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    Fatal North
    Fatal North
    Fatal North
    Ebook202 pages2 hours

    Fatal North

    By S.D. Gripton and Sally Dillon-Snape

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    About this ebook

    Andy North and Ellie Tonbridge are back in their 6th crime novel. This time they are investigating the practice of sex for rent - where students and others pay their rent by sexual favors to their landlords. But what happens if that practice is abused. This is what Andy and Ellie discover when they step into the hidden, dirty world of sex for rent and how it can all go wrong. This is the 6th of the alphabetical list of novels of about 50,000 which can be read in a day or so and which are hard-hitting and real to life. Read on and enjoy as much as you can and remember, sex for rent is not a good idea. Another great novel from S.D. Gripton

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherS.D. Gripton
    Release dateApr 5, 2018
    ISBN9781370184095
    Fatal North
    Author

    S.D. Gripton

    S.D. Gripton novels and real crime books are written by Dennis Snape, who is married to Sally who originate from North Wales and Manchester respectively and who met 18 years ago. I work very hard to make a reading experience a good one, with good plots and earthy language. I enjoy writing and hope readers enjoy what I have written. I thank everyone who has ever looked at at one of my books.

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      Book preview

      Fatal North - S.D. Gripton

      Fatal North

      An Andy North Crime Novel

      Book Six

      By

      S.D. Gripton & Sally Dillon-Snape

      Copyright © Sally Dillon-Snape & Dennis Snape (2023)

      The moral right of the authors is hereby asserted in accordance with The Copyright Act 1988

      All characters and events in this publication other than those of fact and historical significance available in the public domain are fictitious and any resemblance to actual persons living and dead is purely coincidental

      All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in retrieval systems, or transmitted in any form or by any means without the written permission of the publisher

      Cover by Snape

      ***

      Chapter 1

      Claire MacIntosh knew that she was not the prettiest female at university; she’d never been the prettiest girl at any educational establishment she’d ever attended; she wasn’t even the prettiest female in the lodgings in which she lived; her landlady was far, far prettier; taller, shapelier, better dressed, more cultured; but Claire was still wanted, she was still desired. Her rounded five feet-two-inch frame, with its large bust and shapely rear was not only greatly desired but it was her rent; it was what was seeing her through university with little or no debt. Her body, as unattractive as many found it, was her education; it would see her into the world of Veterinary Medicine with her head held high and a superb degree.

      Because eighteen-year-old Claire MacIntosh had made a deal with her near fifty-year-old landlords; the male and the female; sex for rent; something that was regarded by many as illegal but for which no one had ever been imprisoned or prosecuted, as was pointed out to Claire, no one had been imprisoned for practising it and it was widespread among students. Put simply; the more sex she had with her landlords the longer period of free rent she enjoyed.

      It was never meant to be like that, of course. If her mother back in the Valleys of Wales had even an inkling of what she was doing not only would she have died of shame but she would have ordered her daughter back home immediately. That would have meant Claire returning to tightly packed houses built on steep streets, complete with all the dirt and dust left over from a time when all the mines were active; it would have meant a return to beaten-down neighbours and a language she never learned to speak fluently; it would be back to super-boredom; to no decent jobs, no decent men, no decent future. And now, at the present time, she was totally reliant upon the discretion of her landlady and landlord for not disclosing anything to her mother because they had, literally, videoed and photographed hundreds of images of her cavorting sexually with one man or one woman or with both, or with two men or two women or with the whole bunch.

      Any revelation would have killed a mother who still attended Methodist Chapel at least twice a week; the Scottish father who’d given her his last name long gone, coming south to work the mines, marrying her mother, making her pregnant then moving on when the mines were gone. Neither Claire nor her mother had ever heard from him again, he never inquired after his child or paid for her, or sent any money for her upbringing. He was typically Scottish, Claire had always thought.

      To attend university, she had travelled almost across the land, wanting to be away from the Valleys, wanting to be a Veterinary Doctor more than anything in the world, the family having little or no money, her mother doing the very best she could, providing her with her train fare and enough money for one week’s rent, when Claire left home two days before her eighteenth birthday. A brief kiss, a small hug, and Claire was on the train to the rest of her life; all her worldly goods packed into a single suitcase and one backpack and that included two novels. She never saw her mother’s tears, or felt the same sense of great loss the woman was holding in her heart.

