Bang, You're Dead

I wish I could write stories that everyone loved. Unfortunately, that's just not possible so I try to write stories that would appeal to me. It's the only thing I can do.

One of my own beliefs is that there are few people in this world that all bad or all good. I believe there is a devil in the best of mankind and an angel in the worst of us. That belief usually finds its way into most of my stories. I try to make my characters human in that no one is completely good and no one is not worthy of some redemption.

I was honored to be asked by blackrandI1958 to participate in "The Magical Mystery Tour," event. I hope you enjoy my entry.

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Copyright © 2017

Morgan lay on her back gasping while trying desperately to regain some semblance of rhythmic breathing. She heard Robert chuckle to himself like he always did after a marathon sex session and wondered what it was about him that forced her to experience such unbelievable orgasms.

"Da..." she tried to talk too soon. She needed a couple more deep breaths before she could speak. "As...as I was saying, damn you Robert, what makes sex with you so damn special? I don't get it."

"I know," he responded between a few deep breaths of his own. "I feel the same way. We...we just seem to be able to trigger each other's sexual peaks or something. If I wasn't married..."

"Hey, hey, hey--none of that," she admonished. "We're both happily married with families. I don't ever want to hear that--'if I wasn't married,' BS."

"I know, I only meant...ah, never mind, forget it."

That was fine with her. Not a day passed for the last two years that she didn't wish she was strong enough to break it off with him. Actually she wished she'd never started it.

Between high school, college, and the first couple of years on her own, she'd probably had sex with twelve to fifteen guys before she married Ian but none, not even her husband, had ever rung her bell like Robert.

"Damn, I hate this part," she thought out loud.

"Yeah, I know; me too. I wish we could get together more often but..."

"No, that's not what I mean. Every time we do this I lie here afterward and pray Ian never finds out. I worry about it constantly."

"Morgan, he hasn't a clue, I'm telling you."

"How do you know? He's a newspaper man, remember? He used to be a reporter, and a damned good one."

"Used to be, Morgan, he USED to be a reporter. Now he sits in an office eight hours a day editing what other reporters write. Jesus, Morgan, do you forget what I do for a living? I'm a PI, for God sake; probably the best in the city if I do say so myself," he boasted with a laugh.

The implications startled her. She quickly scooted up and put her back against the headboard so she could look down on her paramour. "Are you having my husband followed?"

He looked up at her angry face. "No, of course not; I do keep tabs on him from time to time though. Every couple of weeks or so I run him through the system. It's not real extensive but it'll red flag anything that would indicate he had any suspicions. For instance, I can tell you he's never locally rented a car to follow you in. He's never hired a PI." He laughed again. "If he did it would probably be me anyway. He's never spent a dime on any kind of listening devices, spyware, or surveillance gear of any kind. I'm telling you, Morgan, he suspects nothing. "Neither does Cindy—nobody does, that's why we take all the precautions we do. Hell, even if he accidentally did see you, he could walk right by you in the street and not recognize you. Relax, I'm a pro. I know what I'm doing."

She still didn't like the idea of her lover keeping tabs on her husband but after going over what he just said, she was actually a little relieved. "What would you do if he did buy some kind of surveillance gizmos?"

"We'd have to break it off immediately," he responded. "I love my family as much as you love yours. But in the meantime," he said, reaching over and pinching her nipple, "we both need a shower. I've got to get back."

The playful tweak of one of her more sensitive ergonomist zones caused a coquettish squeal as she impishly jumped from the bed and made a dash for the bathroom. Robert, watched with a smile as her tight, thirty-four year old buns flexed with each step.

"Well, coming, Robert?" she asked as she reached the doorway.

Everyone else called him Bob but Morgan liked Robert better. He considered it almost a term of endearment.

Like a shot he tossed his half of the sheet to one side and sprang to his feet. He was standing next to her before she could take another breath. Morgan looked up at his ruggedly handsome face while at the same time, reached down to fondle his flaccid cock. He could feel it twitch and try it's best to do its duty but after coming four times in three hours it simply had nothing left.

