tagNovels and NovellasMick the Dick Ch. 02

Mick the Dick Ch. 02


©2005 All Rights Reserved

Chapter 2

I went back to the office, let Carla know where I'd be, and went to my truck. Even though sport utilities are somewhat of a combination, I still consider them more of a truck than a car. I drove down to the waterfront with a few minutes to spare. A good private dick tries to get to get to locations early to scope things out a little. I know the area around Murphy's like the back of my hand, but I still wanted to be there when Mrs. Armacost arrived. Not to greet her, but to see if she brought along company, invited or otherwise.

I found a good vantage point that afforded me a good view of anyone approaching Murphy's. I saw Mrs. Armacost pull up to an empty parking space in her silver Benz convertible. I was quite impressed that she parked it in one try. I watched to see if anybody was following her. It didn't appear so. She got out of the car and walked around to the sidewalk. She is a good looker. Class! Real class! It just oozes off of her. From the walk, I'll bet she has plenty of attitude too. Funny though, it didn't look like a fake walk. Too many women these days try to fake a classy walk. It's kind of like putting a Rolls Royce emblem on a Yugo; everyone can see the difference.

"She's got to be in her mid to late 40's," considering she's been married to Benjamin for 25 years. But from my viewpoint she didn't look a day over 30. She was wearing a knee length brown plaid skirt, white silk blouse open about 4 buttons down, and white high heels. Her shoulder length light brown hair was frosted. I didn't know if it was to hide the gray or just being fashionable. Either way, it looked good on her. As she got a little closer I surmised she would be about 5 foot 5 out of the heels and probably weighed in at about 130 to 140. She wasn't fat, but built. She could have done one of those "full figure" girl ads in the 60's. Not being a professional boob measurer, my guess would be she is about a 36D. With the cleavage she was showing, maybe a double D. She was wearing sunglasses to shade her eyes from the noontime sun… or was it a weak attempt to keep from being recognized.

When I was relatively sure she hadn't been followed, I made my way to the front door of Murphy's. Coincidentally, that was about the same time as Mrs. Armacost. She stood outside for a minute and checked the gold and diamond watch on her left wrist as she scanned the area. Maybe that's why she had on the shades, the glare from the watch, the gold chain around her neck, and the gold ankle bracelet was enough. But even considering all of that, she still didn't look showy. Just classy.

"Mrs. Armacost?" I asked as I walked up behind her. "I'm Pheury, Mick Pheury."

"Yes Mr. Pheury, I'm glad to meet you."

"Shall we go inside?" I opened the door.

"Thank you very much." Mrs. Armacost walked in.

Sylvia greeted her as she entered. "Welcome to Murphy's. How many? Mick!"

"Hello Sylvia, darling. How are you?," I said as Sylvia gave me a little kiss on the cheek.

"I'm doing fine, Mr. Pheury. Your table is ready. This way please."

Sylvia led us to a table in the far back corner of the restaurant. I watched Mrs. Armacost's walk as she strutted her high-class ass through the restaurant. "Nice swing. Very natural.," I thought to myself. Sylvia handed each of us a menu as we took our seats. "Can I get you something from the bar, ma'am?," Sylvia asked Mrs. Armacost.

"Ah, well, I'll take a glass of White Zinfandel.," Mrs. Armacost replied.

"Very well. I'll be right back." Sylvia walked away.

"I see you have a flair for the melodramatic, Mr. Pheury.," Mrs. Armacost said with a slight smirk.

"Yes I do. Well, Mrs. Armacost," I began, "how can I help you?"

"Aren't you having anything to drink? I do so hate drinking alone."

"I like keeping a clear head when I'm on a case. Speaking of the case…"

Mrs. Armacost looked at me and then around the pub. "I think my husband is having an affair."

I looked at her very seriously, "You think? And you want me to find out with whom."

"Well, yes. Naturally."

"Okay. Can I ask why you came to me?"

"Pardon me for saying so, but you weren't the first private detective I called.," Mrs. Armacost said rather bluntly.

"Oh? The second, huh?"

