Retribution
by obohobo
Chapter 1. False accusation
"It wasn't really her fault was it?" Mary Curtis asked herself for the
thousandth time that evening.
"It was all because that dammed woman lost her dog. If she had kept the mutt on
a lead HE would not have helped her look for it and then my plan would have
worked. Now instead of just having the debts I had, I now stand to lose more and
maybe end up in prison." Tears welled up in her eyes again.
HE was Vernon Rocher, the young, rich guy who lived on his own in an executive
style house a couple of miles away. 'On his own' though was more theoretical
than actual. Usually there were one or more beautiful young females in residence
for one or more nights. "It was his fault too," she told herself, "If he had
given me the secretarial job at the house instead of appointing that painted up
bimbo who probably didn't have any keyboard or filing skills but was there only
to satisfy his baser needs. I was the one that really needed the job."
***********
It had been a hair-brained scheme. One thought up in desperation from an ill
remembered newspaper report of several years ago.
Rogers and Brinkley, the firm she worked for, or now more precisely, did work
for, had been going downhill for some time. Their product was outdated and they
weren't able to come up with an alternative. For some months it had been short
time working but recently they had gone into receivership. Mary lost her job. In
one way Mary was fortunate, she owned the house she lived in. It was left to her
when her mother died four years ago when she was 21. Her father died while she
was a baby. Even with no mortgage to pay she still had to find money to pay
council tax, electricity, phone, water and other regular bills. If that wasn't
enough, the clutch in her car had died and with other necessary repairs the bill
was estimated at £600. She needed a car to get to town to get a job; she needed
a job to get the car repaired. That is why she needed the Vernon Rocher job so
badly. The house was only two miles away on the outskirts of the village and she
could walk or cycle there.
Mary had known Vernon by sight for some time and had even passed the time of day
with him on occasions but she didn't really know him. His reputation as a
womanizer was well known from the succession of beautiful ladies he brought into
The Fox, the local pub. Mary was not one of them. She didn't consider herself
beautiful or even attractive. Her height was a little short with a figure
slightly on the plump side. She didn't wear make-up, kept her hair straight and
wore plain, workable clothes. Being somewhat shy and having no liking for pubs,
dances and other communal activities didn't help her to get boyfriends. Even
while doing a secretarial course at Suffolk College her free time was taken up
with looking after her ailing mother and at 25 years of age she was still a
virgin. Only real desperation made her think of rape as a means of solving her
financial problems.
The plan should have worked. Would have worked had it not been for the damned
dog. Every Tuesday and Thursday evenings about an hour before dusk, Vernon
parked his Rangerover at the entrance to the wood and heath land opposite Mary's
house. In the warmer weather he would remove his track suit and jog around the
paths in shorts but now in the chill of October the track suit was kept on.
There were many tracks across the site, the main and most used one went straight
across to the next village a mile and a half away but Vernon preferred to run
around the usually deserted tortuous perimeter path, a distance of about 5 miles
and by habit Vernon always ran the path in a anti-clockwise direction.
Mary had often watched his movements from behind drawn curtains. She knew them
well enough to act. Seeing Vernon start around the path she ran a short way
along the perimeter path in the opposite direction to a spot she had earlier
picked where there was a more open area of bracken. It was here she lay down,
rolled around flattening the vegetation and kicking divots from the grassy
places with her heels. It had to look as though she had put up a great struggle.
She tore open her thick cardigan, ripping off the buttons and breaking her bra
strap. Finally she broke the button from the top of her jeans and thrust a muddy
hand inside. That, she thought, would convince anyone of the motif for the
attack. She walked back to the house peeled an onion and held it in front of
here eyes to make them cry and waited until Vernon reappeared at the entrance
and drove off. It seemed to Mary he had taken a little longer than usual but she
dismissed it as being tiredness.
Staggering to the local police house she was met by a sympathetic older
policeman, Sergeant Williams, who she knew well as did most of the villagers. He
knew her too as a reliable if somewhat conservative woman. One whose story he
wouldn't question. Vernon was quickly arrested and taken to the main police
station some 10 miles away.
His interrogation lasted seven hours before he and his attorney could prove he
had an alibi. He hadn't run the perimeter path that evening. A short while after
starting his run an elderly woman asked if he had seen her brown dog which had
run off. He hadn't but after only running another 300 yards or so spotted the
animal. It was only small dog of indeterminate breed but was friendly enough and
allowed itself to be picked up. Vernon walked and carried the dog along one of
the smaller paths connecting the perimeter to the central bridleway where, after
a short distance, he met with the woman talking to a middle aged man again
asking if he had seen her dog. When the little dog barked they turned to greet
Vernon. The woman was enthusiastic with her thanks and the three of them chatted
for a short while. With light fast fading Vernon decided to abandon this run.
Unfortunately it had taken some time to trace the 'dog woman' and the man but
eventually they were found and corroborated Vernon's story. His clothing
corroborated it too. He was still wearing the track suit when the police arrived
and the trouser legs were only lightly splattered with mud. Obviously he had not
run the muddier parts of the perimeter.
A very weary and angry Vernon was released without charge. Immediately he
instructed his lawyer to file for damages against Mary. Mary was cautioned that
she might be charged with making false allegations and wasting police time
before being released.
All day Friday Mary sat at home fearing the worst, crying real tears for what
she had done but nothing happened. Saturday morning, the Rangerover stopped
outside her door. Vernon alighted picked up a manila envelope from the passenger
seat and knocked on the door. Mary understandably clipped on the chain before
opening it. "I don't want to talk to you," she cried then added, "I am very,
very sorry for what I did. It was so mean of me. Sorry, Mr. Rocher. Please I
didn't mean to hurt you."
