tagLoving WivesA Detective Story

A Detective Story

byIronDragon©

Foreword:

This tale has been floating around in my head for a while. A different take on the old pulp fiction detective novels that I read when I was a kid. I hope everyone enjoys the ride. :)

I.D.


------------------------------------------

I could tell as soon as Dani showed her in that this dame was trouble. No, not that she was trouble, but that she was bringing me a world of trouble that wasn't of her doing. Just a feeling I had as I looked up and saw her in the door.

"Hello, Mr. Carter?" She asked nervously. I could tell she was married, as most of my clients were.

"Nick Carter, ma'am." I nodded. No, not like that punk kid singer, but I sometimes get mail for him. One of the hazards of being a P.I. with a famous name that lives in L.A. My dad actually named me after a secret agent in a set of dime store spy novels by Jove Publishing. We had the last name already, but my dad just named me Nick. Not Nicholas. Nick. Go fuckin' figure.

I rose as I spoke and shook her hand. "What can I do for you, ma'am?"

"Your assistant said that you could help me. I was referred by one of your previous clients." She smiled a bit more, still nervous, though.

"I see. Ok, Mrs...."

"I'm Janine Linder. My husband is Dennis Linder, and he's a psychologist. I have reason to believe he's cheating on me, and I want proof before I file for Divorce." She said, handing me a picture of him. I raised my eyebrow as I regarded the picture. He looked to be about 40, with a square jaw and dark hair going gray at the temples. He had bright green eyes that would probably tempt most women.

"Ok, ma'am. You know how this works?" I asked, and she nodded. "Good. Give me two weeks tops, and I'll have the evidence you need. For those two weeks, I charge $5000 dollars. Is that acceptable to you?"

"Yes, and half up front, correct?" She asked.

"Do you have your own account that your husband doesn't know of, or have access to, in order to check your finances?" I asked.

"Yes." She said. "I set it up a couple months ago so he wouldn't know if I hired someone to track him. Your former client says that you are the best." She smiled, then handed me a cashier's check for $2500.

"Thank you, ma'am. Give me an idea of how he's been acting suspicious, if you would? The more information I get now, the easier it will be to track his movements."

"Well, it's a bit strange that I even caught on that he was cheating. He spends every night with me, and the weekends too. But sometimes when I call his office for a lunch date, his phone is turned off." She said.

"Well, he could have a client run over during a session." I shrugged.

"Normally, you would be right. But then there's the distance at home. He used to be all over me, but now he hardly touches me. Then I noticed the perfume smell on his clothes. At first, I thought I was imagining it, but it wasn't my brand of perfume." She said.

"Some of his clients could have hugged him, and how old is he?" I asked.

"He's 44." She said, and I nodded.

"Well, I heard that men that age have lower sex drives than they did before hitting 40. Could that be the reason for his distance emotionally?"

"You sound like you think it's just me being stupid!" She said angrily.

"No, ma'am. I am just trying to figure out why you would think he's cheating. I admit, the perfume is a pretty heavy indicator, but it could just be circumstantial. I'm going to take this case, but I also need to know everything you can think of. How is he acting suspicious besides turning his phone off?"

"Well, it's always just before lunch on Mondays and Wednesdays. Other times, he answers right away. But on those days, it goes straight to his voicemail."

"Ok, I think I get the picture. Tomorrow is Wednesday, so I'll start my investigation then. I will be in touch as soon as I have anything concrete for you." I nodded and rose from my chair as she did, and shook her hand.

"Thank you, Mr. Carter. I hope it's nothing, to be honest. But I need peace of mind on this." She smiled warmly. She really was a knockout, and if I hadn't been married, I would maybe consider consoling her.

"Anytime, Mrs. Linder. If I don't find anything at the end of two weeks, you will not have to pay me the remainder of my fee." I told her. It's my guarantee.

"Thank you again, Mr. Carter." She said.

"Ma'am, call me Nick. Mr. Carter was my dad." I smiled, and she smiled back.

"Ok, Nick. I'm Janine. Ma'am is too formal."

"Ok, Janine. I'll be in touch as soon as I have anything for you. Dani, my assistant, should have your information, so I'll get your number from her." I showed her out, and promised again to be in touch.

As soon as Janine had left, Dani came in and plopped down on the overstuffed chair in front of my desk.

