Lisette Rivers & the Crumbling Mansion Affair
by
Brian Sands
Bondage Life,No. 15, 1983, p. 7, Leslie Brooks. Possibly a promotional still for the moviesThe Scar(1948) or Blonde Ice (1949).
Chapter TenGreenmoor Farm
In Weatherstone Hall anonymous Number Two had bound Lisette’s wrists together behind her back with consummate skill and ruthlessness. No amount of subtle finger work or struggle had produced any change, from the moment she was enclosed in the suitcase and transported to Greenmoor Farm, to her current incarceration in the small cellar beneath Regina Ecuestre’s stable. That woman, overflowing with insights about the real purpose and application of a gag, would have agreed wholeheartedly with Lisette’s knowledge that being unable to free her hands was the linchpin to her captivity. Complete helplessness was added when legs were bound and arms trussed against her back and, even if she could free her legs and walk around, even get her tied hands to a door latch, if the door was locked there was nothing more she could do, and a trapdoor was impossible. As it was, Lisette could not find the knots at her ankles or her knees, so she was stymied before the first step, so to speak, could be taken.
The elements of capture and restraint never ceased to exert a seductive fascination over Lisette. There was an almost bewildering and inexorable logic of cause and effect in the steps: bind the heroine’s legs so that she cannot run away, gag her tightly so that she cannot scream or call for help, and tie her hands so that she cannot reach her ankle and leg bonds, or her gag. Trussing her arms to her torso to reduce movement to a bare minimum was another element, and then there was sensory deprivation – tying on a blindfold or inserting earplugs, or both – that was frightening and subduing in equal measure.
There was no light in the cellar. The impenetrable darkness seemed to press upon her eyes, and sweat beaded her brow as she fought the claustrophobia that this brought on. No sound reached her from the outside, no reassuring farmyard noises such as the snorting and stamping of a horse or birds twittering in the trees, or the wind soughing through the branches. It was almost as effective as being enclosed in a bondage hood. For some minutes Lisette’s heart raced and she became drenched in sweat, then, slowly, she adjusted and overcame the hysteria that had reached out to drag her into hyperventilation, possibly death and certainly unconsciousness. The gag did not help. It made breathing difficult and her face felt hot and smothered under the tightly tied cloth.
Loss of the senses of sight and hearing meant that Lisette’s other senses were sharpened to an almost unbearable pitch, especially that of touch. The stones of the cellar wall and the slightly gritty surface of the concrete floor grated against her fingertips and legs and made her nerves scream. The feel of the ropes that were bound very tightly around her arms, legs and body added to her sense of enclosure. The cords were thin, but they felt like iron bands around her arms and chest, cutting into her soft skin. Straining against them only increased the feeling of tightness and made breathing difficult. She was not bound as cruelly as by Number Two, but it was only a matter of degree.
After struggling for several minutes, she subsided against the wall and prepared herself to wait for Regina’s return. That would not be for several hours. After some time she lay on the floor and made herself as comfortable as the circumstances allowed. She wondered why the room was as warm as it was. Most underground cellars were bitterly cold. Was it the piles of hay above, but in the stable enclosure next-door? With her senses of sight and hearing gone, Lisette’s olfactory sense grew sharper. She was almost sure that she could smell the mixture of hay and horse manure that must be somewhere nearby in very appreciable quantities.
Regina Ecuestre returned earlier than Lisette anticipated. Lisette blinked against the sudden light that the woman’s arrival brought, but with an immense feeling of relief. She did a double take, however, when Regina knelt to the floor beside her and propped her up with her back against the wall. The woman’s long dark hair, plaited at the back to waist-length, was gone and in its place was a halo of wavy auburn hair that barely touched her shoulders. The style added to Regina’s attractiveness, removing the austere beauty of the black switch and adding a softer glow to her face. She was no longer wearing her riding habit either. Instead she wore a black skirt slit on one side to the hip, a low-cut white silk blouse with short sleeves, dark stockings ana pair of elegant black high heels.
