Missing Heir

Chapter 1

Detective-Sergeant Phyllis Brooke and Detective Jon Cabot were unceremoniously bundled out of the Police Force with all momentary entitlements.

They were told by the Chief Commissioner when on the mat before him, that they were a disgrace to the force and were fortunate for not being prosecuted for their unacceptable dereliction of duty and unauthorised usage of public funding.

The commissioner's angry countenance softened when he added that it was only due to their impressive individual personal service records that they were receiving such leniency in being discharged from the force in disgrace.

"Dismissed."

Phyllis marched straight-back from the room while Jon slouched out, hands in his pants pockets and head held high.

"The stupid arseholes, going away for a week's fucking at a ski resort at the taxpayer's expense while they were on a crucial under-cover mission that miraculously they managed to wind up successfully," said the deputy Chief Commissioner.

His superior said, "I'm half-inclined to believe Phyllis's written statement and confirmation in cross-examination before the investigating panel that they only skied, dined well and had expensive massages, she contending she had never managed seduce Cabot into having sex with her."

Outside police HQ, Jon said, "I've really missed being kept separate from you Phyllis since our arrest and the subsequent investigation just ended."

"I wept for you at nights, Jon."

"Yeah, it can get lonely being kept by yourself. I mean it's being nine months since we became investigating partners and were beside one another almost every day. We became rather like sister and brother."

"Instead of lovers."

"Phyliss, I've told you time and time again that's like flogging a dead horse. You are sweet and a pin-up representative for young woman whereas I'm an often surely, bordering on being an unpleasant person, who is out of your league."

"You twice saved my life."

"Phyllis, get off that old record. I've done my best to convince you I had to do it and risk my own life in the process because there was no other good guy present to go to you aid regardless of their own safety. And you know that I know you'd have done the same for me in similar circumstances."

"I love you, Jon."

"Correction babe, you THINK you love me. Direct you love to some deserving person. What's now for us?"

"I've had time to think about this Jon, and my three well-considered options are:

- we get married and find work.

- we go our separate ways.

- we book into a course with a Shrink to sort us out."

"My conclusion is we should adopt the first and third options in reverse order. What about you?"

"Phyllis, I say let's not fuck around. Let's move across the border into New South Wales and set ourselves up as a private investigation agency. We have no adverse police records and therefore our agency will be approved by the Police and our application for the right to carry pistols will be almost certainly granted for us to be effective in our challenging line of work. Most importantly, in crossing the border we shall be free of possible Police harassment from within our present Police jurisdiction."

"Jon, that's a brilliant suggestion."

"Like it, eh?"

"Bloody oath. You always claimed you had the brains and I had the guile."

"Sign these applications," he said, drawing folded forms out of his breast pocket. "I'll then post them and we can pack our things and leave for Sydney."

"And live together."

"In a double apartment, as brother and sister; I don't see why not."

'Gold Standard Private Investigations' was approved to meet all official requirements and it's office established in a converted garden shed of a suburban house, one mile as the crow flies from the Sydney Opera House.

Jon (the partner with the brains) had decided they should purchase the small suburban bungalow rather that the huge fancy and over-the-top pricey high-rise apartment overlooking Circular Quay that was his partner's top choice.

Pragmatism won the day.

Their individual permits to carry pistols were received with delight, and next day their first media adverts to solicit business were released upon the public.

As the weeks went by, request to find missing cats, dogs or memory-impaired relatives had virtually ceased because a new round of advertisement for private investigations stated the investigation agency was not in business to find missing cats or dogs or the memory-impaired.

They had success with several contracts over the weeks and that finally led to a word-of-mouth referral that all investigators know is the best pathway to a lucrative contract, if brought to a successful conclusion, via the 'success bonus' clause in the agreement.

A distraught Matilda and pissed off Charles Brentwood-Adams wanted their son and heir Charlie found and returned home safely.

"Also, no mention of details of this search is to be published and no mention of the Brentwood-Adam family name or the name of Brentwood Industries is to be made," Charles instructed.

"The publicity gag is accepted, sir. That should be written into the contract but we must be totally permitted to use the name Charlie Adams."