"Well, actually, the eighth.," she said with a smile.

"The eighth? You could have lied."

"Actually, I checked all of them out a little before I decided. I like your style. I too have a flair the melodramatic."

That was funny, especially being I've been accused of not having any style. "So, what makes you think your husband is fuc…, I mean, fooling around on you?"

"I just know he's, as you put it, "fucking" somebody else. He's always late. He's been going out of town a lot lately. He's never been late and hates going out of town for cases."

"I see. Do you have any ideas?"

Sylvia came back with Mrs. Armacost's wine and my bourbon on the rocks. Mrs. Armacost looked at the drink in front of me. "I thought you want to keep a clear head."

"I do. It just so happens that Sylvia knew you don't like drinking alone so she brought something for me to drink with you." I looked up at Sylvia, "Thank you, dear."

"You're welcome, sir. Do you need a few more minutes?"

"Yes, please." I replied.

Sylvia walked away. "How long has he been doing this?"

"It's been a couple of month's, maybe three."

"I see." Frankly, I couldn't see. Mrs. Armacost is a really lovely woman. I mean a ten. She's got class, looks, and money. Any guy married to a knock-out like this and isn't banging her every chance he gets has got to be a fag. As she picked up her glass of wine with her left hand I couldn't help but notice her wedding and engagement rings. The rock must have been at least 4 carets. The wedding ring was a traditional gold band, nothing too fancy, but was rather wide, usually the type used when a husband wants to make sure his wife is well marked as being taken. I'd mark her as taken too. So why cheat on her? Ego trip? Bored? I'm still aiming more towards gay.

"I have to ask you something personal. Please don't think this is rude or anything, but it is important and strictly professional. When was the last time you and he had sex?"

Taking it as intended and taking a few seconds to think about her answer, "It's been at least 3 months."

"Three months?" That does it. He's gay. He's been fucking some other guy up the ass or getting his own ass fucked, or both. He has to be. "How would you describe your sex life with your husband until 3 months ago?"

"Well, to be perfectly honest with you. We haven't been having sex as often as we used to. It's been the last year or so. I just thought it was age or something. I've had to, you'll have to pardon me, this is a little embarrassing, I've been masturbating a lot lately just because he and I haven't been having sex. I still have the desire and lust, but I thought maybe he was getting old and maybe things weren't working the same."

I couldn't help it. Just looking at her and my dick was getting hard. What's his tongue gone limp too? Something like this, I'd at least eat if I couldn't get my dick up. I was tempted to ask her how she masturbated and maybe demonstrate it for me. "And how old is Benjamin?"

"He's, let me think, he's 52."

Fifty-two and he can't get it up for his wife that looks like this? He's got to be gay. I picked up my menu and looked it over. The burgers are terrific here. "I think I might go for the cheese burger, how about you?"

"I think I'll just take the grilled chicken salad."

She's health conscious too. I motioned to Sylvia and gave her our order.

"So, let me get this straight. The last several months you have seen this change in Benjamin. You haven't had sex during that time, but you think he is getting it somewhere. Right?"

"That's about it. I've tried everything. I've bought sexy clothing. I've tried to seduce him when he gets home. I've waited up late wearing corsets and lingerie, all without even a wink. Nothing."

"I hope you don't take this wrong, but there has to be something wrong. If you greeted me at the door in a corset or something sexy, I don't think I could control myself. That's my professional opinion."

Mrs. Armacost smiled as I continued, "I'm sorry if I offended you or anything, but that's just a male opinion that backs up your feeling that something is wrong."

"No, not at all. I'm actually glad that it's not me. I'm glad men still find me attractive."

Attractive? That's rather mild. I'd lock her away in the closet when I went to work every day if she were my wife. I'd still like to know why a man would lose interest in a woman like this. Sylvia delivered our order. The rest of the conversation through lunch stayed on that line.

"Maybe he is having some problems associated with age. Have you noticed any, shall I say, lessening of his ability to perform?"

"Well, three months ago, he was fine. We had sex for well over an hour. It didn't seem to be a problem. I haven't seen any pill bottles for Viagra or anything."

