The Reluctant P.I.

The mechanical sounding voice on the other end of the phone call, was dull with a slight accent that I couldn't place, "Mr. Pearce, we need to come to an agreement on how you intend to make the balance on your account current."

I'd heard it before, goddamn it, I hear it almost every month these days. Shit, it's getting hard for a semi honest detective to find work around this shitty little town. If I didn't need it so bad, I'd let 'em have that crappy car I drive. But you can't make a living as a P.I. on roller skates.

With as much enthusiasm as I could muster at the time, "I'll tell you what, if you give me a week, I'm positive that we can straighten this out. I should have money in the bank by then, ok?" I lied through my teeth.

You could bet your ass, that this guy hears the same line of shit ten times a day. Hell, I've said it so many times, that I'm starting to believe it myself. I feel bad for the guy, but I have my own fucking problems to deal with. He'll just have to take a spot in line with the rest of the people I owe money to.

It wasn't always like this, I did my job, I risked my life, and after fifteen years on the force, my job as Detective Lieutenant was kicked out from under me. The shooting team knew I wasn't lying, but when you cross that line between the real world and politics somebody is going to go down.

If I had shot some poor kid, they probably would have pinned a medal on my chest. When you deal with the rich and famous it's going to be swept under the table. The mayor's friends wanted me gone, wanted this all kept quiet, so I was fired.

My report contained the facts and the truth. I had stopped at a little mom and pops on my way home. A fucking pack of cigarettes, that's all I wanted. I'd walked in on an armed robbery in progress, I pulled my weapon and he ran out the back. I pursued the perp, he fired two rounds at me. I took a stance, and identified myself as a police officer. He fired two more rounds at me, so I returned fire. One shot to the chest, and he went down for good.

The dead punk was identified as the son of the richest man in town, the son of Richard Mast. The investigation team conveniently lost the one piece of evidence to would have cleared me. They all swore that there was no gun, did I see a muzzle flash coming out of his finger? I don't think so. The little prick didn't need the money, daddy was loaded. He lost his life for a thrill, and I lost mine doing my job.

I was called to the chief's office, and given the choice of my job or my freedom. If I fought the firing, I'd be in jail today. I said a minute ago that I had lost my life that night. I lost my career, a job that paid me eighty some odd thousand a year. I lost my pension and benefits, but to top it all off I lost my family. That all added up to my life.

My wife couldn't take the shame she felt, and within a month, she packed up, and left with our six-year-old daughter in tow. I guess she wasn't listening to the preacher, when he said for better or for worse. She pretty much cleaned me out in the divorce, and now she lived halfway across the country. I think you get the picture now. Paul Pearce the loser P. I., wrongly accused whipping boy of the elite.

My work now, is mainly following errant spouses. I dig up the dirt on cheaters, and provide evidence for my clients. It's dull boring work, I hate it, but there aren't a lot of opportunities for someone with my past. Right now, I'm so broke that I would take a case finding an old lady's missing cat. "Achoo, sniff," fucking cold!

I was almost afraid to answer my phone when it rang, probably another dun for money that I don't have. "Pearce here," I answered.

"Paul, it's Jack, I've got a gig for you."

Jack was a divorce lawyer that threw me a bone now and then, "Any money in it?"

"Probably the usual five hundred."

"I'll see you in five minutes, hack, sniff," fucking cold.

I picked up the folder at Jack's, the usual shit, another dumb fuck husband that couldn't keep his dick tucked in. The asshole stays and works late twice a week, Wednesdays and Fridays, yeah right. I might be able to wrap this shit up tonight.

I pulled into the parking lot of his office at quarter to five, nobody works late on Friday. There was Mr. Wonderful's black caddy sedan, at least he didn't leave early. Just as if I had planned it, he walked out the door at one minute after five. I followed him tight enough not to lose him, but not too tight. This shit is child's play, cheaters always think they are being smart.

He pulled in to Louie's bar on Twelfth Street, and parked near the back door. While the asshole was inside, I noted the make, model, color and license plate number of all the other cars in the lot. I pulled out my Wal-Mart digital camera, and checked the batteries. "Hack, hack," a long pull on the cough syrup, and I waited for him to come out.