As they stepping under the hot shower he took her travel size body soap, she took his, and they took turns lathering up one another. She sighed and leaned her back into his chest as he reached around and gently caressed her breasts and nipples with his slippery hands. From there he used the lavender scented lather to glide across her smooth skin and down to her waiting pussy. Her legs almost buckled out from under her as he was able to bring her to one last mind-blowing orgasm with his fingers.

After drying each other off, Morgan reapplied her make up as Robert got dressed. He told her, as usual, it would be two or three weeks before getting together again then gave her a peck on the lips and left.

As per their precautions, she had twenty minutes before she could leave. She used the time to dry her short, blond hair and stick it under her long, dark, natural hair wig. Next, she slipped into the sexy panties and bra Robert bought her before adorning the conservative ladies business suit. Next she applied the bright red lipstick, something she wouldn't be caught dead with in her normal life. A pair of large sunglasses finished the masquerade ensemble.

She had to chuckle as she looked in the mirror. Robert was right, she could walk right by her husband in that get-up and he'd never know it was her. A devilish little smile stretched across her face at the comforting thought. She grabbed both body washes from the shower, stuck them in her bag and looked around the room one last time to make sure they left nothing behind before leaving.

***

"You're back."

"Angie, I can't figure out why I haven't made you an investigator yet. Your powers of observation and deduction are incredible."

The slightly overweight, red-headed secretary slash office manager smirked, knowing he was joking and didn't mean it with any animosity. "Yeah, well maybe you should. You and Troy don't seem to be doing much in that respect. Mrs. Bracken called twice already today wondering if anyone was on her case yet."

The name sounded familiar. "Bracken...isn't that the one who's married to the real estate guy? That's Troy's case. He's been on it for several days already."

"Yeah-well I haven't seen a report or even a single notation. I also haven't seen any expenses involved with the case yet; nothing--nada. Mrs. Bracken called two days ago looking for Troy. I gave him the message and he promised he'd call her. Evidently he didn't and she's getting pissed, Bob."

He wondered what was going on with his partner. They'd been together for ten years and for the most part it was a good partnership. Robert was a little older and had more experience but Troy was reliable, trustworthy, and a real bulldog. Once he got on someone's trail he didn't let up until he got his man...or woman. Lately; however, Troy had been falling down on the job.

Halfheartedly, he wondered if his partner finally had a girlfriend. A nasty divorce had soured him on any real relationships but hell that was years ago. Of course the job didn't do anything to encourage him either but man wasn't meant to live as a monk; it wasn't healthy as far as Bob was concerned.

"When's he due in, do you know?"

"Not really. I tried texting him earlier and told him about Mrs. Bracken but I haven't heard back from him."

"Okay, Ang. I'll try texting him myself," he said while pouring himself a cup of coffee. "He better answer me, damn it." Robert disappeared into his office, closing the door behind him.

I need you to come into the office. We need to talk.

He put his phone down and took a sip of coffee before pulling out a case file to review. The state would be calling him to testify against Joseph Pioli in a few days. Pioli ran a chop-shop for most of the car thieves in the city.

A wealthy client, who usually used Robert's services for prospective employee background checks, didn't like the response he got from the Chicago PD regarding his stolen Mercedes; so, he hired Robert to track it down. The investigation led him to the chop-shop and half the stolen cars in Cook County. His testimony would put Pioli away for a long time.

He had just started to go through the file when his phone buzzed with a text. It was from Troy.

ETA—4:30

Almost immediately afterward his other phone buzzed.

Sec H, row 5, # 14

***

It was almost three when Morgan pulled into the parking lot of the Woodland mall. Sometimes she felt a little silly going through the cloak and dagger routine Robert had worked out for them, but then again, he was a professional and if it meant that they'd never get caught it was worth all the mumbo-jumbo. She started the same procedure she had performed earlier in the day, only in reverse.

She took the burner phone from her Carson's shopping bag and texted the section, row, and number of her parking space to Robert so he knew where the car was; then locked it up and headed inside, dropping the set of keys into the bag.

Robert's agency owned four older, nondescript cars that they used for surveillance. Nobody ever really kept track of them because they were always using one then switching it for another. Robert had given Morgan a set of keys for all four cars. Before their get-togethers he'd drive one of them to the mall and text her as to its parking location before walking the six blocks back to his office. Later that night he'd flip-flop the process.

