Fiction: Written in Blood Part One
Oct. 28th, 2010 05:44 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kethniName: Written in Blood: Part One
Pairing: Matt/Adam, Matt/Eden, Matt/Mohinder
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: OOC, Character Death, Violence, Scenes of a Sexual Nature, Drug Use.
Word Count: 11350
Authors Note: With thanks to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
leadaisy and dragon6593 for the story ideas and boudecia7 as always for the awesome beta. All mistakes remain my own damn fault.
In the light of the sickly moon blood gleams black. A pool of the glistening liquid is spreading across the kitchen floor, ruining the checkerboard effect. The white squares are bleached almost grey in the ailing light. It isn’t a real kitchen. No food has ever been cooked in the oven or served on the heavy oak table. It’s nothing but a set, a play area, it isn’t real. But the blood drying on the floor is real. The body is real. The flesh is all bare and cold. Nothing remains but meat, bone, and blood. The eyes are blank, devoid of any spark. The cold, blue lips are parted to show the lolling offal of the tongue. The gaping wound that severed the throat is clotted with glutinous blood. The long, strong legs are spread as wide in death as they were so often in life. The heels have marked the floor where they danced a final, frenzied tarantella. A death rattle. A spasm. Some final desperate gasp at life.
This is the fourth. The fourth found butchered and left to share the secret: you may be young, you may be beautiful, you may laugh and sneer at me, but you will bleed. You bleed as well and as quickly as anyone else. Who will want you then? When your body is nothing but dead meat who will think you are better than you are. When you are dead, when you have been caught and slaughtered like a squealing pig, who will care who you were?
Five Years Later
The motor launch chugs through the bright blue water, sending up a fine spray that twinkles merrily in the bright sunlight. Matt Parkman tastes the salt in the air and smiles. Open air and endless skies do him more than pills and therapy... he clamps down on the thought. Not helpful. Not positive. Don’t fall into old ways of thinking, you know where that goes.
Maybe the whole thing was a mistake. P’raps he should’ve gone some other away. But he doesn’t have much besides this, and anyway, he has to face this or be a coward.
‘I know you, right?’ alleges the pretty, vacant looking young man sitting opposite Matt. He has big brown eyes and a lick of hair across his face.
‘I don’t think so,’ Matt says with practiced politeness.
‘Were you here last time? Maybe I saw you on the news?’
‘Not me,’ Matt insists. Not here. This wasn’t where it went so terribly wrong.
The harbour is full of boats and launches as the first guests in five years arrive bubbling with the second hand delight of voyeurism and the first hand pleasure of anticipated lusts.
On the dock, out of place among the holidaymakers and the sailors, a small, dapper, bald and be-suited man is waiting with a sign that reads, “Matt Parkman.” Matt frowns as he picks up his luggage and climbs up onto the dock.
‘I’m Matt Parkman.’
The sign disappears, neatly folded away into a pocket, and the man gives a small polite smile that disappears like a shutter coming down.
‘Good afternoon Mister Parkman, I’m Professor Chandra Suresh. Welcome to the resort.’
‘Uh, I’ll be honest with you... Professor this is the first time I’ve ever been welcomed somewhere I was planning to write about.’
Chandra raises an eyebrow and shrugs. ‘It was inevitable that reopening would attract professional ghouls along with the amateurs. You do at least have a reputation as being unbiased and accurate. To that end it seems advisable for us to... “play nice” is the phrase I believe. We have nothing to hide.’
‘This is a unique approach,’ Matt admits. ‘And that’s not a complaint by any means.’
‘I’d be misleading you if I didn’t tell you it was my son’s idea,’ Chandra says dryly. ‘Might I give you a lift to the main complex? I believe you have accommodations booked nearby and I’m sure after the boat trip you’re ready for some refreshments.’
Matt’s come to expect defensiveness and secretiveness when he’s writing about an unsolved crime. He’s used to being treated like the enemy by people who couldn’t spot their real enemy, police believing his presence implies he thinks he could do better, and by petty bureaucrats who think he’s going to ruin tourism or stir up problems. Being welcomed is odd enough to knock him off balance. In a way he’d be less disturbed if the man had been completely open and welcoming because he wouldn’t believe it. But this pragmatic and wary politeness, that’s believable and therefore confusing.
‘People know I’m here,’ Matt points out as he follows Chandra over to the small car park. ‘Just FYI.’
Chandra barks a laugh and unlocks his car. ‘Regrettably, given the amount of money we’ve spent getting ready to reopen the resort we can’t afford to lose publicity, even the notoriety attending the murders.’
‘Were you in charge then?’
‘Yes, I’m a geneticist by trade but I inherited the resort. For a number of years the resort had a manager but with the economic downturn that wasn’t viable.’ Chandra gets inside the car and pulls on his seatbelt.
‘That’s an interesting learning curve,’ Matt says, sitting in the car and buckling up. ‘Had you been in charge long when the first murder happened?’
Chandra raises an eyebrow. ‘I would’ve thought that information was in the public domain.’
‘Eighty percent of facts on the internet are untrue,’ Matt says. ‘Number one way for a writer to be debunked is to rely on the internet for research.’
‘Ha!’ Chandra barks a laugh. ‘I’m aware of that. Any scientist who relied on the internet for research would find himself a pariah very quickly.’
‘I’ve been to a number of resorts and I have to say that you’re not the usual type of resort manager I meet,’ Matt says thoughtfully.
‘Frankly, I find the whole thing distasteful,’ Chandra says as he parks the car behind a large and brashly decorated building. ‘I am a prude and I won’t apologise for it.’
Matt smiles as he glances around; most of the resort guests he can see are clearly starting to relax, they’re all still dressed although trousers are being worn very tight and necklines are plunging while hemlines are soaring.
‘Then why run a place like this?’ he asks. ‘It’s a beautiful island; you could’ve turned it into a regular holiday resort. There are others nearby.’
‘There’s no money in it,’ Chandra says shortly. ‘There are four other island resorts within twelve miles, all of them with better facilities. We have a niche, tasteless as it is, and up until the murders we were doing quite well.’
Matt follows him into the building through an office inhabited by a perky blonde, and back into what is clearly the family accommodations.
‘Tea or coffee?’ Chandra asks.
‘A coffee would be great, thanks,’ Matt says nicely.
Chandra marches away, out of a different door, leaving Matt to nose about the desk and bookcase. There are draft posters, mostly featuring naked young men and women in various states of bondage. The tone is uncertainly caught between arousal and fear, and the lettering invites the reader to the “Bondage Ball” on the upcoming Saturday. Matt shakes his head and moves over to the bookcase. There’s an eclectic mix of scientific journals, books on resort management, and real crime books. In about the middle of the bookcase two shelves contain every book Matt has had published, all with creased covers and cracked spines.
‘Those are Mohinder’s,’ Chandra says, suddenly behind Matt. ‘I ask you, he has firsts in Classical Studies and Latin and doctorates in Biology and also Genetics, and how does he spend his time? Reading that rubbish.’
‘Father! They’re not rubbish.’
Matt stares at the young man who darts over, wringing his hands, and with a touch of redness just visible in his cheeks. Despite the twitchy manner he has chiselled, perfect features, a mop of luscious curls, and a trim, athletic body. The translucent shirt he’s wearing is knotted at his waist while his baggy trousers rest on his hips, leaving a slice of dark, flawless skin.
‘These are Mr Parkman’s books, Father!’ he protests. ‘They’ve won awards.’
‘Rare amongst your choice of reading material then,’ Chandra harrumphs.
‘He’s never read any. He’s making assumptions,’ the young man says, still wringing his hands.
‘Tch!’ Chandra complains. ‘Mr Parkman, this is my son Mohinder. He’s currently pretending to fit in with the sex maniacs to whom we cater.’
‘Someone should treat our guests with something other than distaste,’ Mohinder retorts. ‘That only suits the masochists you know.’
‘Nice to meet you,’ Matt says, and finally takes the cup of coffee that Chandra has been waving around. ‘Thank you both for your hospitality; I normally get treated like a leper.’
‘Mohinder is your biggest fan,’ Chandra says icily.
‘And Father is a fan of the money the publicity will bring in.’
Matt gestures over at the desk and sips his coffee. ‘You’re having a party? That should get things warmed up.’
‘The Bondage Ball, that’s tomorrow night.’ Chandra says sourly. ‘Traditionally it descends into an orgy. But it makes a great deal of money even with the cleanup expenditure. We also have a masquerade for the guests whose tastes don’t run to violence with their sex. ’
‘They’re very good for guest morale,’ Mohinder says firmly. ‘Guests can be a little shy to begin with but they seem to find the events good for breaking the ice. We also have a meet and greet brunch in a couple of hours. That’s a much more casual affair and you’re more than welcome to come to it. We have some very nice gourmet coffees and a bakery in the resort produces some lovely fresh pastries.’
‘Sounds tasty. I ought to park my bags and have a shower first. Maybe look around.’ Matt takes a gulp of his coffee and looks at Mohinder. ‘I don’t suppose there’s any chance you could point me at my hotel?’
‘I’ll be happy to take you over there. I could show you around the island too if you like,’ Mohinder suggests.
‘Don’t you have work to do?’ Chandra enquires.
‘You know I got it all finished ahead of time so I could...’ Mohinder trails off and then he recovers his dignity. ‘Besides part of my work is guest relations.’
Chandra raises an expressive eyebrow and a muscle jumps in Mohinder’s cheek. ‘Do as you like,’ he says. ‘You usually do.’
‘Thank you, Father, I will,’ Mohinder says tartly. He turns and gives Matt a bright smile. ‘Hotel first then?’
Matt follows him out into the bright sunshine and takes the opportunity to admire the svelte young man unobserved. He feels a little bad that he’s getting all this special treatment. He used to happily accept all the special attention than his moderately raised profile afforded him but he’s learnt the hard way what happens to the tall poppies.
‘I saw this place on the website, The Perfumed Garden, right?’ Matt remarks as Mohinder heads towards the huge, white and gold fronted building. ‘I’m booked into the Arc de Oomph.’
