Hard Luck P.I.

With one finger he pushed up the brim of his fedora and eyed the blond bombshell before him. Long blond hair fell across her shoulder and down over her ample breasts. Her chest rose and fell and he couldn't help but notice. She couldn't help but notice either, which seemed to be the reason why more and more cleavage seemed to be showing itself as their conversation continued. Being a hard boiled detective wasn't glamourous but when dames like this came through his door. He tried to concentrate on what she was saying but his hard cock was listening to other things with much more attention. Then she......

"Hey, idiot, wake up. Get that digital camcorder, no the one with the night scope on it. C'mon hurry, I think they're about to do it." Grant sighed as he rummaged around in a black duffel bag at his feet and took out the cam corder and handed it to Roland. Being a Private Investigator, was not the quite the life he had envisioned, but he had wanted to be one for as long as he could remember. As a kid he would watch all the old hard-boiled detectives on tv and movies, and that was what he wanted. So far it was all cheating spouses and finding out who skipped out with Aunt May's will. "Ahh here we go, show time." Roland wheezed and leaned out of the car window some more.

Across the street in the middle class residential area they had been sitting in since dark, was a brown unassuming house with only one light burning in a back window. Grant picked up the binoculars and focused in on it. He could make out a shape then the shape split into two people, one was a certain Mrs. Garner. She was the reason they were here. The gentleman she was wrapped around was an Anthony Taylor. Obviously not her husband. They embraced again, kissing passionately slowly taking off each others clothes. Grant could hear Roland's breathing getting heavier. This wasn't his first cheating wife he had sat on with him, out of the fifteen or so cases that he worked with the corpulent P.I. over half of them involved watching, and filming, cheating spouses. And every time Roland ran the camera as if he was filming porno. Despite the fact he was creepy, Grant was learning a lot from him. He figured another year and he could hang out his own shingle, as they say.

Resuming his watch on the window, both parties were naked. Mrs. Garner wasn't bad for her age, early fifties and still fit. Her tits were too perky to be real, but when your husband owns as much shit as hers did why succumb to gravity. The light went off.

"C'mon kid, were going in." Grant grabbed the night scope and a digital camera and followed the hulking shadow into the bushes underneath the bedroom window. As much as he hated to admit it, he got a real voyeuristic thrill out of this part. Sneaking around to basically watch people have sex. The thing he didn't understand was how arrogant they his prey was by leaving the curtains open. She knew what was at stake if she was caught, it was almost like she was inviting it. But he remembered what Roland had told him when he first started, and that was never to question the sloppiness of the guilty, just be glad they were. He attached the small green tinted night scope to a small periscope and aimed it at the corner of the window. Then he attached a small digital camera to the other end and turned it on. Roland was already filming.

It took a moment but he found them on the bed, her young stud kneeling on the bed,

Mrs. Garner with her ass in the air and bobbing her head. Grant had to wait before taking pictures because all he would get at the moment was a picture of ass. Though it wasn't a bad ass, he need a good face shot. They shifted a couple of times and finally he could see her head, Anthony's thick cock firmly in her mouth. His cock slid in and out her cheeks puffing out each time as he leaned over and played with her pussy. After a moment she began wiggling her ass and breathing hard. She disengaged from him and pushed him to the bed. Clicking away with the camera Grant had to say even he was impressed with the size of his member, but then again how many women takes lovers because they have tiny wieners. Not that he had anything to be ashamed of, not that he had done much with it lately. The closest he got to any action was usually taking pictures of others doing it outside bedroom windows or dark parks.

Back inside Mrs. Garner had impaled herself and was riding him up and down, slowly and carefully. His hips began to buck but she placed a hand on his stomach, and he slowed down. They did this a few times before he couldn't take it anymore and grabbed her ass, a cheek in each large hand, and slammed her down and began fucking her in earnest. They could hear her laugh and squeal while he thrust hard in fast inside her. He flipped her over and Grant got some good face shots and wondered just how their client would take seeing the pure joy on his wife's face as she was screwing the hell out of some guy fifteen years his junior. That wasn't his concern he supposed. Adjusting his position and his erection he waited as Anthony lay on top of her with her legs in the air bouncing to the rhythm of his pounding pelvis. Her moans and screams became louder and higher in pitch when suddenly the entire bed shook as she crashed into a shuddering orgasm. Almost on cue her man grunted and pulled out. Grant didn't worry about taking pictures, he wasn't so concerned about ‘money shots', though guy did have one hell of a load. She would definitely need a large towel. Roland would have done a close up on that for sure, so he left him too it.