      Following advice she received during the long joining process at the university, she’d put her name down for student accommodation but, in the meantime. scoured local newspapers for any available temporary student digs.

      That’s when she discovered the Evans’, Shelley and Daniel, in their late forties the first time she’d met them, both of them tall and quite good-looking for people of that age. Immediately upon meeting them, Claire MacIntosh felt comfortable both in their lovely home and in their company. They showed her a delightful room that could be hers, with a bathroom opposite exclusively for her own use. They showed her the impressive private garden, high hedges all around, the modern fitted kitchen, the large lounge, the huge family television standing centre square of it, for use by all in the house, which would just be the three of them, the Evans’ having no children of their own; one smaller television in the room for her personal use. The coffee the Evans’ made was delicious, as were the superb homemade cakes; the conversation and humour even more so.

      To Claire MacIntosh, living the first eighteen-years of her life in the Valleys, the house seemed like a small slice of paradise, a really beautiful place to live.

      There was only one question in her mind when the Evans’ asked if she had any questions; only one thing she could think of to say. The only thing that was important.

      How much is the rent? she asked in her slight, lilting Welsh accent, as she lounged comfortably in a wide chair in the large light conservatory.

      It was Shelly Evans who answered, explaining that her husband, Daniel, had come out from the Valleys some forty years earlier; he knew what it was like back there, the streets, the dirt, the depressions, the lack of opportunities and he, and she, wanted nothing more than for her to happy and successful. But when she told Claire MacIntosh what the rent would be, Claire’s expression fell; it would be far too much for her.

      Shelly smiled, nodded and leaned forward to pat Claire’s knee.

      Please, she said, do not be put off, Claire. Could I ask, and I know you will think this question is highly personal and unrelated to the rent, but if you could answer it…

      Shelly paused and glanced at her husband before turning her blue eyes back onto Claire.

      …are you a virgin, Claire? Have you ever made love?

      Claire stared open-mouthed and thought about climbing from the comfortable chair and leaving the magnificent house but she didn’t, she simply remained sitting. She thought about not answering, of not giving any information, of telling Shelly and Daniel to get stuffed but, instead of doing that, she answered the questions.

      I am not a virgin, she said. I have never had a proper boyfriend, though. A teacher at my school, the science teacher, he was thirty-four and my lover from when I was sixteen to when I was just over seventeen, until he left the school. We met every Saturday afternoon at his apartment for more than a year and he taught me all there was to know about making love.

      Shelly’s smile widened, as did Daniel’s.

      Were you heartbroken when he left the school? Shelly asked.

      I think I’m probably still heartbroken, Claire confessed.

      And did you enjoy the lovemaking? Shelly asked again, Daniel taking no part in the conversation, simply sitting and listening.

      Claire felt so comfortable being among her new friends, with people who obviously cared about her, that she answered immediately and with a shy smile.

      I lived for Saturdays, she stated. They could never come around fast enough.

      And did no one ever learn of the secret of you and the science teacher? Shelly asked. Anyone, ever?

      I never told a soul, Claire confirmed. No one ever knew.

      So, you are very good at keeping secrets? Shelly asked.

      I think I’m excellent at keeping secrets, Claire said, sounding confident, feeling pride in her ability not to tell, looking from one person to the other, wondering where the conversation was going.

      And if we asked you to come and live at this house and keep secrets, do you think you could do it?

      Claire thought for only a moment before answering.

      Why would I have to? she asked.

      Well, Shelly began hesitatingly, what if Daniel and I said that if you removed all your clothes now, at this moment, here in the conservatory, and for doing that we would offer you the room and let you have the first month’s rent for free, what would you say to that? And if you agreed to remove all your clothes, would it be a secret that you could keep.

      Claire emitted a nervous laugh.

      If I agreed to do it, it would be a secret that I would take to my grave.

      Shelly and Daniel clapped their hands gently, quietly.

      And would you agree to do it? Shelly continued.

      Claire licked her lips and stared again from one person to the other; both of them smiling; both of them much better looking than she was herself.

      I’m not very pretty, Claire announced, to which Shelly leaned forward to stroke her knee again.

      We think you are absolutely perfect, Claire, she said as she continued the stroking of the knee. Please, take off your clothes and gain one month free of rent. Just stand up, no one can see into the conservatory, you’re quite private, take everything off, including any jewellery you may have, naked as you were born; please.