She had less than an hour to get home before the school bus dropped her kids off so she made a beeline for the lady's room. Hurriedly, she locked herself in a stall and started undressing. She removed the wig, sunglasses, business suit, and lace underwear in exchange for her normal attire. She stuffed everything in the shopping bag and exited the stall.

The metamorphosis was almost complete but she still had to remove the flamboyant shade of lipstick and replaced it with her usual pink lip-gloss. As she finished she lingered in front of the mirror. She couldn't believe the person looking back at her had just been in the arms of another man. Morgan took a deep breath then let it out with a sigh of disappointment; disappointment in herself and disappointment with her weakness when it came to Robert.

She glanced at her phone. Time was getting short. She hastily left the washroom to find an unoccupied locker in the hall. The lockers were there for the convenience of shoppers who didn't want to carry a bunch of packages around the mall with them all day.

At first she was worried that the maintenance staff or security would notice one locker was missing a key for weeks at a time and break it open but Robert assured her that would never happen. As usual, he was right. She dropped her fifty cents in the slot, turned the key and opened it to stow away the bag containing her alter ego then dropped the key in her purse.

It was always at this point in the routine that Morgan felt she could let out of sigh of relief. With the evidence of their illicit encounter safely stashed away it was almost as if it had never happened. A small smile stretched across her face as she acknowledged the end of another clandestine interlude. She had to admit, it was kind of exciting.

Once in the safety of her own car, she stuck the locker key and her burner phone into the secret compartment Robert had installed in her car and took off for home.

***

"Well, the prodigal son returns."

Troy couldn't help but smile at the snide remark. "I love you too, Angie," he countered.

"Mrs. Bracken called..."

"I know. I called her back right after I got your text. Jimmy's been following her old man for the last couple of days already."

"Well nice of you to tell me," she angrily spat. "Why didn't you say something?"

"I guess I just didn't think, Ang, I'm sorry."

"Bob wants to see you in his office," she grumbled, still angry with him.

Troy walked over to the coffee pot and poured a cup. "Yeah, I got his text. I really am sorry, Angie. I should have told you about Jimmy."

"Does he have any notes, expenses, anything on the case? It would be nice to know what's going on."

"I'll make sure he gives you a full report," he told her as he knocked on Bob's office door.

Bob was still refreshing his memory of the Pioli case as Troy walked in. "Hey, partner, what's up?" he asked while taking a seat.

"What do you mean, what's up? Angie tells me Mrs. Bracken..."

"Yeah, yeah, I know all about it. I talked to her as soon as I got Angie's text. She's cool. I've got Jimmy following her old man in one of our cars. So far there's nothing to report."

"Did you tell Angie?"

"Yeah, I just brought her up to speed. I know, I should have done it earlier but I've been kind of busy the last couple of days and didn't get a chance."

Bob wondered what had him so busy. "Don't tell me you finally found yourself a woman?"

"Ha," he chuckled at the thought. "Who has time for women? No, I've got a lead on the Murphy case."

Bob had to think for a moment. "Murphy—I thought we dropped that."

"Yeah, I know...she ran out of money. I just couldn't drop it so I told her I would continue working the case pro bono."

That was news to Bob. "Without even discussing it? When were you going to tell me? I thought we were supposed to be partners—or have you decided to go out on you own?"

"No. I know--I should have discussed it with you first but...I don't know; when Andrea said she had no more money I felt sorry for her. It's important to her, Bob. She'd already spent every nickel of her savings with us and we'd come up dry.

"How'd you like to be told you were adopted by your dying mother—or who you THOUGHT was your mother? When she told her dad she wanted to find her natural parents he took it personally and now he won't even talk to her. She's completely alone in the world at twenty years old, Bob. I'd like to help her, that's all."

"Fine, I don't have a problem with helping her, Troy. I do have a problem with you not telling me and ignoring paying customers."

"I'm not ignoring paying customers. I told you, I've got Jimmy following Bracken."

"Have you looked into his financials yet?" Bob asked.

"No, not yet. I'll do that tonight. If he's keeping a little cookie on the side, I'll find it," Troy assured him.

