The Tilsons Got Killed

Sometimes it helps.

"Bill, may I call you Bill?"

He nodded yes.

"It seems as if Mr. Tilson and his family." I stopped and looked at Courtney.

"Sorry. You want to leave for this?"

She did, and Ryker put his sizable arm around her and led her off.

"It seems as if Mr. Tilson and his family were killed over this contract. This might seem like a simplistic question to you, but do you have any idea why?"

"Fucking yes, I have!" he shouted.

"It's that god damned Armenian mob moving in. First, they went for materials, and now contracts. They couldn't stand that Brad's business and contacts were impervious to their ways. So they killed him. The motherfuckers. I'm sure of it."

"I understand that Bill, and trust me, it is our primary lead, but you will allow that for the good of Courtney and the business, I have to look at all leads no matter how weak they might be."

I looked at him man to man.

"Sure, no stone unturned."

"Exactly, remember I'm not the cops. I'm the good guys. I'm on your team."

That relaxed him.

"The Armenians were moving in, I understand."

"Yes, aggressive motherfuckers. No regards to the law or to the rules."

"But the Tilson's were killed by weapons of war. Did you serve Bill?"

"Hell yeah. US-fucking-Marines. Southeast Asia and then Iraq. Semper Fi, asshole."

"You?"

"No, Stanford and then pro-ball, but Ryker over there protecting our Courtney is Army Ranger and special missions. I think you're both cut from the same cloth.

"A fellow in arms."

"Yeah. So, Bill, help me put this together. The government puts this up for bid to the usual players. Let's get real, this one is not a world changing contract. It's nice, but sort of run-of-the mill at the elite level you boys play at. Right?"

"Yeah. Normal stuff for us. The stadium job was a big deal. A really big deal. This freeway job, no. Just business."

"Okay, the way I figure it, killing Mr. Tilson for the stadium contract does not get the killers anything. There will be a new contract rewarded and, in all likelihood, it will not be them. So why?"

He looked at me. I continued, "I think it is this job and the freeway contracts. I think the stadium was a diversion. I think it is all about this and the contracts for the materials they are selling. And I think Ric Higgs is dirty."

I looked him square in the eye. "What do you think about that?"

"I never liked the wormy asshole."

"Listen," he continued, "Post COVID, the supply chain has been a mess. China is inconsistent and along with all major construction, we have gone to searching on the open auction market. It's the Wild West, man. And they have all gone remote. No one is in the office or even around here anymore. I no longer know who I am dealing with. No shit. Like I said, it's the Wild, Wild West for crying out loud! Hell! Wyatt-Fucking-Earp is going to turn up any day now!"

"Shelley Levine thinks it all about the I-beams and something hinky is going on there."

I could see the aggravation on his face as he grimaced yes.

"So, who is your supply chain manager, now?"

"Hell, I've never met her. Some Asian broad out of Monterey. Named Fei Hong. Go fucking figure. Higgs set the whole thing up. She's connected to the big dudes over there. I assume some kind of tong, family, fuck, I don't know. Whatever the fuck they call them over there."

"Triad?"

"Sure whatever. What I know is we have been behind on materials and steel I-beams in particular have been in short supply and she had a supplier who could get us what we needed. Brad wanted to can her and I disagreed. Hell, we were getting the damn I-beams, but Brad was going to do it. He found someone else he liked and trusted better. Fine for me. As long as I have the materials to do the job. You know, we are on a late penalty if we don't hit our deadline. Doesn't seem fair with the pandemic, but the government is the government. Give me the materials, I'll build the road. I don't care if Pee Wee Herman is supplying the materials. You know what I mean?"

"Did Higgs know she was going to be fired?"

"Yes, the scumbucket did."

"Let me ask you this," I said. "Can you build a stadium without I-beams?"

"No, you cannot," and Bill gave me the definitive nod.

"Guess I'm going, to be like Eric Burdon and The Animals. I'm going to Monterey."

I looked at him square, "You ever hear of the NoHo-16?"

"No, should I?"

"Never heard of them in the business, or contract bidding or materials?"

"No. Who are they?"

"Not important. Just a lead. Okay, thanks. I'll stay in touch."

"Hey, before you split, can I get an autograph to prove to my wife and kids I met you?"

"Sure."

It never fucking stopped.

Chapter 10

The Brown Bomber and I were tooling north on the 101 to Monterey. I left Ryker in L.A. with the red team to protect Courtney and set off to pay a surprise visit to Ms. Fei Hong.