Regina unfastened Lisette’s gags and held the water canteen to her lips. When he captive had drunk her fill, the woman proceeded to loosen the cords that bound Lisette’s arms and body, retying them but not as tightly as before. She also untied Lisette’s legs at the knees and thighs but left her ankles bound.
“Does that feel better?” Regina asked.
“Yes. Yes, thank you,” Lisette stammered.
“Good. I don’t much like leaving you bound here in the dark, but it has to be done. In fact, there was a visitor, so the precaution of keeping you gagged is justified.”
“Who was it, that man Simenov?”
“No, not at all. It was that young heiress to Weatherstone Hall the late Spencer Fforbes was trying to con. Pretty little thing, she said she was exploring the district and how small farms like this one always fascinated her. I gave her a brief guided tour, messed my jodhpurs too when I was shovelling out the rotting hay in the stable above us, while she watched. I didn’t want to risk spontaneous combustion with you down here. Simenov always says it would do the insurance company good to fork out some money for a change. He has larcenous ways.”
“Don’t you, as well?”
Regina laughed. “You’re sharp, Sweetie. But that’s what I expect of a private detective. Yes, but I like my horses and I wouldn’t do anything to endanger them. But we’re getting off the point. I’m going to leave you here for a few more hours, and when evening comes there’s something we have to do. Until then you will remain safely here.”
She picked up the silk scarf.
“Wait,” said Lisette quickly. “Before you go, will you leave the light on, please? It’s unbearable being tied up in the dark!”
Regina considered the request a moment then nodded her assent. With careful deliberation she replaced the gags, this time tying the covering one between Lisette’s jaws to cover the silk knot. She did not forget to leave the small light glowing when she left through the trap door.
Lisette waited out the remaining hours in tolerable comfort. Her wrists were still tied tightly together so that it was impossible to free her hands. But the cords about her arms and body no longer inflicted acute pain, and the gag was loose enough for her to almost, but not quite, slip out of her mouth. In the warm air she even managed to doze.
When Regina Ecuestre returned she freed Lisette’s mouth and allowed her to drink again from the water canteen. Lisette’s ankles were untied, she was helped to her feet, and her arms unbound as well. Her wrists remained tied together however, and before they mounted the steps to the trapdoor Regina tied the gags firmly between Lisette’s teeth again. Throughout those procedures not a word was spoken, by Regina who appeared preoccupied in her thoughts, and by Lisette who was unable to speak anyway. They passed together through the trapdoor. The woman closed it and covered the area with rotted carpeting. They paused at the stable door. It was now dark and there was no moon. All that could be seen across the yard was the inviting yellow light from the farmhouse kitchen.
“I’ve had to gag you again,” whispered Regina, speaking for the first time, “because sounds carry in the night and you might decide to call for help now that we’re in the open.”
“Mmm mm!” Lisette shook her head no.
“All the same,” the woman continued, “I’m not taking any chances, remember? Anyway, I think you’ll be interested in my proposal. Let’s get into the house and I’ll tell you my plan.”
Regina Ecuestre conducted Lisette skilfully across the yard, steering her around obstacles such as a wheelbarrow of horse manure and a coil of garden hose, and they entered through the back door into the kitchen without incident. The night was still and very dark. If there was a moon it was obscured by thick cloud cover. There was probably rain on the offing.
They passed through the kitchen into the rose-tinted living room where Regina sat Lisette in one of the large armchairs. She bent over the young woman and untied the gags, placed them fastidiously on the coffee table, and settled herself into an armchair facing Lisette.
“I’ve figured out how our different aims in this affair may coincide, Miss Rivers,” the woman began. Lisette started to speak but Regina raised her hand. “No, hear me out … You want to find the murderer of Spencer Fforbes and the drug runners, who are one and the same, and I want to trace the bastards who embezzled the company funds and left me holding the bag. I have a lead. I think I know where the bastard can be found. What I’m asking from you is to give me time to follow-up that lead before you set the police on to the gang. My way to that man is through the gang. There is a connection between them. It’s entirely possible that the person they call Number One is the same person I’m looking for.”
