The Saint Valentine's Day Murders

"No, I am not a cheater, and I am not a slut either, I only have sex with classy guys. I am not a whore or a prostitute because I have never taken a dime for sex with anyone. I am just a sexually liberated female that enjoys sex with a wide variety of partners, especially when they are as important as the future Chief of Las Vegas Metro."

She rose, sharing another deep kiss for her host, and he showed her to the door, maintaining a respectable distance as he ushered her past a clearly perturbed next appointment holder.

When she got to her car in the parking garage, she completely stripped in the front seat. She put her skirt, bra, and panties in the dash receptacle originally designed to hold only gloves. They do make them bigger these days. She put her blouse back on along with an even shorter skirt she had stowed in the back seat. Then she drove out Sahara to the Green Door parking, by prearrangement, to meet her Devan for lunch.

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He was bursting with questions about her meeting with the boss. She shushed him until they were seated and had ordered hamburger specials. Making sure no one was in hearing range, "Who all was in your meeting?" he wanted to know first thing.

"Just Len and I, honey. It's all hush hush you know."

"LEN! He's 'Len' now?! What kind of a pet name is that?"

"Len, his first name is Leonard I'm sure you know. And I promised to call him that only in private dear, only when we are alone together, including you, of course."

Devan rambles on, more than a little hot under the collar, "Does that mean he expects a lot more private meetings with my wife?"

She snickers a bit, "We didn't talk about frequency, but this morning's meeting was quite productive for him and I'm sure there will be more. Maybe a lot."

"Exactly how was it productive Alyssa?"

"Obviously, he got filled in on any pertinent details of our investigations in the club, and my supposed sighting. And, as I am sure you anticipated, he made it a point to get very friendly. I did not try to derail that, husband. It can't hurt us that he likes me, even if the liking is improperly founded. You know damn well he is never going to lay as much as a finger on me unless I were to invite him to."

" Yeah, yeah. I know he wouldn't make a complete ass of himself. And, obviously, I don't feel possessive of your physical attentions considering our track record and all." Wry smirk. "But it does irk me more than a little that he feels free to accost you, the wife of one of his officers, with sexual innuendoes, entirely at his will. It's shows no respect and it's simply not right."

"Honey, I don't want you going negative on your section chief. He's a good man and you are a star in his eyes. Stay on his side, he can help you be the next Sergeant you know."

He mumbled some degree of acquiescence.

"As to his 'accosting' it was certainly obvious; he was more or less constantly pursing me sexually. But give him a break Dev. I admit I led him on. Blame me. I felt it was good for the Valentine case, good for your career, and definitely very good for my self-esteem.

Devan has to be nosey, "Specifically how did he accost you and exactly how did you lead him on?"

"Hmmm, well let me practice my perfect recall. In the span of an hour and a half, he started out calling me Mrs. Knight, then moved quickly to 'ravishing', then 'My Dear', 'Angel, and even said I was a 'Magical level 10. But he's not the first Homicide officer to call me any of those things.

Devan laughed and shook his head at the same time. "My Lord, honey, you certainly owned him after a 90-minute meeting."

"Well, I gave as good as I took, hubby. I called him several names too, starting with 'Sir', moving right along to 'Len', which threw him for a loop, but I insisted on it. Let's see, then I think it was 'Sweetheart' and then 'Darling'. It won't bother you if your wife calls the big boss 'Darling' from now on will it?

"Don't worry, I was not laying down for him, I kind of showed him who his new boss was going to be. I also called him, to his face, an 'overweight 50ish man' my 'portly intended lover' and 'big boy'. Oh, and as he was working up a head of steam, he called me 'lover'. I called him out on that, pointing out that we have not been lovers yet, so he should please not take the liberty of calling me that prematurely. Dev, that should give you a pretty good picture of how our new relationship has developed, so far."

"So' in 90 minutes you moved your interrelationship along from 'Sir' to the status of 'intended lover'? Oh, fuck, Alyssa, the poor bastard doesn't stand a chance of being in control around you, LMAO!"

