Rebound

"I had a hankering to see this again. It's a family heirloom, right?"

"Max, I'm busy. I'm going to trial next week. Why are you really here?"

"I'm here to see you. Truthfully, I don't think I can wait two weeks."

She pointed to the stacks of papers neatly piled on her floor and the rolling rack with rows of red weld folders on it. "See all this? I have to read it and understand it by next Monday."

"It's only Tuesday. You've got plenty of time," I argued. "Besides, it's 10 p.m. How long have you been here?"

"It's 10 already? About 14 hours."

"That's enough counselor." I went to her side of the desk and sat in her chair. I motioned for her to sit on my lap.

"We're a bit past that, aren't we Max?"

"Sit here Sondra. I want to show you something."

Her eyes narrowed. "I know you. You have bad intentions, don't you?"

"Sit here and find out."

"OK, but no funny business."

She parked her cute little butt on my lap. Her head was above mine. My hand snaked inside her yoga pants and panties. I stroked her downy soft pubic hairs.

"I told you no funny business," she said, though she made no move to take my hand out of her pants.

I touched her clit. She shuddered.

"There's nothing funny about that, is there?" I asked.

"No," she answered.

"I told you that idle hands are the devil's workshop."

"You did Max."

I slipped one finger inside her pussy. There was enough lubrication to drag it up over her clit.

"You devil," she said.

"At your service."

She lifted her hips to allow me to slide her pants and panties down to her ankles.

"We shouldn't be doing this," she said. "Not here."

I spit on my fingers and massaged them into her pussy. She wiggled her hips to maximize the friction.

"Are you sure?" I asked.

"No," she answered.

"I've dreamed of having sex with you in your office."

"Sometimes dreams come true," she said.

"This one's going to," I told her, rubbing faster.

"Fuck it," she said. She hopped off my lap and sat on the desk. She spread her legs open and leaned back with her hands on the desk.

I knelt on the floor and licked the inside of her slender creamy white thighs. I reached up and fondled her breasts through her silky top and the thin sports bra underneath. It was heaven on 37.

"Right there," Sondra urged me when I probed her pussy with my tongue.

"Mmmphh," I answered.

She clenched and unclenched her thighs around my head. The room now reeked of sex.

"Fuck yes!" she yelled at me. I was riding the wave with her as she came, my head locked between her thighs.

"Huh... huh... huh," she grunted as her orgasm crescendoed.

She leaned over and gave me a sloppy kiss, tasting herself.

She caught her breath. "That was great Max, but now I've got to get back to work."

"That's it?" I asked her. I was hoping it'd be my turn next.

"That's all I've got," she said, wiping herself off with a tissue and pulling her pants back on.

"Wham bam thank you ma'am," I said.

"Thank you David Bowie," she said, picking up on my reference to one of my favorite songs. "And thank you Max for stopping by."

"We deliver," I said.

"I'll keep that in mind," she said. "Now if you could be on your way..."

She picked up the file she was reading. She waved goodbye without looking up. I couldn't blame her for kicking me out of her office. I was the uninvited guest. But that was no consolation for my body, or for the powerful sexual urges I still felt.

_|/_

The next day at the end of the morning briefing I was picking up my coffee, prepared to follow up on the lead from Ray. There was still a residual glow from my encounter with Sondra the previous night. I was in a good mood, and Lesley could sense it.

"Lesley, ready to hit the road?" I asked her.

"Let's go," she said. "You seem rather chipper this morning. Late night with Sondra?"

I couldn't hide anything from her. "I saw her in her office."

"You didn't Max."

"I didn't what?"

"You didn't have sex with her in her fancy office, did you?"

She didn't need to know everything. "No, as a matter of fact I didn't."

She looked me in the eyes.

"Liar."

"Lesley... just give me a break, will you?"

"In her office... Max... what won't you do?" she asked rhetorically. She knew the answer.

"Can we go?" I asked, heading to the door to the parking lot.

Unfortunately Lieutenant Odette threw a monkey wrench into my morning plans. She blocked the exit to the parking lot.

"Pemberton, Groesbeck, in my office... now."

Her face said that I'd fucked up.

Shit, what had I done?

We followed Odette into her office. She slammed the door behind us.

"What the fuck Max? Ray tells me you're asking about the ballistics report on Lily's hit. You're in Vice God damn it. Did you want to put in your transfer papers to Homicide? And Groesbeck. I've got half a mind to give you a new partner. I've got drugs running rampant through the West End and you're playing murder police with Max?"