"No way," Matilda said. "I'm part of the distinguished Adams family."

John said politely, horrifying his partner, "Then sorry, thanks for the great restaurant meal. We're off."

"But what about signing up for our commission?"

"If we can't use the name Charlie Adams, sir and ma'am, how can there be a successful investigation for someone without a name?"

"Guys, please give me a moment with my wife."

"We're not going out like trained dogs and then whistled back," Phyllis said coldly. "Just whisper sense into her while we remain seated."

The look Matilda gave Phyllis could almost have cut through steel.

Charles whispered to his wife and two minutes later happily announced, arm around his tearful wife, that use of the name Charlie Adams could be used without restriction.

"Great, send your lawyer over to our lawyer's office tomorrow, sir, or come yourself. We insist on this request while acknowledge that a $100,000 find-and-return fee lasting eight weeks is big money even for someone with our expertise. You will recall that you said two other PI's have failed to locate him or even vaguely identify his present whereabouts.

"Very well."

Phyllis said, "Please give me Charlie's last known girlfriend that he was intimate with."

Matilda said, "The best bet would be my best friend's daughter, whom Charlie broke up with three months before he disappeared. He had been dating her for three years and no, we don't expect foul play from Jennifer or her family. Hand me your notebook and I'll write down the address."

"Just speak the details into my phone for recording, Matilda, and thanks for being co-operative as it has given us the chance, we need to make progress. Here's our lawyer's card. Make sure Charles or his lawyer or both get to his office tomorrow. Every hour counts."

"Then can they go to you within the hour from now?"

"Yes, of course, you make the arrangement. I was wary of pushing my luck with you."

"Good for you, Phyllis. I like you lots, now."

Jon glanced at his partner, approvingly.

"Why don't you and Phyllis have lunch together tomorrow," he said to Matilda. "That could prove fruitful for us as investigators."

"I'm sorry, I have a luncheon booked for tomorrow."

Jon said ruthlessly, "What's more important, a social lunch or lunch with an investigator who has been recruited to help return your son to you?"

"I have you address Phyllis. I'll send my driver for you. We'll lunch at our home and you can search or whatever you need to do in Charlie's suite and the garden shed where frequently went to watch sport TV, read and write in solitude."

"Marvellous, Matilda and thanks."

As Jon and Phyllis drove home, she said there was something not quite right between Charlie's parents.

Jon nodded and said, "We hope but through conversation and looking at them we felt it. You know, Charlie is probably being held somewhere in preparation for being shipped off to China or India without money or perhaps is already dead."

"My feeling he's not yet dead," Phyllis said. "The father is a cold fish."

"Hmm, if either of them is to be a suspect, I pick Matilda. If that's so, no worries with you being in danger tomorrow because she'll know I'll know you are with her."

"Should we fuck tonight in case I'm done in tomorrow?"

"Aw, give that rubbish a rest, pal. You know I love you like a sister."

"Omigod, Jon. You can be so hard and cruel. If I were a cry baby, I'd be bawling my eyes out right now."

Phyllis came into Jon's room two hours later where he was on top of the bed reading.

"Matilda just called to say Charles has signed the contract unaltered and his chief lawyer is on his way with a witness to get our signatures and to leave us a copy."

"Great, I probably have a text confirming that on my phone."

"Phoning in with that news makes her less likely as a suspect."

"Does it? She would have known we would have been advised sooner or later. Your training has informed you that females in crime can be incredibly deceptive."

"Nevertheless, I'm less suspicious. May I lie beside you and have you rub me off."

"Bugger off, sweetie. Do you know any guy who rubs his sister off?"

"Bugger off yourself, Jon. I'm going off late shopping. Get takeaways or I'll consent to you eating out late with me."

"I choose the latter. Call me somewhere local and I'll walk there. While reading, I was thinking we should suspend our other investigations to concentrate fully on this major investigation. And when you are among Charlie's personal things tomorrow, snaffle a couple of things like to yield his fingerprints. One never knows when they may be useful in trailing him or for ID of a corpse."

"So, you do think he's dead."