Roland looked over at Grant and jerked his head. It was time to go. They quietly jogged to the car and slid in. Just before Roland turned the key in the ignition, two shots split the quiet street. Grant actually saw the muzzle flashes in the bedroom window. Roland was out of the car, moving his bulk quicker than Grant had ever seen. "Call the police." he barked back at his apprentice. Grant already had his phone out and was following close behind. Roland rounded on him, "Cover the front." Pulling a .45 from under his shoulder with one hand and cell phone in the other he went in the inky darkness of a large tree near the front step. He was nervous, he had a gun and was a straight shot at the gun range, but his hands shook as he pointed it at the front door. He prayed that he wouldn't have to use it. It seemed like an eternity of inactivity before he heard the sound of cars coming up from behind. He was so focused (and scared if he was asked to admit it) that it took him a minute before he registered the hand on his. Detective Halloran's hand gently urged his gun down as police officers and homicide detectives surrounded the house. Grant stayed put but kept his gun ready as he watched the female detective station herself in front of the door and nod to the other officers.

The rest seemed like a blur, when no answer came to their summons they broke down the door. Grant did the best to just stay out of the way, it wasn't until they brought Roland out from the backyard, holding his head, that he seemed to be able to act. After a few minutes the house was called clear, corded off, and the social center of the neighborhood as the whole block was out in housecoats and slippers. The weird part didn't start until just after a medic had declared the bump on Roland's head okay.

"I tell you, my head is fine." he grumbled. The paramedic, tired of being barked at just tossed an ice pack at him.

"One more time, they never left the bedroom." Detective Halloran asked again.

"No, she had just been hosed down. We went straight for the car. Then heard the shots." Roland said in his usual testy manner.

"Then once you got to the car, you heard the shots?" She looked at Grant, who was doing his best not to stare at her pale green eyes.

"Yes, yes, yes. Why are you asking so goddamn much. What's so damned important?" Roland interrupted. Without hesitation she pushed Grant towards the house.

"C'mon, I'll show you." They followed her brisk walk, Grant stumbling on the curb because he was paying more attention to her rear than his feet. She led them back into the house through the backyard. They backdoor was nearest the bedroom. They waded through police and criminologists into a very crowded room. In the middle was the bed with a decent size bloodstain, another one was at the foot of the bed. After seeing so much blood on tv and movies it was almost too easy to believe it wasn't real.

"So. Okay. The scene of the crime." Roland plopped the ice pack back on his head.

"Shut up and pay attention. Did you see us take any bodies out?" She fired back at him.

"I was busy getting my head looked at, I wasn't paying attention."

"No," Grant said slowly, the realization dawning on him, "You haven't. Where are the bodies?"

"Good question, boy wonder," she cracked wryly, "I was hoping you would know. The only people here, live or dead, when we arrived were you two. And he," she jerked a thumb at Roland, "was passed out in the bushes. So I ask again, where are the damned bodies?" All Grant could do was stare at her. "Yeah. Listen go get your statements taken and then go home. I'll probably have more questions later on so stay near your phones." She turned on her heel and began talking a crime scene investigator. Grant noticed her picking up a matchbook off the night stand.

They went back out and gave their statements to an officer, then got back into car. Grant noticed that a lot of their equipment was gone. "Needed it for the investigation she said," Roland answered his glance. "Guess the husband doesn't need us to tell him what I'm sure he's finding out right now in some room at the police station."

"Think they called him in this quick?" Grant asked as he buckled.

"Positive. Not only is Mr. William Garner, big muckidy-muck that he is, being informed that his wife is missing and presumed dead; but I'll bet my left nut that Halloran is hauling her sweet ass back there to question the shit out of him."