“What do you want me to do?” asked Lisette dubiously. “I mean, how can I delay things? If you let me go – and it sounds as though that’s what you’re planning to do – and I don’t go to the police, the gang will only look for me and try to capture me again or worse, to prevent me from telling what I know?”
“What I want is for you to tell the police, certainly, but delay them somehow at the same time – for a few hours only, maybe half a day – but put the wind up the gang so that they prepare to make a run for it. If they get set to leave the country, they’ll have to tell Number One, and if I’m there with them - because it’s too hot for me too and I’ll be going with them – it should be possible for me to find out where, and who, Number One is. Does that make sense?”
Lisette nodded thoughtfully. “Yes, it does, in a strange way. But how do you know that I won’t hand you over to the police the moment I’m released?”
“I’ll have to take your word for it, sort of an honourable agreement between two women. I’ve kept you tied up and uncomfortable but, on the whole, I think I’ve treated you well. I could have left you bound the way you were when they delivered you to me, in hours of torment.”
“That’s true. Well,” said Lisette slowly, “let’s get down to practicalities. If you let me go tonight – “
“Delay going to the police until the morning, then tell them about the drug network. But don’t mention my part in it, not yet anyway. Before the police act - say by midday tomorrow - the fact that you’ve escaped will send everyone into a panic. Weatherstone Hall will be empty of that man Simenov and Number Two. They’ll be hiding somewhere in the district and I’ll be with them. When I’ve found out who Number One is I’ll get word to you – you’ll be at Swallowtail Cottage won’t you?”
“Yes.”
“And you can then tell the police where to find us. I’ll be gone by then, on the trail of Number One. I’m sure he’s not in the country.”
“That’s very dangerous.”
“I’ll take my risks. So, what do you say?”
“All right. If you let me go, I promise I’ll delay the police until midday tomorrow.”
“Good.”
Regina Ecuestre came to her feet and went to Lisette. She bent and patiently set about untying the cords that had bound the young woman’s wrists together for so many hours. When her hands were at last free, Lisette sank back in the armchair and massaged her wrists and forearms ruefully.
“Here.”
Regina knelt beside Lisette and began applying a soothing cream to her wrists, which were swollen and lacerated. Lisette felt the ameliorating effects almost at once. After a few minutes, during which neither woman said a word while concentrating on massaging Lisette’s limbs, Regina spoke.
“If you’re ready, Sweetie, it’s time to put the next step of our plan into action.”
All right.” Lisette rose gingerly to her feet. It was wonderful to be free at last.
“Greenmoor Farm – that’s this place – is only a few kilometres from Weatherstone Hall and the cottage where you’re staying. You can walk there in under half an hour.” Regina paused a moment then continued. “I’d like you to simply stay at home until the morning. Keep your door locked. Go to the police at mid-morning and take time over your statement. By then the little gang of imbeciles I’m ashamed to be part of will have gone into a panic and be going to ground. I’ll get word to you when I know where they’re hiding. There are a number of alternatives they can choose.”
Lisette picked up the creased scarf from the coffee table – it was hers – untied the knot in its centre, folded the scarf and slipped it into a small pocket of her skirt. She turned and held out her hand. “Thank you, Regina. Be careful.”
Regina Ecuestre chuckled. “I will, don’t you worry, Sweetie. But before you go there’s something I want you to do.” The woman picked up the cords that had bound Lisette and held them out to her. “I want you to tie me up. It will give me an alibi to explain your escape. You don’t have to make it too tight,” she added as Lisette began tying her hands together in front of her. “Just make it difficult enough to get free for half an hour. I shan’t start struggling immediately. They’re coming later this evening you see, to fetch you, so we’d better do this quickly.”
Upon that news, Lisette hurried about her task. She helped Regina sit on the floor, bound her arms to her legs so that she was folded forwards a little uncomfortably, took up the white cloth that had been used to gag her, shook it out, refolded it and bound it tightly between the woman’s jaws. Regina accepted the stale gag with a faint moue of distaste and a twinkle in her eyes at the irony of the situation.