"Mrs. Armacost…"

"Please, my name is Teresa. Can I call you Mick?"

"Of course. Okay, Teresa. Is it possible for your husband to have gone gay?"

She almost choked. "Benjamin? Queer? I don't think so. He's always been so macho. No. I don't think that is it. Why would you think that?"

"Well, I'm just trying to narrow down any causes for his lack of interest in you. Boredom, you've covered. Dressing up and all of that. Sexual dysfunction, (I was trying to sound professional using the correct term for him not being able to keep it up any more.) or another lover. In that category, we have to consider both sides, and frankly, she'd have to be something unbelievable to leave you. That's why I had to ask about him going homosexual. That would be something you couldn't offer him."

"I don't know, Mick. I can't imagine him being queer."

"I'm sorry. But it's just that… well… there are two reasons. The first is that many times in otherwise heterosexual relationships, either partner turning gay is a reason for them to lose interest in the other. And the second is that… well… it's just that you are such a gorgeous woman that… I can't believe he'd just lose interest."

Teresa blushed slightly while she looked at her salad for a few seconds, pondering what I had just said. "I don't think I've done anything to make him change. I don't think I've changed. I just have to know for sure if he is cheating on me."

"I understand. What's he drive?"

Teresa smirked, "Well it all depends on the day of the week. He usually drives a black Lincoln Town Car. But he also has a silver Beemer, I think it's a 740, or something like that. He also has a red Vette, but he usually let's Holly, our daughter drive that. Let's see, then there's the Lincoln Navigator, kind of a champagne color and an old Triumph."

"What? No bikes?"

"No. Ben is too much of a scardy cat to drive a bike. I have a Sportster, but he doesn't think I ride it anymore."

The more this woman talked, the more I fell in love with her. "I have a Fat Boy myself."

"You ride? Hey! Maybe we can get together some weekend for a little ride."

"I'd like that." What I really wanted to tell her is that I'd prefer about a week long ride on her. She is just so gorgeous.

"Mick, I need this to be kept as confidential as possible. I'll pay you 300 dollars a day plus expenses. I expect you to concentrate on my case, but I understand that you have other clients. I'd appreciate you working at least 4 hours a day on it. I want to know fast. I also expect a briefing on a daily basis. Is this agreeable?"

Three bills a day? Yeah! That's agreeable. "Yes ma'am. That's fine."

"Knock off the ma'am stuff." Teresa slid a piece of the napkin across the table to me. "Here are my home phone and cell phone numbers. I'd suggest you use the cell phone when possible. This is my own. My husband doesn't know about this one." Teresa held up a second cell phone and put it back in her purse.

"I understand. I'd also suggest you not use the home phone to contact me. It's too easy for him to find out who you've been calling. If you get a text message that simply says "MD," call me when you get the chance. If it has a "911" after it, call me as soon as possible."

" M D? "

"Yeah! It's kind of a nickname of mine, but that way if someone sees it, they might think it's your doctor."


"Also, under no circumstances slip and let him know you've hired a private detective. Actually, it is better if you don't tell anyone that you have hired me. On the extreme outside chance he should catch me, I will never disclose that you are my client, so don't let him trick you into confessing. If he is fooling around, chances are he may be getting paranoid. He may take a wild guess you are having him watched. And never let him know things I tell you. He'll be able to put 2 and 2 together.

"Yes. I understand."

"I can't follow him 24 hours a day, at least not at this stage of the game. If he goes anywhere, give me a call to let me know, especially if it is unexpected." I finished getting the rest of that personal junk P.I.s need, when he leaves for work, when he gets home, when he eats lunch, when he goes to the john. If he's a member of any clubs that may have meetings he goes to. Any of those little pertinent things a wife knows to help account for his time.

We finished lunch, had a mug of Murph's fabulous Irish Coffee, and then asked for the check. I told you she had class. Mrs. Armacost, Teresa, picked up the entire tab. God, how I love equal rights.

I could tell this was going to be a fun case.

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