Supergirls and Stupid Men Ch. 01

Only Bob could get away with such a condescending comment because the women knew he was genuine and Steve respected him. They worked closely with him and considered Bob a colleague and a friend.

"What have we got here Bob?" Penelope stepped on the tiles and studied the room.

A big man in a dark suit lay on his back, a Smith and Wesson.357 revolver lay close to his outstretched hand. He had been shot several times in the body and twice in the head. This man was also heavily tattooed. The Medical Examiner Brendan Scott was leaning over the body.

Beside the body was a low table on which there were bottles of vodka, an ice bucket, drinking glasses and a small mirror with cocaine residue on it.

"If you check out the door you'll see that it's steel reinforced and has been fitted with heavy duty locks. Not what you would expect on your basic short-time knocking shop. There is evidence of drinking, drug use and a lot of sex but I don't think that's why the men were here," Bob postulated.

"You can check out the video later but a preliminary fast-forward viewing shows several men arriving with suitcases which were handed over to Sandy Spiffle who brought them up here to this room. One of the girls went downstairs to get more booze and ice and during that sojourn she unbolted the front door."

"Two men in dark clothing entered the club, made their way upstairs and confronted Sandy and he fought one of the intruders until the other man came over and shot him. One of the men in the room opened the door to investigate and... well you can see what happened to him yourselves."

"We don't know what happened inside the room here but a lot of rounds were fired by the intruders and the tattooed guys. What we do know is that the two intruders left with the two girls carrying the suitcases, which looked heavy. So the intruders came for whatever was in those suitcases and the two girls were accomplices," Bob ended his summary.

"You think the intruders didn't take the surveillance video because of all the gunshots?" Silvia asked.

"The two intruders had suppressors fitted to their weapons. It looks to me like things didn't go to plan and all the wild shooting and loud gunfire scared them. I don't know how the girls weren't hit in the crossfire," Bob licked his lip.

"So the big question is: what was in the suitcases?" Steve espoused.

"Drugs and/or money is everybody's favourite," Silvia replied.

"No... the big question is why here? Why Balwyn? Why this club?" Penelope chewed a nail.

"Bob, I'd like Alice seconded to the Task Force for this one. Silvia, Steve, start looking around, see if you can find anything to help us identify the girls; employment receipts etcetera. I'm going down to talk to Gary," Penelope tiptoed on the crime scene tiles and made her way downstairs.

Gary was leaning against his Crown Vic smoking a Tareyton and sipping coffee which he'd had one of the uniformed officers get for him from a bodega down the street which had just opened to catch the early morning foot traffic. He handed Penelope a coffee and she took it and waggled her fingers at him and Gary handed over his smokes and lighter.

Penelope leaned her back on the car beside him and took a sip of coffee and then blew out a stream of smoke.

"Very stylish," Gary nodded to the Tyvek overshoes.

"Can't trundle through a crime scene wearing Jimmy Choo," Penelope took another drag of her cigarette.

"Tell me it's a simple fight over pussy and drugs. Sandy Spiffle was a lowlife but he's hardly a master criminal," Gary sighed.

"Sorry it's a lot more complicated than that. And two of those guys... they look like Russian mafia. It looks like a robbery went bad and if those guys are Russian mafia or Odessa mafia or whatever the fuck, I think we might need help," Penelope sucked on her Tareyton, leaving lipstick on the filter.

"I got the Staties to put checkpoints on the all the roads leading out of town. I don't know how long they will keep it up for us," Gary said.

"The last time we got involved with the Russians we took it up the ass. Do you think you can handle this case using our own resources? No FBI, no CPS?" Gary dropped his cigarette butt into the dregs of his coffee.

"I'll take it as far as I can using the Task Force and see if we can solve it or at least put a bow on it and hand it over to the Feds," Penelope finished her coffee and dropped her cigarette into the cup.

She handed her cup to Gary and started walking back to the crime scene.

She stopped and turned to Gary.

"We didn't take it up the ass Gary... I, did," Penelope called back to him and then walked back into Supergirls.

"I don't wanna know about your sex life," Gary called after her, laughing at his own joke.

"Fuck I'll be glad when I'm retired," he opened the door to the Crown Vic which screeched in protest.

