Last Gasp Read Online Free PDF Page A

first saw it, inviting.
    For a brief second, the tip of Megan Crane's tongue darted,
snake-like, from between the glossed lips. And though she’d done little to
merit it, Jess couldn't resist. Got you, you cocky bitch. Like Carver,
the difficulty Jess had been having matching the picture to the woman who
greeted them at the door had disappeared the moment Megan Crane appeared in the
kitchen. And Jess didn’t need to re-read the text accompanying the photo to
remind her of what it said. By now she knew it by-heart.
    'E x perienced, independent, lifestyle Mistress,
(n/s), willing to administer to the needs of discerning, (and deserving),
gentlemen and/or ladies who have already discovered their true natures. Owns a
fine collection of dramatic outfits and a range of equipment and accessories
designed to heighten the experience. If your intentions are honourable then
write, with photograph, describing your preferences, interests, and
circumstances.'
    An identifying code, ‘DW12987’, was printed beneath the
photograph.
    Megan Crane crossed one leg over the other and clasped her
hands over her knee. 'And if it is me?' She couldn’t have been less
self-conscious were Jess and Carver selling insurance and they were discussing
levels of cover.
    'You’re a dominatrix.' He said it the way a traffic cop might
tell her he’d caught her doing forty in a thirty zone.
    She pursed her lips. 'I’m not sure what the term,
‘dominatrix’ means to you, Chief Inspector.’
    Her use of his official title reminded Jess that he hadn’t
yet invited her to, 'Call me Jamie,' the way he usually did. Nor had he given
her first name when he introduced her as, ‘DS Greylake.’ Megan Crane continued.
     'Admittedly, I pursue a lifestyle that some might consider…
unusual. And yes, it sometimes involves themes of sexual domination and
submission.'
    'But you usually take the dominant role?'
    She thought about it. 'Not always, but mostly.'
    'Do you advertise yourself in ways other than this
magazine?'
    She frowned. A first outward sign of impatience. 'May I ask
what this has to do with these-’ She paused, as if reluctant to acknowledge a
connection. 'The murders you referred to?'
    Carver sat forward. 'There’ve been four murders over the
past fourteen months. We’ve discovered that all the victims were listed in
editions of this directory.' He pointed down at the booklet. 'Their postings
were similar to yours. We think the killer may be selecting his victims from
it. We think he could be intending to target you next.'
    Her response, when it came, was in keeping with the image
she'd been working hard at portraying. She stared at him for something close to
half a minute. Then, uncrossing her legs she rose and, with slow deliberation,
crossed to a drinks cabinet that stood against the far wall. As she moved, the
material covering her legs made a silky, ‘swishing’ noise. From a crystal
decanter, she poured a measure of amber liquid into a tumbler then tossed it
straight back. As she did so, her hair swung, smoothly, around her shoulders
before settling back, not a strand out of place. For several seconds she
remained facing the wall, letting the injection do its work, before turning
round.
    'Okay, Chief Inspector, you’ve succeeded in scaring the shit
out of me. Now tell me. Why would I be a target for this... this lunatic?'
    Suddenly Jess felt guilty for having revelled in the woman’s
earlier discomfort. When it came to being murdered, it seemed Megan Crane was
no different to any potential victim. Confused. Scared. She sensed the need for
a lighter touch and threw Carver a glance. He nodded.
    'You fit the victim profile, Ms Crane. And you live within
the area where he’s been operating. Basically the Northwest around Liverpool
and Manchester. As Jess spoke, the woman returned to her seat. 'We believe the
killer may be approaching his victims through this magazine, posing as a
prospective submissive. We think he probably arranges an