his knees before her and began immediately to blubber:
"Yes, I'm a pig-a dirty swine. I'm a filthy little man, I know it. I'm dirt-a low-down degenerate, a filthy beast! I deserve to be punished, beaten.. .Beat me, beat me!"
"Lick my boots, pig!"
Floyd went down on his hands and knees and then, fawning and doglike, he lapped at the shiny, pointed toes of the boots.. .
"Higher, pig!" she commanded. "Lick my knees!"
Floyd journeyed upward, running his tongue along the sides of the boots, till he reached her knees. He lapped them hungrily, moving from one to the other.
Without warning, Cleo brought the whip down on his back. Thwant! Floyd's eyes closed and he shuddered.
"Oh dear, oh yes!" he moaned.
Thwank! Thwank! Thwank! sang the whip, as Cleo brought it down upon his back in rapid strokes.
Floyd moaned louder-eyes closed, face revealing an expression of utter ecstasy. One of his hands suddenly buried itself in the grotto of his crotch. "Oh, oh, oh!" he whimpered.
Cleo moved away from him and sat down on the hard bench. She leaned back, supporting herself on forearms and elbows; she spread her legs wide, the firm white flesh rising smoothly out of the boot tops and ending in the soft clump of silken hair that covered her cunt, the lips of which were now plainly visible.
"Crawl over here and lick my legs, pig!" Cleo hissed at Knapp.
With a series of grunts Floyd crawled toward her. His tongue dabbled and lapped at the delicate pale skin of her inner thighs, moving dramatically up until it found the dimpled recesses on either side of the cunt. Here he paused, waiting, and Cleo again raised the whip. She lashed down hard, several times in quick succession.
Thin red welts showed up, crosshatched, on Floyd's buttocks and back. He almost collapsed, but Cleo cursed him mercilessly.
"Swine! Filthy dog! You're lower than a bucket of cow shit. Eat my cunt, you mangy cur!"
She threw her shoulders back again, thrusting her tits up; the nipples were hard and erect. Down below Floyd buried his face between her thighs, and she was grinding her cunt onto his mouth.
Mildred, across the room, watching, hardly aware of what she was doing, had been masturbating for several minutes. She swooned into a sudden self-produced orgasm as she heard Cleo command Floyd to, "Make me come, you dirty bastard!"
As her spasms subsided, Mildred heard loud gasps and curses coming from across the room. She gazed hazily across the distance. Cleo was flat on her back, rolling her head from side to side; her mouth was open, her eyes closed, and she was undulating her hips and grinding her cunt furiously onto Floyd's mouth. Her body was contorting from head to feet, rocking and twitching in the throes of orgasmic joy. Floyd was lapping and burling in her cunt and jerking himself off at the same time. He suddenly slumped and Mildred knew he had emptied himself on the floor.
Cleo lay perfectly still except the rise and fall of her breathing. She opened her eyes and stared vacantly at the ceiling for a moment. Then, bringing her eyes into focus, she looked across at Mildred and smiled.
"The filthy swine isn't too bad, once he gets going," she said.
"Apparently," Mildred replied, face still flushed and warm from her own orgasm.
Floyd Knapp got to his feet and grinned, his lips all wet and shiny.
"Thanks, Cleo," he said. "I'll see you again, and soon."
"Phone first, pig," she said, dismissing him with a wave. "Now take your piggish ass out of here. Mildred and I have things to talk over. You know the way out."
Floyd scooped up his clothes and made for the door. He would dress in one of the rooms upstairs. As he was going up the stairs, he heard Cleo saying to her friend:
"I'm glad you came over today, Mildred. I've got a brand new dildo, and it's a dilly. I've been wanting to try it out.. . "
Floyd was tempted to stay and watch, and he would have done so were it not for Flint Stryker: he couldn't afford to not be on hand in case the detective turned up some evidence that might identify the murderer. After all, Matthew Thomas had been his wealthiest client.. . .