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Monday, as per usual, was a lightly attended day at the club. They actually returned home by dinnertime, having spotted nothing noteworthy. Dev thew on some new pork chops while Angel telephoned her Darling. "So, nothing to report, eh?" He said. "I guess we can't meet to go over that in person" on a disappointed note.

"Sweetheart, I am at your command. We can meet anytime, anyplace at your discretion. Or even if you are not being so discrete." A big grin that he could almost hear over the phone.

"Better save it, my dear. But tomorrow after your shift, for sure." He stated.

She responded, "At maybe 1:00 am? At the station?"

"No, at my home, you know the address. My wife will be out of town at her sister's, so you best bring your husband along to chaperone, Alyssa."

She hung up and told Devan, "He said no meeting tonight, but tomorrow after our night shift. At his house, his wife is out of town. He said not to drag you along." Her grin gave her away. It should have given her away, but he went lunkheaded for the moment. "That does make me more than a little apprehensive."

"Oh hubby, of course he didn't say for you not to come. He has more class than that. And I hope you have more class than to think he, OR I, actually want you to come along. You know he only said that to maintain the appearance of a professional relationship, and you also know that he desperately wishes for his relationship with your Level 10 wifey to become majorly unprofessional."

He pursed his lips in thought. "So, is it going to become that?"

She says "No way I can answer that more than a day ahead of time. Our 'open' marriage means we both remain 'open' to doing whatever we feel like sexually at a given moment, I can't commit to a specific yes or no ahead of time. Do you disagree?"

"No of course not Alyssa. We have sorted that out many times. I do trust you completely and if you end up fucking Simpson's brains out it will be for one of two very good reasons. Either it is that your instincts tell you that it would be good for the family if Mrs. Knight becomes the Lieutenant's lover, or else it is that my wife gets a pussy fire that can best be quenched from the head man's hose." Dev felt a bit proud of himself for his clever prose. 'Hose' indeed; he's not the fire chief.

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Tuesday, just after lunch time, Greta Johnston was shot dead. Sorry for no preamble to that; it came as a shock to all and to the frustration of the two of us who had tried so hard to avert that very thing and who had to be in the room when it happened.

The Knights were walking out of the Green Room cafe when they heard a commotion followed by two gunshots which struck the head and chest of a lady just ahead of them in the lobby. As she went down they recognized the woman they had gotten to know so well over recent days. One witness silenced!

But the creepy asshole in the lime green sweatshirt couldn't get out of the place. Devan stood in the path of his exit through the front door and the man raised his pistol over his head as he raced toward the back reaches of the club. The other witness, Alyssa, was hard on his heels. She wasn't trying to overtake him, she didn't feel sufficiently well-armed to really want a face to face. Well, okay, maybe she was just a bit scared, but she wanted to keep him in sight.

He ducked into the Train Town Room, which was a fatal error on his part; she knew that room like the back of her hand. She followed him in cautiously and saw him duck behind a mattress in the third row and she paused for Devan to catch up. He was there in seconds; she held up 3 fingers and pointed to that row, then 5 fingers to indicate how many mattresses in he was hiding behind.

They tip-toed to each end of the row and crawled on hands and knees toward the shooter. This was a competition she was going to let her professional hero win. He did, as he snapped off two shots before the bad guy could raise his gun, nearly separating his arm from his shoulder. Devan lost his funky goatee in the process. She then raced ahead and jumped on top of his terrible wound. He screamed fiercely as Devan closed the gap from his side and wrestled the gun out of the collapsing man's hand. He quickly passed out.

All over but the shouting as they say, and that ensued as soon as a crowd started to form around the doorway. Detective Knight hugged his Alyssa tightly as she came down from her energy spike more quickly than he did.

Two, armed Green Door security men pushed the guests away from the door and cuffed the killer. In so doing, they pulled his shoulder even farther askew and he squirted blood profusely. As it happened, an ambulance was already on the site to rescue Mrs. Johnston, who was beyond rescue at that point. They crowded both into one ambulance, but both were pronounced dead when they arrived at Kindred Hospital. He had bled out through his nearly severed shoulder.