Before I left, I Googled Ms. Hong. Seemingly a legitimate businesswoman. An online building materials broker. It turns out there were many. Like everybody, she had a website as a calling card listing her clients. It looked as if the largest one she had was Tilson Construction.

I shoved my playlist CD into the dash and Kenny Loggins came on. People nowadays call his music Yacht Rock, but really it is soft, progressive jazz. Kenny and I are kindred souls. and motored up the 101 towards Monterey on the Central Coast together.

Going through the Salinas Valley and turning left past the Laguna Seca Race Track, I hit Monterey. The home of the famous Cannery Row, its pier, Fisherman's' Wharf with the now forgotten sardine trade, and the Monterey Bay Aquarium the finest in California.

On the spectacular Monterey Bay, home of so much marine life the world-class aquarium had to put it on display. The Spanish founded the town in the 1800s and it has always been the home for artists, writers, and like-minded people. John Steinbeck, of course, made it famous, and then Hollywood helped. "East of Eden," the movie version of the Steinbeck novel was James Dean's breakout role. Hundreds of films and TV shows have been set in Monterey including Hitchcock's "Vertigo," "Basic Instinct" and Clint Eastwood's "Play Misty for Me."

Sadly, Silicon Valley money moved downhill from Los Gatos and Santa Cruz destroying the coziness of the town over the last decade but then again, Silicon Valley money has moved like locusts destroying the entire Bay Area starting with San Francisco and moving beyond.

By the time I got there, the playlist had shifted to Sinatra, Sammy Davis, Jr. and a bit of Ella Fitzgerald thrown in. You can never go wrong with Old Blue Eyes, and Sammy.

I check into the Spindrift Inn, a charming and romantic boutique hotel on Cannery Row. My room had a spectacular view of Monterey Bay. I had brought with me my two regular pieces, a .357Magnum in case I needed the stopping power and a sawed-off shotgun that I left in the lockbox in the truck of the Brown Bomber.

I locked the Magnum into the room's safe, just in case.

According to her website, Fei Hong's office was located off of Cannery Row, but the voicemail directed me to her home south of the city in the posh Pacific Grove neighborhood on the southern tip of the bay. I drove over there after I had checked in.

The Beverly Hills of Monterey, Pacific Grove was featured in the mini-series "Big Little Lies," and like the women in that show, Fei Hong lived on the coast overlooking the ocean and the bay.

The house was walled and gated, I drove up and rang the voice box.

"Yes," a slightly accented voice said.

"Anthony Brown for Ms. Hong."

"Regarding?"

"The Tilson murders."

"Yes, I was awaiting upon you. Please come in, Mr. Brown." And the gate opened.

I pushed the Ring doorbell and was buzzed in. The house was spectacular with views of the ocean that would make a sailor cum.

"I'm in here Mr. Brown."

I followed the voice to a home office with even a better view of the bay. Fei Hong was sitting there, behind two screens, Zoom spotlights set in front of her, thick black hair straight down to her shoulders with a pink streak in the front swept to the right, pretty in a seriously smart way, what looked like a silk Stella McCartney top, with dazzling diamond earrings, and a sharp Chinese language tone to whoever she was speaking too. I'm guessing Mandarin, though I'm no expert.

"Please sit!" She invited in English.

I did, and waited.

Finally, the call was over. "Mr. Brown, I was expecting you. How good of you to come."

And she stood up from the desk, completely naked from the waist down. Her pussy and ass on full display. Thick tuffs of black hair sprouted from the top of her crotch, but as she walked, the diamond mine looked bare.

Her brain may have been built for business, but her body was most definitely built for sin.

She held out her hand, "It's my honor to meet you."

I was difficult for me to look up at her face, but I met the challenge and won.

"Nice to meet you too. You are naked."

"Yes, I always work this way. Especially on Zoom calls. We say, 'Tā tígōngle zìyóu.'

It frees me. See anything you like? I am a broker, you know."

"Well, yes ma'am. What's not to like?"

"Calm your personal self, Mr. Brown, I'm joking," and she walked back to her desk.

Her truly fine, tight ass from hours and hours on the Stairmaster showing off as she went back to her station. Before sitting back at her desk, she bent over to pick something up tantalizing me with her winking rosebud. Flowing down her back across to her right cheek and down the outside of her right thigh was a tattoo of a dragon wrapping around a blossoming plum tree.