Daniela Velasquez has been my assistant for 6 years. I would honestly be lost without her, and I think she knows it. She's single, dates some, but not often, and has the most gorgeous jet black hair, doe brown eyes, and a great tan that comes from her Mexican heritage. She's built like J-Lo, but with more junk in the trunk and WAY more of a rack. Yeah, if I wasn't married to the woman of my dreams, Dani would be in trouble! I might be married, but I'm not dead, and I never touch. Well, except for hugs when Dani presses her D-Cups against my chest.

"Ok, jefe. This is what I got for you right now." She handed me the file she'd put together online about our target. Dani is a pretty good P.I. in her own right, and I was proud to be the one who taught her. She's a quick study, that's for sure.

Dennis Linder, Psychologist Extraordinaire. I looked at the file, and a warning bell went off in my head. It seemed that a former patient had filed a malpractice claim against him a couple years back, but the claim had been dropped mysteriously, with some stock cliché answer given as to why. This was getting more and more interesting. The former patient was female, and her husband had divorced her soon after the malpractice claim had been dropped. That was the warning bell. I had a bad feeling about Dr. David Linder, and my gut is usually right.

"Dani, dig a bit deeper on this asshole, will ya? I got a bad feeling about him." I said, and Dani giggled at my phraseology. "Ha ha. Yeah, I know. I opened the door for that one, and thanks for not stepping through it."

"Anytime, boss man." She winked at me prettily, then stepped back out to her desk to do some more Bing searches on Dr. Dickhead.

Daniela is worth twice her weight in gold, and I know that I don't pay her enough, even though I pay her VERY well. We're more partners than boss and assistant. We split each case take 60/40, including retainer fees. Those retainer fees, when added up between multiple clients, equal over 200K a year. After expenses, I usually clear 150K and Dani clears 110K easily. And that's after taxes. We share a lawyer, who gives us legal help quid pro quo since we kind of work for him too. Wesley Quentin is his name, and divorce disputes and other domestic issues are his game.

Then there's my wife Samantha. Yes, Samantha Carter, formerly Samantha Stern. So no relation to Colonel Carter on Stargate SG-1. She goes by Sammie for short.

I met Sammie 7 years ago when I had quit the... Company I was working for in Langley, Virginia, and moved back to L.A. I was an... insurance investigator for that Company. It was a decent living, but after a... client in Paris turned out to be a real asshole, I decided I'd had enough and put my investigative skills to good use back home. I had enough saved up to start my own P.I. business. There, now nothing can be redacted.

Sammie is a complete knockout. Tall at 5'8", which puts her even with me in height when she wears her 4" fuck-me heels. Fiery red hair, sparkling blue eyes, 34C-24-36 measurements and legs that go all the way up to Heaven. Her Angelina Jolie lips and sexy smile can melt the hearts and raise the erections of any man within 50 feet, and she has it ALL packed in the right places.

I first met Sammie back when I had solved my first case for my first client. He threw a bash to celebrate me finding and returning his property. I was his guest of honor, and Sammie was the daughter of one of his friends. She saw me, and I saw her, and it was as if the magnetic force of the Earth drew us together. We talked and danced, and talked some more. I met her father, who is a good man, and he bought my usual line about being a former Insurance Investigator that decided to go into the private sector as a P.I. I had prospects, and during the shindig, I managed to score some more clients. That was seven years ago, and after dating for six months and living together for six months, we were married in a small ceremony with just her family and a few of our friends.

My parents had died a few years back in a car wreck when I was out of the country, and had left me their paid off house in their will.

Me? I spent three years in the Army as an MI Interrogator, then got recruited by the aforementioned Company to... investigate possible insurance fraud. That's my story and I'm stickin' to it. Anyway, I became a damn good investigator, and realized I could make some damn good money at it as a P.I. So I bid the Company adieu, and headed back home to L.A. Getting a Concealed Carry License was like pulling teeth, but it was worth it to carry my Dad's old Colt M1911A1 pistol. The big .45 ACP ammo pretty much guaranteed a kill if fired with accuracy. That was one thing I've always been good at. Shooting.

So I went out to where Dani was picking out bits and pieces of Dennis Linder's life and printing them out for me.

"Hey, Dani. Go ahead and knock off for the day when you're done with the searches. I'm heading home." I smiled at her.

"No problem, jefe." She smiled back at me with more than professional respect. "You know, I hope Sammie knows what she got at home."

"I think she does, sweety. You know, you're gonna make some guy really happy someday, if you ever settle down." I winked at her, flirting a bit.