‘We didn’t name them,’ Mohinder says quickly. ‘And you’ve been upgraded. It’s our opening weekend so we’ve upgraded pretty much everyone who pre-booked. We want people to come back again!’ he says, laughing nervously.
‘Well you certainly seem to have the customer services pretty spot on,’ Matt says, following Mohinder into the hotel.
‘Well I’m not a swinger but this is one of the nicer rooms I’ve ever had,’ Matt says, as he looks around the small suite.
‘My father had them all refurbished. He thinks the guests visiting because of the murders are terribly ghoulish.’ Mohinder pushes his fingers through his curls. ‘We’ve done a lot of refurbishing and redecorating recently.’ He raises an eyebrow. ‘They were dreadfully gauche and tasteless originally but you have to work with what you have.’
‘That’s for sure.’
‘I’m rather embarrassed about the books,’ Mohinder admits after a beat.
‘Books?’
‘I have all your books at home.’ A little hint of redness rises in the dark cheeks. ‘I know you saw them.’
Matt nods as he puts down his bags and kicks off his shoes. ‘Sure, is having them embarrassing?’
‘No, no, I... I meant their condition is embarrassing. I ought to replace them.’
‘I’m always happy to get the money,’ Matt says lightly. ‘But books aren’t painting or sculptures. If they’re not being read then they’re not doing their job, you know? A book with a busted spine and a creased cover is a big fat kiss to the writer.’
Mohinder’s face flashes into a bright, brilliant smile, warm as summer rain. ‘That’s a great relief. But here of all places I think we can guarantee you any nature of kisses, cuddles, or anything else besides.’
Matt returns his smile, and then stretches. ‘Do you mind if I grab a quick shower? I just need to freshen up.’
‘Yes. Naturally. I’ll hang around here like an idiot.’ He gives a brittle smile. ‘I’m joking of course. I’ll put the television on while you shower.’
‘Don’t go charging any porn to my credit card,’ Matt says as he walks to the bathroom.
Hotel bathrooms always seem to be airless. They’re so small and closed-off they seem to Matt like tiny, antiseptic tombs. The stark whiteness of polished bone. The clinical coldness of a mortuary slab.
Matt shakes himself and forces himself to get undressed. He climbs into the tiny shower cubicle and yanks the curtain closed. He can do this. He knows he can get through this. He turns on the shower and ups the heat until he can barely stand it, anything to burn the cold away.
It had been a little hotel, barely big enough to justify the name, but it was quiet and Matt appreciated that. He wasn’t used to the bitter cold and the hearty, hard-living Scottish locals had laughed at the American all wrapped up in what passed for an Edinburgh spring. The laughter had been friendly though and, well, if there had to be tourists then better American tourists than English, right? A nice place despite the cold. A nice place to use as a base while investigating a series of brutal murders.
It wasn’t his fault. He wasn’t responsible. He knows that.
Matt has his eyes closed and doesn’t see the shadow on the curtain.
Matt is drying himself off when he hears the door to the hotel room open and close.
‘Hello?’
‘Sorry, just nipped out for a minute,’ Mohinder’s voice calls back.
‘I’ll be out in a minute.’
He’s handsome, Matt thinks, looking at the other man sat casually on the bed, in an unreal sort of way. He looks air brushed or photoshopped or one of those things. Something not quite natural.
‘So I guess your recognised my name from the hotel reservations or something?’ Matt guesses as he pulls on his shoes. ‘Lucky you didn’t get some random swinger.’
‘Actually no, once we knew you were coming to visit we checked of course, but your website announced you were researching a book on the murders here. We knew from the reservation that you planned on being here today but it wasn’t until you tweeted that you’d got on the motor launch that we had any clearer idea.’ Mohinder pulls a face. ‘I was going to come to pick you up but we I had to dash to mainland unexpectedly for some backup batteries for the generator. There’s a storm forecast for tonight and we can’t risk losing the power.’
‘Oh. I’m still getting to grips with this whole... internet thing,’ Matt says standing up. ‘My agent says I have to use every option going with it being so long since... since the last book. People have short memories for some things and long ones for other things.’
‘We can certainly empathise with you there,’ Mohinder says dryly. ‘Ready for the tour? I thought we’d walk if that’s okay.’
‘Um. Sure. It’s good to get the lay of the land.’
The resort is smaller than Matt thought, certainly smaller than it appeared on the website, but it has a sort of tacky, kitsch charm that he likes. There’s a cheery, cheeky humour in the building designs and names a far cry from some of the desperately serious, and therefore miserably depressing, clubs and bars that Matt has visited.
‘You seem to have plenty of guests,’ Matt says, looking around at the men and women meandering about as they explore the resort.
‘There’s a children’s camp open on one of the neighbouring islands,’ Mohinder says wryly. ‘That doesn’t hurt, believe me. They can drop off the kids and come here for a few days of sexual naughtiness.’
‘Have you thought about a crèche?’ Matt laughs.
‘It was pooh-poohed,’ he says, tucking his hands in his pockets. ‘We looked at it just after Father inherited the place. The vast majority of the guests who responded were adamant they didn’t want children on the resort. Partly because they didn’t think it would be appropriate but mostly it seemed to be because they wanted some time away from the kids.’
‘Yeah, it’s funny that.’
‘Something of a relief really, particularly for Father, he dislikes children generally.’ Mohinder rolls his eyes. ‘He doesn’t much like adults come to that but at least they spend money and they rarely need their nappies changing.’ He looks at Matt sideways. ‘My father leaves catering for “Adult Babies” and other of the more specialist interests to me. It’s very good money and nowhere else in a resort caters for them.’ He smiles slightly. ‘I suppose it’s similar with writing, finding a niche to fill?’
‘It’s true but there’s very few new niches anymore,’ Matt says with a shrug. ‘There’s nothing new under the sun.’
‘You’re too modest!’ Mohinder licks his lips. ‘I was surprised that you decided to look at a five-year-old series of murders, not unpleasantly surprised, mind you. All your previous books were about ongoing investigations not historical cases.’
Matt stops walking and looks at him. ‘You’re a fan, right? Don’t tell me you haven’t read all the news reports.’
‘An aficionado,’ Mohinder says quietly. ‘I didn’t mean to be rude. I won’t mention it again.’
Matt blows out his cheeks. ‘Sorry. It’s a touchy subject.’
‘I ought to have thought.’ Mohinder twiddles his fingers together. ‘Can I take you to brunch and make it up to you?’
‘Welcome to The Resort! Good morning and please enjoy our getting-to-know you brunch!’ sing-songs the blue-eyed blonde standing in the doorway. She’s wearing a smart, grey mini-skirt with pink piping and a matching cropped grey halter top. Her tiny feet are strapped into six inch pink wedges and her hair is tied up with pink ribbons. ‘Ooh, hey Mohinder! Are you crunching some brunch with us?’
‘Hello Elle,’ Mohinder half turns to Matt. ‘This is Elle, she’s our BDSM coordinator. Elle, this is Mr Parkman, he’s here researching the murders we had.’
‘Ohh,’ Elle says, popping gum. ‘Yeah, that’s was a whole thing. It was super scary!’
‘You were here then?’
‘Sure! I’ve been working in bars since then,’ she says with a shudder. ‘This is so much more fun, and nobody yells at me for flirting with the customers!’
‘Can I catch up with you sometime?’ Matt asks. ‘I’m hoping to talk to as many people as possible who were here at the time.’
‘Absolutely! Do you know that the police never asked me a single question!’
Mohinder rolls his eyes. ‘That’s because you didn’t see anything and you hadn’t met any of the victims.’
‘I could have information!’ Elle insists. She smiles sweetly at Matt. ‘I could be a mine of information just waiting for a good drilling.’
‘Good to know,’ Matt says smoothly.
Elle slaps her hands on the table in front of her. ‘So, what’s it to be?’
‘Be?’
On the table there is a selection of different coloured badges, some blank blocks of colour and some with pictures on them. Matt notices that Mohinder has picked one up without thinking and is squeezing it tightly.
‘Since we cater to a cornucopia of sexual preferences and interests it saves a great of time and potential embarrassment for guests to... pin their colours to the flag, as it were,’ Mohinder explains. ‘Blue for straight male, pink for straight female, these rainbows are gay, with the blue stripe, and lesbian with the pink stripe, and these here with the rose, lavender, and navy blue...’
‘Bisexual?’ Matt suggests with a smile. ‘I’m familiar.’ He nods at Mohinder’s hand. ‘I’ll show you mine if you’ll show me yours?’
Mohinder glances down at his hand as if surprised. ‘Oh... I don’t usually...’
‘Oh for God’s sake!’ Elle says, grabbing his hand. ‘Don’t be such a baby.’ She takes the badge from Mohinder’s hand and pins it to Mohinder’s shirt. ‘See? Didn’t hurt did it?’
Matt nods unsurprised at the rainbow badge and pins a rose, lavender, and navy badge on his own shirt. ‘Would I be able to contact you through the main office?’
‘Sure!’ she says, blowing gum again. ‘You sure you don’t want a kink badge to go with that?’
‘Not right now,’ Matt says with a wink.
‘I’m a little afraid to ask what a BDSM coordinator does,’ Matt admits as they walk into the, surprisingly tastefully decorated, restaurant. ‘Does she stand in the middle of the room with a stopwatch and a whistle?’
Mohinder laughs, a nice light sound that makes Matt smile.
‘If she does it’s on her own time. Mostly she runs a lot of workshops.’ Mohinder raises his eyebrows. ‘Apparently there’s something about tying people up and flagellating them that requires a lot of practical demonstrations.’
‘Makes sense. The last thing that you want is someone being found strangled to death with a slice of lemon in their mouth.’
They wander over to the long tables of food and Mohinder takes off his badge.
‘Do you mind? We don’t really encourage fraternisation between guests and staff. It can get very unpleasant if it goes wrong.’
‘Can I take mine off as well?’
‘It’ll reduce the amount of people who’ll talk to you,’ Mohinder observes. ‘Although we’re putting together a list for you of all the guests who were here during the murders, strangely enough there’s quite a few. That should help you shouldn’t it?’
