Maxine's New Life Ch. 01

"Max, I'm going for a coffee want me to bring you one?" Ed Martin, aka the bondsman, asked as he walked toward the door of our small office.

"No thanks Ed," I replied. "The coffee from my Mr. Coffee is fine with me. I'm not really a big fan of designer coffee. Too many years of bad coffee." I replied.

"Yeah, you haven't been out long enough to develop a taste for the finer things in life."

Finer things in life I wasn't sure about, but I hadn't been out of the Air Force very long, that was true. I had done most of my twenty two years in the Air Police. During that time I had done everything from ride in a patrol car patrolling the base housing area, to guarding convoys in Afghanistan. It had been a long and eventful 22 years. Unfortunately I got frozen in rank at master sergeant. I had been told by my last commanding officer, that I would never rise above my rank at the time. According to him, I was not a team player That being the case, I pulled the plug at 22 years.

That little conversation came while I was recovering from a piece of shrapnel in my belly. Compared to most of the wounds from that stupid war, it wasn't even worth mentioning. If it had not been for the conversation with Captain Hartman, I wouldn't have bothered.

By the way don't let anyone tell you that you are safe in an armored Humvee. My life was probably saved more by the shortage of explosives in Afghanistan, than by the kevlar. Fortunately the IED wasn't as big as it might have been the year before. The Vee was a total loss, but thankfully I wasn't.

I had planned to retire at thirty and do very little, if anything afterward. When I went out at 22years, I had to look for something to fill my time and to supplement my pension. I was fortunate. If I could stand the long lines, I had free medical coverage from the VA. I probably would go with the co-pay and use the private coverage available to me.

I found myself back in Aster because I had this old high school friend named Jennifer. She had gone on to the state university and become a lawyer. Jen and I had stayed in touch over the years. Mostly it had been Christmas cards and a wedding invitation every few years. There had been 22 Christmas cards and five wedding invitations to be exact. Two of the invitations were mine and three were hers. Her third marriage was still intact, while my second husband had been killed in Iraq. It was only a couple of weeks after the end of combat operations there. Somebody forgot to tell the rag heads to stop sending rockets into the American compounds.

Even then I was still a reasonably attractive 41 year old woman, even so I didn't date much. All my old friends were far away and I hadn't made many new ones. The only unattached man I knew well was Ed, and he was about seventy. Even though we shared an office Ed and I didn't really work together.

My friend, the lawyer, convinced me to open a process server business. She hooked me up with all her lawyer friends. Jen also helped me place advertisements in the most well read lawyer rags. I had been at it about six months and business was picking up slowly. I didn't spend much time in the office, so the desk space in Ed's little converted filling station was more than enough for me.

Other than sleeping, I didn't spend much time at home either. The one room garage apartment was also enough space for me. The small space was located over Jen's two car garage. Her current husband didn't seem to mind me living there. They certainly didn't need my paltry rent, so it had to be the fact that I don't close my blinds when I dress. There was only one window in the apartment and it faced the house. I can only be seen from the upstairs windows of the main house. Jen's husband never mentioned seeing me naked, but he always had a wolfish look when we passed in the hallway. I didn't mind that he probably saw me, Hell, I didn't mind that Jen might have seen me as well. It has been a lot of years since I was shy about such things.

I lost my virginity when I was fifteen. I lost it to a grown man, who managed the mall's video arcade. He was cute, and I liked to hang out there after school, and on weekends. He showed me the right amount of attention, and he said the right things. I was young and full of raging hormones, so it was a natural thing that happened. I wasn't legal, I knew it even then, but neither of us cared.

After a few months he moved on to a new teenager, so I moved on to boys my own age. Twenty five years ago oral sex wasn't so common, so it was mostly hugging, kissing, and hand jobs until I graduated high school.

Upon graduation I signed up for the Air Force, just to get away from home. I was probably smart enough for college, but I came from a fatherless home. My mom was divorced and working her butt off to keep me and my brother fed. There was just no money for college. Twenty years ago there were far fewer college loans available. Probably a good thing, since I didn't start my adult life in debt, like so many kids do these days.

