Case of the Fertilized Fish Ch. 01

"That's too bad." the gorgeous woman said as she stood up and began walking. I expected her to walk to the door, but she slowly walked around my desk as she said "I'm not wealthy, and my business is barely hanging on. I can't afford those terms. But perhaps we can... work something out."

She sat down in my chair and reached for my pants zipper. I leaned back against the edge of my desk, looking straight down into that beautiful face and the cleavage of her dress, seeing the deep valley between her naturally large breasts. She opened my zipper and reached inside, grabbing my cock. Her effort to extract it were hindered by the size of my rapidly hardening prick, so I quickly undid my belt and opened my pants, letting them fall down my legs.

"Mmmm, nice. Long, and thick, just like I'd heard." Laura said as she gently jacked my eight inch cock to full, throbbing, iron hardness. She moved the chair closer, then used her other hand to gently massage my large balls. "Mmm, these balls are full... but not for long."

She licked up the underside of my shaft, then engulfed it in her warm, wet mouth, her lipsticked lips gliding down and then back up several times. Damn! that felt good! She really can suck a golf ball through a garden hose! I thought to myself as she vacuumed her mouth and sucked hard as she slid those lips up the shaft to the helmeted head, only to swallow my thick shaft as it slid over her tongue and down her throat.

The room was silent but for the wet smacks and slurps of the best head I'd ever gotten. One of her soft hands was jacking the lower shaft of my cock as her other hand massaged my Fruit, stimulating them as she worked her lips and tongue to drain them of their built-up load.

She released my cock from her mouth, then slid her tongue up and down the shaft, followed by kissing the head and sliding her lips sideways up and down my length. I felt the first twinges of my building climax, and worked to stave it off, to make this blowjob last as long as possible.

"Mmm, you like that?" Laura said as she looked up into my eyes. "I sure like sucking this long, thick cock. Are you ready to come in my mouth? Will you give me every drop of that big load in there?"

"Suck it, babe." I groaned, putting my hand on the back of her head while my other hand gripped the edge of the desk to keep me upright and steady. I gently held her head as I began undulating my hips, fucking her beautiful face. She took it like a pro, deepthroating me. As my balls tightened, she began jacking my shaft and sucking hard on the head. One more look into those beautiful, liquid blue eyes, and I was done.

"AACH! UNNH!" I gasped out as I felt my cock pulsing. She slid those red lips down my shaft one last time and held it, greedily gulping down my essence as I fired rope after rope of molten semen down her throat, painting her tonsils and her tongue as all of the energy of my body seemed to be drained into the release. The edges of my vision were tinged with red, and everything became blurry for a second.

When I recovered my eyesight, I realized I was breathing hard as the pleasing lassitude spread through my loins, then my chest. Laura was working her lips and tongue over my softening cock, cleaning it and my balls of her saliva and my cream.

"GEE-zus!" I gasped.

"I think that's worth a discount." Laura said. "Don't you?"

"Yeah... uh, yeah." I said. I pulled my pants back up as Laura got up from the chair, straightened out her dress, and went around and got her pocketbook. She took out two Benjamins.

"Two hundred a day, for three days, to start." she said. "Here's the first day's payment, for expenses. I'll see you again on the sixth, and pay you the other four hundred. And if you have a good report, we'll negotiate the next... installment."

"You got a phone number?" I asked.

"I have yours." she replied. "And I'll contact you when I need to. If you really need me, you can leave a message with the receptionist at Huxtable. See you in three days... if I can wait that long. I haven't had a cock like that to suck in a long time, and I loved it." With that, she turned and went for the door. She gave me a quick look and a little smile as she walked through it, and then she was gone as the door closed behind her...

Part 3 - Axolotls and Old Carter

2:00p.m., April 3rd. After the best lunch I'd had in ages, a double cheeseburger, fries, and a chocolate milkshake from the Spring Valley Diner, I went to the Police Station. It was a place with which I was very familiar, from both sides of the badge.

"Experience has taught me never to trust a policeman. Just when you think one's all right, he turns legit." Mae West once said. I always felt that way whenever I had to deal with the local constabulary. And it didn't take long for me to be made to feel that way again.