‘That’d be amazing, yeah.’
Mohinder loads his plate with pastries and puts a pot of tea and a jug of water on his tray. ‘Father is very aware that appearing to seem unhelpful can look very bad for us. He’s hoping if we’re helpful you won’t be too vicious.’
‘I’m not a reviewer.’
‘No but you always include commentary on the people and organisations you encounter.’ Mohinder regards Matt seriously. ‘Nobody wants to be another LAPD after you were through with them.’
Matt piles his plate with bacon, tomatoes, and mushrooms. ‘Everything I wrote was true.’
‘I know that. If we thought you were that unethical we’d have comp’d your room as a bribe.’ He nods at Matt’s plate. ‘No eggs?’
‘Cholesterol.’
‘Ah.’
They walk away from the tables and stroll the room looking for an empty table.
‘We’ve put all our savings into this,’ Mohinder explains. ‘If it fails we’ll be ruined. More importantly my mother will never let my father hear the end of it.
Matt smiles at him. ‘So your mom is here too?’
Mohinder shakes his head as they find a table and sit down. ‘She’s in India. They have a... complicated relationship.’ He opens the teapot and stirs the tea inside with a spoon. ‘You haven’t asked to speak to me about the murders.’
‘You were here? I figured you’d be in college or something.’
Mohinder catches himself before responding. ‘How old do you think I am?’
‘Not quite that young,’ Matt laughs. ‘You were teaching genetics before you start working here weren’t you?’
‘It’s a little creepy having been researched.’
Matt laughs and swallows a mouthful of food. ‘Give me a break, you know a hell of a lot more about me then I know about you. You probably know more about me than I know about myself.’
Mohinder takes a delicate bite of his Danish pastry. ‘So I’m creepy?’
‘Hey, “creepy” was your word.’ Matt spears mushrooms on his fork. ‘It’s a little... weird. What’s the word? Disconcerting. I have this ongoing battle with my publisher about this whole modern thing with disclosure. People want to know all kinds of random stuff. After... after the trouble suddenly everyone wanted interviews. The last thing I wanted to do was talk about.’
Mohinder takes a sip of his tea. ‘Well... I was here during the murders. I found the third victim in fact.’
Matt piles sugar into his cup. ‘That was... Maya Herrera?’
‘Yes.’ Mohinder finishes his pastry and licks sugar from his fingertips. ‘She had been decapitated.’
‘I don’t have my recorder,’ Matt says gently. ‘I need it, really, so that I do your words justice.’
‘Of course.’ Mohinder gathers himself. ‘It’s not something you forget.’
‘Yeah.’
‘Oh God, I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking,’ Mohinder says, covering his eyes.
There’s a clatter of dishes and a pair of creamy breasts, barely covered by a bikini, hove into view.
‘Good morning.’
Matt tears his eyes up to the face of the crop-haired young woman stood holding a tray of fruit and muesli. The badge on her bikini strap is solid pink with one red vertical line and, slightly to the right three of it, three horizontal lines on top of each other.
‘Good morning,’ Matt says, standing up.
‘May I sit down?’ she asks, smiling at them both. Her large brown eyes twinkle in amusement as she sizes them both up.
Mohinder gives her a thin smile but Matt nods.
‘Please do.’
‘I’m Eden,’ she says sitting down next to Matt. ‘I would be very grateful if you would resist the urge to make any “Exit to Eden” puns or jokes.’
‘Well my sense humour isn’t that clever,’ Matt says. ‘I’m Matt.’
‘I don’t think I saw you at the orientation briefing,’ she observes.
‘Oh I’m not an employee. What’s the symbol on your badge mean?’
‘Mistress/Slave, this ident is for power and control while this one is the ident for submission,’ she explains sweetly. ‘I’m a mistress myself.’
‘I read somewhere that there are more slaves than masters and mistresses.’
Eden smiles widely. ‘You’re well informed. It works well for me since I can indulge my desire to be choosy. The disparity is interesting although there is a strong social disinclination towards violence in a sexual situation, perhaps that’s why.’
‘I figured the majority of people were just lazy,’ Matt says lightly. ‘It’s easier to be told what to do and to lie around tied up all day.’
Eden chuckles and pours milk over her cereal. ‘You might be right at that. Being responsible for another human can be taxing. I certainly keep my subs occupied though.’ She has a spoonful of muesli and licks her lips before continuing. ‘I notice that you’re badgeless. I hope you’re not ashamed of your desires, Matt.’
Matt waves his hand in the air and then tucks it back in his pocket.
‘It’ll do you no good in there,’ she notes.
‘I’m shy.’
‘Oh I’m sure we can help you overcome that.’
‘Well this is an ice-breaker event,’ Mohinder says nastily, and reddens when they both look at him in surprise.
Eden raises an eyebrow and then looks at Matt. ‘Being bisexual must increase your chances of success.’
‘Just twice as many people to turn me down,’ Matt says, playing up a little.
‘You should consider becoming a master, subs would be falling over themselves for you,’ Eden suggests.
‘I don’t think I have the right temperament,’ Matt says mildly. ‘I certainly feel ready to be responsible for someone else.’
Eden shrugs gracefully. ‘You should try it sometime during your stay. You might find it enlightening.’ She takes a sip of her juice and smiles at Mohinder. ‘I’m certainly looking forward to the Bondage Ball tomorrow night. Can we look forward to seeing you?’
Mohinder takes a deep breath and forces a smile. ‘Yes, I’ll be opening the ceremony,’ he says. ‘I’ll be there for the first hour or so. The guests generally find it easier to relax and kick back when the only staff around are serving them drinks.’
‘Are you really expecting an orgy?’ Matt asks lightly.
‘Historically... yes. Sex is rather the reason that people visit here.’ Mohinder sips his tea. ‘Additionally any number of suppliers of bondage equipment inundate us with samples and free supplies for the ball on the proviso that we have their flyers up on notice boards.’
‘You provide supplies?’ Eden asks, her huge eyes even wider with surprise.
‘Not the major equipment but certainly condoms, lubes, floggers, paddles, the cheaper restraints, and occasionally nipple clamps and the like. It’s always a mixed bag and generally first-come-first-served.’ Mohinder shrugs easily. ‘We have tried goodie bags on entry but tastes are so individual. We find it easier to simply put out the supplies on tables and let people work it out themselves.
Matt chuckles to himself. ‘You put them out on the tables like party favours?’
‘It seems to work,’ Mohinder admits. ‘There’s the main hall and a number of smaller rooms. I tend to make my escape when people start sneaking off into them.’
Matt hasn’t been with this many people in a long time. But a lot of people around is safe, safer than being alone. Nothing can happen in a crowd. Stop it; he tells himself, this isn’t a good train of thought. You have to see the thoughts and catch them before they drag you down the poisoned path. He can’t go there again.
There are scores, hundreds of people to meet, men and women, gay, bi, and straight, slaves and masters, furries, adult babies, foot fetishists, every kind of kink he’s heard of and dozens beside. Some of them friendly, some of them shy, and some of them are hostile. Some of them make Matt’s skin crawl, the predators and the psychopaths. Not killers, not necessarily, but the ones who see everyone else as an object. In any group of people big enough there’s always at least one.
After brunch, Mohinder shows him to the murder sites. There were five in total, two women and three men. Unusual in a serial killer. All slashed with the wounds becoming deeper and more confident over time until the final two were beheaded, and the very last was also disembowelled. Mohinder is twitchy and uncomfortable the whole way but Matt doesn’t blame him for that. It takes its toll, being even peripherally involved in something like that. People go through their entire lives without truly knowing the violence and evil just a hand span away from them.
‘How did it go?’ Chandra asks when Mohinder stamps into the shared office.
‘Fine.’
Chandra raises an eyebrow but doesn’t look away from his computer. ‘Will he be fair do you think?’
‘I said he would.’
‘That was before you met him.’
‘Well now I’ve met I’m sure!’ Mohinder slumps down into his seat. ‘I don’t think he likes me very much.’
‘He isn’t under any obligation to do so,’ Chandra observes.
Mohinder rolls his eyes. ‘That isn’t the point. I want… well.’
‘I’m hardly surprised he doesn’t like you if you’ve been bleating on about your feelings.’
‘I wasn’t! And besides the psychologist said it wasn’t healthy to bottle up things.’
‘She meant that you should talk to her, not that you should you inflict it on the rest of us,’ Chandra says tartly.
‘This is why mother is happy to be in India while you’re here. You do realise that don’t you?’
Matt is sat on his balcony enjoying a cup of coffee when his attention is arrested by the balcony of the adjoining apartment where a naked man is lounging.
‘Good evening,’ drawls his naked neighbour, leaning on the rail.
‘Hi yourself. I hope you’ve got plenty of sunscreen.’
‘I’m sadly lacking someone to rub it into my back.’
Matt takes a closer look at the other man: he’s quite a bit younger and handsome in a prettyish way with a nicely defined, if pale, body.
‘Fancy that,’ Matt says, smiling slightly.
‘I’m Adam.’
‘Matt.’
‘Do you play on my team?’ Adam asks with a cheeky grin.
‘I play on both teams, I’m a friendly sort’
‘Well that’s just peachy,’ Adam says happily. ‘Shall I come over there or would you rather come over here?’
Matt drains his coffee and considers the reams of research material he’s brought with him. ‘I’ll come over there.’
‘Room 237, ask for Adam Monroe.’
‘Does that approach often work for you?’ Matt asks when Adam opens the door.
‘In real life? About twenty per cent of the time,’ he admits. He shuts the door and moves over to the bed. ‘At a club or somewhere like this, it’s more like eighty per cent.’ He starts rolling a joint. ‘Would you like a toke?’
‘Don’t mind if I do,’ Matt says, toeing off his shoes and sitting down on the bed. He takes the joint and takes a deep, slow draw on it.
‘Been a while?’
‘A bit,’ Matt admits, letting the smoke curl out. ‘How strict here are they?’
