I Saw My Wife Dancing

I drove out, Peter locked up the building again and we caravanned over to Clem's Wrecks and Salvage. Peter waited, parked down the street as I drove the old Old's into the yard, near the crusher and got out. I waved at Clem Junior, at the controls for the big forklift.

He picked up the sedan and dropped it into the compactor. Yeah I know, he ain't suppose to do it that way, so sue me!

Once cubed, the ex-Olds was rammed out. Junior used the forklift to carry it over to an open gondola railroad car and drop it in with an assortment of other junked vehicles. Eventually to be shipped off to whichever mill bought this load of scrap. I walked out to the street where Peter pulled up and drove the two of us away.

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It was about five I think, when Pete dropped me off at home. Fuck, I was beat! As I walked in, I could see my recliner had been swiveled around to face the door. Moved into the corner behind the door and out of direct line of sight with the window. Grace was in it, sipping at a mug of coffee, she nodded as I gave her a half-hearted wave while I staggered by.

As I passed through our bedroom, I could see Deborah staring back at me with glittering eyes from the bed. She could figure out exactly what I had done last night. She was not sorry she had sent the schmut to his death. She was worried that I would feel bad about what all I had done to get him to talk. Grabbing my robe, I went into the bathroom to take a long hot shower.

Deborah followed me into the spray. Investing in modernizing our bathroom last year really paid off with a four-headed shower and jacuzzi tub big enough for two adults. After rinsing the shampoo out of my hair, I turned to face her. Hugging our arms around each other, we huddled in the spray.

With a reassuring tone, I quietly told her "Hartford is finished. Embarrassing videos have been destroyed and officially the creep is no longer in the blackmail business. As a matter of fact, it will turn out that he has fled the country. Enquiries will be made. Authorities would appreciate him returning to assist them with their investigations into a variety of sordid activities. Not going to happen."

"You might want to give Sandra a heads up, I did her a chesid. I had told Mannheim that Sandra was intended as Hartford's next victim. If she wants to try and explain it differently. Well, that's up to her, isn't it?"

Deborah gave me a wide-eyed look of gratitude and she softly complimented me with "You are a good man, Mister Levi Yungotch!"

I had to snort at that, then turned around and she started scrubbing my back. I went on to warn her "You can reassure your friends that their nightmares have been resolved for the most part. However, if any tornig approaches them claiming to take over the schmuck goy's operation, they need to immediately contact Mannheim. He'll take care of any threats from wanna-be-blackmailers."

She was crouched down using a sponge to get my legs. Ignoring my half-hearted, half-erection. I'm so tired, as I propped myself up against the wall in 'the position', I wasn't even trying to get a blowjob from her.

"The only problem I see that lies unresolved, is all the images that Hartford has stored on the Internet. Shem found those encrypted. He warned a simple wipe won't clear those out or the metadata.

Hopefully they are hidden among billions of other nasty pictures across the World Wide Web. Without the proper decryption key he does not believe anybody can access them. Maybe the NSA, but why would they bother?"

Deborah was now standing back up, thoroughly scrubbing my chest and crotch while she thought. Well trained, I patiently waited for her to parse out her thoughts. Gave me the time to enjoy watching her tits jiggle.

After a minute or so she looked up to me and said "Feh. Hartford's blackmail scheme seemed to have been pretty much a one man operation. I don't think his ego would have allowed for anyone else to have any say or access. His control of the info his victims paid with, enabled his status and power both at the Network and the Campaign."

Sounded like a reasonable analysis of what we know, but "You need to have the haimish on alert. For any surprises we did not consider?"

Once my wife was thoroughly through with scrubbing me squeaky clean, she then dried me off with a couple of large towels and led me to our bed.

"Oy, vey ist mir! I must be getting old!" I groaned as I laid myself out between the sheets and my head hit the pillow with a sigh. Deborah crawled up next to me and pushed me over onto my face. Climbing onto the back of my legs, she gave me a therapeutic massage that put me to sleep.

