Mick the Dick Ch. 04

©2005 All Rights Reserved

Chapter 4

I had to give up my parking spot in front of the building. Damn! I wanted to get downtown before the evening rush started. I found a parking spot with about 45 minutes left on the meter. "Thank you very much, whoever the nice person was who put extra in so I wouldn't have to." It was about a block away from 101 South Main Street. Being almost 3:20, that gave me plenty of time before the meter maids came around and ticketed me. Of course I also had to remember that you can't park on this street from 4 to 6 pm for the evening rush hour, and they'll tow you faster than ticket you. After all, this was downtown. They need to make money somehow.

The Armacost Building is one of the newest and taller buildings downtown. Pretty nice to be able to build a high-rise office building, put your name on it, and make millions off the rent. Just about every big law firm in this portion of the state has an office in it. It makes you wonder if what you pay to be represented in court is worth it. Taking dirty money for getting the drug dealers and murderers off and suing doctors who really and truly tried to correct something God planned, well… Let's just leave it with saying there are many more honorable professions.

I know what you're thinking, "he just doesn't like lawyers". You know something? You're right. I've watched lawyers, shysters, play games with our legal system just to make a buck. Making sure a client's rights weren't violated is one thing, but to attack the police officer, make up lies, and try to "trip up" the witnesses and victims of the crimes just so their client has to pay them is the most foulest of ethics. The sad part is that it's allowed. Why is the crime rate so high? How do we reduce it? Shakespeare said it best; "Let's start by killing all the lawyers."

I went into the lobby. On the one wall was a huge painting of Benjamin Armacost. If his Johnson was as big as his ego maybe the Mrs. wouldn't be worried about him cheating. I looked at the directory. "So and So, Esquire, Attorney at Law" this and The Law Firm of "Dewey, Cheatem, and Howe" that. Oh yes, the preferred law firm of politicians everywhere; "Finer, Winer, Dicker, & Dunker". Oh what a fine group of people. I think I started breaking out in a rash.

I was so enthralled in reading the "Who's Who of Corrupting Our Legal System" that I didn't even notice the security guard that walked up behind me. "Can I help you find someone?"

I must have jumped a foot. "Yes, I'm looking for an attorney, Mr. Smith." How original, right?

"John, William, Robert or Joseph?"

I remembered seeing Smiths on the list. Being a quick thinker, "Bob, oh I guess that would be Robert."

"That would be the tenth floor."

"Thank you very much." With his implied consent to proceed, I started to the elevators. Just in case he was watching the numbers indicating which floor the elevator stopped at, I made a couple of stops along the way. Fourth, sixth, ninth, and finally the tenth. I got off the elevator for a few minutes and looked around at the names on the offices. I didn't see anything that obviously looked like a camera, but I didn't want to take any chances. I came across Robert Smith's office. It didn't look like anyone was in. The door was locked and the lights were off. "Oh well, I guess I have to stop back later."

I went to the 12th floor. When the elevator doors opened, the entire floor was Armacost's firm. A huge reception desk with two receptionists was right in front of me. Not wanting to draw attention to myself, I didn't even get off the elevator. I just stayed put and waited for the doors to close, just as if I had made a mistake of getting on an up elevator several floors below. It happens all the time.

Okay, so now I knew where the office was. I had a few minutes to spare so I checked the outside of the building. It has an entrance for the underground garage. It looked like the kind that only the tenants can access with separate roll-up gates for the entrance and exit. It has the little access card reader and cameras. "So somebody does watch who comes and goes." I went back to my truck with about two minutes to spare.

I called Carla on the cell to tell her I wasn't coming back and to see if there were any messages. There weren't any. I also told her I would be stopping by Murphy's around 6 in case she wanted to stop by after she locked up the office. She was non-committal as usual, which meant she'd be stopping by.

I found a parking spot on one of the smaller side streets near the garage entrance to Armacost's building. I sat there for a while waiting to see what time he leaves and maybe follow him home. I didn't have to wait long before a black Lincoln pulled out. It was around 4:30. He drove past me and I could see it was Benjamin Armacost. The painting in the lobby of his office building did him justice. Of course, I've seen his photo in newspapers and on TV.

I gave him a couple hundred feet head start and then pulled out behind him. There was only one car between us. He made a left two blocks down which allowed a few more cars to get between us. One of the reasons I like using a sport utility as a surveillance vehicle; it sits up higher than the majority of the cars on the road.

He headed towards the freeway, "looks like he's heading home". I followed him onto the onramp and he bolted out across three lanes of traffic into the fast lane. "Timing is everything." His move gave me a few more cars in-between us than I normally liked, but I would close that gap once we got out of downtown. Traffic was, as with most cities, bumper to bumper and slow.

As we headed out of town, I was able to get some of the cars out of the way and had a good clean shot at the black Lincoln. I knew where Armacost lives so that wouldn't be a problem. A good private dick always knows the area in which he works. I've been to Armacost's neck of the woods on several dates. None of which were related directly to him.

We were up to a little over the speed limit by the time we got out of the city limits and I had been able to close the gap to within about a half dozen cars or so. "Ahh, that's more comfortable." I tried to stay in the middle lane while Armacost stayed in the left lane. I didn't want to stay directly behind him just to keep him from seeing the same vehicle the same distance back from him for the same distance. I kept letting cars move between us so the distance changed.