      Heat began to climb up into Claire’s body, heat and excitement; the same excitement she used to feel before and during the Saturday sessions with her science teacher, for whom she would do anything, for whom she did do everything; no one ever knowing, no one even suspecting an overweight girl and a fully grown tall man who thought she was wonderful. The secretiveness of the affair had been almost as exciting as the sex.

      And now she was being offered the same kind of deal; the same kind of secret. All the excitement was back in her stomach, in her heart and in her soul.

      And that would be it, would it; take my clothes off; one month free of rent? she asked.

      Well, Shelly said, once again hesitatingly, if we were considering other actions, I could say to you that if you removed all your clothes and we removed all of ours then we all lay down on the floor and made love, all of us together, there would be a further two months free of rent. That’s three months free rent you could achieve today, Claire, now, here in the conservatory; now; today. Claire, please stand, take off your clothes and let’s make happy love for three months free of rent.

      Claire again stared and gulped air and pushed back her hair…

      …then she stood and paid off the rent for twelve weeks in only one-hundred-and-twenty-two minutes.

      In the seven months since that first day, she’d paid no rent whatsoever; in fact, she was almost two months ahead. And after seven months, on a balmy late spring Sunday, the Evans’ were joined at home for a drink by their friends, Timothy and Helen Crumley, and by late afternoon Claire MacIntosh had added another four months to her free rental period. From that day on, the Crumleys arrived every Friday evening, straight from their office work, and stayed until after tea on Sunday. Claire added more months every weekend.

      She never told a living soul about her activities; what friends she had on her course believed her to be a shy, virginal, Welsh Methodist female, who liked neither boys nor girls, someone who was quite clever, who would excel as a Veterinary Doctor, except they never knew just how clever Claire was, how secretive.

      She enjoyed two years of activities with the Evan’s and the Crumleys, until they threw a twentieth birthday party for her, when the Evans’ introduced her to another couple, Tina and Allan Wantidge, and the Wantidges’ brought something different to the sexual equation, something extra. Tina and Allan did not turn up every weekend but when they did, they brought their speciality with them.

      And their speciality was pain.

      When they turned up, Claire suffered pain and both the Evans’ and the Crumleys, her friends of old, joined in and enjoyed it immensely.

      Claire piled up months of free rent.

      And as the months passed, Claire MacIntosh suffered an ever-growing amount of pain.

      She was taken to the limits.

      She stopped attending university.

      The Wantidges’ visited more often.

      Thoughts of becoming a Veterinary Doctor seeped from her mind.

      Claire MacIntosh was lost to the world.

      ***

      Andy North, closing in on his thirty-fourth birthday, still tall but getting slightly thicker around the waist, was returned from his honeymoon. The beautiful Astrid Kristiansen was returned with him; she would be of course, being his wife, the one he spent the honeymoon with; two weeks of unadulterated luxury on the islands of Bermuda (though they told everybody in the office they were going to Torquay), riding the larger islands on diddly-bops, little mopeds that would take you anywhere you wanted to go. Astrid and Andy on the roads, with laughs in their mouths, love in their hearts, and wind in their hair, passing the golf club, passing the impressive properties, down to the beach, out to Ireland Island to the marina and the maritime museum where once, not so long ago, the Royal Navy docked and had their headquarters for the West Indies Squadron. H.M.S. Malabar it was called, facts learned while they were on the island, nobody particularly wanting to talk about those times, except the old timers.

      It was two weeks of holding Astrid, of hugging her, of expressing love, of lovemaking and seeing beauty all around him, including in his hotel bedroom every day when the sight of a naked Astrid still took Andy North’s breath away. They experienced one single night of storms when a fiercesome wind and driving rain blew across the Atlantic from the Americas heading for Europe; Andy and Astrid wondering, briefly, how bad it would be by the time it arrived there. The last day, almost heartbreaking, with the realisation that in less than twenty-four hours he would be back investigating crime and Astrid would be back gazing down upon dead bodies as part of her position as the County Assistant Pathologist. They would be returned to their home, the one Andy had built with his own hands, a lovely house, but not a hotel in Bermuda, the house being reasonably comfortable but never luxurious, luxury such as they’d found whilst on honeymoon, luxury they thought they deserved.

      And who was to deny them those thoughts or that luxury?

      They’d worked hard for them.

      Too soon they were back, Andy stepping into the Major Crimes Unit, where his Detectives had desks and where they talked and drank coffee and tea, and out of which they raced

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