"Well, if it ain't Russ Ferrament. Feel free to just walk in anytime you want." growled Lieutenant Bentley Bayse sarcastically when he saw me coming into the large open space of the Detective's Division. The tone of his voice as well as the look on his face made me feel as welcome as a Georgia fan in the chat room of a Tennessee YouTube podcast.

"Nice to see you too, Lieutenant." I said. "How's your dog Smokey?"

"He keeps cleaner than you do, Ferrament." Bayse said. "Why don't you get on out of here, before I find a reason to give you a tour of the jail cells."

"Sir, let me talk to him." said Detective Nick Adrian, who was sitting at his desk. "He might have something we can use."

If looks could kill, Nick would be dead. Bayse glared at Nick as if Nick were a rowdy South Carolina fan in Neyland Stadium. He turned and went into his office, closing the door behind him.

"Whaddya need, Ferrament?" asked Sergeant Trevor 'Trev' Graves. He was a tough, grizzled veteran, and his beginnings of a beard made him look as if he needed a shave. His face showed that he had been through the wars as a Police Officer. And he had seen real war as a soldier before that.

"I was hoping you guys could help me with some information." I said as I stopped by the desk of Detective Nick Adrian and handed him a sack containing a cheeseburger and fries. I threw a second sack in Sergeant Graves's direction, and he caught it.

"You've got a case." said plainclothes Officer Kira David as she came up and took one of Nick's fries and ate it. "And you got an advance, which is how you paid for the burger bribe." I shrugged in acquiescence.

"All right, let's talk." said Graves. "My office. After we eat. Hurry up, Nick!" I used the potty and then went to his office, arriving just as Detective Adrian finished his lunch and came in, as well.

"All right, whaddya got?" Graves asked.

"A missing man." I said. "Name of David Griese. Black hair, trimmed mustache and beard. Works as a distributor... what?" I had seen the Sergeant and the Detective glance at each other for a second.

"Who contacted you about him?" asked Sergeant Graves gruffly.

"His fiancée." I replied. "She hasn't heard from him in three days, since March 31st."

"What's her name?" asked Graves, peering at me. I was instantly on my guard. I realized he was fishing for information from me, without giving me anything in return.

"I'll tell you in a minute." I said. "So have you heard anything about this guy? Anyone reported a missing man to the Police? She says she did, and that you guys blew her off."

Sergeant Graves said "Tell us her name and we can look it up." So much for the burger bribe, I thought to myself. And my look at him silently suggested that.

"C'mon, Sarge, let's stop fucking with him." said Detective Adrian. "This might be a break in that 'John Doe' case we found yesterday morning."

"You found a dead body?" I said. "And did you get any reports from a woman looking for her fiancé?"

"Ah, fuck." muttered Sergeant Graves. Seeing us looking at him, he said "Well, the cat's out of the bag now. You might as well tell him."

Nick said "Early yesterday morning a body was found in the field at the corner of Ben Hill Avenue and Griffin Street. The description generally matches the guy you just described. And no, we've had no missing persons reports come in, until you... just now."

"What did he die of?" I asked. "Was foul play involved?"

Detective Adrian said "Probably, but we're not sure yet. There were no GSWs (gun shot wounds), no other wounds he might've bled out from."

"What did the autopsy say?" I asked.

"It hasn't come back yet." Sergeant Graves said.

Nick said "And we need to go check up on it. Hey Sarge, let me take him with me to talk to the medical examiner. And then he can take me to wherever this Griese guy worked, and I can ask some questions."

"All right." Graves said. "Get moving before the Lieutenant comes out and stops you." Nick got up and motioned for me to follow him out, and I did. I realized I was being played, but if I wanted to get any information for my client, I had to play by the cops's rules.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The morgue was in the basement of Police Headquarters, which was part of the City Hall complex. It reeked of chemicals. We put on O.R. masks and went to the main examination room.

"Hello Nick. I see you brought your pitbull with you." said a middle-aged woman, who was slender and relatively fit, and looked somewhat like Queen Elizabeth's daughter Anne, the Princess Royal, especially in her severe hairstyle.

"Nice to see you too, Martha." I replied, unable as always to be able to tell if she was just needling me or if she was serious. She'd helped me in the past, so I settled for being needled.

Nick said "We're here about that 'John Doe' from early yesterday morning. Russ Ferrament here may have some information on his identity."