My policy was to ask for forgiveness instead of permission. I knew I had to jump in to issue a quick apology. "Sorry Lieutenant Odette. I just know it was the Russians. If I can find out who and where they are I can get the drugs too."

"Max, you're obsessed with this and have lost your objectivity. You're going to run off on a wild goose chase because of a word from a dying woman?"

Billie wasn't buying my story. I tried harder.

"It's more than that. We now know it was a Russian gun."

She frowned and rolled her eyes at me.

"Max, if it was a Glock should we be chasing Austrians? Get your head on straight."

"I know I'm right," I insisted, not improving my argument one iota.

Billie spewed the company line, which was to do nothing.

"We don't run the department on hunches and gut instincts. We run it on facts, and right now there aren't enough for you to be spending department time chasing down your hunches. Am I clear?"

"Yes Sir," I said. She was clear that I would be violating department policy, which I intended to do forthwith.

"And you Groesbeck."

"Loud and clear," Lesley answered.

"Good, now get the fuck out of my office."

_|/_

"God, Odette was loaded for bear," Lesley said to me outside of Billie's office. "Are you going to listen to her this time Max? I think she meant it."

"Fuck no," I said. "Why should I start now?"

"So we case the local gun shops?" Lesley asked.

"You read my mind partner."

We started on the phone, calling to see who carried the RSh-12 gun and ammo. There were four in the area, spread out over a wide perimeter, which took a full day to visit. At each stop, we asked for copies of their surveillance camera footage and records of sales. We brought it all back to the station, mindful that we had a mountain of data to sort through and were searching for a needle in a haystack.

"This probably isn't going to come to anything," said Lesley, voicing my thoughts. "The shooter would have to be careless to buy their weapon and ammo out in the open."

"Maybe so," I said, "but we have to be thorough. You never know where you're going to catch a break."

A lot of investigation time is ruling out possibilities. This one had to be ruled out, which meant hours poring over sales records and camera footage.

"So what's next, as long as we're ignoring the boss?" Lesley asked me.

"Shooting ranges. It's much more likely the shooter went to one of them if he or she is local. Not many people carry a Russian pistol with that kind of firepower. There's three likely places, but it's a fair drive so we'll have to split them up."

I took two and Lesley took one.

The first range was out in Cleves, a town west of Cincinnati proper. No luck. The people there weren't familiar with the weapon and hadn't seen it fired. The second range, in White Oak, turned out to have more promise. The owner, Ted Runyon, was talkative, and an ex-cop from there. When I showed him my badge he perked up.

"Yeah, I've seen a guy here who had that gun," Ted told me. "Haven't seen many carry it. It's heavy, but packs a wallop. It also makes a God awful sound when it's fired. You don't forget something like that. I imagine it does a lot of damage."

"I saw what it does first hand," I said to him. "Two victims, both shot in the head. Point blank. Practically took their heads off."

"Did you want to see one?" he asked.

'You have one?"

"Yep, got one in my collection. Come here."

He led me to a locked back room. He used a key on a ring attached to his belt loop to unlock it. He had a locked gun case that he opened. He pulled out an RSh-12. It was a big, heavy weapon, an ugly hunk of grey metal. He handed it to me. I hefted it in my hand.

"Wanna see it fired?" he asked. I could see out of the corner of my eye that he was staring at my tits.

"Sure," I answered.

We took it to the inside range. We put on protective earwear. He squeezed off two rounds. The roar was deafening, even with the earwear.

"So, do you keep footage on the people who come and go?" I asked as we walked back to his office.

"I do. Usually keep the tapes for a month or so before I re-use them."

That was what I wanted to hear.

"Can I take a look-see?" I asked hopefully. I was doing this off the radar screen so a warrant wasn't a possibility.

"You working a case?" he asked. He couldn't get the cop in him out of his blood.

"Sure am," I said, lying through my teeth. There was nothing official about my investigation.

"You tell me a war story or two and I'll let you have a look."

He was dying to hear about my work. One of the few.

"Deal."

_|/_

I told Ted the story about Lily (leaving out our sexual relationship) leading up to her murder. When I recounted the scene of the murders he let out a low whistle.

"Fuck, that was messy. What kind of animal would execute people point blank with that weapon?"