Ten minutes later, a woman dressed way too nice for Louie's, came out and got into a little Beemer. I shot a couple of pictures of her, then loverboy exited the premises. They didn't even look to see if they were being watched, stupid fuckers.

I followed them to a little No-tell motel about two miles away. She pulled in like she knew where she was going, he stopped at the office to check in. "Sniff," I might even be in time for happy hour at the Mill Bar and Grill at this rate. I snapped off a few jpegs, you can never have too many pictures.

Fifty bucks will get you a lot of information at a dive like this. The clerk was happy to provide me with photocopies of the happy couple's past rendezvous. The statements were complete with credit card receipts, take note here, you should always pay cash.

They were in a corner room, yep; the curtains were separated enough to get some good shots of the two of them doing the horizontal mambo. I went back to my piece of shit car, and took another slug of cough juice. All I had to do now, was wait and get some photos of them coming out of the same room. This was too easy, two hours work for five hundred smackers. "Sniff," fucking cold.

Man, this cough syrup must be getting to me, I could swear my ex-wife just walked out of the room next to my target's. Fuck, it was Pam, I shot a few pictures. It couldn't be, she was with Richard Mast, the cocksucker that ruined my life. What the fuck was she doing back in town, and more to the point, what was she doing at this fleabag motel with him? Shit, I almost missed the pictures I had been waiting for.

This shit with my ex-wife didn't add up, I mean, I didn't care so much about what she was doing, but who she was doing. Hell, we were divorced, I had no claim on her anymore. But Christ, he ruined her life too, or maybe not, it would seem. I needed something a whole lot stronger than Vicks 44 at the moment, maybe a little Jack Daniels cold remedy.

I woke up the next morning with a nose full of snot, and a hangover worth committing suicide over. Fucking cold, fucking booze. I couldn't shake the feeling, that Pam had another reason to be in town besides a hard dick. But why should I give a shit, she wasn't my problem anymore.

Later on in the day when my head quit pounding, the reality of what I saw finally hit me. No, I still didn't have any idea why Pam was fucking Mast, but there was money to be made here. Mast was a married man, his wife just might pay a hefty price to find out what Dickey boy is doing in his spare time. I might just satisfy my curiosity about Pam along the way.

I was taking a huge risk by talking to Mask's wife, after all I had killed her son. Well, stepson to be more precise, Viviana Mask, was Richard Mask's second wife, a trophy wife if there ever was. I would need more than I had to convince Viv that Richard was cheating on her. Was this a smart move? Nobody ever accused me of that, but I had balls, and I wasn't afraid to use them.

I started my tail on Mask, it's not hard to follow a Mercedes limo. What was I looking for? Nothing and everything, what I found was exactly nothing. I couldn't even get a line on Pam, she seemed to have vanished. She didn't have any contact with any of her friends while she was in town.

I decided to go back to square one, the No-tell motel. The clerk was the same guy as before, fifty bucks later I found out that the room was rented in Pam's name. This was the first time she had been there, but it wouldn't be the last. She had made a reservation for the next week, another fifty bucks and the clerk guaranteed that she'd have the same room. He even gave me a key to look at the room, in five minutes the bugging devices were installed.

"Hack! Hack! Achoo, sniff," fucking cold. I continued to shadow Mask, after a couple of boring days and nights, I hit pay dirt. He met a little blonde honey at the Marriott lounge downtown, I got some really great shots of the two of them kissing like long lost lovers. They were almost fucking in the booth they were in. It was secluded, but not from my prying eyes.

They hit the elevator to the sixth floor, and I followed fast enough to catch them going into room 608. The way she had her tongue down his throat, I probably could have walked into the room with them without them noticing. It was a little after eight when they went into the room, and just after midnight when they left. I wondered why this Dick was confident enough to fuck this woman at a downtown hotel, and he took my ex to a shithole out in the sticks.

I gave Viviana Mask a call the next morning. She had seemed intrigued that anyone would have business to discuss with her. The meeting would take place at the Mill, the bar I nearly lived at these days. I picked the place to make her feel more comfortable meeting me in public, and there would be little danger of anyone recognizing her there. I also knew she would be less likely to cause a scene if she had a problem with me being the one that killed her son. "Sniff."

