Destroying Angel by Sam Hastings

to the side office; all that was left of it was a rough square on the floor of a slightly different consistency than its surroundings. There was no shortage of bits of brandy-bottle though, many having been blown clear when the pallet exploded. Some even had intact labels, showing a brand name and an address in Athens. Susan waited until the constable wasn’t looking, chose one from just outside the door, and slipped it into her bag.
    When she returned to the warehouse she began to search for readable labels, using a piece of lead piping to poke in the muck. A surprising number had survived, although very few of the bottles were unbroken. There had been several different wines, but all showed the same address in Choray.
    Susan was still searching when Berner returned with the information that Ruddock had left some minutes after de Vergy on the Sunday evening. She smiled, her theory almost complete.
    ‘Are you done?’ he asked.
    ‘I’m thinking.’
    ‘Think away.’
    ‘What are you up to?’ she asked, watching him pick his way over the remains of the office.
    ‘Oh, just thinking what to do with you. If you’re sure you’re finished here, that is. I wouldn’t want to break your concentration.’
    ‘Oh, come on Paul,’ Susan pleaded, ‘not here, it’s filthy! If you’re that desperate for it, I’ll come back to your flat for a bit and we can go to bed. Wouldn’t that be nice?’
    ‘Delightful,’ Berner replied, ‘but not nearly as much fun as what I have in mind.’
    ‘Paul,’ Susan wheedled, ‘it’s horrid in here. Let’s go to your flat—’
    ‘Another time,’ he interrupted, thoughtfully picking up the roll of police tape.
    ‘No, Paul,’ Susan begged, seeing the way his mind was working. ‘Not with the tape – not in here!’
    ‘Do you remember training?’ he asked.
    ‘Yes.’ Susan sighed, knowing exactly what he meant.
    ‘Do you remember Collet and that other kid… Spenson, I think he was called.’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘Do you remember them tying you up with tape for a laugh?’
    ‘Vividly,’ Susan said, not adding that her sole regret at the time had been that they’d stopped at tying her up.
    ‘It really turned me on,’ Berner mused, looking at the roll in his hand.
    ‘I’m sure it did. And where do you intend to indulge this perversion?’
    ‘Here,’ he replied casually.
    ‘Seriously, Paul, I don’t mind being tied up, if that’s what turns you on, but this place is revolting. Besides, if the constable looks in he can hardly miss us, and bang goes your career. Come on, take me home and you can tie me to the bed.’
    ‘I sleep on a futon,’ Berner answered. ‘Come on now, and stop whining.’
    Susan sighed. ‘Don’t blame me if you get dismissed for whatever the breach of regulations is for putting women in bondage during an investigation.’
    Berner sniggered and started across the debris-strewn floor, gesturing for Susan to follow. She obeyed, knowing further complaint was futile, and picked her way from solid piece to solid piece. With her gaze fixed on the hazards under foot, it wasn’t until she had almost reached the remains of the partition wall that she realised Berner had gone into the toilet.
    ‘Paul, not in there, please!’ she begged, realising his intention. Being tied up amid the filth and stink of the burnt-out warehouse was bad enough, but to have it done in a lavatory was truly disgusting.
    ‘Come along, Susie,’ Berner chided.
    She entered, resigning herself to her fate. After all, it was certainly going to be a humiliating experience, and once things got going she would probably enjoy it, if only she could overcome her distaste at the smell and filth of her surroundings.
    Berner pushed her back into one of the cubicles and followed. ‘Take your skirt and blouse off,’ he instructed. ‘It wouldn’t do to get them dirty, now would it? Your bra had better come off too, but not your panties.’
    ‘Oh, so you’re a panty freak too, are you?’