"Good. It would help." Martha said acerbically. "I sent his fingerprints to the FBI yesterday. As usual, we haven't heard back. If we can give them a name to compare them against, it might go a long way." As she was talking, she went to one of the doors in the wall, which was a very large refrigerator.

"The name of my missing person is David Griese." I said as Martha opened the door and pulled out a slab, upon which rested a body bag. She opened the body bag to show the very blue face of a man in his 30s with dark hair, trimmed beard. I compared the face to the printout of David Griese's DMV photo, which Officer Kira David had printed off and handed to us on the way out the door.

"Not the same guy." I said humorously. "This guy has blue skin." The joke didn't go over well. Nick Adrian groaned, and Martha gave me a look that conveyed her displeasure with me.

"Just kidding. It's him." I said. "What did he die of? Or have you done the autopsy yet?"

Martha replied "Yes, I did it yesterday. This one intrigued me. The official cause of death... is drowning."

"Drowning?" Nick and I said together.

"Jinx on both of you." Martha said immediately. "Yes, drowning. His lungs were completely full of water, he has the telltale subconjunctival hemorrhage, and he was in and out of rigor quickly. But there are also indicators that this is an unusual case. First of all, his wrists were tied behind his back and his lower legs strapped together at the time of death. And he may have already been unconscious and not fighting back when he died; I can tell that because of edema aquosum, a lack of froth in the fluids."

"So they knocked him out, tied him up, dunked his head in a sink or bathtub, or something." I surmised, breaking a cardinal rule of Detection: theorizing without data.

"Or something." Martha replied with something of a smirk, and I knew she was about to get one over me. She went to her laboratory area and picked up a large jar of water. "This is the water I drained out of his lungs. It's definitely not tap water, nor is it salt water nor chlorinated pool water. It's most similar to untreated fresh water, such as lake or river water, but there are virtually no silts, no mud particulates."

Martha continued: "There is organic material, though. I strained some of the water, and got this." She showed us a petri dish that contained the wafer used to strain the water. On top were grains of what appeared to be sand, and a couple of larger shiny flecks. There was also what looked to be like a cone-shaped sac.

Martha: "Those larger flecks aren't sand or rock particles. They look like scales under a microscope, but not normal fish scales. And another sac just like that one had spermatozoa in it."

"Fish tank." Nick Adrian said. Martha nodded vigorously in agreement.

I said "We'll need to get a list of pet stores and any other places that sell fish."

Detective Adrian said "How can you be so sure he was killed in a fish store?"

I replied "If he were killed in a home or a place of business, wouldn't you expect them to use the bathtub, sink, or toilet to drown him instead of one fish tank? But in a place that has a lot of water in a lot of fish tanks, and probably some large tanks, it makes more sense."

"I'll buy that for a dollar." Nick said. "Martha, do we have a time of death?"

Martha said "He was found yesterday morning after lying in a field overnight on a cold night. So my TOD (time of death) range is going to be pretty large. I'd say anywhere between noon and 6:00pm the day before... April 1st."

"Someone played a hella April Fool's joke on him." I said, stating the obvious.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

We went back upstairs. Officer Kira David said "You guys need to go straight to---"

"My office, Adrian!" Lieutenant Bayse's voice called out.

Officer Kira David said "Like I was about to say, the Lieutenant wants you to go directly to his office, Do Not Pass 'Go', Do Not Collect $200. He seems impatient, too." That would become prophetic, I thought to myself. We hurried into Lieutenant Bayse's office. Sergeant Graves was already there.

"All right, Ferrament." Bayse said in a manner of an ultimatum. "It should be pretty obvious even to your empty Bulldog head that this is a murder investigation. So you are now obligated to tell us what you know. And what I want to know is, who hired you to find Greezy... er, Griese?"

"Ah, so that's your nickname for him." I said, getting one over on Bayse. The look he gave me indicated that my 'victory' was going to be very short-lived if I did not start singing like the proverbial canary. Since they knew the name of the company and would soon enough have my client's name, I started singing like the proverbial canary.

"She told me her name was Laura Thornwell, and she's co-owner of Huxtable Distributors." I said. "She said David Griese was her fiancé and worked at the company."

"Ah, Laura Thornwell." Bayse said with a great deal of sardonic derision in his voice, as if he were talking about an Alabama graduate. "In what capacity did he work for her?"

