True Corruption Pt. 03

Sam stood looking at his door for what seemed like a very long time. He was reeling, more than a little bit, and he actually put his arm out and propped himself up against the door, hanging his head and breathing steadily. When he had a better hold of himself, he turned to find Miranda rifling through the drawers of his kitchen.

"What in the world made you think that was a good idea?" Sam said, standing in the kitchen doorway. He kept his distance on purpose; if there ever was a time he was worried about losing his cool, it was now.

"She's right, you know," Miranda said, continuing her search without looking up. "Well partly right, anyway: I don't think I'd have ended up resorting to selling my body if the newspaper didn't work out. Daddy's money might not buy me class, but it would at least keep me from walking the streets. However she's definitely right about a couple things: I am kind of a selfish bitch, and these days all I'm writing is gossipy bullshit. Ahh, here we go."

Miranda pulled a handful of takeout menus from a drawer and fanned them out on the counter.

"Pizza, pizza, Chinese ... oops, closed, so never mind with that ... sushi, and Indian. I'm not really feeling Indian, so what do you think, Sam, pizza or sushi? Are any of these any good?"

Sam just stood there, mouth agape, looking at her.

"Yeah, I'm kind of thinking it's a comfort food kind of night too, so let's go with pizza," she went on, picking up a menu in each and holding them up to him. "Which one of these is the least greasy? I hate it when it's so oily that it just pools on top and you have to dab it with a napkin."

Eventually Sam found his voice. "Wow, you really have gone way off the deep end, haven't you. Are you actively trying to break up my marriage?"

Miranda sighed and took a step towards Sam, and he immediately took a step backward into the hall. She actually had the gall to look wounded.

"First of all, Sam, you're not married," she said. "You're engaged. And the wedding isn't even until NEXT December. But no, obviously I'm not trying to break up your engagement. I'm not a sociopath, just a bitch. You two love each other and you'll be fine. She may never forgive me, but she's never liked me anyways. She's obviously threatened by our friendship and always has been."

"Secondly, she's right about another thing: I am lucky you give me the time of day. I've clearly taken far more in our relationship than I've given. You don't think I know that? But right now, Sam, I need you. Something is happening, to me and maybe to our whole city, and I need you with me to get through this. I need your strength, I need your support, I need your fucking brain, since mine seems to be on the fritz, as fun as the results have been, and most importantly I need your fantastic skill as an investigative journalist."

"Like I said, I have been writing bullshit. It's been a long time since I've even considered sinking my teeth into anything this big, and I frankly don't think I have the chops anymore.

"So you'll have to forgive me, but what I just did right there? It was 100% on purpose. It will take her a couple of days to cool off to the point where she'll even be willing to talk to you, let alone see you. That gives me ... what, 72 hours? ... of a fucking brilliant and tenacious journalist focused entirely on helping me to crack this thing open.

"I need you focused, Sam, and at my side without any other drama. Then we can figure out who Luc is, why half the city's power players are seemingly in his thrall, and how he managed to fuck with my head so significantly that I took a cum shower from a police captain, two commercial real estate developers, the mayor's chief of staff and the head of the business school at State - in front of three dozen other people who were recording it - and came harder than I ever thought possible while doing it.

"So was that manipulative? Yeah, it was, and I'm sorry. I promise I'll find a way to make it up to you - and Viv - later. But we have work to do. And I don't work on an empty stomach, nor have I eaten all goddamn day. So tell me which one of these pizza joints should we order from and let's get started."

Sam just looked at her. He knew he was supposed to be mad at her. The way she'd just purposely created a divide between him and Viv was fucked up. But everything she had just said was entirely logical; actually it was the most logical thing that had happened all day. He shook his head.

"Giuseppe's has better pizza and it's not too greasy. If you want subs instead, Sal's is better."

"Finally! Progress, thank you," she said. "I want pizza, so what do you want on it? And if you're going to insist on getting some fucking ridiculous man pizza like meat lovers or barbecue pulled pork or whatever, we're just going to have to order two, because I want to work tonight not lie around groaning with an upset stomach."

Sam couldn't help himself; he smiled at her. And she gave him back that big dazzling smile she had and he knew he was sunk.