Armacost has the choice of two different exits he can use. We passed the first one, which leads to a more heavily used road than the second. The highway we were on narrows from three to two lanes after that exit. I stayed in the center lane, which becomes the right lane. Armacost moved from the left lane into the right about 6 cars in front of me. As we approached the next exit he signaled and moved to the exit lane. I followed, taking the ramp a little slower, giving his some room. None of the cars between us took the exit, so he was now directly in front of me. I gave him plenty of room.

When I got to the top of the ramp, the Lincoln was gone. I pulled just past the stop sign and caught a glimpse of it to my right, which is the way he would go to his house. I followed and picked up my speed a little, just barely gaining on him. As we came up on the entrance to the rather exclusive neighborhood he signaled his left turn and stopped for the on coming traffic. It was a pretty good string of cars, so I pulled into a gas station just behind where he had stopped. I watched him make his left when the traffic cleared. I scooted out of the driveway and made my left a short distance behind him. I was far enough back that I don't think he noticed that it was the same truck that had been behind him. I turned on my driving lights just to give him a different set of lights behind him.

As I expected, he pulled into his driveway, a long looping driveway leading to the stone and brick, for lack of a better term, mansion. I casually drove past. I went up the street a little further banging a u-turn and heading back past. I noticed the silver Benz convertible sitting in front of the front entrance. The black Lincoln had just made it to the garage. "Geez," I thought to myself as I looked at the clock, "it's almost 5:15. It took almost 45 minutes to make the trek from downtown out here. That means, I will just about make it to Murphy's by 6."

I pushed down on the accelerator just a little more as I thought about Carla sitting at the bar waiting for me all alone. "Not!" What I really worried about were all of the hot shots that go to Murphy's for happy hour and may just convince her to go somewhere else with them.

I made good time once I hit the freeway. Going opposite traffic from downtown made quite a difference. I made it to Murphy's before 6, found a spot just around the corner, and went in to my usual semi-reserved seat at the far end of the bar. I got the customary kiss and hug from Sylvia as she passed by.

At about 6:15, Carla entered and made her way through the crowd of wide-eyed, gaping mouthed suits just hoping she'd stop a little closer to them. She gave each one a courtesy smile as she continued to my side. Frankly, I'd have known she entered even if I hadn't seen her come in.

Most of the guys in Murphy's are the same guys who stop there every night after work. Every night Carla decides to stop by, she gets the same welcome; silence. Most of the guys are married and Carla lets it known she will have nothing to do with married men. Besides, most of them know me. And I've put the word out that any of them caught trying to hit on my secretary wouldn't have to deal with me, they'd have to deal with their wives. When they'd get home busted up from me they'd have to explain why. When their explanation didn't agree with the proof I'd send them later, they'd get busted up again, by the wife.

"Hiya, Boss!", as she gave me a little kiss on the cheek.

"Schweetheart. Everything go okay?"

"Oh yeah. Fine. Just fine."

Carla loves dressing up for Murphy's. For example, today at the office she wore blue jeans, a white polo shirt, and a jean cut-off vest. Although being a city slicker, she liked western styled clothing, so she had on a pair of cowboy, or cowgirl in this case, boots. Now, she had changed into a black lace blouse with a black tube top under it, a black jean skirt, black stockings, and a pair of black platform heels. Her just below shoulder length auburn hair was in a pony tail all day, yet now, she was wearing it down. She wore a string of pearls around her neck, and a matching bracelet. She had on dark eye make-up which accentuated her blue eyes. Of course, nobody else in the place knew they were contacts. They thought they are as real as her boobs, which are real. All 36D of them. Class, with just the right touch of slut.

We had a couple of drinks, my bourbon with a beer chaser, and her tequila, straight up.

"Hungry?", I asked Carla.

"A little.", She replied, but then leaned over a little closer to my ear, "But I'm more horny than anything."

I was a little stunned, not much, but a little. Over the last 4 years she has worked for me, Carla and I have become very close. Very close. Even when it comes to sex. Yeah, yeah, I know. A boss should never get involved with his secretary. But in my line of work, having a secretary you can trust and one that can trust you can build into a strong personal relationship. For some reason or another we have really enjoyed each other over the last six months.

"Really? And what would you like me to do about that?"

"How about taking me home and fucking my brains out all night long?" Carla slid her hand down to my crotch, grabbed my cock, and squeezed it.

"Can I check with my secretary on that? I just have to make sure my schedule is open."

Carla picked up her cell phone and dialed a number. My cell phone immediately rang. "Yes," I answered.

"Boss, your fucking schedule is clear for the rest of the night." Carla smiled at me as she hit the end button. Then she licked her lips with an evil grin.

I smiled back. My dick immediately got hard as a rock. "My secretary says my schedule is clear. Shall we go?"

I didn't have to ask twice. Carla downed the remaining tequila and grabbed my hand. I threw $25 on the bar and motioned to Murph I was paying up. He just nodded and smiled. Sylvia gave me a hug as I reached the door. She smiled at Carla, "Don't wear that thing out."

"Not a chance." Carla said as she continued out the door.