"At first she said he was an independent contractor, and then she said he was one of her distribution managers." I replied.

"In other words, he was one of her truck drivers." sneered Bayse. Yeah, that made too much sense, I thought to myself.

"So she came to you, Ferrament, and asked you to find her lover's killers." Bayse continued. "Why, I'll bet she told you that Mitt Willard was behind the disappearance." That startled me even more than the truck driver revelation, and my face showed it. Detective Adrian winced.

Bayse said "Look, Ferrament, that bitch is wacky. She kept telling us that Willard had her husband and Willard's wife killed, that that gas explosion that killed them was deliberately set. She pushed and pushed on that, but the Fire Marshal and Arson Team found nothing at all to support her wacky conspiracy theories."

"Can I see that Arson Investigation report?" I asked, remembering but not revealing what Laura Thornwell had said about the stove being electric.

"What, you don't believe what I'm telling you?" Bayse asked menacingly.

"It's not about you, Lieutenant." I replied. "But like Ronald Reagan said... 'trust, but verify'. I just want to see what they did and didn't find."

Somewhat to my surprise, Bayse didn't go off on me despite the fury on his beet-red face. After several seconds, he said "No. You're not a cop anymore, and like I said, this is a murder investigation. Now get out of here, and stay out our business. Clear?"

"Crystal." I replied agreeably.

"Well what are you waitin' for?" Bayse growled, his hand indicating the door. I hastily exited the office...

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

I was walking down the street towards my office when I heard a car horn beeping, followed by a car pulling to the curb. "Get in, quick." said Detective Nick Adrian. I got into the shotgun seat, and Adrian pulled back onto the road.

"Listen." he said. "I'll let you tag along with me, as long as Lieutenant Bayse doesn't find out. Don't make me regret it."

"Why are you doing it?" I asked, looking the gift horse in the mouth.

"I think you know some things, and you can help me get information that I can't get as a Police Officer." Nick said.

"Is Bayse on the take?" I asked. "Or does he just hate me because Orange is not the warmest color for me?"

Nick smiled slightly, then said "I don't think it's that. I think he hates you because he fears you. And no, he's not on the take; he's a good, honest cop, and he always has been. But let me clue you in to the reality of Police politics: Bayse's goal is to make Captain, which means he has to hobnob with the politicians... and tip-toe around State Senator Mitt Willard. So anything that comes up involving Willard, he's going to try like hell to move us away from it, so that he doesn't step on any toes."

Nick: "Now Sergeant Graves, he despises Mitt Willard. Hates the man with an abiding passion. The scuttlebutt is that Willard fucked over someone in Graves's family in one of his, Willard's, dirty deals. Or maybe Willard poked Graves's wife or something. In any case, Sarge has your back and wants you to help us and us help you, but we have to keep out of the Lieutenant's way."

Before I could ask anything else, Detective Adrian was pulling into the parking lot of Huxtable Distributors, LLC. There was a small office building attached to a warehouse that stretched towards the back of the property. On the right side of the warehouse were nine truck bays. On the left side was a railroad siding parallel to the building, with a dock and four large bay doors, completely inaccessible from the parking lot due to the high chain-link fence. The other side was also fenced in, and a small guardhouse covered the entrance/exit.

We planned our approach. "Let me take the lead on this." I said. "Flash your ID card more than your badge, if you can help it."

We went inside the office, where a willowy girl with long, straight sandy brown-blonde hair was behind the counter. She looked at us warily.

"Hi, we're with the State Revenue Service." I said, flashing what looked like an ID and badge. A closer examination of the badge would've shown it had the words 'Concealed Carry Permit' on it, but I didn't let the girl stare at it. "Is Mrs. Laura Thornwell here?"

"Do you have an appointment?" the girl asked, looking at us much more warily. "Your name is?"

"No, we don't have an appointment." I said. "I'm Agent Russell Ferris. She knows who I am."

"I'm afraid she's unavailable." the woman said, without checking in any way.

"What about your distribution manager?" I asked. "Can we speak to him?"

"He's very busy." the girl said. "I can't just call him up here."

"Then take us to him." I replied. "That will work better, anyway, since any records he has will be with him."

"I can't do that." the girl said.

"Ma'am," said Nick Adrian, "maybe you didn't understand Agent Ferris. He's trying to be polite, but that was not a request..."