The Knights were uninjured but were driven to the same hospital for a check-up and given some ugly tasting off-white liquid that was deemed to be more efficacious than the bourbon he wished they had at hand. Lieutenant Simpson barged his authoritative way in, only steps ahead of the Review-Journal cameraman and a woman with a pen that looked like a stereotypical reporter.

After being reassured of their full health, Simpson ushered the Knights into a side room shoving everyone else away. He gave a sideways handshake to Devan while his other arm was wrapped around his Angel. She planted a quick kiss on his cheek, as all three smiled and breathed in relief. The RJ photographer couldn't see that bit of side action.

"Come on, both of you. We are going to my home for a private debriefing, you two are heroes!"

"No sir, no insubordination intended, but we are not going to your residence. I know that you two had planned to 'debrief' there tonight, but the shit has already hit the fan and you would not like the optic of a Review-Journal front page photo of you tenderly escorting the lovely Mrs. Knight into your parlor. Chances are Mrs. Simpson might wonder about that too."

The Lieutenant started to force the issue but backed off when he saw the resolve in his Detective's face. He resignedly realized that his fantasy meet-up was not going to happen in this horrible evening. He looked at her, and she whispered, "He's right sweetie, we will meet another time, very soon." with a smile that would give a statue a boner.

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They were driven home and refused an all-night guard at their door, which the Lieutenant had asked them to post. They took a pass on dinner, in favor of several rounds of their preferred hard drinks, while hugging each other on the couch. About 10:00 pm Alyssa's cell buzzed and identified the call as coming from the Review-Journal. She showed it to Devan with a questioning eyebrow. He thought about it for several seconds, then nodded his assent. Relentless newsies!

Dev pointed a finger at her face, indicating she should take the lead. He could only hear a muffled female voice from the other end, but her side of the conversation he, of course, heard quite clearly. "Knight residence." "This is she". "Yes, we were, I'm sure you know that."

"Well, I presume you know my husband's position and that he was in charge of the St. Valentine's Day Murder investigation." Devon winced at that with a fist to his forehead. Obviously, Sergeant Roger Lewis might have a fit about that attribution. Even his wife's new boyfriend might be pissed off.

Simpson had long encouraged his on-scene commanders to show openness to reporter's questions, believing that the good-will resulted in good press relations. So Devan wasn't overly worried about Alyssa's open responses. Of course, they had to be very cautious about speculating, or naming suspects. Just the facts, mam. He also realized that Homicide must have provided the RJ with Alyssa's phone number as no one else would have known of her involvement.

The questions to her continued. "I'm sure you were told that I was an undercover investigator, working alongside my husband, Detective Knight, under the direct supervision of Lieutenant Leonard Simpson, Simpson with a 'p'." "No, I am not a paid employee, but it was felt that my husband had to have a female companion for part of his cover. Devan refused to do that with a female officer because some observable intimacies would be called for."

"Well, they decided I could fit the bill given a few day's training since I had recently served in the Women's Air Corps Reserve." Devan winced again, not sure if such a Reserve even existed, but sure she never had any semblance of military training. Let's hope the RJ doesn't have time for any fact checking before making the morning edition.

"We saw the man shoot and kill the poor woman in cold blood. We chased after him through the building and eventually my husband had to shoot him in the arm before he shot us. I guess he bled to death." "I'd rather not answer that." "We are just huddling here on our couch and trying to calm down." "Heh heh, you're right about that. But I always feel safe when I am with Devan, he is my 'monly mon' and the family superhero."

After being asked a question she pointed a finger at Dev and pointed questioningly at her phone. He shook his head firmly and she said, he was not available to talk right now, that he probably would be available at Metro tomorrow.

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When they awoke, shortly after 6:30 am, the RJ was laying in their driveway and was whisked inside almost immediately. She snuggled up on his lap to read it with her lover, eager as anyone would be who was unaccustomed to being featured in the newspaper.

"ST. VALENTINES DAY KILLER KILLED!' Homicide's 'Golden Knights' Bring Him Down."

They both broke out in prideful laughter. "Oh My God, they outdid themselves with that one" Devan burst out. She instantly knew that page was going to grace the wall over their kitchen table until it yellowed with age.

