Sam Spade 06: Case of the Murdered Mistress

This story is copyrighted 2006 by Kaereni, may not be excerpted, reprinted, reproduced, or reposted in any form without the express written consent of the author. Visitors to this web site may read or temporarily download pages but are not permitted to modify or re-distribute them.

The story contains sexual activities and situations that are to be read only by readers above the legal age of consent. All characters are above the legal age of consent. The story is not to be read in locations where such stories are illegal. If you are not of legal age, or live in the wrong place, please exit this site immediately.

Author's note: I would like to thank Ariania, Lady Darkness, and obsidian with a little o for all their input and help in creating this story. I would also like to thank to mjm aka Jason for the use of his lovely lady and her pet human "Jason." Without you four, this story would not have been possible.

*

I was sitting in the study behind the great red oak desk going through our monthly accounts when the doorbell rang. When it rang a second time, I muttered darkly wondering where all the girls were, threw down my pen, and went to answer it myself. As I walked to the front door the doorbell rang a third time and I could hear someone knocking or rather pounding on the door, "What good is it to have pets when I have to do everything myself." Opening the door, I saw a man in a cheap suit that screamed fed, and Clancy.

Clancy was the cop who walked the beat at my old office. The other man, his short cropped hair and somber expression looked at Clancy, "This her?"

Clancy looked at me and then the man, "Could be, I'm not sure," He said hedging.

The fed looked at Clancy and then at me. "Sam Spade, I have a warrant for your arrest." He pulled out a piece of paper and waved it in my direction. "The charges are conspiracy, multiple murder counts, arson, and kidnapping."

"Here let me see that," I said grabbing it out of his hand. Opening I saw it was a federal bench warrant for my arrest.

Clancy said "Please turn place your hands behind your back." He placed the cuffs of me and led me out to the dark blue sedan. As I was being put into the back seat, Colleen came to the front door. I watched her come down to the car and talk to the man. However, with the door closed I could not hear their words but saw the man push her away, hand her a piece of paper, and get into the passenger seat. Only then, did Clancy put the car in drive and leave her standing in the driveway watching me as we drove away.

The drive down to the old federal building was made in silence. As we rode, I realized that they never read me my rights, nor did Clancy pat me down for weapons. Not that it mattered, when I was at home I did not carry. Nevertheless, the failure to read me my rights was a big mistake. I looked at Clancy as he drove and when our eyes met in the rear view mirror he winked. "So he had not read me my rights on purpose," I thought.

Clancy and I went way back, when you see someone every day for several years you get to know them. He had his twenty years in and was getting ready to retire. We had spent many a day chatting about him moving out west and opening a rabbit farm. His parents had a place out that way that was just waiting to be used.

Instead of stopping at the front and leading me in, Clancy drove into the underground parking lot. There at the doors he stopped and let me out. With a hand on my arm, he followed the man in and up to a small interrogation room. He removed the cuffs and without a word left. The man sat down across from me and motioned to a chair. "Please have a seat Miss Spade. We have a lot to talk about."

Sitting down I rubbed my wrists where the cuffs had chaffed my wrists. "How about a phone call or a lawyer?" I asked as I sat down. "Failing that, how about a cup of your crappy coffee or at least a room without the florescent lighting flickering," I added leaning back in the chair. My feelings were that when you are scared, play the smart ass to throw the other guy off balance.

He just sat there looking at me expressionless. When I had finished he waited a bit, "Miss Spade, I don't believe you understand how serious your situation is."

"I know enough that I have done nothing wrong, that you have refused me a phone call and a lawyer." I was going to hold the lack of reading me my rights as a final trump card. "So how about that coffee?" I added with a smile.

"Where were you on the 28^th of last month?" He asked.

"Can you give me a hint?" I replied

The man who never did say his name said, "At approximately six thirty in the morning you placed an explosive device at Mom's Greasy Spoon. In your haste to leave you lost a hat." He looked at me without expression as he spoke, "Then you left your car in an area known for its active car theft rings and when someone stole it, you remote detonated it. Finally, in the company of an off duty police officer you withdrew two hundred and fifty thousand dollars and shot up the bank."