“I’m glad you have a nice smell, Sweetie,” said Regina, her voice ascaping muffled and distorted through the gag.
Lisette lost no time getting out of the farmhouse. She negotiated the main yard with its shadowed obstacles and walked along the entrance drive to the main road. The night was, if anything, darker than before. As she walked along the right hand side of the road towards its distant T-junction with Cliff Road, Lisette was aware of the characteristic terrain of the moors to her left. The undulating hills and depressions marched away into black obscurity, merging with the cloud-blanketed sky above so that no horizon line could be discerned. The wind washed over her, moaning softly, a continual background of dull sound that made her think of lost souls wandering the night as in a Dickens novel. To her right, fields of hay and stubble and tightly packed stands of trees stretched into the night. Occasionally the faint bleat of a sheep or a goat reminded her that other living creatures were about.
In only the skirt and sweater worn at the time of her capture at Weatherstone Hall, she was not dressed for the clammy cold that was descending in the air about her, and she hurried on, shivering with her arms wrapped around her chest. She was looking forward to regaining the safety of her little cottage and the company of Rasputin. The big white Persian must be grumbling for his supper and her company by now.
She had walked about a kilometre when vehicle lights sprang into view to her right, somewhere off the road ahead. They were not facing her directly and several seconds later Lisette realised that the vehicle was coming from a side road. The next moment it turned onto the main road as the lights of another vehicle following it caught it in a silhouette against the night sky. It was a large covered truck. The vehicle behind it was a sedan car of some sort.
Lisette stepped onto the verge so as to avoid being caught and dazzled in the beam of the headlights. She was not sure whether to remain or flee. If the two vehicles were coming from Cliff Road there was a possibility that they were being driven by members of the drug-running gang, the ersatz science fiction writer Brick Simenov and his employer the anonymous Number Two. If they were ordinary farm workers transporting market produce, they might be able to give her a lift or at least advise her that she was on the right track, that she was homeward-bound. The latter possibility was attractive. It was beginning to rain lightly and the sheltering interior of a truck or a car would be welcome.
As the van loomed towards her, Lisette plucked up her courage, stepped back into the beams of the headlights, and raised her arm to flag it down. The truck slowed, Lisette drew to the verge again, and the vehicle pulled up beside her.
They Drive by Night (Long Haul),A. I. Bezzerides, Dell paperback
Even through the rain streaked side window of the cabin, Lisette recognised the visage of Brick Simenov. In that instant, as the man recognised her, and quicker than thought, Lisette was fleeing up the road away from the van and towards the car that was following. Simenov would be unable to turn the truck around quickly enough to go in pursuit of her. The smaller car was a different matter. Its driver slewed it around, for a moment taking up most of the road before coming to rest on what was now the wrong side of the road for it, blocking off Lisette’s route of escape.
As the big man erupted heavily from the driver’s side and into Lisette’s path, the young woman slipped on the wet road surface and fell across the grassy verge. The soft landing saved her from skinning her knees and arms. It also offered a means of defence. As Lisette scrambled upon her hands and knees and then to her feet, her fight hand came against a large round stone. Instinctively she gripped it and, as Number Two spread his huge arms in order to engulf her, she struck out blindly. Her eyes were tearing with her exertions and she could scarcely see through the rain, but there was a satisfying if somewhat sickening thud and the man was no longer standing before her. As Number Two lay groaning in a puddle of rain, his large bulk lit by the headlamps of his own car, Lisette ran on up the road.
It was only a matter of time, however, before one of the men would catch up with her. She was already weakened by the ordeal of having being bound and held captive, and the frantic dash through the rain in the cold night was sapping energy out of her at an alarming rate. She began to stumble again, due not to the slipperiness of the road but due to exhaustion. Her breath caught in her throat. The rain and the dark were closing in. Despite her efforts, her legs grew weaker and her running became an unsteady walk. Somewhere behind her, a long way off but drawing closer with every second, she could hear the pounding of running feet. She had dropped the rock, no longer had a weapon with which to defend herself, and her pursuer – it was probably Simenov – would soon be upon her.