‘About a bit of grass?Not at all. Officially it’s naughty but there’s no police presence obviously and the staff don’t hassle you about it. They prefer it if you don’t do it somewhere they can’t pretend not to have seen it. Anything harder and they get antsy, although I suspect that’s at least partly because they don’t have facilities to deal with it. There’s a nurse and that’s about it.’
‘I’m not one for anything harder.’ Matt lets his eyes wander up and down the other man’s naked body. ‘So do you top or bottom?’
‘Switch.’ Adam lolls back on the bed. ‘But I’m in a bottom sort of mood. Would you oblige?’
‘Happily.’
Adam, ruffled and pleasantly pink, wanders out of bed to fetch a bottle of wine and some more cigarette papers.
‘Do you do this a lot?’ Matt asks.
‘Pick up complete strangers?’ Adam asks, rolling two joints. ‘Quite a lot, yes. Enough that I was happy as a pig in… well, I was happy to hear they were reopening this place. Clubs and bars can make one feel so seedy. But here in the sunshine with all the other perverts and sex maniacs it’s hard to imagine it as seedy. It’s like communing with the divine.’
‘You’ve had too much of this,’ Matt laughs, taking one of the proffered joints and lighting it.
‘Have you been here before?’ Adam lights his joint and lies down, resting his head on Matt’s chest.
‘No,’ Matt says surprised.
‘Me either. I’d just about saved up enough money and then the bloody murders shut the place down.’ Adam pours himself a glass of wine. ‘Do you know there’s a delicious rumour going around about some crime writer being here to investigate the murders? Perhaps I should get him to pay me oodles of cash and pretend I’m the slasher! By the time he realised I was in another country at the time I’d be… well I’d be in another country.’
Matt laughs and shakes his head.
‘Don’t tell me someone beat me to it!’
‘No, I’m the crime writer.’
Adam chokes on a lungful of smoke. ‘Here, you just shagged up, down, and sideways! Do you normally screw possible suspects?’
You weren’t though,’ Matt blows out a stream of smoke. ‘You’re not on the list of guests who were here last time. The management gave it me. I looked at the list before I came over.’ He points a finger at Adam. ‘I’m not being fooled like that.’
Adam regards the end of his joint intently. ‘So you wouldn’t have believed me anyway?’
‘Nah.’
‘Oh. Well that’s alright then.’ Adam sits up and gives Matt a lazy grin. ‘I suppose you’ll have met the heir apparent to The Resort then? All big, brown eyes and fuck-me-hard-all-night arse.’
Matt laughs so hard he almost drops his joint. ‘You mean Mohinder? It is a pretty nice ass.’
‘Unbelievable arse. Even if the face was like the back of a bus I’d ride that arse. Not that I have a chance. He gave me the polite freeze when I expressed interest,’ Adam says with a shrug. ‘Uptight.’
‘He’s pretty far out of my league.’
‘How bloody dare you,’ Adam says with as much dignity as he can muster.
‘I didn’t say you were in my league,’ Matt protests. ‘You’re slumming it.’
‘That’s what you say now.’
‘Anyway, this is a practically anonymous shag between strangers. I don’t have to shore up your injured ego.’
‘Well fuck off then,’ Adam says petulantly. ‘And give me back my bloody joint. Are you going to the ball?’
‘The bondage thing?’ Matt falls over as he tries to pull on his trousers.
‘Mmm. It’s not really my scene in a big way although I’m quite fond of a bit of slap with my tickle. It seems a shame to miss it. It’s supposed to be quite a big deal.’
‘I might stick my head in,’ Matt says diffidently, still on the floor.
Adam flops back on the bed and smiles at the ceiling. ‘Might see you there then.’
Matt spends the morning organising his notes and covering a large-scale map of the resort with post-its. There are more than two hundred names on the list Mohinder gave him, and that’s only the guests. He doesn’t even know how to start finding them, let alone persuading people here to have as much sex as possible as often as possible to sit down and answer questions. Maybe he should start with the staff instead. They’d probably be glad of a break and a sit down for half an hour. Elle said she’d been there, although with the Bondage Ball looming the BDSM Coordinator was probably as busy as she got.
He’s saved from his confused cogitation by a soft knock at the door.
‘Hello?’ he asks and, seeing no one through the spy hole, he opens the door carefully.
On the floor is a single, large, blank envelope.
Matt stares at it silently. Once he would’ve assumed it was evidence from someone too nervous to come forward but these days his mind goes to darker places.
Inside the envelope is a single red rose.
‘No, certainly not,’ Chandra says impatiently. ‘As far as I’m aware the killer made no attempts to contact the police, the staff, or the guests. I’m sure if he had taken into his head to send flowers then someone would’ve noticed I’m quite sure.’
‘What’s wrong, Father?’ Mohinder asks, walking into the room in his dressing gown. ‘Oh. I didn’t know you were here, Matt,’ he says sheepishly. ‘I just had a shower.’
‘Mr Parkman was delighting me with his paranoid fantasies,’ Chandra says sourly. ‘He seems to think that someone sending him flowers is a sign of an imminent rash of murders rather than simply signalling romantic interest.’
‘Mr Parkman has some reason to be paranoid,’ Mohinder says uneasily. ‘I’m sure Father is correct though and that it was a romantic gesture that proved unfortunately unsuccessful.’
‘People around here don’t send flowers when they want to signal interest,’ Matt snaps. ‘They hang about balconies naked and ask random strangers if they want to have sex.’
‘Do they?’ Mohinder asks.
‘Did you go?’ Chandra asks curiously.
‘Father!’
‘We operate a facility designed to encourage strangers to have sex,’ Chandra asks dryly. ‘Forgive me for taking the opportunity to conduct some market research.’
‘Yes, actually,’ Matt says, relaxing a little. ‘Ten out of ten for encouraging people to have sex.’
‘I’m going to go and get dressed,’ Mohinder says quietly.
‘I was wondering if I could talk to you later,’ Matt says. ‘Take your statement as we talked about.’
Mohinder pulls himself together and smiles. ‘It can’t be too late. We have the ball tonight.’
‘Okay, well, when would be a good time for you?’
Mohinder licks his lips. ‘Lunchtime? Could we meet for lunch and then do it?’
‘Sure,’ Matt says, calming down a bit. ‘You can protect me from rose wielding lunatics.’
Mohinder smiles sheepishly.
They meet at a nice little restaurant a few blocks from Matt’s hotel. The guests are relaxing now; there are some already in bondage gear and, on the way to the restaurant, Matt sees a female guest walking three men on leashes like dogs.
‘How’re you feeling now?’ Mohinder asks as he sits down.
‘Like kind of an asshole.’
‘Someone just wasn’t thinking things through.’
Matt rubs his forehead. ‘I wanted to keep busy. Maybe I shouldn’t have come here.’ He takes a deep breath and forces a smile. ‘Don’t listen to me babbling on. I overindulged yesterday and it’s made me a little… cranky.’
‘Volatile behaviour is the province of the artistic temperament,’ Mohinder says, raising an eyebrow.
‘You’re too kind.’ Matt holds up a hand and smiles at a waitress. ‘Can I have a glass of juice please? Mohinder?’
‘What? Oh tea please, Marie.’
‘I’ll take your food order when I come back,’ she says brightly.
Matt flips through the menu. ‘What would you recommend?’
‘The goat’s cheese and red pepper in a baked potato is my personal favourite.’
Matt looks up in surprise. ‘For some reason I had you down as a vegetarian. Probably because you’re so…slim.’
‘I’ve actually finally managed to put on a few pounds. I spent most of my teenage years trying to gain some bulk. There’s something rather… unmanly about being too thin.’
Matt frowns slightly. ‘Do you think? I always hated being fat.’
Mohinder’s mouth is half open, forming his answer, as the waitress returns with the drinks.
‘Are you ready to order?’
‘I’ll have the baked potato with goat’s cheese and red peppers please,’ Matt says nicely.
‘The same please,’ Mohinder says, beaming up at her.
Mohinder looks around Matt’s apartment and smiles as he wanders over to the map of the resort.
‘You’ve been busy,’ he observes. ‘You don’t waste time do you?’
‘I’m coming to this late and cold.’
‘You ought to have come while the bodies were still warm,’ Mohinder suggests, and looks over at Matt. ‘I would’ve thought it was up your street.’
‘It was,’ Matt says, setting up his equipment.
‘So why didn’t you come then?’
Matt sighs and runs his fingers through his hair. ‘My wife was dying.’
‘What?’ Mohinder sits down heavily on the arm of the armchair.
Matt turns around and shrugs. ‘She had breast cancer. She’d had all the treatments and there was nothing left but to make her as comfortable and happy.’
‘I didn’t even know you’d been married.’
Matt shrugs. ‘It’s like I was saying, I’d rather keep my personal life personal. You have to give bits here and there.’
‘It’s quite a big thing though! How did you keep it out of the papers?’
‘Even the gutter press have codes,’ Matt says, walking over to the little kitchen area and putting the kettle on. ‘She wasn’t in the public eye and I never mentioned her illness so they didn’t either. How do you take your coffee?’
‘Milky and with two sugars please.’ Mohinder pulls nervously at his fingers. ‘It isn’t that people are just nosy. Well, some people are. But authors can have a big influence on people’s lives, their writing can be a big part of people’s lives whether they intend them to or not, so people naturally become curious. Especially with someone as private as you are.’
Matt carries over two coffees and hands one to Mohinder. ‘After what happened in Scotland I’m wary of anyone being interested in me.’
‘You had a one night stand with some girl in the next room, that’s an odd kind of wariness.’
Matt takes a gulp of his coffee. ‘He was a guy on the next balcony along which turned out to be the hotel next door, and he didn’t know who I was. Besides it’s been a while.’ Matt shakes his head. ‘And I don’t have justify myself to you.’
‘Well of course not,’ Mohinder mutters. He sighs and then looks at Matt. ‘You haven’t asked me to keep this to myself.’
‘If I have I have to ask you respect my privacy then you probably wouldn’t anyway.’
‘I won’t say anything,’ Mohinder promises. He sips his coffee and winces at the bitterness. ‘Needs sugar.’ He ladles it into his coffee cup and takes a sip.