I found myself at forty one living on a tiny pension, in a tiny apartment, trying to get a tiny business started. It was going to be a struggle for a while, but I honestly didn't mind. It was more fun to live without stuff. In the end you don't own stuff, it owns you.

I drive a stupid minivan only because Jen had one she wanted to sell. It proved to be a good decision, even if it had been an accidental one. Most days I run around town in jeans and tee shirts. I dress younger than I probably should, but people don't seem to mind. At least if they have a problem with it, they keep it to themselves.

The minivan allowed me to carry a dress and fancy shoes. Now and then I needed to dress up a little. It had only happened a couple of times, but there are places I can't get into wearing jeans. They keep me out of the country club, even if I do have my boobs hanging out. Since I never had kids I can wear a thin bra without having them at my knees. It seemed that sometimes people just wanted me to pretend to be ladylike. Hey I can pretend with the best of them.

"At Your Service," I said into the phone after I stopped it ringing.

"Hey Max, it's me Milton Price," said the metallic voice.

"Hello Mr Price," I replied. Price was a lawyer I had gladly added to my slowly growing client list.

"Got a tricky one for you. By the way call me Milt or Milton at least."

"Sorry Mr. Price, too many years in the military."

"Oh okay, anyway the husband wants to be sure his wife doesn't grab everything, so we are freezing the bank accounts. I want her served first, then I want you to call me immediately so we can freeze the assets right after."

"You know that is going to cost extra. I have never made a notification like that before. How about ten bucks added to the bill for the call."

"You are a hard hearted money hungry lady, but I like that about you. Sure I'm just going to pass it on to him anyway."

"Good I'll swing by for the paper after lunch, unless you want to pay the emergency service price?"

"How much more is that?"

"Instead of the twenty five it is double to fifty then there is the ten return notice expedite fee." I just made up the term 'expedited notice fee' on the spot.. "Think fast, and be flexible airman", I remembered that advice from my time on the line.

"So sixty bucks and you will do it now?"

"Yes, just hand me the check, and the address to serve it, when you hand me the papers."

Except for the rush it was a typical transaction. I waited for Ed to come back, before I left for the office of Price and Sloan Attorneys at law. When I walked into the door of the office, I found myself in a room that could have been in a hundred year old building. It was actually in a building no more than five years old. Lawyers liked to look as though they had been in business for generations it seemed.

"Can I help you?" the receptionist asked.

I didn't comment on the young woman's grammar. Instead I replied, "I'm Maxine Stone, from At Your Service. You should have a document for me to serve."

"Yes Ms Stone, Mr Price said you would be right over. In your case that meant right over. Some people take hours to get here."

She was a chatty little thing. She was certainly cute enough. She was definitely young and I expected firm bodied as well. Any other time I might have chated a few moments with her, but at that moment I was in the work mode. Over the years I had learned to separate my private life from my work life. I expect that is really what bugged my bosses over the years. In the military not many people seem to manage that consistently.

She did smile sweetly as she handed me the large brown envelope. I looked inside to be sure that the check was with the folded blue wrapped papers. The envelope contained the legal paper I needed to hand to the lady named on the attached index card. I also needed to ask her to sign the fake form on my clipboard. If she refused, I simply made a note of it. I also took a quick shot with my digital camera whenever it was possible. It helped, if I ever had to go to court. The camera I used was a poor quality thing about the size of a credit card case. It could shoot inside without flash, which was a big plus, otherwise it was just a small low quality digital camera.

"Thank you," I said as I turned to leave the office.

The fact that I found the receptionist cute might have bothered me once upon a time. Those days were long gone. I was always reading in women's magazines that all women were probably biologically bisexual, but chose to suppress the inclination. I just choose not to do that anymore.

After a few weeks into my first enlistment I found that I could enjoy both men and women, pretty much on the same level, . Men and women were segregated in the early part of my career, so any surplus sexual feelings had to be taken care of in a different way. Lots and lots of masturbation went on in those first weeks. All the women in my training flight were young and healthy, so it was pretty normal.