"I'll eat anything you order," he said, "but it's got to have red sauce on it, none of that alfredo sauce or pesto bullshit."

"Alright! I can work with that," she said, and opened the menu. "Okay you get to choose one meat and I get two vegetables. What's your pleasure?"

"Hard to go wrong with bacon," Sam said.

"See, I told you you were brilliant," she said.

She walked out of the kitchen, and reached up and pecked him on the cheek on her way by. She fished her phone out of her purse, and dialed the number on the menu.

"Hello, I'd like to order for delivery," she said into her phone. "Yes I can hold."

She looked up at Sam, phone pinned between her ear and her shoulder, and said, "While we're dropping truth bombs, let's deliver the whole payload. I've got two more."

"Okay," Sam said apprehensively.

"One: whatever's happening to me, it's progressive. I'm definitely crazier now than I was this morning, I'm 100% certain, and it's not just that I'm hangry."

"Got it," Sam said with a nod. "Time is of the essence, and the weirdness has only just begun. That's not great, but it's better knowing that going in. What's the other unexploded ordnance?"

"Viv wasn't the only one who told some truths in that exchange," she said, locking eyes with him. "I wanted to fuck you so badly earlier, if you had given any sign that you would have let me, things would have gotten a lot wilder. Yes, hello? Okay, I would like an extra large pizza with bacon, onions and broccoli please. And six Cokes. Yes that's it. Cash. The address is ... "

***

Sam and Miranda worked well into the night gathering what they knew and building a battle plan for the next few days. Sam had Miranda think about who was at the party; they got down a list of roughly 25 definites and another 10 maybes.

Looking at the names listed out, it didn't take long for Sam to notice connections. Several layers of local and state government were represented, as well as several rags-to-riches underdog types in fields like sports, entertainment, and business. There was very little "old money" represented, and no one from the local churches - maybe that last piece wasn't a surprise, given the type of party it had been.

Eventually he saw how at least two of the recent murder/suicides could fit into this of group, and that began to chill his bones.

Sam had her round out what she remembered about the rest of the previous evening after her performance up on the dais. She'd been led to some sort of dressing room to clean up by a member of the house staff and given a clean men's dress shirt to wear since hers had been destroyed. The other guests were apparently ushered out while she cleaned up; Luc saw Max, Bianca and Miranda out himself.

Miranda had said he'd kissed her gently and told her, "I hope our paths run alongside for a while longer, and if there is anything I can do to help you, do not hesitate to ask."

"Oh, shit!" Miranda said.

"What?" Sam said.

"I completely forgot this until just now ... the last thing he said to me before he bundled me into a car with his driver to take me home was: 'Shall I add you to the list for Friday's ball?'"

"Did you say yes?" Sam asked.

"Obviously, Sam, I'm a gossip and nightlife writer. Oh, and I'd just had a life-changing erotic experience there."

"Are you going to go?" he asked.

"Do you think I shouldn't?"

"NO!" Sam said forcefully. "You barely made it out of there with your senses intact this time, and we're here trying to figure out why your personality is changing in front of our eyes. Who knows what might happen to you if you go back."

Miranda started to nod her head in agreement, but the nod slowed. She got a far-away look in her eyes, then shook her head slightly.

"I don't know ... think I can do it, Sam," she said. "I'll have my guard up this time, and if things get too weird I'll just bail. He gave me the choice last night, remember?"

"I still don't like it, but let's table that for now," Sam said. "What do you think would have happened if you'd chosen to go when he offered the out last night?"

"I honestly have no idea, and we'll never know now," she said.

"Okay, what's next?" Sam said.

"Well ... I think we've got to find a way for us to be able to work on this story at work," Miranda said, thoughtfully. "We've got to pitch it to Barnes, with some details left out obviously, and make sure he lets you and me run with it."

"Fuuuuuccckkkk, you know Barnes is going to be a dick about it," Sam said. "He'll want something a lot more than 'weird rich guy buys old home.'"

"Maybe we'll show him the video, tell him a confidential source sent it to us?" Miranda said.

"I'd want to keep that card in our hand as long as possible," Sam said.

"Okay, we'll keep thinking and cross that bridge when we come to it," Miranda said, pursing her lips. "Is there anyone in Metro you can get to help us with this somehow without giving them the full story?"