‘Better? ‘
‘Much, thank you. What did you want to know?’
On To Part Two
Pairing: Matt/Adam, Matt/Eden, Matt/Mohinder
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: OOC, Character Death, Violence, Scenes of a Sexual Nature, Drug Use.
Word Count: 11350
Authors Note: With thanks to
leadaisy and dragon6593 for the story ideas and boudecia7 as always for the awesome beta. All mistakes remain my own damn fault. In the light of the sickly moon blood gleams black. A pool of the glistening liquid is spreading across the kitchen floor, ruining the checkerboard effect. The white squares are bleached almost grey in the ailing light. It isn’t a real kitchen. No food has ever been cooked in the oven or served on the heavy oak table. It’s nothing but a set, a play area, it isn’t real. But the blood drying on the floor is real. The body is real. The flesh is all bare and cold. Nothing remains but meat, bone, and blood. The eyes are blank, devoid of any spark. The cold, blue lips are parted to show the lolling offal of the tongue. The gaping wound that severed the throat is clotted with glutinous blood. The long, strong legs are spread as wide in death as they were so often in life. The heels have marked the floor where they danced a final, frenzied tarantella. A death rattle. A spasm. Some final desperate gasp at life.
This is the fourth. The fourth found butchered and left to share the secret: you may be young, you may be beautiful, you may laugh and sneer at me, but you will bleed. You bleed as well and as quickly as anyone else. Who will want you then? When your body is nothing but dead meat who will think you are better than you are. When you are dead, when you have been caught and slaughtered like a squealing pig, who will care who you were?
Five Years Later
The motor launch chugs through the bright blue water, sending up a fine spray that twinkles merrily in the bright sunlight. Matt Parkman tastes the salt in the air and smiles. Open air and endless skies do him more than pills and therapy... he clamps down on the thought. Not helpful. Not positive. Don’t fall into old ways of thinking, you know where that goes.
Maybe the whole thing was a mistake. P’raps he should’ve gone some other away. But he doesn’t have much besides this, and anyway, he has to face this or be a coward.
‘I know you, right?’ alleges the pretty, vacant looking young man sitting opposite Matt. He has big brown eyes and a lick of hair across his face.
‘I don’t think so,’ Matt says with practiced politeness.
‘Were you here last time? Maybe I saw you on the news?’
‘Not me,’ Matt insists. Not here. This wasn’t where it went so terribly wrong.
The harbour is full of boats and launches as the first guests in five years arrive bubbling with the second hand delight of voyeurism and the first hand pleasure of anticipated lusts.
On the dock, out of place among the holidaymakers and the sailors, a small, dapper, bald and be-suited man is waiting with a sign that reads, “Matt Parkman.” Matt frowns as he picks up his luggage and climbs up onto the dock.
‘I’m Matt Parkman.’
The sign disappears, neatly folded away into a pocket, and the man gives a small polite smile that disappears like a shutter coming down.
‘Good afternoon Mister Parkman, I’m Professor Chandra Suresh. Welcome to the resort.’
‘Uh, I’ll be honest with you... Professor this is the first time I’ve ever been welcomed somewhere I was planning to write about.’
Chandra raises an eyebrow and shrugs. ‘It was inevitable that reopening would attract professional ghouls along with the amateurs. You do at least have a reputation as being unbiased and accurate. To that end it seems advisable for us to... “play nice” is the phrase I believe. We have nothing to hide.’
‘This is a unique approach,’ Matt admits. ‘And that’s not a complaint by any means.’
‘I’d be misleading you if I didn’t tell you it was my son’s idea,’ Chandra says dryly. ‘Might I give you a lift to the main complex? I believe you have accommodations booked nearby and I’m sure after the boat trip you’re ready for some refreshments.’
Matt’s come to expect defensiveness and secretiveness when he’s writing about an unsolved crime. He’s used to being treated like the enemy by people who couldn’t spot their real enemy, police believing his presence implies he thinks he could do better, and by petty bureaucrats who think he’s going to ruin tourism or stir up problems. Being welcomed is odd enough to knock him off balance. In a way he’d be less disturbed if the man had been completely open and welcoming because he wouldn’t believe it. But this pragmatic and wary politeness, that’s believable and therefore confusing.
‘People know I’m here,’ Matt points out as he follows Chandra over to the small car park. ‘Just FYI.’
Chandra barks a laugh and unlocks his car. ‘Regrettably, given the amount of money we’ve spent getting ready to reopen the resort we can’t afford to lose publicity, even the notoriety attending the murders.’
‘Were you in charge then?’
‘Yes, I’m a geneticist by trade but I inherited the resort. For a number of years the resort had a manager but with the economic downturn that wasn’t viable.’ Chandra gets inside the car and pulls on his seatbelt.
‘That’s an interesting learning curve,’ Matt says, sitting in the car and buckling up. ‘Had you been in charge long when the first murder happened?’
Chandra raises an eyebrow. ‘I would’ve thought that information was in the public domain.’
‘Eighty percent of facts on the internet are untrue,’ Matt says. ‘Number one way for a writer to be debunked is to rely on the internet for research.’
‘Ha!’ Chandra barks a laugh. ‘I’m aware of that. Any scientist who relied on the internet for research would find himself a pariah very quickly.’
‘I’ve been to a number of resorts and I have to say that you’re not the usual type of resort manager I meet,’ Matt says thoughtfully.
‘Frankly, I find the whole thing distasteful,’ Chandra says as he parks the car behind a large and brashly decorated building. ‘I am a prude and I won’t apologise for it.’
Matt smiles as he glances around; most of the resort guests he can see are clearly starting to relax, they’re all still dressed although trousers are being worn very tight and necklines are plunging while hemlines are soaring.
‘Then why run a place like this?’ he asks. ‘It’s a beautiful island; you could’ve turned it into a regular holiday resort. There are others nearby.’
‘There’s no money in it,’ Chandra says shortly. ‘There are four other island resorts within twelve miles, all of them with better facilities. We have a niche, tasteless as it is, and up until the murders we were doing quite well.’
Matt follows him into the building through an office inhabited by a perky blonde, and back into what is clearly the family accommodations.
‘Tea or coffee?’ Chandra asks.
‘A coffee would be great, thanks,’ Matt says nicely.
Chandra marches away, out of a different door, leaving Matt to nose about the desk and bookcase. There are draft posters, mostly featuring naked young men and women in various states of bondage. The tone is uncertainly caught between arousal and fear, and the lettering invites the reader to the “Bondage Ball” on the upcoming Saturday. Matt shakes his head and moves over to the bookcase. There’s an eclectic mix of scientific journals, books on resort management, and real crime books. In about the middle of the bookcase two shelves contain every book Matt has had published, all with creased covers and cracked spines.
‘Those are Mohinder’s,’ Chandra says, suddenly behind Matt. ‘I ask you, he has firsts in Classical Studies and Latin and doctorates in Biology and also Genetics, and how does he spend his time? Reading that rubbish.’
‘Father! They’re not rubbish.’
Matt stares at the young man who darts over, wringing his hands, and with a touch of redness just visible in his cheeks. Despite the twitchy manner he has chiselled, perfect features, a mop of luscious curls, and a trim, athletic body. The translucent shirt he’s wearing is knotted at his waist while his baggy trousers rest on his hips, leaving a slice of dark, flawless skin.
‘These are Mr Parkman’s books, Father!’ he protests. ‘They’ve won awards.’
‘Rare amongst your choice of reading material then,’ Chandra harrumphs.
‘He’s never read any. He’s making assumptions,’ the young man says, still wringing his hands.
‘Tch!’ Chandra complains. ‘Mr Parkman, this is my son Mohinder. He’s currently pretending to fit in with the sex maniacs to whom we cater.’
‘Someone should treat our guests with something other than distaste,’ Mohinder retorts. ‘That only suits the masochists you know.’
‘Nice to meet you,’ Matt says, and finally takes the cup of coffee that Chandra has been waving around. ‘Thank you both for your hospitality; I normally get treated like a leper.’
‘Mohinder is your biggest fan,’ Chandra says icily.
‘And Father is a fan of the money the publicity will bring in.’
Matt gestures over at the desk and sips his coffee. ‘You’re having a party? That should get things warmed up.’
‘The Bondage Ball, that’s tomorrow night.’ Chandra says sourly. ‘Traditionally it descends into an orgy. But it makes a great deal of money even with the cleanup expenditure. We also have a masquerade for the guests whose tastes don’t run to violence with their sex. ’
‘They’re very good for guest morale,’ Mohinder says firmly. ‘Guests can be a little shy to begin with but they seem to find the events good for breaking the ice. We also have a meet and greet brunch in a couple of hours. That’s a much more casual affair and you’re more than welcome to come to it. We have some very nice gourmet coffees and a bakery in the resort produces some lovely fresh pastries.’
‘Sounds tasty. I ought to park my bags and have a shower first. Maybe look around.’ Matt takes a gulp of his coffee and looks at Mohinder. ‘I don’t suppose there’s any chance you could point me at my hotel?’
‘I’ll be happy to take you over there. I could show you around the island too if you like,’ Mohinder suggests.
‘Don’t you have work to do?’ Chandra enquires.
‘You know I got it all finished ahead of time so I could...’ Mohinder trails off and then he recovers his dignity. ‘Besides part of my work is guest relations.’
Chandra raises an expressive eyebrow and a muscle jumps in Mohinder’s cheek. ‘Do as you like,’ he says. ‘You usually do.’
‘Thank you, Father, I will,’ Mohinder says tartly. He turns and gives Matt a bright smile. ‘Hotel first then?’
Matt follows him out into the bright sunshine and takes the opportunity to admire the svelte young man unobserved. He feels a little bad that he’s getting all this special treatment. He used to happily accept all the special attention than his moderately raised profile afforded him but he’s learnt the hard way what happens to the tall poppies.
‘I saw this place on the website, The Perfumed Garden, right?’ Matt remarks as Mohinder heads towards the huge, white and gold fronted building. ‘I’m booked into the Arc de Oomph.’
