Case of the Fertilized Fish Ch. 01

"Adrian, escort Russ Ferrament to the front door." Bayse said. "Ferrament, if you come back into this Police Station, you better be bleeding from every pore of your body. Because if you aren't, you're going to jail. Now get out. Move."

Nick Adrian practically picked me up out of my chair and all but pushed me out of the room. As we were going down the stairs, I said as a statement "What the hell. What the hell."

"Shut your fucking mouth, Ferrament." Nick said with no small amount of anger and hostility in his voice. I whirled to look at him, totally shocked, and he said "I told you to keep your fucking mouth shut. We were trying to get that arson investigation report without anyone knowing, but nooooo, you had to go blabbing all over creation, and asking about it again and again."

When we got to the door, Adrian gestured with his hand. "Take the Lieutenant's advice, Ferrament. Walk away from this. Don't come in here again. And definitely don't call me again; you've destroyed my career enough already." He watched me walk through the door, then turned his back to me and went back inside.

The County Records Office was nearby. I walked to it and went inside. The woman behind the counter, who was tall and skinny and with Coca-Cola-bottle eyeglasses, looked at me and said "You're Russ Ferrament, aren't you? I've been warned about you. We all have. Don't bother asking for an Arson Investigation report... unless you have a warrant."

"What about an Open Records Act request?" I said.

"Sure, we'll accept that... and then throw it in the trash just as soon as the Police arrest you." the woman said with a smirk. The deduction was easy enough for even a Betta fish to make: I wasn't going to get that record.

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

5:30pm, April 4th. I was sitting in my office as the beams of sunlight through the window slants lengthened and angled further sideways as I contemplated my next move. My thoughts turned to Laura Thornwell. Impure thoughts of her magnificent body and magical mouth stirred my loins, which I tried to push aside.

I knew I'd probably never see her again. I wondered if she had been setting me up, or if I was being caught in the same swirling vortex that had already swallowed her. Was she the rogue, as Lieutenant Bayse seemed determined to show, or was this one of Mitt Willard's scheme to crush yet another poor soul that got in his way?

The case was as murky as a disturbed axolotl tank, and with the Police now hostile to me, there was only one way left to go to get the answers I needed... the Press.

Anyone who knows Russ Ferrament knows that I hate the Press. They are biased, dishonest, and corrupt, and those adjectives are not redundant. They are less interested in reporting the truth accurately and fairly than they are in telling you exactly what they want you to think.

But they can ask questions, dig deep for clues, and get results. And my ace in the hole was the Spring Valley Chronicle newspaper and local television station's star reporterette, Sharon Akira.

Her father was Asian and her mother French, and she got the best of both worlds. Her mesmerizing slanted eyes and very full lips, almost too full, were putting steam into the strides of the men who watched her newscasts and podcasts. She was slender, and her legs were shapely but looked long on her body despite her being short at 5'5", as were most people in the television and film industry.

Her breasts were 'enhanced', but looked a lot more natural and appealing than the huge, artificial flotation devices most female porn stars appeared to have. Her voice was low and husky, and only added to the fire that stirred her male fans's imaginations.

I was one of those fans, but I didn't have to imagine anything. I'd been her 'source' for a few stories in the past, and in return she'd helped me get information at times. But that came with a price, and Sharon liked to collect in 'trade'. I had to make several 'deposits' into her womanly 'account', and I can't say I minded being left in an exhausted, drained heap of used manhood when she left my bed.

I had called a number and left a message. As I scanned Riverside Drive, feeling paranoid that someone might be watching me now, the door to the office opened. Sharon Akira came inside and locked the door behind her. She was wearing a very light gray, almost off-white jacket and matching pants, a black button-down shirt, and black high-heel slingback sandals. Her makeup and lipstick were as perfectly applied as when she appeared on our television screens.

As I stood up to greet her, Sharon said "Mmm, is that a crowbar in your pants, are are you just happy to see me?"

"Yes." I replied, coming around the desk. I gave her a two-cheek kiss, and then she mashed those wonderful, full lips against mine. Her tongue tried to slide inside my mouth, but I slid mine over hers and tried to lick her tonsils. She twined her tongue around mine and moaned into our kiss, which was spreading molten fire through me.... and it was only a hint of what was going to burn me next.

