Turning Tables By Mark Danelaw
The first part: Introduction, can be found here.
By Tuesday it was all over the school that Margret Clements had variously resigned or taken suddenly very ill; some had even whispered that she had been sacked for half beating a girl to death.
This last rumour was the least credible to Annabelle’s mind, she half suspected if such an event had happened at St Denise then the headmistress might have been given a pay rise. No, given what she already knew it was likely that her apparent mismanagement or deliberate embezzling, as some would have it, was at the route of her departure. Things were moving too fast and Annabelle had to talk to Guardian, the evening phone call could not come too soon.
The rumours had cast a pall over the school and usually chatty lively young women were morose and downcast. A curious reaction, Annabelle wondered at it. One might think it was good news for these girls; it was certainly good news for many of their bottoms and that was a fact.
She decided to seek out Daphne the head girl for her take. A risky venture knowing that the lowest of the low from the scum pool did not speak to a goddess, but this might very well be an emergency.
Rachel Denton was standing proud and confident at the end of the hall, not somewhere she usually stood. No doubt it was to be a reassuring presence but to Annabelle it seemed like an unseemly haste to be in to assert some authority. For some reason Annabelle was certain now that she saw the woman that she as behind this. Annabelle ducked away and headed to the prefects common room.
She found Daphne standing outside the forbidden door to the prefects’ inner sanctum on the second floor. She too seemed to making her presence felt as if in some show of reassurance.
“Daphne… Head Girl,” she amended, remembering the protocol, “Can I have a word?”
Daphne looked around, her face showing irritation at being spoken to by a new student and not a true saint. “What do you want girl?” she said imperiously.
Annabelle stole a glance over her shoulder to make sure they weren’t being overheard. “Cut the princess act will you, this is important,” she said, her demeanour and body language was that of an experienced detective now. “Please, a quiet word,” she added.
Daphne was quick-witted and perceptive. “Okay, this way,” she said after one last glance around. “Try and look chastened at least,” she added.
“Yes head girl,” Annabelle replied, but it was hard to keep a straight face.
She was led to a small room off the corridor down the end. It looked like a something between a storeroom and a kitchenette for the cleaning staff.
“We will be alright in here,” Daphne said, “Now what do you want?”
“This is important and I need you to listen and not ask questions,” Annabelle said.
Daphne was a head shorter than Annabelle, who although ostensibly pretending to be 19 was actually three years older than the head girl. For the moment too she had shed the mask and her face carried stern authority and a judicial determination. Daphne swallowed and took a step back, she was not used to a girl even being half as forward as this and even senior prefects usually spoke with deference to her.
“Do you get me?” Annabelle let her street voice slip into her words.
“Yes,” Daphne swallowed again and nodded.
“What do you know about the headmistress standing down?” the police officer was direct.
Daphne made to protest, but she was confused, “What do you mean, she is just unwell…”
“You really think that?” Annabelle pressed her.
Daphne frowned and shook her head. “Something is up, the brown and sticky has hit the whatsit… I spoke to Ducky… she was still in class in my first year… someone wants her out and she has been suspended with immediate effect… although not quite officially.”
“Damn,” Annabelle muttered, “What else do you know?”
Daphne shrugged, “Why…?”
Annabelle took half a step towards the head girl and squared up.
The younger girl gulped and said, “There was a meeting… the chair and her deputy… Rachel Denton went in uninvited and… it was after that.”
“The meeting about the school finances and irregularities,” Annabelle said, more to herself.
“Why yes, I think so, how did you know?” the head girl gasped.
“Thank you Daphne, you have been a great help,” Annabelle briskly left the room leaving a very confused and somewhat miffed head girl.
***
Annabelle made phone box rendezvous and made her usual opening three rings and waited.
“Boss?” she couldn’t wait.
“Yeah it’s me,” Guardian said.
“Well?”
“Aren’t you going to report?” he said.
Annabelle rolled her eyes, of course, she was forgetting procedure. “Margret Clements has been suspended, she worked out what was going on I think, and she blew the whistle… but as you know the evidence points to her. Rachel Denton has made her move to take over…”
“I am not so interest in the school politics as who is behind an international laundering operation, but I agree it is a significant development,” Guardian said.
Annabelle waited and then said, “I have nothing much else to say unless you want to hear about Saturday detention? I never want another Latin lesson as long as I live… can I spare you details or do you want the details of adventures of my arse?
“Okay, you sound excited,” Guardian said, she was usually reticent about the CP regime she was negotiating, perhaps she had gone native.
“Boss, please, did you get the handwriting expert’s report back?”
“We did… it was very interesting, as you suspected the signatures were forged and forged by Rachel Denton, we are almost certain… apparently we cannot be absolutely sure as there is too little to go on it just being signatures.” Guardian let that land.
Annabelle closed her eyes in relief and let her mind race.
“Well?” Guardian said.
“?”
“You said you had an idea… a plan, if not I am going to get warrants and round everybody up,” Guardian told her.