I looked at him with surprise, "I always thought that you feds were a bit on the dim side. But this is an all-time low even for you."

He just looked at me and said, "Logic dictates that you are guilty of crimes against humanity and the state."

"Son of a bitch, you're an artificial person." I replied. Angela had used the same screwed up logic on me back when Cindy was sending the masks. "I want to talk to a human. I want my phone call. I want a lawyer," I said crossing my arms.

The man stood and looked down at me, "I will let you think on your crimes." He turned and left the room.

I leaned back, put my legs up on the table, and thought. If I had my hat, I would have lowered it down over my eyes but it was sitting, no doubt, in a plastic bag somewhere. The door opened and opening my eyes I saw an older man with a briefcase walk in. His whole manner and dress spoke of money, lots of money. His blue pin striped suit looked as if it came from Italy and as he walked around the table to sit beside me I could see my face in the shine of his shoes.

"Good morning Miss Spade," He said, his voice also spoke of culture. "I am your lawyer, Mr. Smith," He added as he shook my hand. "Now don't you worry, I have seen their report and we will have you out of here in no time. Is there anything you like to tell me before they come back in?"

I smiled, "I'm sure glad to see you. There are two things; the first is that I am not guilty." I smiled slightly, "But I know you have heard that many times already in your life, the second thing is that they did not read me my rights before bringing me down here."

Mr. Smith smiled slightly and nodded at the not guilty line. "Are you sure? They didn't read you your rights?" He asked with a gleam in his eye. Rubbing his hands together he smiled, "Oh boy when they make a mistake they really make one. This is going to be fun. Just sit and watch an old master my dear."

When the fed came back in he stopped and looked at me and then at my lawyer, "You are not authorized to be here."

Mr. Smith smiled and said, "I am Miss Spade's lawyer. First I would like to say, everything said in this room is being recorded." He paused a moment and then added, "I request that you give me a copy of the warrant for Miss Spade's arrest and all pertinent evidence against my client. Then once I have had time to review it with you, we will be willing to go before the judge."

The fed blinked a few times and then said, "Agreed." He came over, sat down, and waited. A few minutes later several other men, all looking and dressed the same entered the room. In their arms was the evidence they had collected. Setting the pile on the table, they left. The man sitting shifted through the plastic bags and pulled a piece of paper. He handed over the paper, "This is a copy of the warrant."

Mr. Smith glanced at it and made soft tisking sounds before setting it off to the side. "What evidence do you have?"

The fed laid out my hat, burnt notebook, half melted shotgun, video capture stills and shells from the automatic weapons at the bank. Finally, with a grand flourish he produced the receipts of the two checks I withdrew from the bank.

My lawyer looked at the items one by one, looking up he asked, "What about the charge of kidnapping?"

The fed said in a slow voice, "Out information shows that she is holding several people hostages at this time."

"I see," Mr. Smith said. "Do you have a list of names?"

The man handed over a sheet of paper. Looking over Mr. Smith's shoulder, I read them. It was all of the girls. I started to be worried and said, "But..." Mr. Smith put his hand over mine and said, "I will handle this." Looking to the man, he smiled and said, "We are ready to see the judge now."

I had heard that once they had used a human judge and twelve people off the street to judge the accused. It seemed to me to be an absurd way. I mean how someone who is not trained in law would know how to stand on an issue. It was with a smile on my face when I was brought before the judge. While I had testified in many cases over the years and had seen the computer that presided over the trial. I had never seen it from the standpoint of the accused.

The man who had arrested me stood and read the charges and went through each of the events explaining his view of what had happened. As he talked I marveled at how far from reality his words were. Then it was my lawyer's turn. He stood and first produced the warrant. Offering it to the scanner he said, "You will not that the warrant is made out to a Sam Shade, not Samantha Spade." He looked at the fed who sat not moving, "Also if you ask the gentleman seated, you will find that my client was not read her rights."

The Judge examined the warrant and then looked at the federal robot, "Is this true?"

The man said, "I am unsure."