"I have knowledge why you are here, and I desire to be of assistance however I can with this horrible tragedy of my mìyǒu and client Mr. Bradford Tilson, but you must excuse me. I am on a 24-hour world clock attempting to secure materials for my clients. May I seek your permission to visit you at your hotel later tonight?"

I said yes and wrote down the info.

"Shall I order dinner for us since you will be coming from work?"

"Yes, that would be quite nice."

"See you at seven."

She gave me an enigmatic smile. "I like American beefsteak,"

Chapter 11

I had showered and dressed in my finest Ted Baker British silk shirt, azure blue with a dashing pair of sand-colored khakis. The dinner was ordered. I checked the Glock to make sure the bullets were where they belonged. I knew they would be, but it couldn't hurt to look, and I saw Bogie do it once in a movie. I put the Glock 17 under my pillow, with the ankle Glock behind a couch cushion. Hey, you never know.

I answered my hotel room door to the sight of a beautifully exotic Chinese woman wearing a floral print Vera Wong

"Ms. Hong so nice of you to join me. Will you please come in."

She did, bowed, and said, "Thank you for inviting me to dinner, Mr. Brown."

"Please call me Anthony."

"If that's the case, my American friends call me Fern."

"Fern?"

"It's easier than my full name."

"Yes. Yes, of course. Please come in," and she glided her way into my suite effortlessly carrying a large Alexander McQueen tote.

I said, "Would you like a drink?"

I had a cart set up.

"Yes, please. Do you have a chilled rose?"

I did and poured myself a Maker's on the rocks.

I gestured to the couch and chair. She looked around the suite.

"An impressive view."

"Thank you, it pales to your home, though."

"The gods have blessed me," she bowed slightly. "How may I be of service to such an esteem gentleman as yourself, Mr. Brown?"

Esteemed? I've never been called that before. Might have to put on my new business card. "Esteemed Detective." I liked the ring of it.

"Anthony, please. Well, as you know I'm investigating the tragic murders of Mr. Tilson and his family. Bill Richmond thought you might be of help."

"Yes, Mr. Tilson, let's take a moment." She bowed and I did.

"Now we need to take a moment for the rest of the family so they can be settled together by the gods as a family and not separated in the afterlife. It is important," and she bowed her head.

I joined her and we stayed like that for some time.

She finally lifted her head. "Bill. I perceive him as a good man."

"Do you work closely with him? I was led to believe that Richard Higgs hired your services."

"Yes, Mr. Higgs did, but I work most closely with Mr. Richmond."

We chatted a bit more about her work until I said, "We don't want our dinners to get completely cold."

We moved over to the table, clothed, fully set, with a nice Caesar's salad waiting for us and a well-marbled ribeye with all the fixings.

"You said you liked steak. I hope this is okay," I said.

She looked me up and down spending extra time on my shoulders and chest.

"Mr. Brown, that is not quite what I said." Another enigmatic smile.

We dug in anyway.

I looked up at her and said, "I understand that steel is especially difficult to find nowadays especially I-beams."

"Yes, unfortunately, that is now how I spend most of my days," Fern replied.

"And why is that, do you think?"

"There is no production in the mills overseas, and ports are slow. I've been lucky enough to find a steady supply out of Vietnam and Cambodia."

"Really?! I didn't know they had a steel industry."

"Mr. Brown, you'd be surprised what most Americans don't know about those two countries," and that smile again.

We continued talking about her business. The steak was surprisingly good, the company was better.

"An after-dinner drink for you ma'am?

"Any chance, you would have a B&B?"

The minibar did. I had a Remy Martin.

We sat on the couch still discussing business.

"Mr. Brown."

"Anthony."

"Mr. Brown. I am a shy Chinese girl so please excuse me for saying this, but I like American men that are Caucasian and big and strong like you. Did you really think I was talking about ribeye? I Googled you and you meet all of my criteria for a lover. Do you think I was naked for you by chance?"

And she slid towards me and before I knew it we were making out with my hands on her tits and hers all over my crotch.

She stood up and walked over to the bed and patted it.

"Please come over, undress, and lay face down. I will be with you presently." She reached into the massive tote and pulled out a number of bottles and scented candles that she then set about lighting. She stepped out of the room to the bath after lighting the final one.