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Not feeling particularly sleepy herself. Figuring her husband was going to be zonked out for a few hours, Deborah rolled out of their bed. She went to use the toilet, did a quick wash and brushed her hair, putting it up into a ponytail. Once dressed in a bra and panties, a long-sleeve t-shirt and a pair of capris, she went out into the living room. Greeting Grace, who then went to use the toilet herself.

In the kitchen Deborah put a fresh pot of coffee on and pulled out what would be needed to make some breakfast. She figured Levi wouldn't be up for at least a couple of more hours. She was getting worried about her husband, he needed to relax more.

Of course, she had to admit her responsibility for a measure of the stresses he was under. Come to think of it, she needed a vacation as much as he did! Have to think of a trip or something he'd enjoy.

Suddenly the doorbell sounded. Startled, Deborah almost dropped the fry pan from her hand. She looked out into the living room to see Grace hurrying from the apartment's bathroom. The tall, muscular woman silently motioned with her hand for her charge to go back to the bedroom.

As soon as Deborah was out of sight, Grace opened the door and stepped back. A short, heavyset woman dressed in sweats gaped at the big stranger. Who politely asked, in a quiet soothing voice "May I help you?"

The visitor at the door timidly requested "Uh, I ahmm. Is Mrs. Yungotch home, please?"

Deborah popped up from behind her bodyguard and squealed "Millie darling, guden morning! Millie this is Grace, Grace this is Mildred Wesson, she lives in the apartment right above us."

As Deborah ushered her neighbor in with mutually affectionate hugs, Grace took a moment to look up and down the empty hallway. As she closed the door, she could hear the neighbor whispering to Deborah "I was coming back from my morning walk with the other girls and notice there is a white car parked in front of the Pinetree Apartments. There are two men in it and I'd swear they were watching our building!"

Deborah looked over at Grace as the Deputy headed to the front windows. Carefully she peered around the edge of the drapes. When she saw the car was an older Unmarked/Detective Chevrolet Caprice, she relaxed. Turning her head she soothed the tension with "They must be plainclothes from the Metropolitan Central Operations."

Puzzled, Millie asked "But why are they watching us?"

Grace trued to reassure her "They are deliberately letting us know and anyone who might want to cause trouble and smart enough to ID a cop car that they are immediately available for backup."

Millie seemed to have trouble with grasping the logic so Deborah pulled her neighbor into the kitchen to sit at the table for some coffee as she was fixing breakfast.

"Uhm, would you care to join us for breakfast Mill?"

"Thanks Deborah. A cuppa java is fine. I have to get back up stairs in a few and fix Orrin breakfast and his lunch for work."

She accepted a mug of coffee from her hostess. A spoon of sugar and a dash of skim milk. She drank as she listened to Deborah circuitous explanation.

"Well Millie, there's not much I can tell you about what is going on. Except the police monitors are just in case. I doubt if trouble will show up on our doorstep but if you watch the news you will see a big corruption scandal is goin'ta blow. We can expect there will be a lot of angry folks and as usual, some of them will act out meshuggah."

That seemed to placate the curiosity of her neighbor. She left, then Grace came in to sit down with Deborah for their breakfast. Both were hungry and applied themselves diligently to their fluffy spinach and cheese omelet, with sides of grilled kishkes and sliced fruit.

Grace finally looked up and gave Deborah a quizzical expression. Who nodded her head for the other woman to go ahead and ask.

"So this has to do with that guy you came to the Club with last night."

Deborah nodded, paused for a sip of coffee then replied "Yeah. Turns out he is a real klumnik! Kevin Hartford. A big macher at Fox News and a wheeler-dealer with the Republicans. Going to get real mishegoss when he is publicly exposed and charged."

Grace laid her knife and fork across her empty plate, took a swig of water from the bottle she always carried around then offered "The Sheriff's been not so politely pushing me to take a full leave of absence plus I have a lot of comp time and more then a week of vacation still owed me. Ask your husband if he wants me full time to cover your back?"