However, Mr. Smith was not through. He produced a fire report from his briefcase showing that the diner had blown up because of a gas leak. Next he produced a report from the insurance company showing that the car fire was caused by the boy who robbed it had crossed some wires. Finally, he pointed out that the officer that had died was escorting me to the bank so I could make the withdraw and had in fact saved my life.

After he had sat down the judge looked through the papers and then at the man, 'Why was this woman charged. It is not logical."

The federal robot stood and replied, "There is still the kidnapping charge."

Mr. Smith was on his feet before the judge could turn back. "Your honor, you will see that all of the women mentioned are in fact employees of Miss Spade."

The judge did not move after a few minutes, "Confirmed." He looked at the prosecutor, "Case dismissed, you will turn yourself in for repair." Looking back towards the center, he pounded a metallic gavel on the desk.

Standing I walked over to the federal robot's desk and took my hat back. Walking beside my lawyer, we left the building. Out on the front steps I turned to him and said, "I want to thank you for coming when called."

Nodding towards me he replied, "You are welcome Miss Spade." With no further words, he walked to a waiting car. Stopping just before it, he turned back to me, "Oh darn, I forgot my briefcase. Would you be a dear and run up and grab it for me?"

"Sure thing" I said smiling. It was the least I could do for him for getting me off. I headed back up the front steps and into the building. A loud explosion from inside threw me back through the glass doors and onto the steps. Getting to my knees, I shook my head groggy and looked at the building. As I watched it seemed to fall into itself and collapse. I started to thank my lucky stars that I was not any deeper in when it blew when a nasty thought occurred to me. "The briefcase..." Turning I realized that Mr. Smith was gone.

Chapter 2

I sat on the steps of the ruined building and wondered not for the first time who wanted me so dead that they did not mind splashing others with the destruction. I was still sitting there when the emergency crews came to a screaming halt and went rushing past me. Every now and then, I would turn and look at the ruined building. The police came, took a statement from me, and tried to get me to go to the hospital. I did not realize it at the time, but I was covered with hundreds of tiny cuts from the blast. Looking up at the heavens I said, "Hell of a way to start my day."

"Could be worse, you could be dead," God's deep voice replied. Looking down towards the voice, I saw Fat Johnny standing at the base of the steps. I have known Fat Johnny for years, I could not count the number of times we had helped each other out of tight jams.

"What brings you down here?" I asked not getting up.

He looked at me as if I were brain dead, "I was watching the holo-cast and guess who I see sitting on the front steps looking lost and forlorn." When I did not move he added, "Come on Sam, snap out of it."

Standing I looked around until I saw the hover cam and waited until it was pointed at me once more. I pointed at the building and then pointed at me while shaking my head no. I dusted off my hat and put it on my head at a jaunty angle, then smiled and waved at the camera. I turned and walked away from both Fats and it.

I was about a half block from the ruined building when I became aware of Fat's heavy breathing behind me. Glancing over my shoulder, I saw that he had followed me on foot. Stopping I looked at him, his face was red and sweat was pouring off his brow. "You should get more exercise; you look like hell Fats."

When he reached me, he turned and looked back at the building and then at me, "What happened back there?" His voice was labored and he looked as if he had just finished running a marathon. He made a gesture and his car that had not moved from the scene made its way past all the emergency equipment and pulled to a stop next to us.

I helped him over to his car and sat him down in the back seat, "I was sending a message." I glanced back at the wreckage and said softly, "I need a favor dear. Find every bit of info on a lawyer named Smith." Before he could reply, I closed the door in his face and started walking again. His car drove past me as he watched out the window. Once past it speeded up and left me in its dust.

Someone wanted me dead and I was going to find the underlying cause of it if it was the last thing I did. Pulling out my cell, I looked at it and then put it back in my pocket. I needed to think things through before I went off halfcocked and started issuing orders. About a block up, I found a men's store. I bought an off the rack suit, shirt, tie, and shoes. I changed clothes and left everything including my bra and panties, except the cell phone, cash card, and identification in the dressing room.