Penelope and Alice took a copy of the Supergirls security video back to Police Plaza and Penelope began to write up her crime wall while Alice Leasingham spiced together the video footage from the cameras in chronological order. Steve and Silvia canvassed the neighbourhood as the various establishments began to open for the day. None of the business had been open when the crime took place but an Adult Shop across the street had a surveillance camera over the front door.

The camera only covered the doorway and the curb outside the shop but footage from it showed two masked men alighting from a Ford F-150 Raptor and returning sometime later with two women wearing micro-miniskirts and fuck-me heels hauling five suitcases. The tags weren't visible and there were no other distinguishing marks on the vehicle. The cassette tape had been used and reused about a thousand times and the imagery was fuzzy but Steve and Silvia took it anyway.

Around noon Alice plugged her laptop into the wall-mounted flat screen TV and put a USB into a port on the laptop.

The four of them sat in front of the TV, Alice with the laptop on her lap.

"Let's watch it all the way through. Keep your comments to the end and then we can go through it slow time," Penelope said.

They watched the spliced and edited video and each of them took contemporaneous notes as they watched.

"Silvia; you first," Penelope said.

"Go back to when the girl comes downstairs," Silvia said to Alice who rewound the video.

"Is she really doing what I think she's doing?" they all craned their necks at the screen.

On the screen Olena Svetlana walks over to the bar, leans over and pulls some sheets of paper towel off a roll behind the counter. She pulls her panties and pantyhose down her thighs and wipes her crotch and throws the paper towel in the trash and pulls up her underwear. Then she walks over to the front door, looks around, and unbolts the barrel-bolts at the top and bottom of the door. She goes back to the bar puts a bottle of vodka on a tray and fills an ice bucket with ice and then heads back to the staircase corridor.

"Well there was definitely some fuckin' goin' on in that room. She used half a roll of handtowels to wipe her cooch," Steve pointed out the bleeding obvious.

"Go back further. Let's see the deliveries," Penelope said.

Alice rewound the video and they watched the time stamp change as the five suitcases arrived one at a time over a three hour period. They never saw who delivered the suitcases, just Sandy opening the door and collecting the suitcases and bringing them inside.

"I wish we had audio," Penelope sighed.

"Ok. Let's see the cowboys," Steve said.

They watched Harlan and Pete Decker come through the door and the crime play out.

"Why didn't the girl leave the front door unlatched?" Steve asked when he watched Harlan Decker put the snap gun back in his go-bag.

"Maybe the girl was worried that Sandy might notice if he came downstairs. Maybe the perps wanted us to think they'd picked the lock but the barrel bolts had been accidently left unbolted. I'm not sure that the killings were planned. Why bother with masks if you intend to kill all the witnesses and take the security tape with you?" Silvia espoused.

"I think these guys are amateurs. Either way the job was poorly executed. That one guy nearly got shot by Sandy Spiffle because he forgot to take the safety off his weapon. They had suppressed weapons. Professionals would have taken down Sandy and the other two guys easily," Steve commented.

"Ok. I agree the job was planned reasonably well but poorly executed. Those guys obviously knew where and when the stuff was arriving. They had the right tools and weapons and the girl working inside for them but the execution was piss poor," Penelope agreed.

"But what exactly was the stuff and why was it at Supergirls in that room with those gangsters?" Penelope posed.

"I say its cash. You don't get large quantities of drugs delivered like that to two guys in a brothel. Large drug shipments arrive at stash houses where the drugs can be stepped on, packaged and sent out to the dealers. I don't think those guys were taking delivery of drugs. There was no evidence of drugs in the room other than the recreational cocaine on the table," Silvia proposed.

"I agree. I think its cash. The door was reinforced and fitted with heavy duty locks. If the girls weren't there I bet the only reason that door would be opened would be to take the cash deliveries. Sandy Spiffle was supposed to be on guard outside the door. I bet those girls weren't supposed to be in that room, nor the booze nor the coke," Penelope said.

"The twenty-K found on Spiffle. Maybe he was providing entertainment to the gangsters while they were working?" Steve added.

"You think it was a counting house?" Silvia realised that Penelope was onto something.

"Yes but whose?" Penelope tapped a pen against her teeth.