"My sentiments exactly," I replied. "This person is an animal, and needs to be put down."

"Now you make me want to find him, even though I'm not proud of the fact he may have used our facilities."

He reviewed his sign in sheets. "Here, it's this one. I'm sure he had a phony ID, but I remember his signature. "Andrew Blackwell." That's him. He found the security tape for that date. He patiently scrolled through the security footage while I looked over his shoulder.

"There!" he said, pointing to the screen. "That's the guy."

He was about the size of a gorilla. Big, swarthy man, could easily pass for Russian.

"Can you make me a copy of the tape and also print a picture?" I asked.

I waited while he made the copies. He handed them to me in a manila envelope.

"Let's stay in touch. And watch your six," I said. "The shooter might realize he left a small footprint and may want to clean it up."

"Not my first rodeo Max."

"This one's a prize bull," I said.

_|/_

"Direct hit," I said to Lesley when I returned to the station, finding her in the break room.

"What's that?" she asked.

I told him about Ted and then pulled out the picture. "This could be the guy," I said.

"Phony name?"

"Does he look like an Andrew to you?"

"More like Dmitri," she said.

"Dmitri who?" Lieutenant Odette said, walking into the break room.

Oh fuck. Max, you idiot. I was so eager to share the good news I didn't wait to share it in a private space.

"Nothing," I said. "Just some CI I've been cultivating," I added, saying the first thing that popped into my head.

"Bullshit," said Billie. Her bullshit meter was sensitive, and calibrated to my level of bullshit.

"No really," I insisted... futilely.

"Out with it," Billie said, her hands on her hips. That meant out with it or there was going to be hell to pay.

I told her about Ted, the shooting range and then showed her the picture of "Andrew."

She scowled at me.

"You ignored a direct order, not but a minute after I gave it."

"I was interpreting your order," I said, probably not making it any better.

"Don't play fucking lawyer with me Max. I was clear... crystal clear. The only question I have is whether to suspend you or fire you."

"Lieutenant, with all due respect, this might be the break we were looking for in Lily's murder."

"Don't tell me that you respect me. You don't. And do we work in Homicide?"

She had me on that.

"I thought as much," she continued, blazing mad. Other officers had gathered around to watch the train wreck happening in slow motion.

"Lieutenant..."

"Go home Max. Now. Don't come back until I tell you to. And Lesley, you should be ashamed of yourself. Your father was someone I looked up to. Now you're following Max's brand of lunacy. If anyone should be respecting chain of command, it's you. I'll deal with you later. Dismissed."

That went well.

_|/_

I went home with my tail between my legs. I felt awful. I stepped over the line one time too many times. And not only did I screw the pooch but I got my partner in trouble too. In my mind there were two options: (1) crawl back to Odette and beg for forgiveness, or (2) get blind stinking drunk.

You don't have to guess. You know I picked option 2.

I went to the local liquor store mid-afternoon. The hookers had just taken residence in the corner of the parking lot. I waved to them, recognizing Sharon, who helped me put Bobby Bickel's balls, then the head of Homicide, into a vise. Bobby was the fucker who put his fat fingers in Sky's cooter, and that in my mind was a capital offense.

"Hey Sharon, how's it hanging?" I called out to her.

"Slower than molasses," she shouted across the parking lot.

I went into the store to see my good friend Nigel. He was dusting the expensive bottles of bourbon he kept on the top shelf.

"Hey Max, why the long face?"

It was too long a story so I shortened it. "I fucked up," I said.

"That bad?"

"Uh huh."

"So three bottles?"

I usually ordered two pints of rotgut vodka, but he recognized this was a three bottle night.

"Yep, bag them up," I said, flipping my credit card on the counter.

Nigel pulled three pints of vodka with some vile flavoring and dropped them into a brown paper bag.

"No witty conversation today Max?" he asked.

"Not after the beating I took today," I said.

"Then be well friend," he said, handing me the bag.

_|/_

I was unlocking my Honda when Sharon came over to me.

"Hey Max, I never properly thanked you for getting me out of the slammer last time I saw you. And getting that asshole off me at the Royal Palms.

I used a favor with one of the West End officers to spring Sharon. The officer was Emil Martinez, who I hoped would dig up a lead for me as well. I also kicked some guy's ass who was beating up on her.

"No need Sharon. We're good," I said.

"No really Max. I owe you. Things are slow today. How about we party tonight?"