I figured "what the fuck," stripped, grabbed the throw from the bed, fluffed myself to a semi-hardon, laid down beneath it, and waited.

A few moments later, Fern was by my side. "Are you all set?" she asked, and I looked up to see a breathtaking topless beauty having already oiled her breasts that were glistening in the candlelight as she glided to the bed. The Vera Wong was gone and now below her waist was a floral print thong of pink roses.

The back tattoo had continued over her shoulder and around her left tit with plum blossoms covering her breast and a dragon's head ending between the two.

She was carrying a rectangular pivoting mirror in her hand with a square wire base as a stand. She put it down in front of my head. "There so you can watch if you want."

Fern gently leaned over pulling the throw off the bed. She gracefully picked up a bottle and squeezed some oil onto my back and began to rub it all over from my shoulders down to the top of my ass and gave it a playful slap.

"Mr. Brown, Anthony, as an esteemed member of the Tilson team, I am going to give you a gift of appreciation and friendship, Mr. Higgs asked me to give you a full body, health massage. It will be good for your material being and your spiritual aura. You understand? With permission, I shall begin."

"Permission granted!"

She gracefully climbed onto the table, straddled me between her two thighs, and started to gently massage my shoulders and back. Nothing therapeutic, a warm up.

Then her hand moved up, gripped my neck, and began to rhythmically squeeze it, working away the stress and knots of the trip.

She then leaned over, kissed the back of my head, laid down upon me fully with her body covering me, her arms reached up to enveloped mine, her soft breasts making gentle circles on my back, her pelvis slowly grinding into my ass and her legs somehow vibrating softly and quickly against the backs of my legs.

"This is to make your aura rise from your being before the massage begins."

"That's nice," I thought, but my aura wasn't the only thing that she was making rise.

She sat back up, sitting on my ass now, and began to massage me in earnest reaching forward to my head, her nipples grazing my back, as she tenderly kneaded my scalp from the front to the back.

Her magic fingers continued upon my neck once again with the knots and an occasional cervical adjustment. She moved her strong hands to my shoulders and upper back massaging me, squeezing and caressing me, pressing deeply into my muscles. Shit, she was finding ones I didn't know I had.

Changing position, she started to work on my back kneading me now from a different angle like an artisan baker kneading into her dough transporting me into a state of blissful relaxation.

She laid full on me again, but this time began the indescribable soft vibration over my entire body and not just my leg.

"Yes, I sense your aura effecting to separate and hover above you."

She put a hand down barely tickling the bottom of my shaved sack and pushing herself upwards traced her nails along the seam between my nuts to sit back on my now naked ass.

Which wasn't the only thing that was naked. Somewhere in translation Fern had lost her bikini bottom and was now totally nude rubbing her pussy in a small circle over my asshole, leaving a light trail of her juices while massaging by firm cheeks hitting my balls when the circle hit 6 o'clock.

The few tufts of pubic hair left above her clit on the lower strokes were tickling my rosebud deliciously causing me to have to make my own adjustment for my now rock-hard cock between me and the bed. She reached around to confirm, teasing the head with those practiced nails.

"Do not worry for this is a natural and expected biological reaction. It is an excellent sign from above of your good intentions."

More oil was poured and her knowing hand began a supernatural deep tissue massage of my lower back and top of my ass occasionally dragging a finger down the crack to my rosebud and leaving a trail of oil pooling within its portal.

She kept massaging my lower back, kneading my ass, and grabbing both cheeks with her strong hands gripping from the outside to inside the crack along the tender outer brown ring of my backdoor, but now she was including the top half of my thighs within her manipulations.

Here rhythmic chirapsia continued along my thighs now capturing my calves, well-rounded and muscular from years of running and weight training.

"Anthony, I feel your core being starting to become one with your body," and in a blink of an eye, her finger was deep inside my asshole way past the 2^nd sphincter and on my prostate hitting the bullseye with a learned hand, rolling around the trigger points of my p-spot, milking it.

Maybe it was my aura? Maybe my core and my body were somehow becoming one. Whatever it was the precum started pouring out of me in a slow steady stream. A lot of it.

I knew I wasn't having a prostate orgasm. At least I thought I wasn't having a prostate orgasm -- not that I had ever had one before -- because it didn't feel like any orgasm I'd had, but the milk kept pouring out.

And without removing her finger from deep inside my bowels, she used it as a rudder to roll me over with her other hand on my shoulder to effortlessly complement the task.