"But you did, Miss Curtis, you did and you caused me a great deal of grief and
expense. You utterly humiliated me. Now you are going to pay the price."
"But I have no money, that is why I did it." Mary burst into more tears.
"Read these papers, and I will call back in half an hour to discus it further.
If you still have no wish to talk to me then I will pass the whole lot back to
my lawyers and they can deal with it but that will only add to the costs you
will have to pay." Vernon passed the envelope around the partially open door.
Half an hour passed quickly and yet slowly. One part of Mary wanted to get it
over with, another wanted to delay the meeting as long as possible. What could
she say? What could she do? It was difficult to focus on the words through teary
eyes especially as the print was small. When the knock came she hesitated to
answer the door but at last decided it was better to deal with Vernon than his
lawyer.
They sat in the lounge in opposite chairs. Vernon still angry, Mary sobbing and
shaking like a leaf. Watching the woman, Vernon's anger started to dissipate but
he was determined to suppress any feelings of compassion after what she had
done.
"Did you read the papers? Did you understand them?"
"I...I tried.... but ......" Mary broke off into renewed bout of sobbing.
"Well I'll explain the situation in simple terms." Vernon tried to sound firm
and callous but the sight of the wretched girl in front of him caused his voice
to falter. "Basically, I am going to pursue a claim for £10,000 damages plus
expenses, which if disputed could rise to more than the claim itself, through
the courts."
"I don't have any money left....... that's why I tried....." She broke off
again.
"But you do have money Miss Curtis. You own this house and all the stuff that is
in it." His hand made an arc to indicate all her possessions. "All can be sold
to pay your debt."
"That would make me homeless and penniless..... I couldn't live ...... I
couldn't ...." Further words would not come.
Vernon stood. "Go wash your face woman. Crying will not solve your problem. Then
make a pot of tea and we'll talk again." His words were cold and authoritative.
Mary complied.
*************
Later and each with a calming mug of tea the conversation resumed. Vernon asked
why she had chosen him and why she had chosen this method to obtain money to pay
her debts. Hesitantly at first but soon Mary poured out her problems and the
reasons for actions. When she came to the part of the secretarial application
and its appointment, Vernon interjected that she probably would have been a
better secretary. The agency misunderstood his intentions. His reputation had
worked against him.
It took over twenty minutes for the whole story to come out. Mary felt a little
relieved to get it out in the open. She told it all. The loss of her job, the
mounting debt, the car, the newspaper report, her resentment at not getting the
job. How she thought Vernon wouldn't miss the money. How desperate she was. How
sorry she was. How she hadn't realised the problems and difficulties she would
cause once the police were involved. She begged and pleaded for him to forgive
her. She pleaded for him not to take her house. To throw her on the streets.
The pleading didn't go unheeded but Vernon didn't allow it to show. He was too
good a business man for that. The money meant nothing to Vernon. It was a drop
in the ocean. But he wanted revenge. Retribution. He had suffered the
humiliation of being searched and interrogated for hours. "Why did you choose
rape as a means of blackmailing me? Was it a fantasy of yours to be raped? Mary
shook her head no but Vernon kept probing and demanding answers. It was
something he was good at. He had to be. It was part of being at the top of his
job to get answers. Eventually it all came out. Mary's feelings of inadequacy
over her figure, her lack of love life, her living alone with her imagination
with only romantic novels for company for so long.
Vernon started to feel sorry for the girl but then remembered the hours at the
police station. Revenge. Retribution. That's what he wanted. Not money, but
money might be the key to getting it. "Miss Curtis, I will think over what you
have told me and consult with Mr. Rodrick my lawyer. I can begin to understand
your money problems but cannot tolerate the way you sort to solve them. I could
have ended up in prison as a rapist. You didn't do your research well enough or
you would have known I have all the women I need to satisfy my sexual needs.
However, I have no wish to see you go to prison either but I still want my
'pound of flesh' as the saying goes. I'll be in touch again. Meanwhile I suggest
you fully read the documents I have given you instead of Mills and Boon fiction.
Mr. Rodrick may not be inclined to alter them much or come up with any
alternative."
Vernon actually had no intention of consulting Rodrick again. An idea formed in
his mind whereby retribution could be obtained in a way that was more appealing
than having the case dragged through the courts even with an out of court
settlement. Surprising himself somewhat, he found Mary attractive. Her naiveté
was in itself appealing. She was so different to the ladies he normally bedded.
They were outwardly beautiful and knew it. Their painted faces and expensive
hair-do's proclaimed it. He knew they went to bed with him only after being
wined and dined at the best restaurants and he knew they too were subtly trying
to wheedle him into marriage or at least gain part of his wealth. So far none
had succeeded in getting him to tie the knot.
Mary was different. She needed the money. She wasn't offering sex for it. Or was
she? He decided no. But maybe she really did want to be forced into it. Her
shyness made it difficult to have any relationships with boys. Made if difficult
for her to allow any contact with others. Maybe the pressure of homelessness
could change that. He worked on the plan.
Later that afternoon Vernon phoned Mary. When she answered he curtly ordered her
to come to his house immediately. He waived aside her protests at having to walk
the two miles because her bike had a flat tyre and no lights, "See you in half
an hour," was all he said. Feeling she had to do it Mary dressed and went,
wondering with every step what was in store for her and whether she was doing
the right thing by going alone to the house of a man with a reputation of a
notorious lecher.