"No, there's nothing to suggest that at this stage. Tomorrow when you are with Matilda, without Charles being present, could be a crucial time for you as most likely Matilda will be less guarded, whereas if Charles shows up unexpectedly to join you two, that would make him a suspect in his son's disappearance.

"Omigod, Jon. You are so meticulous in your thinking. You ought to be a detective or PI."

She left the room happier, actually humming.

Jon's concentration on mixing reading with detective thinking was disrupted, and he was now thinking what he would feel if he fondled one of Phyllis's nipples while rubbing her vagina into a release. And would she just bite her lip into a release or would was wriggle snakelike and scream in pleasure. Someone must know, perhaps many sexy jerks.

He felt guilty hanging off her like this when obviously she wanted him to fondle her and more. She often caught him looking at her curves and would guess he was thinking of his hand gliding over that flesh, uncovered.

But fuck it man. He and she were partners often going in dangerous situations relying upon each other for protection whenever necessary.

They both were aware that one risks diluting his or her reactions if allow emotion to enter the scene during a crisis if he was regularly fucking her., and vice versa. It was rational to believe that and the in law of the jungle. or so he believed. Textbooks on policing and crime prevention techniques endorsed that thinking. He also was aware that Phyllis' maternal instincts could screw her judgement in dangerous confrontations.

Phyllis went off shopping, still a little pissed off at him. She knew that she should admit to herself that the prick was unsuited to her because he didn't like going shopping and refused to display intense interest to the spoils of shopping when she displayed them to him proudly.

Fucking men!

Jon was thirty-three and Phyllis thought viperously what the hell had Jon been thinking when he ran his eyes over her face, breast groin and upper thighs when they first approached her. For sure he wouldn't have been thinking did she shower regularly. Christ, it wasn't her fault she was only sexy 25-year-old and his intelligence superior.

Phyllis thought if Charles offered discreetly to bang her to show just how much he admired her, she'd punch and break his nose and...on the other-hand, she could weakly accept the shafting, err repeatedly. In her line of work, she didn't get much free time to look to hook up with half-decent guys after proper appraisal.

Chapter 2

Lunch with Matilda Brentwood-Adams (of the Adams Family, Phyllis giggled to herself) was surprisingly enjoyable and fruitful.

Phyllis told her previous subordinate (her Police ranking was sergeant) Jon, who now in private enterprise appeared to regard her as his deputy, that Matilda had dressed glamorously and had display incredible hosting skills.

"She also brushed her body against my butt twice when passing behind me."

"Christ, did you attack her pugnaciously on both occasions?"

"Of course not."

"What, you allowed her to sexually possess you on both occasions."

"Of course not."

"Then what the fuck did you do?"

"I acted throughout with impeccable social decorum."

Jon: "Eh?"

"Yes, I thought so."

Jon: "What the hell does that mean?"

Ignoring that response, Phyllis opened her clutch bag and extracted two items for possible fingerprint extraction, a drinking glass and a TV remote hand controller.

"Great, fingerprints are visible, but where did you get these items?"

"From the garden shed where he went for solitude to watch TV and read. The place is a messy and smelly of neglect inside and Matilda sent me off to it alone as she said she can't bear to enter the pigsty."

"Ah, that's a useful quotation because the shed could be a goldmine for us in gaining knowledge about the elusive Charlie fucking Adams," Jon mused.

"What do you mean?"

"More about that later, love. Right now. I need you to find where you can take these items privately to get the fingerprints lifted."

"Okay, and what will you do... masturbate while thinking of the curvy Adams bitch."

"Bitch? I thought you had come to quite like her."

"Well yeah, but not when I think you might be thinking about her inappropriately."

"God, Phyllis. You do appear to have a twisted mind at times."

"And you, you Slippery Dick, your problem is you don't understand women."

Laughing, Jon said he was off to a pub to chat with a couple of mates of Charlie's whose names he'd got discreetly from the Brentwood-Adams' housekeeper.

"Omigod, then I'm not the only one of us doing investigatory work," Phyllis cooed sarcastically, giving her partner the fingers.

The huge wink from Jon made her heart flutter.

As soon as Phyllis returned. they began working on strategy. As part of that work, Phyllis called Charlie and asked did they own or lease any other residential dwellings.