"Supergirls used to be owned by a subsidiary of Belarus International Enterprises before Alexi Reznik was killed. Who owns it now?" Penelope began writing on her crime wall.

"Ok. Alice find out who owns Supergirls and collate all the forensics from the crime scene as they are processed," Penelope began to issue tasks.

"Steve and Silvia; find out who the girls are, particularly the one concerned with her vaginal hygiene. I'll see what I can find out about the vehicle they used. Let's go team; asses and elbows please," Penelope clapped her hands and then began scribbling on her crime wall.

*****

As the Raptor sped out of the free zone Pete Decker let go another rebel yell, scaring the shit out of Alina Kunis who was sitting beside him on the back seat.

"Can that shit!" his brother growled, concentrating on driving.

Harlan forced himself to slow down to the speed limit as he drove through Balwyn and got onto Route 377 and headed north.

Pete put his gun on the seat and unzipped his jacket and Alina helped him take it off. The front of his jacket was blood-soaked and he dropped it on the floor and pulled up his t-shirt and turned on the dome light.

"It's just a graze bro but I need fixin' up," Pete winced as he touched the furrowed flesh on his hard belly.

Pete was psychopathic but so far had never killed anyone except when he played video games. He had committed armed robbery before but had never pulled the trigger; as much as he had wanted to. The gunfight at Supergirls, putting real bullets into real people, had excited him. He had a boner in his jeans that was downright painful.

Pete ripped a swatch of fabric from his t-shirt.

"Press this against my belly," he instructed Alina and she did as she was told and pressed the bloody rag against the wound.

Pete turned off the dome light and put his hand over the wound and moved Alina's hand down to his crotch and gave Alina a maniacal grin. Alina dutifully squeezed Pete's cock through his jeans.

"There's a Buc-ee's down the road away. We'll stop and get some medical supplies," Harlan half-turned and smiled at his brother.

Harlan knew that Pete's wound was really his own fault but Pete was still his brother.

"You two stay in the car. Olena and I will get supplies," Harlan said as they turned into the service station and pulled into a parking space well away from the other vehicles at the Buc-ee's.

As soon as Olena and Harlan got out of the car Pete unzipped his flies and smiled at Alina.

"You know what to do girl; aint it what you do for living?" Pete put a hand on Alina's neck and pushed.

Alina knew four things: she was in the company of killers, Harlan and Olena were not her friends, these psychos had a lot of money, she wanted some.

Alina took Pete's hand away from her neck and smiled at him.

"No need to push. I know what you need Pete," she leaned in and kissed him and took his cock in her hand.

She stroked him slowly but firmly while her tongue flittered in Pete's mouth, listening to the low growl as his lust inflamed. Pete raked at her tube-top and freed Alina's small firm breasts from her bra. He pinched her nipples and kissed her harder.

None of this was having any effect on Alina but she was used to men pawing at her. She decided to get it over with and wrested her face away from Pete's and dutifully lowered her face into his lap. She could smell the blood from his wound and some of it had found its way to his cock.

She licked it off and swallowed, grimacing at the taste and then she went to work.

Pete was so horny that Alina only sucked on his wang for a minute or two before he shot his load in her mouth. Pete gave his signature rebel yell as he ejaculated two-days' worth of semen into Alina's mouth, her lips and tongue driving him wild.

Pete wasn't a bad looking guy and he was fit and muscular but his stupidity and crassness scared away the women he approached with romance on his mind. Sex for him was almost exclusively with hookers or the type of drunken pig-ugly women he found in seedy bars who would lie down in the back of his flatbed once he'd plied them with enough Lone Star or well liquor.

Alina might be a prostitute but she wasn't hooking right now. She was pretty and she was hot and he loved her accent. Maybe she really did like him?

Pete pondered this as he zipped up and put the bloody cloth back over his stomach wound while Alina rolled down her window and spat his jizz onto the blacktop the put her tits away and pulled down her tube-top.

Olena could just make out the pickup through the windows of the Buc-ee's and she grinned to herself as she watched Alina's head bob up and down in the back seat of the Raptor. She knew a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do to get along in this world but she still preferred the idea of splitting the money three ways instead of four.