‘We didn’t name them,’ Mohinder says quickly. ‘And you’ve been upgraded. It’s our opening weekend so we’ve upgraded pretty much everyone who pre-booked. We want people to come back again!’ he says, laughing nervously.
‘Well you certainly seem to have the customer services pretty spot on,’ Matt says, following Mohinder into the hotel.
‘Well I’m not a swinger but this is one of the nicer rooms I’ve ever had,’ Matt says, as he looks around the small suite.
‘My father had them all refurbished. He thinks the guests visiting because of the murders are terribly ghoulish.’ Mohinder pushes his fingers through his curls. ‘We’ve done a lot of refurbishing and redecorating recently.’ He raises an eyebrow. ‘They were dreadfully gauche and tasteless originally but you have to work with what you have.’
‘That’s for sure.’
‘I’m rather embarrassed about the books,’ Mohinder admits after a beat.
‘Books?’
‘I have all your books at home.’ A little hint of redness rises in the dark cheeks. ‘I know you saw them.’
Matt nods as he puts down his bags and kicks off his shoes. ‘Sure, is having them embarrassing?’
‘No, no, I... I meant their condition is embarrassing. I ought to replace them.’
‘I’m always happy to get the money,’ Matt says lightly. ‘But books aren’t painting or sculptures. If they’re not being read then they’re not doing their job, you know? A book with a busted spine and a creased cover is a big fat kiss to the writer.’
Mohinder’s face flashes into a bright, brilliant smile, warm as summer rain. ‘That’s a great relief. But here of all places I think we can guarantee you any nature of kisses, cuddles, or anything else besides.’
Matt returns his smile, and then stretches. ‘Do you mind if I grab a quick shower? I just need to freshen up.’
‘Yes. Naturally. I’ll hang around here like an idiot.’ He gives a brittle smile. ‘I’m joking of course. I’ll put the television on while you shower.’
‘Don’t go charging any porn to my credit card,’ Matt says as he walks to the bathroom.
Hotel bathrooms always seem to be airless. They’re so small and closed-off they seem to Matt like tiny, antiseptic tombs. The stark whiteness of polished bone. The clinical coldness of a mortuary slab.
Matt shakes himself and forces himself to get undressed. He climbs into the tiny shower cubicle and yanks the curtain closed. He can do this. He knows he can get through this. He turns on the shower and ups the heat until he can barely stand it, anything to burn the cold away.
It had been a little hotel, barely big enough to justify the name, but it was quiet and Matt appreciated that. He wasn’t used to the bitter cold and the hearty, hard-living Scottish locals had laughed at the American all wrapped up in what passed for an Edinburgh spring. The laughter had been friendly though and, well, if there had to be tourists then better American tourists than English, right? A nice place despite the cold. A nice place to use as a base while investigating a series of brutal murders.
It wasn’t his fault. He wasn’t responsible. He knows that.
Matt has his eyes closed and doesn’t see the shadow on the curtain.
Matt is drying himself off when he hears the door to the hotel room open and close.
‘Hello?’
‘Sorry, just nipped out for a minute,’ Mohinder’s voice calls back.
‘I’ll be out in a minute.’
He’s handsome, Matt thinks, looking at the other man sat casually on the bed, in an unreal sort of way. He looks air brushed or photoshopped or one of those things. Something not quite natural.
‘So I guess your recognised my name from the hotel reservations or something?’ Matt guesses as he pulls on his shoes. ‘Lucky you didn’t get some random swinger.’
‘Actually no, once we knew you were coming to visit we checked of course, but your website announced you were researching a book on the murders here. We knew from the reservation that you planned on being here today but it wasn’t until you tweeted that you’d got on the motor launch that we had any clearer idea.’ Mohinder pulls a face. ‘I was going to come to pick you up but we I had to dash to mainland unexpectedly for some backup batteries for the generator. There’s a storm forecast for tonight and we can’t risk losing the power.’
‘Oh. I’m still getting to grips with this whole... internet thing,’ Matt says standing up. ‘My agent says I have to use every option going with it being so long since... since the last book. People have short memories for some things and long ones for other things.’
‘We can certainly empathise with you there,’ Mohinder says dryly. ‘Ready for the tour? I thought we’d walk if that’s okay.’
‘Um. Sure. It’s good to get the lay of the land.’
The resort is smaller than Matt thought, certainly smaller than it appeared on the website, but it has a sort of tacky, kitsch charm that he likes. There’s a cheery, cheeky humour in the building designs and names a far cry from some of the desperately serious, and therefore miserably depressing, clubs and bars that Matt has visited.
‘You seem to have plenty of guests,’ Matt says, looking around at the men and women meandering about as they explore the resort.
‘There’s a children’s camp open on one of the neighbouring islands,’ Mohinder says wryly. ‘That doesn’t hurt, believe me. They can drop off the kids and come here for a few days of sexual naughtiness.’
‘Have you thought about a crèche?’ Matt laughs.
‘It was pooh-poohed,’ he says, tucking his hands in his pockets. ‘We looked at it just after Father inherited the place. The vast majority of the guests who responded were adamant they didn’t want children on the resort. Partly because they didn’t think it would be appropriate but mostly it seemed to be because they wanted some time away from the kids.’
‘Yeah, it’s funny that.’
‘Something of a relief really, particularly for Father, he dislikes children generally.’ Mohinder rolls his eyes. ‘He doesn’t much like adults come to that but at least they spend money and they rarely need their nappies changing.’ He looks at Matt sideways. ‘My father leaves catering for “Adult Babies” and other of the more specialist interests to me. It’s very good money and nowhere else in a resort caters for them.’ He smiles slightly. ‘I suppose it’s similar with writing, finding a niche to fill?’
‘It’s true but there’s very few new niches anymore,’ Matt says with a shrug. ‘There’s nothing new under the sun.’
‘You’re too modest!’ Mohinder licks his lips. ‘I was surprised that you decided to look at a five-year-old series of murders, not unpleasantly surprised, mind you. All your previous books were about ongoing investigations not historical cases.’
Matt stops walking and looks at him. ‘You’re a fan, right? Don’t tell me you haven’t read all the news reports.’
‘An aficionado,’ Mohinder says quietly. ‘I didn’t mean to be rude. I won’t mention it again.’
Matt blows out his cheeks. ‘Sorry. It’s a touchy subject.’
‘I ought to have thought.’ Mohinder twiddles his fingers together. ‘Can I take you to brunch and make it up to you?’
‘Welcome to The Resort! Good morning and please enjoy our getting-to-know you brunch!’ sing-songs the blue-eyed blonde standing in the doorway. She’s wearing a smart, grey mini-skirt with pink piping and a matching cropped grey halter top. Her tiny feet are strapped into six inch pink wedges and her hair is tied up with pink ribbons. ‘Ooh, hey Mohinder! Are you crunching some brunch with us?’
‘Hello Elle,’ Mohinder half turns to Matt. ‘This is Elle, she’s our BDSM coordinator. Elle, this is Mr Parkman, he’s here researching the murders we had.’
‘Ohh,’ Elle says, popping gum. ‘Yeah, that’s was a whole thing. It was super scary!’
‘You were here then?’
‘Sure! I’ve been working in bars since then,’ she says with a shudder. ‘This is so much more fun, and nobody yells at me for flirting with the customers!’
‘Can I catch up with you sometime?’ Matt asks. ‘I’m hoping to talk to as many people as possible who were here at the time.’
‘Absolutely! Do you know that the police never asked me a single question!’
Mohinder rolls his eyes. ‘That’s because you didn’t see anything and you hadn’t met any of the victims.’
‘I could have information!’ Elle insists. She smiles sweetly at Matt. ‘I could be a mine of information just waiting for a good drilling.’
‘Good to know,’ Matt says smoothly.
Elle slaps her hands on the table in front of her. ‘So, what’s it to be?’
‘Be?’
On the table there is a selection of different coloured badges, some blank blocks of colour and some with pictures on them. Matt notices that Mohinder has picked one up without thinking and is squeezing it tightly.
‘Since we cater to a cornucopia of sexual preferences and interests it saves a great of time and potential embarrassment for guests to... pin their colours to the flag, as it were,’ Mohinder explains. ‘Blue for straight male, pink for straight female, these rainbows are gay, with the blue stripe, and lesbian with the pink stripe, and these here with the rose, lavender, and navy blue...’
‘Bisexual?’ Matt suggests with a smile. ‘I’m familiar.’ He nods at Mohinder’s hand. ‘I’ll show you mine if you’ll show me yours?’
Mohinder glances down at his hand as if surprised. ‘Oh... I don’t usually...’
‘Oh for God’s sake!’ Elle says, grabbing his hand. ‘Don’t be such a baby.’ She takes the badge from Mohinder’s hand and pins it to Mohinder’s shirt. ‘See? Didn’t hurt did it?’
Matt nods unsurprised at the rainbow badge and pins a rose, lavender, and navy badge on his own shirt. ‘Would I be able to contact you through the main office?’
‘Sure!’ she says, blowing gum again. ‘You sure you don’t want a kink badge to go with that?’
‘Not right now,’ Matt says with a wink.
‘I’m a little afraid to ask what a BDSM coordinator does,’ Matt admits as they walk into the, surprisingly tastefully decorated, restaurant. ‘Does she stand in the middle of the room with a stopwatch and a whistle?’
Mohinder laughs, a nice light sound that makes Matt smile.
‘If she does it’s on her own time. Mostly she runs a lot of workshops.’ Mohinder raises his eyebrows. ‘Apparently there’s something about tying people up and flagellating them that requires a lot of practical demonstrations.’
‘Makes sense. The last thing that you want is someone being found strangled to death with a slice of lemon in their mouth.’
They wander over to the long tables of food and Mohinder takes off his badge.
‘Do you mind? We don’t really encourage fraternisation between guests and staff. It can get very unpleasant if it goes wrong.’
‘Can I take mine off as well?’
‘It’ll reduce the amount of people who’ll talk to you,’ Mohinder observes. ‘Although we’re putting together a list for you of all the guests who were here during the murders, strangely enough there’s quite a few. That should help you shouldn’t it?’
‘That’d be amazing, yeah.’