Charles said one property, on Queensland's Sunshine Coast. He was shocked when her next question was it was possible Charlie might be hiding out there. He said he was leaving after lunch on Friday anyway to fly up there and suggested that she or Jon might wish to accompany him to search the home that currently was being renovated for any evidence of Charlie's recent presence there.

Thoughtfully, or cunningly, she said which one of them would he prefer to accompany him and he said, with the faint impression of a possible leer, "Why you of course."

"Great work," Jon said, patting Matilda on the wrist when she reported in. "That leads to the activation of the second part of our strategy of me getting close to interrogating Matilda subtlety when Charles was unlikely to walk into them.

"God, you could be so lucky, possibly having the vivacious Matilda all to yourself for the weekend," she said, making an effort not to hiss.

"Ah, jealous are we babe? Don't overlook the fact that it was your brilliance that set me up with her, and you with him. Don't allege that you won't take the opportunity to take him for your stud for a week or so?"

"I'm telling you mate, that overbearing arsehole will have to work his butt off during a time when I feel sexually vulnerable, to get a piece of me and he'd have to be a stud performer to be permitted repeat visitations."

"Good for you, Phyllis. Keep up your standards and remember it is unprofessional to have sex with a client."

Phyllis went off snarky, quite overlooking the prime chance to give Jon the same lecture.

* * *

At the airport, waiting to board the aircraft. Phyllis said, "What chance do you think that Charlie is, or has been in the house we are to visit since he was found missing, Mr Brentwood-Adams?"

"Chances are slim on either category, but my thinking with your trained eye you might find some things of possible interest because he occasionally had previously gone to the house for a few days without Matilda and me for what he said was for a few days of solitude. We had no idea if that was true or he would have company of sorts."

"Do you know if he took drugs, sir?"

"Call me Charles, less be informal and to assist us to have a relaxing time. The answer I have no knowledge of him taking drugs, but realistically, that is not to say that he never has done so occasionally or even frequently. His consumption of alcoholic drinks now that he's a young adult has never appeared to be excessive."

"Well, relax, that enough digging from me for now."

"Good, there appears to be no reason why we must be uptight about this 24/7. Are you and your business partner in a romantic relationship?"

"He's never fucked me, if that's what you mean and neither of us are gay. If he has romantic bones in his body, I've never been aware of them. He preaches to me that we must remain celibate toward one another for our own protection to keep our reflexes sharp and our concern for each other remaining as neutral as possible to strengthen our ability to cope and protect each other in any dangers that we may face during our work."

"Yes, that's commendable Phyllis but where does that leave you in your busy life to get the romantic attention that you undoubtedly desire. You will be in your sexual peak at your age, right?"

"You are so right. I mainly have to snatch it here and there and just occasionally it happens as it's supposed to happen, naturally."

They received their boarding call.

"Do you ever become sexually involved with male clients?"

"Um, that is considered to be professionally taboo."

"Phyllis, please be open with me? I'd like to know."

"I've been sexually naughty with a hot male or two over time."

Charles caught and held her swinging arm.

"Do I rate as a hot client, Phyllis."

"Please don't touch me in public. I'd be a liar if I said that you were without sexual interest to me."

Charles thanked her for that and said, laughing, "There goes my anxiety that this might be a dull weekend with you."

She said earnestly, "For anything to happen, you must have promised me that you'd keep your mouth shut about it."

Charles said: "You have my promise as an absolute assurance."

When seated in the aircraft, Charles pressed his leg against Phyllis' against leg. She responded with slight pressure from her knee.

"I have good feeling about this weekend."

"You are encouraging me to feel the same way, Charles, both in terms of business and pleasure."

Phyllis was concerned that Charles appeared rather slack about the purpose of why she was accompanying him on the 11/2-hour flight from Sydney to the Sunshine Coast (Maroochydore) in Queensland for a one-night stay.

Meanwhile, back in Sydney on Saturday morning, Jon phoned Matilda on her private phone number.

"Yes," she said haughtily. "It's our PI Jon without an aitch, is it not?"

"Aye, Mrs Brentwood-Adams of the Adams Family, is it not?"