Viv is one of those women that make men drool, tall and lithe like a Vegas showgirl. She has the face of an angel, god, I would love to have a few hours with her. She had not recognized my name on the phone earlier, but the surprised look on her face told me she knew me now. I took her hand and led her to a table in the back so we could have a private conversation.

"By the look on your face, you know who I am."

"Yes, I was a little shocked. Did it show that badly?"

"Well, Sort of. Would you care for a drink, some white wine perhaps?"

"Double scotch, rocks, please," she said like she'd ordered a million of them.

I called to Tom the bartender and ordered two. "I suppose you are wondering what brings us here?"

"I take it that it's not the gourmet food."

A little more comfortably I said, "Well, Mrs. Mask."

"Please, call me Viviana, or Viv if you would like."

"Viv, I have something delicate to discuss with you."

"I suppose you caught Richard cheating on me."

This woman was very cool, I got the impression she was playing me not the other way around.

Trying not to sound foolish, I continued, "I take it this is not news to you?"

"Not really, but I've never had any proof."

"Would you like some?"

"I might be interested."

"Viv, forgive me if I seem, well, a little confused. You don't seem too alarmed at the fact that Richard is having an affair. And you don't even appear to mind sitting with the man that killed your stepson. I expected, uh, well, I didn't expect this."

"Oh that, don't feel bad about that. Not even Richard feels much remorse over his son's death. He was a fuck up, a spoiled brat that got what he deserved."

"What? He ruined my career and family life, and you tell me he isn't sorry his son was shot. I have a hard time swallowing that shit."

"Paul, may I call you Paul? Richard was a lot more concerned at keeping things out of the papers, and keeping prying eyes away from his business affairs than his dead son. You were a cop, you have to know he is into a lot of things he wouldn't like to make public knowledge."

The fact is I didn't know, but it made a lot more sense to me why I had been fired. Sweep the dirt under the carpet as soon as you can, and avoid the police investigation. A few well placed bribes and you could hide almost anything. If an honest cop goes on trial, and all manner of information could be uncovered accidentally. Mask would have at least come under scrutiny by the press, and that at times, could be far worse than a full-court press from the police.

"Viv, why are you telling me all of this now?"

"I like you, you asked, I didn't think that it was any real secret. Could you possibly get us another drink?"

"Uh, sure. Tommy, two more," I signaled to him for another round. "Aren't you afraid that I will go to the police?"

"Oh Paul, grow up. They already know about him, and I'd like to think someday that if he gets caught, that I could get away from the asshole. I signed a prenup and unless he goes to jail or gets killed, I get almost nothing."

"I see your point."

"Now, what about that evidence? How about if you meet me at the Hilton tomorrow at about one, and you can show me what you've got," she said, licking her lips seductively.

Fuck, I told you I wasn't known exclusively for my brains. I have wondered a million times in the last year why things had played out like they did. I got the picture from the one source that I would never have asked. It was pure luck.

So Mask isn't the upright citizen everybody thinks he is. What, I keep asking myself, what does this have to do with Pam. I let myself ponder on why. Pam was a good looking woman, but clearly not in the class of Viv, or that other bimbo he was banging. And she was surely no sexual dynamo, hell, she was close to being a prude. What could the owner of a small time import-export company, like Pam, do for a player like Mask?

At Jack's office, I filled him in on the case he gave me last Friday. It was routine, I gave him the photos, and he cut me a check. I stopped and picked up some more NyQuil, goddamn, that shit is nasty. Fucking cold, fucking ex-wife. I needed some sleep.

The next morning, my nose was plugged, my eyes were crusted over and the taste in my mouth, shit, it would have tasted better if I had kissed a dogs butt. I stood in the shower and steamed until I was functional again. About a gallon of coffee later, I was on my way to the Hilton.

Let me describe for you exactly what I saw when I entered Viv's room. Imagine five inch black heels, a delicate ankle, perfectly formed calves. Muscular, but shapely thighs, incased in the sheerest silk stockings. The real deal, complete with the sexy black seam running from her heal up to the lacy tops, held taught with a black garter belt. Framed in the center of the garter, was the most perfect ass I had ever seen. Her skin was tanned a golden brown. A narrow waist radiated upward to her broad shoulders, thick black hair cascading down to the middle of her back.