The next afternoon a 2:00 pm briefing was organized at Metro. The now "Golden Knights" were there, of course, but surprise appearances by the Chief of Police and Mayor Goodman were made. Surprising only because it was an internal meeting, not for the cameras. Both of them were all smiles, something that tends to happen when civil leaders bask in the glory of solving a headline case and saving the entire city from disaster. Dev noted the presence of the two RJ reporters near the back of the 'in-house' meeting. They were unobtrusively photographing the proceedings. He also noted that the cameras were as often pointed at Mrs. Knight as at any of the notables.

Lieutenant Simpson stood between the Knights and took each of them, arm in each of his arms, walking them a few steps over to Madam Mayor and Chief Nielson. He pontificated, "No one it this room needs any introduction to our intrepid Detective, Devan Knight, hero of the hour once again". Scattering of genuine applause.

"But probably fewer of you will recognize the beautiful woman at his side. Let me introduce to you the heroine of the hour, his lovely wife, Alyssa Knight who was right at his side when the shooting began and ended. I've been told she was way less scared shitless than he was!" Much laughter.

Devan thought to himself that if he had X-ray vision, he would have seen a few boners in the uniform trousers around the room. You really wouldn't need Superman's eyesight to spot one in the pair with the Lieutenant's stripes down the legs. He could feel his own jockey discomfort as he stared at her beautiful smile while she faced her admiring audience. God, he adored her and everything about her. Almost everything.

Simpson elaborated a bit about the reason for Alyssa's inclusion on the team. He explained that after he chose Devan Knight to be the inside man in their investigation at the Green Room, he had expected to assign one of his female Detectives to accompany him as part of his cover, he smiled and nodded in the direction of the two women in the second row. But that Devan had resisted that on the grounds that they would have to play all kissy-facey around the club and he was a happily married man.

"I'm sure he wasn't at all against a little tongue sharing with his pretty fellow officers, but they both indicated to me that the assignment would gross them out." Loud laughter at that, especially from a couple of female voices. He was on a roll.

"Then, Mrs. Knight saved the day by informing me of her recent military experience and her current physical fitness, as well as her strong personal desire to serve in a volunteer capacity for such a worthy cause. I got all choked up with emotion and just couldn't say no to the lady."

Alyssa stepped in on her own, "And if my husband was going to catch the Saint Valentine's killer he was going to do it with HIS Valentine!" The best laugh yet. Probably in some part for its cleverness but mostly for her charismatic delivery. Simpson gave her arm a gentle tug in his direction and a friendly hug.

Devan wondered to himself, whether she had lied to the Lieutenant, or had the two of them cooked this bullshit up together. He also, very briefly pondered the question of just how he had verified her physical fitness. He smiled to himself, he totally trusted that nothing untoward was involved. So far at least.

The ceremonial things were concluded, and Mayor Goodman left to her other busy duties. Chief Nielson elected to remain for the detailed in-house briefing. Simpson himself oversaw that, since he had made it his personal project from the get-go. He called on a couple of other uniforms to expound on the details.

Stepping to a microphone, an aide started, reading from a prepared script.

"The St. Valentine's Day Murder perpetrator was one Blaine Peters the husband of Melissa Peters, the first women he shot on Valentine's Day. The second shooting victim had been Dwayne Johnston, the man who had been sexually engaged with Melissa Peters at that time. It is understood that Peters had not previously know that his wife was a swinger or that she frequented Green Door. When Peters found out, he went berserk and shot his wife and Mr. Johnston, the man unlucky enough to have enjoying her company on the night he went on the rampage. The other man and woman were just collateral damage, having been in the wrong room at the wrong time. Their details are in the briefing notes on your chairs.

"The shooter, while escaping the scene on February 14^th, threatened two witnesses to his crime but apparently did not shoot at them. One of those witnesses has never been identified. The other was Mrs. Greta Johnston, wife of the aforesaid Dwayne Johnston. She got in touch with Homicide regarding what she had witnessed and was interviewed by Detective Knight here. (Slight collapsing of the time frame).