"Nah, papi. I missed my chance by a few months." She shrugged. I opened my mouth to ask her about that, but she had already turned back to her computer monitor.

"Ok, sweety. Go ahead and get the info, folder it, and I'll be in first thing to pick it up. Goodnight." I said as I headed towards the door.

"G'night, Boss Man." She called out as I left the office.

I got in my car and headed home. Somewhere along the way, I started thinking about Sammie and how she'd been acting lately. Over the past couple months, she'd been kind of distant, as if she had something on her mind and wanted to tell me. But it always seemed as if something was holding her back. I resolved that when I got home, I was going to ask her about it until she told me. I would be an idiot to not see the writing on the wall. I'd seen it enough over the years. The story was always the same. Wife/Hubby was ALWAYS emotionally distant either just before or just after starting an affair. Thus far, she'd kept telling me "Nothing" whenever I asked her what was wrong or if she wanted to talk to me about something.

Why women do the whole "Nothing" routine, I'll never know. I know a few who don't, but most of them seem to think us guys get paid enough to read minds. Sorry, ladies. We're not psychic. Sometimes you have to spell it out for us.

It was with those thoughts in mind that I pulled onto our street and noticed the Jeep Grand Cherokee Laredo parked out in front of my house. As I was pulling into our driveway, my cell rang.

"Hey, baby." I said when I saw my wife's name on the caller ID.

"Hey, Nick. When are you going to be home? We have something to discuss with you." She said. Her voice sounded weird.

"What do you mean, baby? Who's the 'we' you're talking about?" I had my suspicions that the 'we' included whoever drove that Jeep.

"Just come home as soon as possible. Ok?"

"Ok, baby. I love you." I said.

"Ok, bye." Now the alarm bells in my head had turned into a full blown klaxon horn. I made sure my pocket recorder was in my pocket and ready to go, and my cellphone had picture capability. I readied my camera function, just in case.

I had no idea what had gotten into Sammie. She NEVER failed to tell me she loved me, even lately. Now this? I was breathing deeply, doing some breathing exercises to calm myself. Once I had the zen vibe going, I got out and took a snapshot of the license plate on the Jeep. I had a REALL bad feeling about this one. My gut was screaming at me, and I have always listened to my gut.

As soon as I got in the door, I saw them kissing. They had no idea that I was that close, and I managed to get a snapshot of them together with their lips locked. I walked in, calm as can be, snapping happily away until they noticed me. I hit the RECORD button on my pocket recorder in, where else, my pocket.

"Oh my God!" Sammie said. "You scared me, Nick!"

"Care to explain why you're kissing some asshole in my house, soon-to-be-ex-wifey?" I asked, eyebrow raised as I shut my phone.

"It's part of the reason why I wanted you to come home, Nick." She said. I looked at the asshole for the first time, and I suddenly had the urge to pull my weapon and put a hole through his head big enough to drive a Mack Truck through! Dennis Linder, my current target, was standing in my living room and towering over me.

Ok, this was a sticky situation. My client's asshole husband was now standing in MY house and apparently has been fucking MY wife. Right then, I wanted nothing more than to shoot him dead, and her too for that matter. My heart was breaking, but my anger kept the hurt at bay for the moment. However, if I was going to get paid, I had to play this cool. Vengeance would come later. Payback is a bitch and a half, and these two were going to feel every bit of it.

"Ok, what is it you want to talk about?" I asked, with much more calm than I actually felt.

"Mr. Carter, may I call you Nick?" Asshole asked.

"No. Only friends call me Nick. You're not a friend. You're the asshole who's fucking my wife. Therefore, but definition, we will never be friends. Got it?" I asked with a sneer.

"Yes. Well, I'm Dr. Dennis Linder, and I am treating your wife with sex therapy." He said, identifying himself.

"Ok, does sex therapy include kissing MY wife in MY home?" I asked, eyebrow raised once again.

"As a matter of fact, right now it does. I know this is highly irregular, and probably difficult to swallow. But you will need to watch us while we're doing it." He said. Dear God, this guy was dumber than a box of bowling balls! He was playing right into my hands, and solidifying not only my own Divorce proceeding, but making sure his wife gets everything... except for my Alienation of Affection and Malpractice lawsuits that I was already planning!

I just looked at him for a moment. "Dr. Dennis Linder, huh? I heard you're really good at what you do. Psychology, right?" I asked, buttering him up.