Lisette almost gave up all hope as a vehicle drew up alongside her. But she was stubborn where getting herself recaptured was concerned, and if she could not hit an attacker with a convenient rock she could at least make a decent run for it. She was about to turn and run into the fields, where the darkness held other dangers, obstacles such as tree roots and fences that could wound her, when a voice called excitedly.
“Lisa, quickly! Get in!”
She turned and saw with astonishment the white face of Sunny Virtue looking up at her from the lowered window of the driver’s side of her own little Renault. The girl’s face was lit eerily by the interior light which she had just switched on. Lisette opened the back door and threw herself into the rear passenger’s seat, pulling the door shut behind her. The Renault accelerated away then took a sharp right-hand turn onto another road and gathered speed.
When Lisette had righted herself she saw that they were in Cliff Road with the roofs of the crumbling mansion silhouetted as a darker mass against the cloud-blanketed sky up ahead. Before they reached the entranceway to Weatherstone Hall, Sunny guided the car into the cul-de-sac and brought it to rest expertly in front of the garden gate. Caught momentarily in the beams of the car’s headlights, the whitewashed façade of Swallowtail Cottage was a welcome sight.
The two young women piled out of the car and ran to the cottage door. It took seconds for Sunny to open before they were barricaded inside, panting for breath and looking distractedly into each other’s faces.
“Frrruft!”
Rasputin Thermodux the First regarded his two female humans bleakly as they stumbled into the kitchen. He had not eaten since the night before and his stomach was rumbling. The mice had not been cooperative, suggesting that he would be better advised to seek out the larger rats that lived in the foundations of the crumbling pile next door. He was not amused.
Lisette made peace with her feline friend by presenting him with a large bowl of Krunchy Katt Nibble Bites and a saucer of milk while Sunny Virtue checked that all windows and doors to the outside were locked, the doors deadlocked, before divesting herself of the faux fur jacket she wore and sinking into a kitchen chair. Lisette prepared hot chocolate and it was not until then that the two young women sat still and gathered their wits as well as their breath.
“Do you think they’ll follow us?” asked Sunny. Under her jacket she wore a black halter top and a small pink neck scarf tied prettily as a choker, its creaseless ends sticking jauntily to one side.
Flickr, Tommy2
“I don’t think so,” said Lisette. “But let’s make sure. I’ll phone the police right now.”
The house phone was in working order and Lisette succeeded in speaking with the duty sergeant immediately. Looking across at Sunny Virtue, Lisette gave the news to the Sergeant that she had just remembered something that might be important to the investigation into Spencer Fforbes’s killing and asked whether she could call on DI Hereward Fysshe later in the morning.
“No Sergeant, it’s not important enough to disturb the Detective Inspector so early.” It was almost three in the morning. “I couldn’t sleep and I knew that someone would be on duty. I thought I’d phone now while it was fresh in my mind, and make the appointment.” She replaced the phone in its cradle.
Sunny looked at Lisette with wide eyes. “Why didn’t you tell him that you were kidnapped?”
”I will … later. But this affair has become more complicated,” replied Lisette.
She wondered how much she should tell Sunny, who to her credit had just rescued her from almost certain recapture, but knowing that at the same time she had a commitment to Regina Ecuestre who was playing a very dangerous double game.
“Sunny,” she continued, “do you mind if I tell you later? I have reasons for not confiding in you right away. One is to protect you, if I’m wrong in my suspicions. The other is that I’m not at all sure how to follow this up. Let’s get some sleep. We’ll be able to think more clearly after a few hours’ rest.”
Sunny did not demur, but she looked a little hurt. She took the spare bedroom and Lisette fell exhausted into her own bed in the company of a forgiving Rasputin, who insisted on sleeping on the pillow next to hers. The pace of their lives for what remained of the night had returned to normal. It was not going to last.
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