“And risk losing the big cheese in all this?” Annabelle countered, “Listen, these people are all amateurs; really it is girl’s own adventure joke. The bad guys, namely Rachel Denton and her little coven think they have won. Let us play along, let it all blow over… meanwhile we can rope in some allies and set a trap… that way we get an open and shut case and we might just catch the organisation behind all of this.” She didn’t add that they could also save the reputation of the school; she was sure he didn’t care. She wasn’t sure why she did.
“What are you actually proposing?” Guardian asked.
***
Annabelle’s mind was working two to the dozen as she went back to her room. As usual she was out of bounds and well past lights out. Since the first time she had been caught she was usually alert but there were too many plans afoot for her to remember she was still supposed to be prey and not a predator.
“Now what are you up to little brat?” Daphne stepped from the shadows with a spider-to-the-fly look on her face.
Annabelle sighed. She didn’t need this just then.
“One of us is going to get a long hard bare bottom spanking,” the diminutive head girl grinned and beckoned the undercover cop to a small storeroom down the hall on the ground floor close to where Annabelle had come back into school. Daphne was holding a medium sized hairbrush which she gestured menacingly.
Annabelle followed; her mind still mostly on her developing plan. “Do you know what Daphne,” she sighed as soon as they were in the small room, “Someone is.”
The 24-year-old police woman sat on a stack of boxed toilet paper and pulled the small girl across her lap. She had been dying to do this for weeks and now she decided it was time. Flipping up the 21-year-old’s skirt she patted her knickered bottom and relieved her of the hairbrush.
“Wh-what… what are you doing?” Daphne blustered, “You can’t do this, I am the head girl.”
“Can I not?” Annabelle said as she hooked her thumb into the waistband of Daphne’s underwear.
The young woman’s bare bottom was both pert and athletic; plenty of hockey and tennis, Annabelle guessed. She hefted the brush twice and then delivered it to the proffered backside with a crack.
Daphne gasped a long drawn out surprised release of air.
Annabelle liked the feeling of power, this was her first ever time dishing it out. She spanked the head girl again and then once more, getting a pained gasp with each swat.
“Now young lady, there is a new sheriff in town, as I am about to demonstrate. Then you and I are going to have a little chat,” Annabelle said and began spanking the petite young woman as if lives depended on it.
“Annabelle, please, you can’t do this… I… I… ow… oooh please,” Daphne wailed, but she had been defeated and doubly so because she absolutely could not report this. She would never live it down.
“Now, now head girl, I absolutely can,” Annabelle chuckled but her spanking arm did not relent, not until Daphne’s bottom was strawberry red and she had long since surrendered her dignity to begging and bawling as she started crying.
“Please… please, I will leave you alone… I can make you a monitor… I can… you know, whatever,” the younger woman begged.
“You naughty, naughty girl,” Annabelle teased, “What do you take me for?”
“Please,” the head girl wailed, “It hurts, it really, really hurts…”
“I think it is supposed to,” Annabelle told her, “Now are you ready to behave?”
“Alright, go and stand in that corner and let me see your bottom,” Annabelle released the girl and grinned as she could not get nose to the wall quick enough.
Daphne quickly pulled herself together but made no attempt to rebel or cover herself, “I can’t believe you just did that,” she panted.
“Do you need another demonstration?” Annabelle asked innocently.
“Nooo, thank you,” the head girl replied; she was desperate now to massage her bottom.
“I think it did you some good, I certainly enjoyed it,” Annabelle told the young woman.
“I bet you did… I know I would have… had intended to… you won’t tell anyone will you, I really would never live it down?” Daphne begged.
“That depends,” Annabelle said, “Turn round.”
Daphne turned and let her skirt fall. The underwear she left down, she knew a true disciplinarian when she was spanked by one and she had not been told.
“Look at me,” the constable said.
The younger woman shook her head now completely puzzled.
“Look at me; do I look 19 to you?” Annabelle asked.
“Maybe… aren’t you?”
“I am an undercover police officer, I am here to investigate financial irregularities and unmask a money laundering racket her at this school,” Annabelle told her.
Daphne gasped and clamped her hand to her mouth. “Thank Christ for that,” she said at last, “You have turned a humiliation I could never talk about to one I can dine out on… one day anyway. Crikey, she began massaging her bottom. Did you have to spank me so hard?”
“I think so, I might spank you some more in a minute, just for the hell of it and I will if you don’t assist me,” the police officer teased.
Daphne gulped and looked up at Annabelle with a kind of awe, “Please don’t,” she said, “At least not so soon… I mean…” she blushed. “What can I do… oh… you don’t think old Clements is guilty do you?”
“I know she is not, that’s what we have to prove,” Annabelle said.
“Oh golly,” the head girl was on firmer ground now, although her hands still clawed at her behind.
“I need you to keep your mouth shut and allow me to do my job… keep prefects and teachers off my bottom as best you can. I need to go out to make contact most nights…”
“Like tonight,” Daphne nodded.
“You are a bright girl,” the police woman agreed.
“So is that all you need me to do?” the head girl asked.
“For now,” Annabelle responded, “But standby, I might need more soon.”
“Oh golly,” Daphne said as she nodded eagerly.
Continues in Plots, Plans and Conspiracies
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