Mohinder loads his plate with pastries and puts a pot of tea and a jug of water on his tray. ‘Father is very aware that appearing to seem unhelpful can look very bad for us. He’s hoping if we’re helpful you won’t be too vicious.’
‘I’m not a reviewer.’
‘No but you always include commentary on the people and organisations you encounter.’ Mohinder regards Matt seriously. ‘Nobody wants to be another LAPD after you were through with them.’
Matt piles his plate with bacon, tomatoes, and mushrooms. ‘Everything I wrote was true.’
‘I know that. If we thought you were that unethical we’d have comp’d your room as a bribe.’ He nods at Matt’s plate. ‘No eggs?’
‘Cholesterol.’
‘Ah.’
They walk away from the tables and stroll the room looking for an empty table.
‘We’ve put all our savings into this,’ Mohinder explains. ‘If it fails we’ll be ruined. More importantly my mother will never let my father hear the end of it.
Matt smiles at him. ‘So your mom is here too?’
Mohinder shakes his head as they find a table and sit down. ‘She’s in India. They have a... complicated relationship.’ He opens the teapot and stirs the tea inside with a spoon. ‘You haven’t asked to speak to me about the murders.’
‘You were here? I figured you’d be in college or something.’
Mohinder catches himself before responding. ‘How old do you think I am?’
‘Not quite that young,’ Matt laughs. ‘You were teaching genetics before you start working here weren’t you?’
‘It’s a little creepy having been researched.’
Matt laughs and swallows a mouthful of food. ‘Give me a break, you know a hell of a lot more about me then I know about you. You probably know more about me than I know about myself.’
Mohinder takes a delicate bite of his Danish pastry. ‘So I’m creepy?’
‘Hey, “creepy” was your word.’ Matt spears mushrooms on his fork. ‘It’s a little... weird. What’s the word? Disconcerting. I have this ongoing battle with my publisher about this whole modern thing with disclosure. People want to know all kinds of random stuff. After... after the trouble suddenly everyone wanted interviews. The last thing I wanted to do was talk about.’
Mohinder takes a sip of his tea. ‘Well... I was here during the murders. I found the third victim in fact.’
Matt piles sugar into his cup. ‘That was... Maya Herrera?’
‘Yes.’ Mohinder finishes his pastry and licks sugar from his fingertips. ‘She had been decapitated.’
‘I don’t have my recorder,’ Matt says gently. ‘I need it, really, so that I do your words justice.’
‘Of course.’ Mohinder gathers himself. ‘It’s not something you forget.’
‘Yeah.’
‘Oh God, I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking,’ Mohinder says, covering his eyes.
There’s a clatter of dishes and a pair of creamy breasts, barely covered by a bikini, hove into view.
‘Good morning.’
Matt tears his eyes up to the face of the crop-haired young woman stood holding a tray of fruit and muesli. The badge on her bikini strap is solid pink with one red vertical line and, slightly to the right three of it, three horizontal lines on top of each other.
‘Good morning,’ Matt says, standing up.
‘May I sit down?’ she asks, smiling at them both. Her large brown eyes twinkle in amusement as she sizes them both up.
Mohinder gives her a thin smile but Matt nods.
‘Please do.’
‘I’m Eden,’ she says sitting down next to Matt. ‘I would be very grateful if you would resist the urge to make any “Exit to Eden” puns or jokes.’
‘Well my sense humour isn’t that clever,’ Matt says. ‘I’m Matt.’
‘I don’t think I saw you at the orientation briefing,’ she observes.
‘Oh I’m not an employee. What’s the symbol on your badge mean?’
‘Mistress/Slave, this ident is for power and control while this one is the ident for submission,’ she explains sweetly. ‘I’m a mistress myself.’
‘I read somewhere that there are more slaves than masters and mistresses.’
Eden smiles widely. ‘You’re well informed. It works well for me since I can indulge my desire to be choosy. The disparity is interesting although there is a strong social disinclination towards violence in a sexual situation, perhaps that’s why.’
‘I figured the majority of people were just lazy,’ Matt says lightly. ‘It’s easier to be told what to do and to lie around tied up all day.’
Eden chuckles and pours milk over her cereal. ‘You might be right at that. Being responsible for another human can be taxing. I certainly keep my subs occupied though.’ She has a spoonful of muesli and licks her lips before continuing. ‘I notice that you’re badgeless. I hope you’re not ashamed of your desires, Matt.’
Matt waves his hand in the air and then tucks it back in his pocket.
‘It’ll do you no good in there,’ she notes.
‘I’m shy.’
‘Oh I’m sure we can help you overcome that.’
‘Well this is an ice-breaker event,’ Mohinder says nastily, and reddens when they both look at him in surprise.
Eden raises an eyebrow and then looks at Matt. ‘Being bisexual must increase your chances of success.’
‘Just twice as many people to turn me down,’ Matt says, playing up a little.
‘You should consider becoming a master, subs would be falling over themselves for you,’ Eden suggests.
‘I don’t think I have the right temperament,’ Matt says mildly. ‘I certainly feel ready to be responsible for someone else.’
Eden shrugs gracefully. ‘You should try it sometime during your stay. You might find it enlightening.’ She takes a sip of her juice and smiles at Mohinder. ‘I’m certainly looking forward to the Bondage Ball tomorrow night. Can we look forward to seeing you?’
Mohinder takes a deep breath and forces a smile. ‘Yes, I’ll be opening the ceremony,’ he says. ‘I’ll be there for the first hour or so. The guests generally find it easier to relax and kick back when the only staff around are serving them drinks.’
‘Are you really expecting an orgy?’ Matt asks lightly.
‘Historically... yes. Sex is rather the reason that people visit here.’ Mohinder sips his tea. ‘Additionally any number of suppliers of bondage equipment inundate us with samples and free supplies for the ball on the proviso that we have their flyers up on notice boards.’
‘You provide supplies?’ Eden asks, her huge eyes even wider with surprise.
‘Not the major equipment but certainly condoms, lubes, floggers, paddles, the cheaper restraints, and occasionally nipple clamps and the like. It’s always a mixed bag and generally first-come-first-served.’ Mohinder shrugs easily. ‘We have tried goodie bags on entry but tastes are so individual. We find it easier to simply put out the supplies on tables and let people work it out themselves.
Matt chuckles to himself. ‘You put them out on the tables like party favours?’
‘It seems to work,’ Mohinder admits. ‘There’s the main hall and a number of smaller rooms. I tend to make my escape when people start sneaking off into them.’
Matt hasn’t been with this many people in a long time. But a lot of people around is safe, safer than being alone. Nothing can happen in a crowd. Stop it; he tells himself, this isn’t a good train of thought. You have to see the thoughts and catch them before they drag you down the poisoned path. He can’t go there again.
There are scores, hundreds of people to meet, men and women, gay, bi, and straight, slaves and masters, furries, adult babies, foot fetishists, every kind of kink he’s heard of and dozens beside. Some of them friendly, some of them shy, and some of them are hostile. Some of them make Matt’s skin crawl, the predators and the psychopaths. Not killers, not necessarily, but the ones who see everyone else as an object. In any group of people big enough there’s always at least one.
After brunch, Mohinder shows him to the murder sites. There were five in total, two women and three men. Unusual in a serial killer. All slashed with the wounds becoming deeper and more confident over time until the final two were beheaded, and the very last was also disembowelled. Mohinder is twitchy and uncomfortable the whole way but Matt doesn’t blame him for that. It takes its toll, being even peripherally involved in something like that. People go through their entire lives without truly knowing the violence and evil just a hand span away from them.
‘How did it go?’ Chandra asks when Mohinder stamps into the shared office.
‘Fine.’
Chandra raises an eyebrow but doesn’t look away from his computer. ‘Will he be fair do you think?’
‘I said he would.’
‘That was before you met him.’
‘Well now I’ve met I’m sure!’ Mohinder slumps down into his seat. ‘I don’t think he likes me very much.’
‘He isn’t under any obligation to do so,’ Chandra observes.
Mohinder rolls his eyes. ‘That isn’t the point. I want… well.’
‘I’m hardly surprised he doesn’t like you if you’ve been bleating on about your feelings.’
‘I wasn’t! And besides the psychologist said it wasn’t healthy to bottle up things.’
‘She meant that you should talk to her, not that you should you inflict it on the rest of us,’ Chandra says tartly.
‘This is why mother is happy to be in India while you’re here. You do realise that don’t you?’
Matt is sat on his balcony enjoying a cup of coffee when his attention is arrested by the balcony of the adjoining apartment where a naked man is lounging.
‘Good evening,’ drawls his naked neighbour, leaning on the rail.
‘Hi yourself. I hope you’ve got plenty of sunscreen.’
‘I’m sadly lacking someone to rub it into my back.’
Matt takes a closer look at the other man: he’s quite a bit younger and handsome in a prettyish way with a nicely defined, if pale, body.
‘Fancy that,’ Matt says, smiling slightly.
‘I’m Adam.’
‘Matt.’
‘Do you play on my team?’ Adam asks with a cheeky grin.
‘I play on both teams, I’m a friendly sort’
‘Well that’s just peachy,’ Adam says happily. ‘Shall I come over there or would you rather come over here?’
Matt drains his coffee and considers the reams of research material he’s brought with him. ‘I’ll come over there.’
‘Room 237, ask for Adam Monroe.’
‘Does that approach often work for you?’ Matt asks when Adam opens the door.
‘In real life? About twenty per cent of the time,’ he admits. He shuts the door and moves over to the bed. ‘At a club or somewhere like this, it’s more like eighty per cent.’ He starts rolling a joint. ‘Would you like a toke?’
‘Don’t mind if I do,’ Matt says, toeing off his shoes and sitting down on the bed. He takes the joint and takes a deep, slow draw on it.
‘Been a while?’
‘A bit,’ Matt admits, letting the smoke curl out. ‘How strict here are they?’
‘About a bit of grass?Not at all. Officially it’s naughty but there’s no police presence obviously and the staff don’t hassle you about it. They prefer it if you don’t do it somewhere they can’t pretend not to have seen it. Anything harder and they get antsy, although I suspect that’s at least partly because they don’t have facilities to deal with it. There’s a nurse and that’s about it.’