Viv turned to face me, her tits were pert, and standing proud on her chest. Nipples that looked hard enough to cut glass. Her stomach was toned and ripped from hours of exercise.Beneath her abs was a tiny landing strip of shortly trimmed bush leading to heaven. She was the total package, every man's fantasy.

Words deserted me, but Viv knew what to do. Confidently strolling to me, and going directly to her knees without a sound. She worked with both hands, undoing my belt with one, and my zipper with the other.

She attacked my hard cock, with a ferocity that I'd never imagined. Sucking me and laving the head like candy, stroking with her hands. Her tongue playfully lapping the veins of my shaft. Kissing and worshiping my swollen sack, pulling my balls alternately into her mouth and massaging them with her teeth ever so gently. With all of my will I held back, postponing the inevitable for as long as I could. When she took me down her throat, I could hold back no longer. Sending spurt after spurt of juice down her throat and in to her mouth.

Viv was all I had ever dreamed of, a true goddess of sexual delight. I carried her to the bed, and indulged myself in all she had to offer. I pleasured her with my mouth and fingers, while I recovered my hardness. After the exquisite blow job, I would not cum so quickly when I entered her luscious pussy. I gave back to Viv as good as I got. Pounding her to exhaustion, orgasm after screaming orgasm. We laid together in each others arms, after hours of raw sexual release.

"Paul, it certainly is a pleasure doing business with you.," she whispered into my ear.

"Yeah well, we aim to please. But I guess the client doesn't always come first."

"I'd really like to stay and get some more professional advice, but I have to run. Do you suppose I could make another appointment?"

"I think we can arrange that, I would think that we can come up with something that would be mutually satisfying," I mocked.

"Seriously Paul, I would like to see you again. Richard doesn't ever pay any attention to me anymore. You don't know how much today meant to me, I feel like a woman again."

"He has to be an idiot to cheat on someone as beautiful and caring as you."

"You said that you had some proof of that, did you bring it with you?"

I went to my jacket, and got the envelope with the report and pictures. She put it into her bag, and pulled out two stacks of cash and brought them to me.

"Viv, I know I'm stupid for saying this, but I won't take money from you."

"Will you take it from Richard?"

I couldn't fault her logic on that point. We dressed and I kissed her before she left, it was no sisterly kiss. I planted one on her that made her knees weak. Twenty thousand dollars, and sex with the beautiful Viviana, I'm almost starting to enjoy my job.

I got caught up on my bills, and still had a good chunk of change left over in the bank. I did a few jobs for Jack as I waited for Pam to return to town. My fucking cold was still hanging in there, "sniff." I saw Viviana again on Tuesday, the sex was better if that was possible. I had to watch myself carefully, I could easily fall for a girl like her.

Friday rolled around, and I considered going to the doctor for my cold, "sniff." Viv called and wanted to meet me that afternoon. I had never been that sorry about refusing anything in my whole life, but I needed to find out what Pam was up to. I tried to schedule another date with her, but she told me she would call when she was free again.

I had no idea what time Pam would check in to the No-tell. I did my usual job, watch and wait. She drove into the motel at about three-thirty. I waited for Mask to show up, it could be a long wait. An hour later I saw two black Suburbans park on the street across from the motel, it was a little odd. I didn't have time to figure it out, Mask had just pulled in and went straight to Pam's room. I put on my headphones and listened, come on you fuckers talk.

I wasn't sure what I would hear, maybe just two people fucking for an hour or two.

With a crackle in my headset I heard Mask say, "Did you bring it? Is it all there?" He seemed excited like a kid at Christmas.

"Yeah, it's all in there."

"Well, open it up, I want to see it," I heard the zipper of a suitcase open.

"It's beautiful, how much is there?"

"Five million."

"The quality is beautiful, I've never seen it better."

"About that Richard, the Russian says he wants twenty cents on the dollar from now on. He told me to tell you that this would be the last shipment if you don't agree."

"WHAT! Who the fuck do you think you are dealing with? I won't pay a penny over ten percent. Do you have any fucking idea what it takes to move this much counterfeit? You goddamn cunt, you're trying to rip me off."

"NO! NO! I swear it, I'm just the go between."

"You fucking bitch, I'll show you who decides what I pay!"