The Mistress - an Erotic Noir Novel by J. E. Keep & M. Keep

Author:J. E. Keep & M. Keep [J. E. Keep & M. Keep]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Goodreads: 18484616
Published: 2013-07-19T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter 5

Her eyes looked so wide and panicked, her hand going to his chest. “I drank too much and when I woke up, I was here... I’m so cold,” she shivered, her face dropping down and allowing her hat to cover her face. “I’m so ashamed. I couldn’t stand for my parents to find out! Please don’t tell them!”

The tall man, with his working class suit and tie beneath that jacket, gave her a look over then took hold of her shoulder. “C’mon,” he said in a friendly manner, guiding her around the side of the building towards the front. “This is not the night to be wandering around this party drunk, miss,” he said as she could see the lights of the police cars and the mass of people moving about, most of them leaving as she was.

“What’s happened?” she asked, as if suddenly aware of what was happening, her eyes looking up at him and flushing brightly, “Is something wrong?”

Obviously much older than her, likely in his thirties, the trench coated man took her through the police, the officers paying him no heed except for one who nodded to him familiarly. Looking down to her he asked, “What’s your name, miss? I’m Max,” he introduced, “detective Max Eisen.”

“Eva,” she said meekly, seeming as though the lights and the people were all too much for her, “I’m Eva. I’m... I’m a student at Clarford. What’s... why is there a detective here?”

In the bright lights of the front of the manor he looked her over again, “You have a ride, Eva?” He asked congenially, “Or should I have one of the officers escort you back to your place? I’m afraid there’s been a terrible incident here, and we’ll be investigating.”

“I... No, I don’t have a ride,” she shook her head, her wavy hair bouncing off her temples. She wanted to say something to help Sinclair, but she could think of nothing that wouldn’t implicate her. “I would really appreciate that.”

Nodding to her he gestured to one of the officers who went and got in his car. “Just tell the officer where you live, alright? He’ll take you on there,” he gave her a warm smile. “What’s your last name anyhow, Eva?” The tall blonde man radiated a degree of warmth and friendliness, seeming rather sensitive to her position—her perceived position—as a young student overwrought at some high society party.

“Perkins,” she murmured as she slid herself into the backseat of the police car, feeling her entire body tense, “Eva Perkins, detective.”

With a nod he patted the officer on the shoulder, “Take Miss Perkin’s home, Jim. She lives out by Clarford I imagine,” he gave her a warm smile. “Don’t worry, just try and avoid these things in the future, huh?” he cautioned before shutting the door for her.

She would, without a doubt, be trying to avoid dead bodies and implications beyond her reasoning in the future.

Giving Jim her address, she looked sullen, though it could have easily been passed off as regret.

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