‘I’m not one for anything harder.’ Matt lets his eyes wander up and down the other man’s naked body. ‘So do you top or bottom?’
‘Switch.’ Adam lolls back on the bed. ‘But I’m in a bottom sort of mood. Would you oblige?’
‘Happily.’
Adam, ruffled and pleasantly pink, wanders out of bed to fetch a bottle of wine and some more cigarette papers.
‘Do you do this a lot?’ Matt asks.
‘Pick up complete strangers?’ Adam asks, rolling two joints. ‘Quite a lot, yes. Enough that I was happy as a pig in… well, I was happy to hear they were reopening this place. Clubs and bars can make one feel so seedy. But here in the sunshine with all the other perverts and sex maniacs it’s hard to imagine it as seedy. It’s like communing with the divine.’
‘You’ve had too much of this,’ Matt laughs, taking one of the proffered joints and lighting it.
‘Have you been here before?’ Adam lights his joint and lies down, resting his head on Matt’s chest.
‘No,’ Matt says surprised.
‘Me either. I’d just about saved up enough money and then the bloody murders shut the place down.’ Adam pours himself a glass of wine. ‘Do you know there’s a delicious rumour going around about some crime writer being here to investigate the murders? Perhaps I should get him to pay me oodles of cash and pretend I’m the slasher! By the time he realised I was in another country at the time I’d be… well I’d be in another country.’
Matt laughs and shakes his head.
‘Don’t tell me someone beat me to it!’
‘No, I’m the crime writer.’
Adam chokes on a lungful of smoke. ‘Here, you just shagged up, down, and sideways! Do you normally screw possible suspects?’
You weren’t though,’ Matt blows out a stream of smoke. ‘You’re not on the list of guests who were here last time. The management gave it me. I looked at the list before I came over.’ He points a finger at Adam. ‘I’m not being fooled like that.’
Adam regards the end of his joint intently. ‘So you wouldn’t have believed me anyway?’
‘Nah.’
‘Oh. Well that’s alright then.’ Adam sits up and gives Matt a lazy grin. ‘I suppose you’ll have met the heir apparent to The Resort then? All big, brown eyes and fuck-me-hard-all-night arse.’
Matt laughs so hard he almost drops his joint. ‘You mean Mohinder? It is a pretty nice ass.’
‘Unbelievable arse. Even if the face was like the back of a bus I’d ride that arse. Not that I have a chance. He gave me the polite freeze when I expressed interest,’ Adam says with a shrug. ‘Uptight.’
‘He’s pretty far out of my league.’
‘How bloody dare you,’ Adam says with as much dignity as he can muster.
‘I didn’t say you were in my league,’ Matt protests. ‘You’re slumming it.’
‘That’s what you say now.’
‘Anyway, this is a practically anonymous shag between strangers. I don’t have to shore up your injured ego.’
‘Well fuck off then,’ Adam says petulantly. ‘And give me back my bloody joint. Are you going to the ball?’
‘The bondage thing?’ Matt falls over as he tries to pull on his trousers.
‘Mmm. It’s not really my scene in a big way although I’m quite fond of a bit of slap with my tickle. It seems a shame to miss it. It’s supposed to be quite a big deal.’
‘I might stick my head in,’ Matt says diffidently, still on the floor.
Adam flops back on the bed and smiles at the ceiling. ‘Might see you there then.’
Matt spends the morning organising his notes and covering a large-scale map of the resort with post-its. There are more than two hundred names on the list Mohinder gave him, and that’s only the guests. He doesn’t even know how to start finding them, let alone persuading people here to have as much sex as possible as often as possible to sit down and answer questions. Maybe he should start with the staff instead. They’d probably be glad of a break and a sit down for half an hour. Elle said she’d been there, although with the Bondage Ball looming the BDSM Coordinator was probably as busy as she got.
He’s saved from his confused cogitation by a soft knock at the door.
‘Hello?’ he asks and, seeing no one through the spy hole, he opens the door carefully.
On the floor is a single, large, blank envelope.
Matt stares at it silently. Once he would’ve assumed it was evidence from someone too nervous to come forward but these days his mind goes to darker places.
Inside the envelope is a single red rose.
‘No, certainly not,’ Chandra says impatiently. ‘As far as I’m aware the killer made no attempts to contact the police, the staff, or the guests. I’m sure if he had taken into his head to send flowers then someone would’ve noticed I’m quite sure.’
‘What’s wrong, Father?’ Mohinder asks, walking into the room in his dressing gown. ‘Oh. I didn’t know you were here, Matt,’ he says sheepishly. ‘I just had a shower.’
‘Mr Parkman was delighting me with his paranoid fantasies,’ Chandra says sourly. ‘He seems to think that someone sending him flowers is a sign of an imminent rash of murders rather than simply signalling romantic interest.’
‘Mr Parkman has some reason to be paranoid,’ Mohinder says uneasily. ‘I’m sure Father is correct though and that it was a romantic gesture that proved unfortunately unsuccessful.’
‘People around here don’t send flowers when they want to signal interest,’ Matt snaps. ‘They hang about balconies naked and ask random strangers if they want to have sex.’
‘Do they?’ Mohinder asks.
‘Did you go?’ Chandra asks curiously.
‘Father!’
‘We operate a facility designed to encourage strangers to have sex,’ Chandra asks dryly. ‘Forgive me for taking the opportunity to conduct some market research.’
‘Yes, actually,’ Matt says, relaxing a little. ‘Ten out of ten for encouraging people to have sex.’
‘I’m going to go and get dressed,’ Mohinder says quietly.
‘I was wondering if I could talk to you later,’ Matt says. ‘Take your statement as we talked about.’
Mohinder pulls himself together and smiles. ‘It can’t be too late. We have the ball tonight.’
‘Okay, well, when would be a good time for you?’
Mohinder licks his lips. ‘Lunchtime? Could we meet for lunch and then do it?’
‘Sure,’ Matt says, calming down a bit. ‘You can protect me from rose wielding lunatics.’
Mohinder smiles sheepishly.
They meet at a nice little restaurant a few blocks from Matt’s hotel. The guests are relaxing now; there are some already in bondage gear and, on the way to the restaurant, Matt sees a female guest walking three men on leashes like dogs.
‘How’re you feeling now?’ Mohinder asks as he sits down.
‘Like kind of an asshole.’
‘Someone just wasn’t thinking things through.’
Matt rubs his forehead. ‘I wanted to keep busy. Maybe I shouldn’t have come here.’ He takes a deep breath and forces a smile. ‘Don’t listen to me babbling on. I overindulged yesterday and it’s made me a little… cranky.’
‘Volatile behaviour is the province of the artistic temperament,’ Mohinder says, raising an eyebrow.
‘You’re too kind.’ Matt holds up a hand and smiles at a waitress. ‘Can I have a glass of juice please? Mohinder?’
‘What? Oh tea please, Marie.’
‘I’ll take your food order when I come back,’ she says brightly.
Matt flips through the menu. ‘What would you recommend?’
‘The goat’s cheese and red pepper in a baked potato is my personal favourite.’
Matt looks up in surprise. ‘For some reason I had you down as a vegetarian. Probably because you’re so…slim.’
‘I’ve actually finally managed to put on a few pounds. I spent most of my teenage years trying to gain some bulk. There’s something rather… unmanly about being too thin.’
Matt frowns slightly. ‘Do you think? I always hated being fat.’
Mohinder’s mouth is half open, forming his answer, as the waitress returns with the drinks.
‘Are you ready to order?’
‘I’ll have the baked potato with goat’s cheese and red peppers please,’ Matt says nicely.
‘The same please,’ Mohinder says, beaming up at her.
Mohinder looks around Matt’s apartment and smiles as he wanders over to the map of the resort.
‘You’ve been busy,’ he observes. ‘You don’t waste time do you?’
‘I’m coming to this late and cold.’
‘You ought to have come while the bodies were still warm,’ Mohinder suggests, and looks over at Matt. ‘I would’ve thought it was up your street.’
‘It was,’ Matt says, setting up his equipment.
‘So why didn’t you come then?’
Matt sighs and runs his fingers through his hair. ‘My wife was dying.’
‘What?’ Mohinder sits down heavily on the arm of the armchair.
Matt turns around and shrugs. ‘She had breast cancer. She’d had all the treatments and there was nothing left but to make her as comfortable and happy.’
‘I didn’t even know you’d been married.’
Matt shrugs. ‘It’s like I was saying, I’d rather keep my personal life personal. You have to give bits here and there.’
‘It’s quite a big thing though! How did you keep it out of the papers?’
‘Even the gutter press have codes,’ Matt says, walking over to the little kitchen area and putting the kettle on. ‘She wasn’t in the public eye and I never mentioned her illness so they didn’t either. How do you take your coffee?’
‘Milky and with two sugars please.’ Mohinder pulls nervously at his fingers. ‘It isn’t that people are just nosy. Well, some people are. But authors can have a big influence on people’s lives, their writing can be a big part of people’s lives whether they intend them to or not, so people naturally become curious. Especially with someone as private as you are.’
Matt carries over two coffees and hands one to Mohinder. ‘After what happened in Scotland I’m wary of anyone being interested in me.’
‘You had a one night stand with some girl in the next room, that’s an odd kind of wariness.’
Matt takes a gulp of his coffee. ‘He was a guy on the next balcony along which turned out to be the hotel next door, and he didn’t know who I was. Besides it’s been a while.’ Matt shakes his head. ‘And I don’t have justify myself to you.’
‘Well of course not,’ Mohinder mutters. He sighs and then looks at Matt. ‘You haven’t asked me to keep this to myself.’
‘If I have I have to ask you respect my privacy then you probably wouldn’t anyway.’
‘I won’t say anything,’ Mohinder promises. He sips his coffee and winces at the bitterness. ‘Needs sugar.’ He ladles it into his coffee cup and takes a sip.
‘Better? ‘
‘Much, thank you. What did you want to know?’
On To Part Two
