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she seemed entirely genuine.
    Sipping her drink, Susan decided that the investigation was almost certainly a dead-end. Alternatively, there might be something to it, but without de Vergy’s knowledge: yet it seemed much more likely that the whole scandal had been dreamt up by the over-romantic Alan Sowerby. Having been shown the man’s diary by Paulette, Susan could well believe it.
    ‘Oh, right,’ Paulette was saying, sounding even more despondent than before.
    ‘I am sorry,’ de Vergy replied. ‘I’ve disappointed you. Still, better to know now than later.’
    ‘I was hoping for a story,’ Paulette said with a touch of embarrassment. ‘I’m sorry to have bothered you.’
    ‘Not at all,’ de Vergy answered easily. ‘Journalism must be a tough job. Will you stay for lunch?’
    They accepted; Susan became increasingly impressed with de Vergy’s ease of manner as they ate a lunch of cold meats and salad in the walled garden at the rear of the house. Annabella was clearly a highly successful business woman, neither needing to resort to fraud nor the sort to be taken in by it. No, it was a shame, but the whole thing had evidently existed only in Alan Sowerby’s imagination.
    It was also possible to see the attraction Sowerby had felt for de Vergy, Susan considered as she watched her hostess’ elegant figure emerge from the house with a bottle of chilled white wine. Not that she shared Sowerby’s romantic illusions, but on a purely practical level it was nice to imagine herself kneeling naked at Annabella’s feet and begging for the privilege of being allowed to kiss one of her immaculate leather shoes. There was something poised, dominant, almost regal about her that appealed to Susan’s submissive sexuality, and it was a feeling she was sure Paulette would share. With a touch of amused self-awareness, Susan realised she was a little tipsy and letting her fantasies run away with her.
    ‘Not one of mine,’ de Vergy remarked as she sat back down and placed the bottle on the table. ‘A sample, of Alsace. We never buy on the UK market, but they still give us endless samples. I’d be interested to know what you think.’
    Susan accepted the glass, determined not to make an idiot of herself. Watching both Paulette and Annabella, she imitated their actions. The wine was heady and intense with a perfumed scent. She gave her opinion, drawing an appreciative nod from Annabella. Paulette gave a more detailed analysis, causing Annabella to raise her eyebrows.
    ‘But then a friend of Alan’s is bound to know her wines, I suppose,’ Annabella remarked, ‘although, if I may say so, for a friend of Alan’s you seem rather – how can I put it? – relaxed, easy-going, perhaps.’
    ‘He was as much a colleague as a friend,’ Paulette admitted. ‘We both do restaurant reviews, or rather, we both did. I don’t really know much at all, but I’ve been to enough tastings to know how to go about it.’
    They finished the bottle together, chatting easily. Annabella then accepted Susan’s request to be shown around the house.
    The upper rooms were furnished in much the same manner as the living room, only really varying in their utility. As they went around, Susan kept her eyes open for possibly useful hints, not really expecting to find anything. Glancing into Annabella’s bedroom as they passed, she spent a moment admiring the heavy iron bedstead before her eyes were drawn to a photograph. It was in fine-grained black-and-white, and showed a woman lying on a chaise longue .
    The pose was languid and intensely sensuous, the more so because the model was tightly corseted, bare-breasted and naked between her corset and the tops of her stockings. Long black-clad legs and her nipped-in waist served to enhance her partial nakedness; high round breasts and svelte hips. Susan found her eyes drawn to the model’s vulva, full outer lips showing just a hint of the smaller lips between. She was also toying with a small whip,