"Good," said Bob a little more pleasantly. "So, you say you have a lead?"

"Yeah, I think so. I believe I have the name of the mother. Her name is Julia Giovani. If I have the right person she was from Philly but the adoption papers are from Michigan. She was awfully young, couldn't have been more than eighteen. I think I have her tracked down to a little town in Indiana. It's only about two and half hours from here. I want to get down there in a couple days and see if I can locate her."

"Well, let Angie know when you're leaving and keep me informed," Bob told him.

"Will do...promise."

"Okay; good luck. I hope you find something."

"Thanks, me too."

"Okay, I'm going take off and have dinner with my wife and kids for a change. You should try it sometime Troy."

"You don't think they'd mind?" he commented with a smile.

"You know what I mean, asshole; not MY wife and kids, a wife and kids of your own."

"Been there, done that," he said, sadly. "It didn't work out."

Both men were on their feet by that time. Bob walked over and put his arm around his partner. "Troy, you need to apply a little of what makes you a great investigator to your personal life, my friend."

"And what is it that makes me such a great investigator?"

"Perseverance," Bob replied. "You never give up, even if you have to work for free, you just never give up."

"There's a big difference between tracking down a lead in a case and having your heart ripped from your chest, Bob. I just couldn't go through that again."

Bob understood. His partner's divorce was a nasty one.

As they stepped into the outer office they found Jimmy sitting on the corner of the reception desk talking to Angie. They caught his attention. "Hi guys; I came in to drop off some receipts and pick up another car."

"Anything yet," Troy asked.

"Nope; so far he's been the perfect husband. He left early tonight and I thought he might have something going but he went straight home. I wondered if he spotted me. That's why I want to change cars. I see the Malibu is back there, okay to take that one?"

"Yeah, sure. I'm going to stick around tonight and look into his financials. You keep on him from your end."

"You got it, chief," he said with a grin and a sloppy salute. Jimmy grabbed the keys for the Malibu from the board and gave Troy the keys to the Ford he was using. "There's only about a quarter tank in it," he mentioned. "I'll pick Bracken up again tomorrow morning when he leaves for work. Right now I'm going to go and get some sleep. Toodles, everyone," he said as he left.

Angie glanced at the clock on her desk. "Oh Geeze, almost five-thirty; I got talking to Jimmy and didn't realize how late it was. I have to get home and get supper started. Tom will be home any minute. See you guys tomorrow," she said before leaving them alone.

"You go home to that pretty wife of yours, Bob. If there's anything in Bracken's financials that indicates an affair I'll leave it on your desk."

The two men said good night and Troy retired into his own office and got on the computer.

Troy heard the door to the outside office close. He raised his head and wiped the sleep from his eyes. He had no idea what time it was and the fact that the sun was shining through the window hadn't even registered. The only thing that did register was that he needed coffee.

"Ah—oh, Troy, damn it, you scared me half to death," yelled Angie as he suddenly appeared in the doorway.

He was also startled. "Ang, what are you doing here?"

"I always get here at this time. What are YOU doing here so early?"

Troy glance at his wristwatch, "Is it really seven-thirty?"

"Yeah, have you been here all night?"

"Evidently," he responded. Troy thought back to the previous night. "I fell asleep at the computer and just woke up. I didn't realize it was so late though. I was about to grab some coffee and head home to bed," he laughed.

"Too late," Angie commented.

Troy poured some coffee in his travel mug.

"Oh, Troy, don't drink that. It's from yesterday. Give me a minute and I'll make fresh."

"Sorry, Ang, can't wait," he said, sticking the cup in the microwave. "What time will Bob be in? I think I've got more on Bracken than just adultery. There's something very strange about the way that guy banks."

"Oh good. At least I'll have something to tell her the next time Mrs. Bracken calls. Bob should be in about eight-thirty, quarter to nine; somewhere around there."

"Okay," he said, pulling out his warmed up cup of Columbian brew. "I'm going to run home, grab a shower and change clothes. I'll be back in a little while."

Angie had poured out the previous day's coffee and was making new when Bob walked in. "Good morning boss. Troy will be in shortly. He says he came up with something on Bracken."