"Because he's the number one suspect." Grant finished for him.

"Glad to see you're paying attention. Here is your place. Listen, get some rest. I'll call you sometime tomorrow." Grant said his good night and looked forward to sleep, he doubted it would come soon, but it was something to look forward to anyway.

He collapsed on the bed fully clothed and in the dark but his mind was racing far too much for him do get sleep soon. So he dressed down to his boxers in the dark and groped his way for a lamp. With the light he found his way to the bathroom and splashed a little warm water on his face. It was the one thing that seemed to put him a little at ease. He straightened up and took a long hard look at himself. Tonight had shaken him more than he would admit to anybody, and for the first time he had real doubts about his chosen profession. He figured that things like this could happen but there was no real way to prepare yourself for it. Looking hard in the mirror his mind began to wander and he examined his body. Tall, nice muscle tone, short brown hair, deep brown eyes, full lips. He had been accused of having ‘Ohio farm boy good looks', even though he had never been to Ohio, or a farm for that matter. His mind wandered over to Detective Patrice Halloran. She was fairly tall, not much shorter than his 6'0, short blond hair. She always wore unrevealing slacks but he could tell there was a tight ass in there and her blouse was always just tight enough to inform him that under the brown jacket she seemed never without, was an impressive pair of breasts. Her lips were full and....he looked down at his erection and sighed. He had dealt with Halloran on a few cases with Roland, she was always trying to flash the hard-as-nails routine at him, but he still would love to make a pass at her. But she did have a gun. Best not too. He looked at his erection again and sighed. "Shit, there is always imagination." He grabbed it and led it to the bedroom.He lay back down on the bed, naked now stroking his hard shaft. His tight grip against the soft skin was beginning to send sensations up and down his cock. He imagined his lovely detective undressing before him, her beautiful breasts, wonderful hips, sensual lips. He began jerking it harder and faster his other hand cupping his balls. She was on top of him.....Mr. Garner couldn't be a suspect.

"Shit!" He exclaimed. He let go of himself and sat up. Even while rubbing one out he couldn't stop thinking about it. This was ludicrous. But the fact remained that William Garner didn't know where his wife was. They had never informed him of her whereabouts. In fact they didn't even know about it until they followed Anthony to the house earlier that evening and later saw her enter. This is something he really ought to tell Halloran. Getting dressed he carefully put his still semi-erect bishop in his pants. He was out the door and racing off in his little piece of shit car.

It only took his a few minutes to get there, traffic at this early hour was almost non-existence. When he arrived at the scene he parked behind a dark van and walked up to the police line. After a moment arguing with a short balding officer, Halloran saw him and waved him through.

"Please tell me you thought of something." She asked him violently flipping through he pocket notebook.

"Yeah, well I was....anyway I don't think that Garner killed his wife." Halloran looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

"Go on." She put her notebook back in her pocket.

"Well, he never knew the address to the house. As far as I know we were the only investigators he hired and we didn't tell him that we found the lover or followed him here." He looked at her expectantly.

"You are sure Roland didn't call him at any time?"

"Positive. I was stuck in his cigar-stench car with him all day." She looked at him for a moment.

"Okay. Well unless he hired another set of investigators that might take a little of the heat off of him. But that still doesn't give us suspects or where the bodies might be. Hell for all we know they could still be walking around." She turned to leave then turned to him again. "Thanks, I appreciate it. Next time call." She dug a card out of her jacket pocket and a book of matches came out with it but she caught it in mid-air and put it back in her pocket. She handed him the card.

"Thanks." he accepted it and watched her start barking orders to the myriad of police officers milling around. He turned and trudged back to his car only to find it stuck between the dark van and a large SUV. There was no way to get it out, they were both too close. Swearing liberally, he looked around for any potential SUV drivers. Halloran came up from behind nearly scaring him to death.

"Now what?" He just pointed at his car. "I think you are a brave man for driving that in public."

"Thanks, but how am I supposed to get it out?"