When the kiss broke, she said "My pussy melted the moment I saw you'd called me."

"I'll take care of it in a few minutes." I growled. "Let's sit down on the sofa." I guided her to the sofa against the wall to the desk's left and the office door's right. In the corner, in the same wall as the door, was a door to the tiny bathroom. A matching door on the other side was to a small closet.

Sharon sat down to my right and snuggled into me, crossing her legs so that her right foot was rubbing against my leg. I said "Let me tell you why I called you." I gave her the details of the David Griese murder, telling her what the Police knew but wasn't public. Then I told the more full story of Laura Thornwell, Mitt Willard, and Huxtable Distributors.

"There could be a huge story here." I said. "And you and the Chronicle can pursue it however you see fit. But what I need initially is that Arson Investigation report... if it's still there."

"I've got a contact in the Records Office." Sharon said. "And if they've pulled the report or if they're hiding it, the Chronicle can make an ORA (Open Records Act) request, then go seriously public if they don't come correct and give it to us."

She began rubbing my cock through my pants as she said in her sultry, sexy voice: "So... this Laura Thornwell. Do I have competition for your cock?" she asked, her full lips forming a smile of eager anticipation.

"You never have competition for that." I said as I turned and mashed my mouth to hers. As we deeply kissed, our tongues twining, Sharon unzipped my zipper and unbuckled my belt. My own hands were rubbing her upper thighs and her crotch, then I moved them up and unbuttoned her blouse, then massaged her bare breasts.

I felt her hands grasp my cock and pull it out. She pressed her mouth harder into mine as she stroked my meat, jacking it to its full eight inches of throbbing hardness. "Mmm, I have to suck this cock." she said as she broke the kiss. Suiting the deed to her words, she bent over engulfed my cock into her warm, wet mouth.

"Ohhhh, God." I gasped as the Asian beauty's full lips slid up and down my shaft as she fellated me with raw intensity. If this kept up much longer, I thought, I'd be painting her tonsils with my joy juice in less than a minute. So I distracted myself by feeling the cheeks of her firm ass, then trying to get my fingers under her clothes to her pussy.

She released my shaft from her mouth with a loud *pop!*, then stood up and began undressing. "Get out of those clothes." she said. I stood up and quickly undressed.

"Sit back down." Sharon ordered once I was naked. I did so, my cock a stiff pole beckoning her. She already had gotten some lubricant from her purse, and she applied some to my cock and her pussy lips.

Once she was ready, she mounted me, straddling my legs. She reached down between us and grasped my cockshaft, and fit the helmeted head into her swollen cuntlips. She pushed down, then moaned deeply as she slowly sank down and impaled herself on my cock until every inch was buried to the balls inside her tight, hot, sopping went cunt.

She began riding me, undulating her hips back and forth as she slid her stretched, filled vagina along my throbbing shaft. I reached up and gripped her hips, and began meeting her thrusts, pounding my cock up into her. She rested the tops of her feet on my hard thighs, and my hands explored her thighs and her sweet shapely feet.

I sucked her hard nipples, feeling her push her luscious breasts into my face. She pulled her chest away from me, then pulled my head to hers as she smashed her lips to mine, and our tongues twined in a rhythm matching our joined loins.

Our loving was urgent and violent. Sharon's arms were wrapped tightly around my neck as she kissed me like Poison Ivy, desperately trying to ensnare me with her luscious charms. And she was succeeding. I wrapped my arms around her back and pulled her to me, literally raising and dropping her body up and down as I drove my cock into her cunt with short, stabbing thrusts, staying buried to the hilt in her tightness as much as possible.

The room was filled with the staccato slaps of flesh on flesh as we rutted fiercely, until my tightening balls could take no more. "I'm going to come." I gasped as I tore my mouth from hers. "Where do you want it?"

"In my pussy." Sharon panted huskily. "Come inside me. Give me every drop of your load... UNNHHH!" I felt her cunt clamp down on my invading cock like a vise, as if trying to push me out of her. I pushed into her, keeping my tool sheathed to the hilt in her velvety tightness as her orgasm rippled through her. As she stopped shivering and gasped, I let go.