"That will be tough; we're stretched pretty thin as it is," Sam said. "I'll have to find someone to take over my work for a few days, too."

"Tomorrow I'm going to start calling around to people who aren't on our list of attendees and see if anyone knows anything about this guy, cautiously, of course," she said. "I'll search the clips and do some online looking too."

"I'll start to work on this list and see if there are any connections we're not seeing, and I'll also see what I can find on the house itself," Sam said.

"Do you think you should go up there and look around?" Miranda asked.

"Eventually, but not right away," Sam said. "We'll need a way in; with all that rare art, I'm sure he's got a top notch security system."

"Wait ... maybe that's the way in, Sam!" Miranda said excitedly. "He knows I'm a writer, we talked about his collection, and he did say that if he could help me in any way just to ask. I'll see if he'll let me do an article on his personal art collection."

"You think he'd let you?" Sam said. "Doesn't seem like the type who necessarily wants the attention."

"I'll come up with some angle to work," she said. "Maybe I can get you in with me as a photog."

"Maybe ... maybe it will work," Sam said. He leaned back on his couch and yawned, and then checked his phone. "Fuck it's late. Let's get you home, I'll give you a ride."

"I'll just Uber it," she said with a grin. "You need your beauty sleep."

"Well that makes one of us," he said, without thinking.

Miranda looked at him with an expression Sam had trouble reading. They sat quietly for a while, just looking at each other's faces. Finally Miranda just said, "Thank you, Sam."

"Sure thing, Randi," he said. "We'll get this sorted out. Come on, I'll walk you out and wait with you for the car. I could use the fresh air."

Randi collected her things, put on her coat, and Sam followed her out and down to the sidewalk. The late October night had gotten chilly, and she huddled in close to him as they waited for the car. He put his arm around her, she rested her head on his chest, and they stood in a comfortable silence for a few minutes.

"We've sure come a long way, Sam," she said.

"Yes we have," Sam said.

"I know how much you've done for me, and what you're doing for me now," Miranda said, turning to look up at him. "I know we could have been ... more ... but it was me that held you off, and then you found Viv. You guys will be okay, I know it, and I'll make this up to both of you."

"Let's worry about one thing at a time, Randi," Sam said, not wanting to think about the mountain of trouble he was in with his fiancee. "And you're my oldest friend. This is what friends do."

"Still," she said, "thank you."

Her car pulled up, Sam opened the door for her. She turned and kissed Sam on the cheek.

"I'll give you your sweatpants and shirt tomorrow," she said.

"Keep 'em," Sam said. "Viv would never let me wear them again anyway after the performance you gave in them. Oh ... here." Sam reached into his front sweatshirt pocket and began to pull out Miranda's thong. Miranda put her hand on his arm, stopping him, and looked up at him with a mischievous grin.

"You keep those," she said. "To remember the other performance by."

Then she ducked into the car and closed the door before he could object. Sam, hand on her thong, watched the car pull away, and shook his head. "As if I'm likely to forget," he muttered.

***

Wednesday

Sam woke up the next morning a little later than normal after having a lot of trouble falling asleep. He managed to cobble together something to wear to work from the stuff he had in his apartment and jammed his laptop and his hoodie into his backpack. With nothing in the apartment but leftover pizza and a Coke, he set out for coffee and some breakfast. He went outside and found a gray, cold late October day.

He walked down to the little deli a block away for a coffee and a bagel. After a quick refill on the coffee, Sam made his way back to where his car was parked just across the street from his apartment. He slid his key in and unlocked it, and then to his surprise he heard someone one the sidewalk in front of him say, "Sam?"

He looked up to see Lily, his young reporter, standing behind him.

"It is you!" she said, a smile breaking out on her face. "What are you doing here?"

"Hey Lily," Sam said. "I live here, in that building across the street. Do you live around here?"

"Yes!" Lily said. "I live right here; this is my building! I just moved in this month. I've never seen you around here before?"

"Yeah, I usually stay at my fiancée's place across town, but I stayed here last night," Sam said. "You usually take the bus, right? Here, let me give you a ride."