She pondered for a moment. "You live near downtown, right?" he nodded. "C'mon I'll give you a ride. I'm heading that direction." He followed her to her police issue unmarked Chevy. They drove in silence, Grant trying hard not to try and snatch glimpses at her as he felt slightly guilty at his attempted masturbation fantasy of her. The silence was broken by her cell phone. The conversation, from her side anyway, consisted of yeses and no's until. "That's not where he was supposed.......okay...I'll...." she looked over at Grant for a moment then said, "I'll be right there." She put the phone back in her pocket.

"Well, it must be you're lucky night. We need to make a short detour." She made sharp right and sped off to the wharf.

"Did you find out something?" he asked hopefully.

"Yeah, we've been keeping an eye on Mrs. Garner's lawyer. At about 1:30 he suddenly jumped into his car and sped off. He just stopped at some old warehouse her husband owns. We're going to see what he's up too." Grant was a little excited at first because it almost felt like he was doing some sort of real detective work. But then a small voice asked why the police watching her lawyer when no one but Roland and himself knew what was going on. Surely the police wouldn't have thought to put a tail on him this quick. It had been only been about an hour and a half since the shots were fired. He shoved the thought back as they slowly approached back alley warehouse with a Bentley parked in front of it next to a beat-to-shit old Dodge van.

They stopped, and Halloran killed the engine. They sat there for a moment in the dark and watched. Then she grabbed a flashlight from under the seat and opened her door. "You stay here."

"Wait," he protested. "I'll go with, I can check the other side." She examined him for a moment then sighed.

"You got a gun?" He took it out of jacket pocket. She nodded. He threw his jacket in the car and they approached the building. The windows were blacked out but it seemed as if there might be a light on inside. "Okay, take the right side. See if you can see anything, we'll meet in the back." He nodded and disappeared into the darkness. All the windows on his side were pitch black, he couldn't see a thing, but he could hear the muffle of voices. Not enough to make out what was said, but people were definitely in there. Quietly he made his way to the back side to meet up with the detective. He turned the corner of the building only to come face first into the muzzle of a large caliber revolver.

"Hi, asshole." a gruff voice said. Before the adrenaline even had a chance to hit a hand had grabbed his collar and was dragging him into the building. The light hurt his eyes at first but he could see that Detective Halloran was being generously patted down at gunpoint. His own gun was taken. From what he could tell there were three men in dark jackets and one in a hastily put-on suit. The whole place was dusty and empty except a number of old wooden chairs and a couple of old worktables.

The older of the three took Halloran's badge, gun, and jacket. He put it on one of the tables next to his gun. They patted him down more briskly then shoved him in the nearest chair. The thin twitchy one in a black jacket suddenly piped up, "Hey, if she's a cop, then this is getting bad."

The last one in the black jacket, shaved head and deep voice told him to shut the fuck up and tie her up. Halloran, silently and begrudgingly let herself be tied to a chair. As soon as she was secure the lawyer piped up in a high tense voice.

"What the hell is going on here. Where is Eva?" When no one answered he tried again. "Eva Garner. You know, wife of William Garner, one of the most powerful men in the city?"

Finally the older one spun around.

"You better shut your mouth before you implicate yourself. That one is a cop." he indicated Halloran.

"I want to know what you are doing here?" the lawyer stomped his foot.

"We are here to meet you." the squeaky one answered. "You see there was a change of plan and we made sure you didn't know about it."

"Shut up," baldy said again.

"Change of plan?" The lawyer looked very scared.

"Yeah." baldy said, "you are going to make the pick up like you planned. But the old lady doesn't know you weren't informed that the drop-off spot changed. So the four of us are going for a little drive." He seemed to enjoy the mounting fear in the little lawyer's eyes.

"Wh...who are you?"

"Let's say we supplied the old lady with certain items. And then saw a better opportunity at her sake. Now move it." He pointed his gun lazily at him. The lawyer scurried towards the door.

"What about us?" Halloran asked, the first time she spoke since they entered. The older one pointed his gun at her.

"We'll be back for you." Then they all left.

"Amateurs." Halloran muttered. As soon as they heard the both the Bentley and the van drive off Grant heard another car, that didn't sound like Halloran's drive off. She seemed to relax a little.