"Uhhh... God DAMN!" I gasped in a ragged voice as I began firing streams of thick, ropy jism into the gorgeous Asian's clasping cunt. She pressed herself down onto me, keeping me as deep as possible inside her as I hosed her insides with my baby batter. It was a long minute before I became aware of anything, and that I was gasping for breath as she nuzzled my neck with kisses...

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

8:30pm, April 4th. Sharon Akira and I went to get Chinese takeout. On the way, I asked her to drive to an address... the address of the Thornwell's destroyed home. As we drove along the streets, I kept careful watch for any cars following us.

"You think someone's watching us?" Sharon asked, though casually and seemingly unconcerned.

"I dunno." I said. "Maybe I'm just being paranoid."

"It ain't paranoid if they really are out to get you." Sharon said in the form of a quotation, her full lips smiling. I chuckled, but the foreboding returned when she said "It's the cops you really need to be watching out for. If Mitt Willard is involved, then dirty cops always seem to show up."

The residential street we were on was composed of middle-class two- and three-bedroom homes, some ranch-style and some split-level. The streetlights were spaced at long intervals, but the full moon gave some light. Sharon slowed down as we came to an empty lot to our right.

"This is it." she said, coming to a stop. The lot had the remnants of a driveway, with weeds growing in the cracks, but was otherwise just a flat piece of land, completely leveled as if being prepared for rebuilding.

"Nothing left at all." I said. "Have you ever seen a lot this completely razed and cleaned up after a fire?"

"Come to think of it, no." Sharon said. "Was there anything you were looking for?"

I said "I was hoping the kitchen stove was still here. Laura Thornwell insisted the stove was electric, but I was also told it was the source of the gas leak that blew up the house."

"And that's why you need the arson report." Sharon said. "Okay, let's go eat. After that workout you gave my poor little Asian pussy, I'm starving."

"Me too, for the same reasons." I replied with a smile. Sharon turned around and we drove out of the neighborhood. As we turned onto the first big street going back into Spring Valley, we saw a Police car turn into the street. It did not change course to follow us, to Sharon's relief...

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

4:00am, April 5th. Moonlight streamed through the slats of the blinds on the windows to the office, its silvery-bluish gray giving no color to the room, unlike the yellow beams of sunlight that would.

The sofa-bed was pulled out. My office was also my home, the only place I had to go. The only sounds in the room were the squeaks of the bed and heavy breathing as I pistoned my cock in and out of Sharon's well-fucked pussy.

My upper chest was over her face, and her shapely legs were wrapped tightly around me, holding me inside her as I rocked back and forth. I finally pretended to climax inside her, having already discharged three loads into her greedy womanhood.

When I woke up the next morning, seeing the dawn's early light in the windows, Sharon was gone.

Part 5 - The Federal Angle

April 6th. At 9:00am, I was sitting in my office on Riverside Drive, drinking my third cup of coffee spiked with Disaronno Velvet Cream, and puffing on one of the Alec Bradley cigars I'd bought from Shayla at Dan & Julie's Fine Wines and Spirits.

I was reading the arson investigation report that had seemingly magically appeared under the door to my office the night before. Alas, there was nothing helpful in it. It listed the fire as 'accidental', so there was no evidence preserved. It claimed the fire was caused by a leak in the gas range, which ignited when the hot water heater ignited, and blew that part of the house apart and killed the victims, who were eating at the breakfast room table.

The autopsies of Knox Thornwell and Lenore Thornwell Willard were attached to the report, possibly by my secret benefactor. They were more interesting. Knox died instantly; a large splinter of wood had driven into his side under his armpit and pierced his heart. Lenore had died of blunt force trauma to the head. But what interested me was what was not in the report. There was nothing on the condition of the lungs; were they burned out by the superheated air from the explosion? And there was nothing about any external burn injuries.

I had not heard from Laura Thornwell since our first meeting three days before. It sure looked like she was setting me up, but she could just as likely be the victim, too. She could be guilty, or she could be completely innocent.

I heard someone coming up the stairs of the hallway outside. I slipped the report into my desk drawer and pulled out my trusty six-shooter. An instant later the door opened... and to my shock, Laura Thornwell walked into the office!.