Harlan and Olena returned to the pickup with a small bottle of antiseptic, a package of cotton balls, a package of adhesive surgical bandage, a twelve pack of beer and sundry snacks, none of which would actually be considered as sustenance by the FDA.

Pete took a beer and sucked on it while Alina cleaned his wound with the antiseptic and cotton balls and put on a dressing. She did a pretty good job and Pete only winced a little when she cleaned the wound. Alina was turning out to be useful and Pete was getting hard again wondering what she had hidden under that little pleated skirt.

Harlan got back on the 377 and Olena put her head on his shoulder and held his beer so could take sips when there was no passing traffic. The last thing they wanted was traffic stop.

*****

Steve and Silvia contacted Robert Sangster, the assistant manager of Supergirls and told him to come down to the club to be interviewed. Robert was a rat-faced little man with a permanent scowl who chain-smoked roll-your-own cigarettes. The girls at Supergirls despised him because he was a pervert who not only insisted on freebies, but they suspected him of stealing undergarments from their dressing room.

If a search warrant had been executed on his residence, an extensive collection of panties, bras and nylons would be found in a box next to his desktop computer, most of them crusty with his dried semen.

Robert knew very little about the managerial side of Supergirls, his main roles were keeping track of stock, ordering booze, overseeing the small greasy kitchen and supervising the cleaning staff. Sandy Spiffle did most of the work that required brains and tried his best to keep Sangster away from the girls and under no circumstances allowed him to deal with the Russian mobsters who actually owned the place.

It took Robert the best part of an hour to find employment records for the strippers and pole dancers and he laid them out on the bar. They found the employment records for Olena Svetlana, Alina Kunis but under false names. The grainy photographs stapled to the records matched the faces of the girls in the surveillance video.

Steve and Silvia soon realised that the documents weren't worth shit because most of the girls were illegals and the details in the documents were fake. Robert handed over a pile of paperwork from Steve's desk but he claimed he didn't know who actually owned the club.

They stood just outside the club, Sangster with a foul-smelling rollup cigarette dangling from his lips, when the body bags were carried out. Sangster had been belligerent and deliberately evasive during questioning and he kept glaring openly at Silvia's breasts and had made a couple of racial slurs.

"How long 'til I can reopen the club?" Sangster glanced at the body bags on the trolleys and spat a loogey into the gutter.

He had visions of himself taking on the manager role, fucking the girls whenever he wanted and skimming the profits.

Steve looked around and saw that the mortuary guys were busy loading the corpses into their van and the uniform cops were mostly studying their phones; bored with keeping the looky-loos away from the crime scene.

He grabbed Sangster by the ear and lifted him by it. Sangster spat out his cigarette and began to whine and Steve pushed against brick wall and punched hard and fast in the gut. Sangster would have fallen to the ground if Steve hadn't held him up.

"I think I might just take you down town and put you in the can while we sort out these documents. I figure it will take the best part of two days, don't you Silvia?" Steve grinned at Silvia and then glared at Robert Sangster.

"I don't know nuthin'. Why don't you go down to the pussy palace and ask the girls there," Sangster whined.

"What and where is this pussy palace?" Silvia asked, closing in on Sangster from the other side.

Sangster flinched expecting another blow but when nothing happened he gave up what he knew.

"The Russians bring the girls in from overseas and at first they have to live in a big house all together with some witch-bitch running the place. She keeps their passports and makes sure they behave. They're well cared for and after they've been in country a while and know the ropes they're allowed to move out but they have to keep working for the Russians. Some of them move around and some of them stay," Sangster opened up.

"This one hangs around with some wanna-be biker and the other one lives in the pussy palace I guess, she aint been here long," Sangster tapped the photographs of Olena Svetlana and Alina Kunis with a filthy fingernail.

"Olena and Alina something. Who the fuck knows their last names and who the fuck cares," he spat another loogey, feeling a little confident now.

"Thank you for your cooperation. We'll be in touch," Steve gave Sangster a farewell punch in the belly and let him slide down the wall.

"Douchebag," he said as he went back inside the club to find the address of the pussy palace.

Author's Note: As an internationally tolerated transvestite whore and purveyor of pornographic literature I would appreciate your feedback and comments on my work if you have the time.