I would ordinarily have passed on her offer, but I was feeling about as low as you can, and Sondra was mired in a trial for the next two weeks. Our last encounter in her office let me high and dry. The only thing worse than no alcohol was no pussy. Sharon was still a looker. Probably in her early twenties but could pass for eighteen. Short bleach blonde hair, big tits and ass, and a cute face. The time on the streets hadn't yet eroded her good looks. I was a slave to my urges and could feel myself weakening as I looked at her.

"Sure, why not?" I said. What harm would come from having a little company in my time of need? In my book, this didn't count. This was no different than getting a professional massage. Sharon was no doubt a professional. She just massaged people in different, and more pleasurable, places. Was getting a massage cheating? I thought not.

Sharon went over to the passenger side and got in, flashing me a lot of leg. She was hot, no doubt about it.

"I just need to be back by seven. That's when Eddie's supposed to show up." A sex act for Sharon was as ordinary as yawning. This was a zero in her book as well.

"OK," I said, starting the car. Drinking and pussy. Yes and yes.

We arrived at the Royal Palms five minutes later. It was practically Sharon's second home. She led me up the stairs to room 204.

"This one, right?" she asked, jiggling the door knob.

I pulled out the key and unlocked it. She pushed inside, turned the window mounted air conditioner on full blast, and threw herself on the bed.

"Get me a drink Max," she said, pulling her tube top off. Her tits flopped out in all their glory. And they were glorious.

"Pour some vodka on these and suck on them," she said, pointing to her already hard nipples.

That was an offer I couldn't refuse. I unscrewed the cap on one of the bottles, took a hit off it, and then poured a bit on each nipple. I then blew on them.

"That's cold!" she squealed, as the alcohol quickly evaporated.

Then I seized one of her firm nipples in my mouth and swirled my tongue around it.

"Ohhh Max, you're so nasty," she said. Sondra called me nasty too. Maybe I was.

Those words got my motor running.

"Let's find out how nasty," I said, pulling my shirt and bra off.

I rubbed my tits against hers and offered her one.

"Max, I've never seen you naked. I love your tits," she said, grasping and then sucking.

"Umm, you're good at this," I said.

"They don't call it the world's oldest profession for nuthin'," she said between sucks.

"Thanks Professor," I said. I slid my pants and panties off and fell back on the bed.

I opened my knees and slid a finger inside my pussy. "Looks like there's some lab work here for you."

She knelt between my legs and pushed my thighs apart more. "Yummy," she said. "I much rather eat pussy than suck cock."

She shoved her tongue inside me and wiggled the tip. I sucked in my breath.

"Huhhhh," I grunted as she twisted one of my nipples while she tongue fucked me. She was a pro. This was a pro move.

It was too good and too fast. I didn't want to cum yet. I pushed her off and picked up the bottle, taking a healthy swig. It burned nicely.

"Gimme that," Sharon said. She lifted the bottle to her lips, screwed up her face, and then spit, spraying the vodka on the sheets.

"This shit burns!" she cussed, handing the bottle back to me. "How can you drink this shit?"

"Easy," I said, having her watch me chug the little that was left in the bottle.

"God Max, sometimes you're disgusting."

"High praise from a hooker," I said.

"I call it like I see it," she said.

"Fuck the drinking. Let me see your pussy," I said.

With one motion she stripped off her hot pants. No panties needed. Her slit was wet.

"So I excite you," I said.

"Yeah, you do."

"Open wide."

I dove in face first. Her snatch was wet and slippery, just the way I liked it. She used her hands to mash my face in it. Heaven scent.

I felt a cool breeze. Someone opened the door. This was not good. Heaven was about to become Hell.

"What the fuck is going on here?" Sondra demanded, practically apoplectic.

I looked at her with pussy juice smeared all over my face. Not the best look for this particular situation, which was the angry girlfriend situation.

"You weren't supposed to be free tonight," I said in a moment of panic, as if that excused my behavior. Suddenly it felt like what I did counted very heavily against me. Sondra, being a sharp as a tack attorney, would not be sympathetic to my rationalization that allowed me to cheat on her.

"You weren't supposed to be eating someone else's pussy," she said in a moment of rage.

I always wondered how I'd fuck it up with Sondra. Wonder no more.

"Please... please don't go," I begged. I had better chance of winning the Powerball.

"So I can watch you eat her pussy?" she asked sarcastically.