It felt weird wearing flats and after fifty of so feet, my calves were screaming at me. I had not worn flats from the day Angela had remade me. Even walking to the bathroom first thing in the morning I would slip on a pair of mules. I limped down the street and finally came across a fetish woman's store. Going in I rooted around until I found a pair of high heels that worked with the suit. The problem with them was that they had a five-inch heel. While they were higher than I was used to I bought them anyways. Putting them on I noticed how nice they looked with the new suit.

I looked around the store for the first time feeling comfortable. I had never found a need for help in getting excited. Nevertheless, some of the clothing in there did send throbs of pleasure rolling through me. I made a mental note that if I lived through the attacks I would have to come back and shop. I noticed a rack with spray on hair color. I picked black and bought it. It took a little extra tip to talk the man behind the counter to let me use the bathroom. I cleaned up my face and applied the dye to my hair.

When I was finished, I smiled at myself in the mirror. I looked very different with black hair. Putting the hat on I frowned. Everyone knew me by my trademark hat and suit. Walking out I asked the guy behind the counter, "If I wanted to change my looks and not be recognized what would you recommend?" 'Ok Sam, you have lost it. You are asking a guy in a fetish store for fashion tips,' I thought to myself.

He looked at me not speaking. Finally, he came out from behind the counter and started going through different items and setting them down before me. "You want to be able to walk in public and not be arrested?" he asked as he rummaged through his stock.

"Yea that would be a help." I said looking at the growing pile with a bemused expression. When he was done, I had a pile of red latex rubber clothing. It consisted of a short dress, stockings, and fingerless gloves. He handed me a small bottle of talcum powder. Looking at it, I went back to the dressing room once more and changed. The items smelt interesting but not something to write home about. After pulling on the last glove, I looked at myself in the mirror. I did not think even Angela would recognize me now.

Coming out from the dressing room, I picked out a small black rubber purse for my phone and cards. At the counter, I paid for everything and then folded up my hat and stuffed it into the purse. Smiling at the man, I gave him the suit and shoes I was wearing, "Keep or sell." Kissing him on the cheek, I said, "Thanks" and left the store.

Walking down the street, I marveled at how everything moved across my skin and made little squeaking sounds. My final stop was at a teller machine where I withdrew a couple hundred cash. I needed to use the cash to hide better. I only hoped the man back at the store would not get in trouble for me transferring the funds into his account instead of to the store.

As I walked, I garnered looks but no one bothered me. I thought about the past attacks, with the exception of the car every time had been when I had called home. Could it be someone connected with the house was looking to do me in? I had to test it. Covering the camera with my thumb, I called the house, "Hello dear," I said when Heather answered. "I wanted to check in and let you know everything is ok. Could you pass the word? Finally, I would like pickup at the alley by fifth and main in 15 minutes. I will be the one hiding in a dumpster." When she agreed I signed off and walked over to the dumpster, erased the memory on the phone and tossed it in.

I walked down the street and to where a couple of the working girls had come out to ply their trade for the lunchtime crowd. They bristled at my appearance on their turf. I knew one of them from my earlier days, she had been beat up by her pimp and I had returned the favor. From what I understood, he had moved away and she was now running her own operation. I leaned in close and whispered, "Ivy, it's me Sam, I'm on the run."

Hugging me, she kissed me and copped a feel, "Damn girl you look hot." She whispered in my ear, "Ok dear, you're covered." She looked at the other girl and gestured at me, "She's cool, she's from uptown and her pimp is being an asshole."

The other woman, dressed as if she were a Nubian princess smiled, "Ok baby, me and Sugar here will protect you. Why don't you join up with us? We don't answer to no honky bastard or the mob."

I looked from one to the other, "You would take me in? Just like that?"

The two looked at each other and then at me, "Sugar, if Ivy trusts you then I do. You just be cool and we will take care of you," The black woman said.

Ivy smiled and nodded, "Sure we will."

Shortly afterwards a car came down the street slowly, Ivy moved up, talked to the driver and got in. As they left, the black woman looked at me for a moment and said, "Who are you really and why does Ivy trust you?" I felt a pressure against my belly and looked down to see a small gun pressed against my belly button. She backed me into a darkened doorway out of view from the street.