The girl/girl hookups began with the few women who were pure lesbians finding each other. From there it spread to those of us who had been experimenting with open masturbation. That kind of worked it's way into girl/girl sex. Yes, I was right there trying it all. I was young and not all that moral, so it was no real problem for me to justify it. I don't think I ever considered myself homosexual, just open minded.

I'm not sure my commanding officers would have felt the same. That's why don't ask, don't tell worked. We could all pretend, just like I did when I wore a dress and high heels to get into the country club lounge after six pm. I pretended to be a hi class, high maintenance lady instead of the no class, wrong side of the tracks, bisexual bitch that I really am. Hey I know what I am and it works just fine for me.

Enough of my miserable life, I thought as I climbed into the minivan for the drive to Crestview Estates. Crestview was one of those over priced, over decorated, housing developments. Of the fifty houses probably only two were occupied by real Aster residence. All the rest of the home owners drove from the larger city next door each night just to sleep in the country. Why the hell they bothered was beyond me. Crestview and the more heavily populated, cheaper but still similar developments around it were driving the cost of everything higher. I knew that only because Jen and her Husband were one of the few Aster families living in an only slightly downscale Crestview type development. In that one maybe five percent of the residents were really from Aster. The rest of them even called Tryon for their plumbers. The thought of doing anything or using any service from Aster was dreadfully pedestrian.

It was no wonder the Aster kids hated the Crestview kids. Oh the Crestview residents loved the Aster schools, even with the open animosity of the locals. They got to send their kids to school in a system with much less crime than the schools in Tryon. The got better schools without paying high taxes or private school tuition. What was not to like about that.

A very few of the businesses in Aster did business with the Crestview types. Judging from the address on the card inside my folder, divorce lawyers seemed to be among them. The drive to Crestview only took a few minutes but it was really a world away. The grass seemed greener in the yards of the million dollar houses. Crestview was the highest level of prosperity, but the lower level subdivisions got lumped in with Crestview. Ones like the development where Jen and her husband lived. I was headed for Crestview proper that morning.

The house looked like a small stone castle. There were round stone parts that looked like mini watch towers. They looked as though there should be archers standing by to fight off the locals. It was all just an illusion though, the stone walls were most likely made from fiberglass panels. I knew it was no castle because there was no moat. What is a castle without a moat?

I took my brown envelope with the folded sheath of papers, wrapped in the blue cover sheet, inside to the front door. I knocked on the wooden storm door with what had to be the most expensive door knocker made. It was heavy and could have been gold for all I knew. I banged it softly at firs, but after a few minutes of waiting in the sun, I banged hell out of it. Still no one came to the door.

I opened the outer door to put a card with my phone number and a message inside. The message was that I urgently needed to speak with the occupant. I even checked the index card and then wrote Mrs. Porter, in the blank space. It wasn't very personal, but it had worked once. When the huge wooden storm door opened, I noted that the house door had been splintered. Someone had kicked the hell out of that big assed door.

Since I had been a cop, even if it was a military cop, I used my knuckles to push on the door. I had no interest in leaving my finger prints on it. The door opened so I shouted, "Mrs. Porter, its Maxine Stone are you home. I need to speak with you." I was afraid that something bad had happened to Mrs Porter, but I sure as hell didn't plan to enter that house without more reason than I had at that moment.

Instead of going inside, I backed into the yard where I dialed 911 on my cell phone.. "911 What is your emergency?" the female voice asked.

"I found a door kicked in when I tried to get in touch with the resident at 200 Crestview Circle. I think you need to send the police or sheriff out. I think someone has broken in."

"Are there any injured people inside?" the operator asked.

"I have no idea, I don't want to walk into a house with the door kicked in. Do you want me to go look around?"

"No stay where you are, I have the sheriff's deputies on the way. Stay on the line please."

"Not a problem, I'll be in the front yard so tell them not to ride in with guns blazing."

"We don't do that kind of thing, and they do know yo u are the woman who called it in."

