The Scarlet and the..... Grey? Part Five
Alistair
shivered as Jolie Thibideaux led himself, Tim and Alex into a cloistered
courtyard. The snow was falling heavily, and London was threatening to break all
records and have a white Christmas in three days' time. He glanced over at Alex,
who had wrapped her long wool coat tightly around her and was huddled down into
it for further warmth. The only ones seemingly not affected by the intense cold
were Jolie and Tim.
Alistair
wanted to reach out and pull Alex to him, to keep her warm, but now wasn't the
time or the place. Tim was questioning Jolie in depth about Voodoo sacrifice
rituals, and it turned out that the symbol in question was often used to keep
someone's soul in limbo until you were ready to torture them.
Jolie
was not at all what Alistair had imagined her to be. From her rich voice over
the telephone, and the impressive list of qualifications she held, he had
imagined her to be in her 50s, some graying matriarch who needed to teach in
order to have something to fill her life. He couldn't have been further from the
truth. She was in her late 30s with flowing black hair and an olive complexion.
Her eyes were like little pools of jet, startlingly deep and unreadable. Her
face was gentle and kind, but a harsh life had etched heavy lines around her
eyes.
She
seemed more interested in Tim than in the investigation, thought Alex. The pair
had been deep in conversation ever since Jolie had brought them outside,
offering to give them a tour of the college. She wished that she could cuddle up
to Alistair, but decided it wouldn't be good form. Up ahead, Jolie used her
animated hands to explain to Tim the finer points of Voodoo symbolism, more
specifically, the symbol found at each of the murders.
Occasionally,
her hand would come to rest for a short time on his arm, and she would look him
directly in the eye, as if to make a point. Alistair and Alex exchanged amused
glances, as it soon became apparent that they were surplus to Jolie's
requirements. Alistair whispered something to Alex, and she nodded in agreement.
He tapped Tim's shoulder to get his attention, and pulled him to one side, while
Alex explained to Jolie what was going to happen.
"Tim,
it looks as though you've got a bit of a rapport with Jolie, so why don't we
leave you to finish up here while we go back and see how much new evidence has
been turned up by forensics? When you need to leave, call Alex or myself, and we
can come and get you, okay?"
Jolie
Thibideaux chimed in, her musical voice carrying across the crisp air.
"I
can give him a ride back to the station when we're done here. Is that okay,
Sergeant?"
Her
voice was thick with a Southern American drawl, reminiscent of crawfish and
skiffs on the bayou.
Alistair
looked at Alex for approval, and she grinned and nodded.
"If
it's past 6 when you finish, don't bother coming back to the station Tim, we'll
see you in the morning, okay?"
Her
gentle Scottish accent seemed at home in the snow. Tim nodded and turned away
with Jolie, wandering back into the building.
"That
was very good of you, Guv," said Alistair, wryly.
Alex
grinned up at him.
"Any
time that you and I spend alone is better than nothing, Alistair. Now, we'd
better get back and make sure that the forensic boys have done their job for
once..."
She
linked her arm in his and they walked off through the snow.
************
"So,
Tim, what else do you need to know?"
Jolie
Thibideaux was sat opposite Tim in her cramped office, books covering every
surface, a mug of hot chocolate cradled in her hands. Tim watched her every
move, not quite sure that any of this was real. On the walls were pieces of
Voodoo art, and, in a glass case were, Jolie assured him, real shrunken heads.
"Uh,
I guess all I need to know now is why exactly would someone like to think that
they could trap the souls of prostitutes in order to torture them at a later
date."
He
blushed as Jolie reached out and touched the back of his hand.
"It's
not just to torture the souls, Tim. It could be to use the souls for their own
purposes at some point."
Tim
looked a little confused.
"But
what the hell would a madman like that be doing in Baltimore and London? Surely
all that shit's best left in New Orleans and Haiti?"
Jolie's
face darkened as Tim said these words.
"You
shouldn't mock what you don't understand, Tim. You may not think it's anything,
but Voodoo is very powerful, chere, and you should be careful what you say about
it. You never know when Baron Samedi might have sent someone looking for
you!"
She
grinned broadly as the color left Tim's face.
"No
need to worry, chere, you're protected in here!"
Tim
felt himself breathe out, never even having been aware that he was holding his
breath. Jolie looked at him with concern.
"What
you need is a walk in the fresh air to get some of these thoughts out of your
head. Kensington Gardens is only a few minutes away. Walk with me, chere."
Tim
felt that he had no choice, but it was getting late and he ought to be getting
back.
"Jolie, maybe another time, huh? It's gone 5 and I really need to get back and pass on this information."
Jolie
looked at him with knowing eyes.
"A
short walk will do you a power of good. And if Alex or Alistair says anything
tomorrow, tell them I said you needed to walk!"
Jolie
looked amused as Tim obediently stood and put on his coat, scarf and gloves and
followed her through the door into the corridor.
It
was completely dark by the time they reached Kensington Gardens. The trees were
laden with snow, and footprints pointed to where children had played their
games. The snow had stopped for now, but who knew when it was likely to start
again?
Jolie
took Tim by the hand and led him down a winding pathway between some trees. He
found it hard to believe that he was in the middle of London, so eerily quiet
was this place.
"I
feel like I just went through the back of the wardrobe into Narnia!" he
exclaimed.
Jolie
laughed.
"No
fauns or Ice Queens here, though, only you and me," she replied.
"Here, sit down."
Jolie
cleared the snow off a large wooden bench with one gloved hand and patted the
seat beside her.
"What
are you scared of, chere? I don't bite..."
Tim
sat down.
"Now
who's doing the mocking, huh, Jolie?"
He
grinned as she picked up a handful of snow and rubbed it into his face.
"I
can't let you get away with that!"
Tim
got up from the bench, scooped up huge handfuls of snow and fashioned a large
snowball, which he threw hard at Jolie. It hit her hard on the shoulder, and she
burst out laughing.
"Never,
ever take on a Cajun, Tim, you can never win....."
She
made a snowball of her own and threw it, hitting him on his bottom as he tried
to run. Sensing her advantage, she grabbed as much snow as she could carry, ran
up behind him and shoved it down his neck. Tim squealed as the cold wetness ran
down his back, and he turned to Jolie, grabbing her by the arms. She looked up
at him with fire in her eyes, challenging him to take revenge.
He
pushed her back to the bench and sat her down, before grabbing more snow. Before
he had a chance to do anything with it, Jolie unbuttoned her coat and blouse,
exposing her bare breasts.
"Is
this where you wanted it to go, Tim?"
Tim
stood, rooted to the spot as she started to play with her nipples.
"What's
wrong? Don't know what to do with them?"
Jolie
was challenging him now, and, despite the cold, he felt himself getting aroused.
He
sat next to her on the bench again, and tentatively reached out to take her
breasts in his hands. Her nipples were hard as bullets, and the flesh was goose
pimpled with the intense cold of the early evening air. She leaned up and flung
her arms around his neck, pulling him into a punishing kiss.
"Fuck
me, Tim, fuck me right here...."
Her
voice was deep and husky with desire, as she reached down and unbuttoned his
coat and unzipped his pants, freeing his massive manhood.
Quickly,
she lifted her own coat and skirt, straddled him and impaled herself, moving
fluidly up and down, kissing him hard all the while. Despite himself, Tim felt
an incredible orgasm welling up inside him, and knew that he had no control
whatsoever over this situation. His hands delved between Jolie's legs, feeling
for her clitoris, rubbing it hard as her breath started to come in short little
gasps, before they exploded together with a muted cry. They sat together for a
few minutes, snow drifting down on them and gilding them with its white gleam.