Looking thoughtful, Deborah agreed "With you protecting me, Levi would feel better letting me run around and work the neighborhoods. Having a woman bodyguard will be a lot more comfortable for my friends then Peter and his goons. I love those guys but when their hovering around me, they scares the bejeezus out of everybody!"

Grave laughed agreement at the imagery.

As Deborah took the plates and utensils to the sink, Grace got out her phone and stood a moment thinking who she needed to call and what she needed to tell them.

Her first call was to the Watch Commander to please notify the Sheriff that she was agreeing to the suspension. To let her know if she needed to come in and fill out any more paperwork? And would she need her attorney present?

Then she called Jefe, he acted as her booking agent for side-work as bouncer and security. Leaving him a message that she'll be toe-heel with Mrs. Yungotch until further notice.

Between cleaning up the kitchen and deciding what she was going to leave in the slow-cooker for supper tonight. Deborah called Sandra Mannheim. Telling her what Levi had told her husband Paul. That Hartford had intended to go after her. With the implication that he hadn't succeeded yet. And that any damning evidence otherwise has been destroyed and the piece of shit was on the run.

Sandra choked out her thanks for doing this for her. Deborah suggested, once the first flood of controversy and investigations ebbs, that she and Paul take a few days to recuperate together. Maybe they should go see their Pastor or other counselor. And if Sandra needed a sympathetic ear, to give Deborah a call, they could do lunch.

Then she phoned a couple of friends, she knew could be relied upon in confidence, to send a similar message through the telephone tree to all the trusted megayentas, who in turn will reassure their neighbors and friends.

Deborah went to change into one of her dark grey, visiting frocks, Brushed her hair and put it up into a bun. Left a note for Levi, that she had Grace with her and a list of the shmuesn she had scheduled for today.

The two women first went over to Grace's apartment so she could shower and change into a business suit. Then the two of them came back to the Borough where Deborah could do her visits.

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At Mrs. Lodhvitch's, they were talking to the elderly lady and her visiting sister, while in the background a small television was showing an interview with a family leaving Mercy Hospital.

The husband was loudly complaining that some drunken bastard in a big silver car had run his car off the road. Damaging the families transportation. Endangering his wife and kids who had been with him. Their car had been forced off the road, up onto the curb and ran into several sidewalk newsstands and trashcans. Before he could bring it to a halt just a few inches from a metal lamppost.

The male reporter mentioned that another family had a similar hit and run probably with the same reckless driver, just a few minutes later. They were still in the Hospital being evaluated for possible injuries.

Then a woman reporter appeared, evidently from in front of the City Police Administration Building, to read from a press release.

"The Police Public Information Office has released that a patrol has reported in that they have found an abandoned silver BMW, just a few blocks from the two hit and run incidents.

It remains to be confirmed that this is the vehicle that had been involved in the two hit and run incidents. The Police are attempting to contact the registered owner of the vehicle in question."

The reporter sort of frowned at the release she was quoting from. Evidently her director was signaling her to wrap it up. So she skipped to what she thought was immediately needed information for her audience.

"A thorough investigation was underway. The police were asking anyone who may have witnessed the hit and run incidents or have any other knowledge of last night's events to please contact them immediately. On the 444 Hotline. Or you could call Station WWWW with a tip and we will pass it on to the appropriate authorities."

Immediately after a break for station identification, was a commercial.

The smiling face of Albert Pollard appeared. Superimposed over a waving Old Glory and the message reverberated "Pollard for Governor! That Honest Government be Restored at the State Capitol! That Wasteful Spending be Eliminated! That Taxes be Reduced! That Obamacare be Repealed! This message was paid for by the State Republican Action Committee."

A large "60% of Voters Agree!" "Per Independent Polling Firm" flashed off and on next to Pollard's visage.

A brief banner quickly scrolling left to right across the bottom of the screen was the declaration:

60% of Registered Republican Voters at a Teaparty Caucus per Independent Polling Firm, Ltd. paid by State Republican Action Committee

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60% of Registered Republican Voters at a Teaparty Caucus per Independent Polling Firm, Ltd. paid by State Republican Action Committee