"Good," I replied. It actually was a load off my mind. I had no desire to deal with an injured person, or something worse. It took only a few minutes before I heard the first siren. I tried to keep an open mind while I waited. The best case scenario would be a missing plasma TV.

"What happened?" the teenage deputy asked.

"I was going to leave a card in the door, when I noticed that it was splintered. I pushed it open and called for the homeowner. When I didn't get an answer, I decided to call 911."

"Okay, you stay right here while I look around."

"Works for me," I replied. I didn't even smile at the kid with a gun. He had no idea that I was more familiar with a firearm than he would most likely ever be. Since I did like younger men now and then, I tried to play nice.

When he came out, he was a little green around the gills. "What did you find?" I asked.

He took a deep breath, held up his hand for me to shut up, then he keyed his radio. "221 to dispatch. You need to send the homicide detective, an ambulance, and 721 out here."

"Was it a middle-age woman?" I asked.

"Yes," he replied quietly.

"Most likely Mrs Porter," I suggested. "I was here to serve papers on her. She and her husband seem to be going through a divorce."

"You need to stay till the detectives arrive," he suggested.

"Okay, do you mind if I wait in the van. This is a little upsetting."

"Okay, Just don't leave." I nodded.

Just as soon as I was in the van, I called the number on the index card for Eddie Price. "Price and Sloan how my I direct your call?"

"This is Maxine Stone. I need to talk to Milton Price. It is important." Even though I said it was important it took several minutes for Price to answer."

"Maxine did you serve the papers?"

"No, but I'm not refunding your money. This call is worth every penny. Mrs Porter may have been murdered." I went on to tell him the whole story almost second by second.

"Stay were you are and try to find out all you can. I'm going to get Porter in here and see what is what."

"When you talk to him, remember somebody kicked in the door. He probably wouldn't have done that, if he did the deed. After all he does still have a key, I assume."

"Good point Maxine I'll keep that in mind, when I talk to the cops. I am pretty sure we will be having a chat."

"Me too, since I had to tell them about the divorce. I didn't tell them about the frozen assets yet. I don't have any privilege, so I will probably have to tell them that I have no idea what kind of papers I am serving."

"That will help. If they ask for them, try to call me before you turn them over. I might be able to invoke privilege."

"I can try."

I put the phone away, then studied the scene outside the house. There were two marked sheriff's cars, two unmarked cars and an ambulance crew standing by. It was obvious that someone inside the house was very dead. The ambulance crew had not been allowed inside so there was no hope for the victim.

Since the detectives were still inside, they were obviously trying to figure something out. I waited until the crime scene van drove up before I attempted to enter the house. When I got stopped at the door, I explained, "I need to go back to work. So are you finished with me."

"Stay here, I'll ask someone if you can go." the kid cop suggested.

When he turned his back I followed him deeper into the house. I got a glimpse inside the living room door before anyone noticed me. There was a woman on the floor. The absence of any blood convinced me that she had probably been strangled. Just about anything else would leave blood. Even poisoning would most likely leave a puddle of vomit. My guess was strangulation.

"Hey, get that woman the hell out of my crime scene," one of the detectives, who happened to be a woman, shouted at the kid cop.

"Hey, can I go back to work?"

"Leave your number with the patrolman and you can go anywhere you want, Just as long as you don't want to leave this county."

While we had our one sentence conversation, I took in as much of the crime scene as I could. She didn't look like she had put up much of a fight, at least her clothes weren't torn and I didn't see any of her clothes laying around her, so I assumed that it was a straight up murder. Nothing screamed sexual assault, but then only a good thorough autopsy could tell for sure. Still that little bit of information was better than nothing. There was also the absence of blood, which suggested strangulation.

I drove back to the office but on the way I got calls so I served two more court papers.. I picked them up and delivered them without anything out of the ordinary taking place. I drove toward the office at the end of the day to leave the records box. I didn't want to leave one of the few things of my dad had left behind, when he left mom in the van overnight. I kept my records in his old metal fishing tackle box. Mom said he had used it in the early years of their marriage. I felt like it and my record of deliveries would be better protected in Ed's office.