"Yes, psychology. My methods are sometimes controversial, but I always get results." He preened.

"So how long has my wife been going to you for... therapy?" I asked, biting back my own outburst that was straining and chomping at the bit to get out.

"Two months now." He confirmed. Sammie had said NOTHING about going to see a shrink. I looked at her, then.

"Sammie, if things were so bad, why didn't you just talk to me? I told you years ago when we were dating that if ANYTHING was wrong, you could come to me. Don't you remember that?" I asked, trying to get through to her.

"I... I guess." She said in a hesitant tone of voice. She had a confused expression on her face for a moment.

"Sammie, remember what we talked about." Dr. Dipshit said. "Control. You have to assert your control. I know you don't like being powerless, so you have to take the lead. Remember?" His voice was strange, almost hypnotic as he talked to her, and I saw her expression harden.

"You're right, Dennis. I need to show him that I'm not just some dumb woman to be pushed around!" She then glared at me.

"Sammie, what are you talking about?" I almost shouted. "When have I EVER pushed you into anything?"

"I... In the bedroom! We always make love how YOU want, never how I want!" She almost screamed at me.

"Ok, Sammie. You KNOW what we said after we were married. That if we wanted to try something new, just discuss it and see what happens. Remember that?" I asked. "All you had to do was ask, and we could at least talk about it!"

Once again, her expression turned to one of confusion. But before Dr. Dicknugget could say anything, her expression hardened again.

"Nick, I need to do this. I need to see what other cocks are out there for me. You can either watch, or don't watch. But I AM going to do this." She said firmly.

"Sammie, don't do this. Please!" I really wanted to say 'GIVE ME MORE EVIDENCE. PLEASE!' But I refrained. I would be getting WAY more evidence.

"I need to, Nick. This won't affect us. I still love you." She said with a hint of a smile. I knew she was lying to me then. "I just need something different, and just this once."

"Oh? Well, for the record, I do not want you to do this, and there will be consequences if you go through with it." I said, shaking my head in what I hoped to appear resignation that I would reluctantly accept it.

"Mr. Carter, please allow me to do my job. Now, do you have a chair in your bedroom?" He asked. He wanted to fuck MY wife on OUR marital bed. Note to self: Burn the bed and get a new one.

"We do, yes. Wait, do you REALLY want me in there?" I asked with a horrified look on my face.

"It is necessary, yes." Dr. Dumbfuck said.

"If you insist." I snarled. "Doctor, is there no other way to get my wife back to normal?"

"None, I'm afraid." He said with mock sincerity that wouldn't have fooled a kindergartener.

"Well, I hope you don't expect me to participate in adultery." I said pointedly.

"Mr. Carter, what your wife and I will be doing is hardly adultery. I am merely helping her to get past a mental block and assert herself better in your relationship. You will both be stronger after we're done." He gave me a smarmy smile when he said that, and once again it took an Olympian effort of will for me not to shove my pistol down his throat and empty the magazine into him.

"I am not agreeing to this, just so you know. I will never agree to an act of adultery performed by you and my wife, and this IS adultery, no matter how you slice it!" I said, noticing that he wasn't wearing a wedding ring, and with no sign of tan line on his finger.

"As I said, Mr. Carter. This is therapy. Granted, it's controversial therapy, but it is not adultery." His smile this time was condescending. Oooh, this was going to VERY fun after a bit of pain... well, not pain. My love for Sammie had died, and I was feeling numbness and a keen sense of righteous fury at what I was going to do to this Asshole after he finished fucking my soon-to-be ex-wife.

"I'm still not agreeing to it." I shook my head, even as I followed them to the master bedroom. I surreptitiously took out my iPhone and started the camera rolling as he undressed Sammie and had her lie on the bed. She spread her legs eagerly for him as he undressed too, and neither one of them looked my way as I sat in the chair to get plenty of footage.

"Last chance, you two." I said. "Don't do this. This is being done without my consent."

The doctor looked at me, with my iPhone sticking up out of my jacket pocket, but he didn't realize it was recording video. He sneered. "Like you have a choice in it, wimp!"

He then thrust forward into Sammie's cunt, and that was it. That was all I needed to see. It was all I needed to record. Janine's case was now airtight, and that was that. I stood up from the chair and walked calmly to where Dr. Needledick was laying into Samantha with relish and abandon.

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