"Oh, thank you!" Lily said, and bounded over to the car and got in after Sam unlocked the door.

They made small talk for a few minutes. Sam asked her about her new apartment (she was living alone in a small studio apartment she could barely afford; the building was okay but not well maintained by landlord; the lock on the front door always seemed to be broken so she considering buying an extra lock for the apartment door), how she liked the bus (she hated it but it was cheap; there was a creepy guy who rode with her sometimes and always tried to talk to her; the city had let a lot of the busses fall into disrepair so the heat/AC rarely worked), she checked to make sure his family emergency was okay (he said everything turned out fine), and so on.

Finally Sam started asking about her story on crimes of passion to see how she was getting along.

"Well, it turns out there is a lot of uses of that phrase from a few decades ago, it was very popular with the writers then for any time a woman killed a man," Lily said.

"Did that happen often?" Sam asked.

"More often than you might think, actually," Lily said. "Actually I'm trying to see if the prevalence here is above the national average, because it kind of feels that way. Usually men kill women. So I've got some calls into a few criminologists."

"Huh," Sam said. "That's actually pretty interesting."

"Actually there was a really famous 'crime of passion' here at the turn of the 19th century; in 1898 a woman killed all scions of a famous family and was linked, uh ... romantically ... to each of the three. The murders all happened up in some mansion in the hills."

Chills shot up Sam's spine.

"What was the name of the family?" he asked, trying to stay calm.

"The Van Hootens?" she said. "Some old family with ties to the area from before the Revolutionary War. With all the heirs killed, the family sort of fell off the map."

Sam looked straight ahead and tried to keep himself under control.

"That sounds like quite something," Sam said. "Are there clips on that?"

"There are references to it later, mid 20th century. It really shook up the town, as you might imagine. I was going to go to the library today to see if I could dig a little more."

"Definitely do that, and let me know what you come up with as soon as possible, okay?" Sam said, unable to keep the intensity out of his voice. "Make copies."

"Yeah, sure thing," Lily said, a little surprised that her normally unflappable boss was so fired up about murders that happened more than a century ago. After a few seconds of silence, she asked, "Sam, is everything okay?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah everything is fine," Sam said. "I just have a lot on my mind and I had some trouble sleeping last night."

"Okay, just checking," she said. "You seem upset."

"Nope, but I can get upset if you like," Sam said, shooting her a grin.

"I imagine that might not be good for my career," Lily said.

"I keep telling everyone that you actually are as smart as you look," Sam said, and she laughed.

They finally arrived at the newspaper's offices. Sam parked in the lot and they walked in together. Lily thanked Sam and scurried off to her desk; Sam had plenty to do after bailing out early the day before. He caught up with his reporters and answered emails, and he'd just about finished the expense report paperwork when he saw Miranda enter the office at around 2 p.m.

She created a bit of a stir; actually, she created the absence of a stir, which is much more noticeable in a busy and loud newsroom. People stopped what they were doing for a moment to take her in as she walked by. She clacked through on fancy heels - different than yesterday's, now red - and wore a low-cut merino wool sweater over a shirt that showed off her breasts in a way that barely bordered on propriety. Her skirt was knee length but quite swishy, and it floated as she walked briskly. And to top it off, she had her hair down and styled, which was almost completely unheard of for her at work.

Sam couldn't help it; as he watched her go by his mind flashed to a vision of her legs spread wide on his couch, her fingers sliding in and out of her sopping snatch a few feet away from him. His cock swelled up and he turned away, trying to bring things back under control.

He closed his eyes and tried to clear his mind; instead, a picture of her in his sweats and clinging cotton t-shirt came instead. He was now fully hard. He got up to walk to the bathroom for some adjustment and a few splashes of cold water on his face. He only made it one step out of his cubicle, head in a daze, when he crashed into somebody who went sprawling. Looking down, he saw it was Lily, who'd been carrying some papers and reading as she walked.

She was now looking up at him. Eyes wide. "Oh my god, Sam, I am so, so sorry, I ... oh my ..."

Sam looked down at her, and saw her eyes were on his considerable, throbbing bulge. A full outline of his erection was clear, wedged down his pant leg. The pants he'd found in his apartment were older and a bit tight, and a light khaki that really made things stand out.