She was wearing a dress in a 1940s style and a blue and white criss-cross pattern, and high heel blue pumps of a style of that same era. Her black hair was also done up in that style, with buns to each side of her head.

"You look surprised to see me, Mr. Ferrament." she said smoothly in her mesmerizing voice as she walked up to the desk. "You shouldn't be. I did tell you that I would come back in three days. And it is a dangerous habit to finger loaded firearms."

I pointed the gun at the ceiling, then set it down on my desk, well within reach. "Have a seat." I said.

Laura sat down, crossed those gorgeous legs of hers, and said "So... what do you have to report?"

"Only that... you owe me one thousand dollars." I replied, looking up at her through my eyebrows. "Two days at four hundred each, and two hundred as the second half of the first day's fee."

Laura gave me a look that was somewhere between a smirk and disappointment. She opened her purse, and I grabbed my pistol and raised it just off the surface of the desk, then lowered it as she pulled out a stack of green dollar bills, secured in the middle with a wrapper.

"One thousand dollars." she said as I thumbed through the money, making sure they were all Benjamins and not blank paper between the bills on the outside. I put the money in the inner pocket of my jacket.

Laura said "You're certainly acting as if you don't trust me, Mr. Ferrament. Has Mitt Willard and his minions on the take gotten to you?"

"No." I said. "But the more I learn about this case, the more I learn to be skeptical of everyone, including you."

"Oh, you have nothing to fear from me." Mrs. Thornwell said. "And when you get to the truth, and you will, you'll realize that. And just to show you that I'm unarmed..."

She stood up and wiggled her saucy hips as she lowered the dress off her body and let it fall to the floor in a puddle around her feet. As I stood up and stared at her, stunned, she unclasped her bra and let it fall to the floor, then lowered her panties down her legs, stepping out of it and her dress. The sight of her bared breasts and the 'runway' patch of thick black pubic hair outlining the treasure below had parts of me standing at rapt attention.

"As you can see," she said huskily, "I have no weapons on me."

"I'm going to have to make a much closer inspection." I said as I took off my jacket and draped it over the back of my chair. I came around the desk, but instead of taking her into my arms, I went by her and pulled the sofa-bed out of the sofa. She watched me strip naked, then I grabbed her and pushed her back onto the bed, spread her legs, and dove between them.

For the next half hour I ate Laura's pussy. She was very responsive to my tongue lapping over her labes, tracing letters of the alphabet, followed by my tongue lashing the hard little bud of her clitoris while my fingers explored the upper walls of her honey hole. I must've found her g-spot, because she moaned deeply as her sweet juices flooded my face several times.

The next hour was one of the greatest experiences of my life. I mounted Laura and sank all eight inches of my throbbing cock into the wettest, deepest cunthole I'd ever had the pleasure to know. She wasn't as tight as Sharon, but when she wrapped those wonderful legs around my back and locked her feet together on my pistoning ass, I was in what was as close to Heaven as I ever hoped to get.

The first time I came, I was so superheated that my cock didn't wilt. To her surprise I kept fucking her. She reached between us and stroked her clit, and I felt her cunt clench around me a couple of times. She matched the motion of her body to mine, and we sensuously mated in the oldest dance since time began...

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

"Mitt Willard has filed papers to create a competing distribution company." Laura said as we were getting dressed after dozing together in post-coital bliss. I had told her everything I'd found out so far, and she said she needed more information that could take Willard down.

"That makes sense." I said. "It would also make sense if he thought he could hire Griese away from Huxtable, and use his knowledge to compete against you."

"And use David's connections with our clients to try to steal them from me." Laura said.

As she went to the door, I said "You got a number where I can contact you?"

Laura said "Just call Huxtable and leave a message for me with the receptionist. Just tell her that it's from 'Crowbar'. That's an appropriate code name for you, since your cock is like an iron hard crowbar in my cunt."

"Why do I get the feeling you like this cloak and dagger stuff?" I asked, meaning it humorously. She did not take it that way.

"This is serious, and my life we're talking about, Mr. Ferrament." she said severely. "I'll contact you again in three days. If you have information I can use, you'll be paid very well. If not, then don't expect to collect from me." With that, she opened the door and left the office...

Dames, I thought to myself. Can't live with 'em, can't shoot 'em. Well, I could shoot 'em if I had to...