MJ 7A: Case of the Little Death Pt 1

"What is it?"

I passed back the card. "Arturo Delgado...that was a name Bowers used undercover in drug busts. His grandmother was Mexican, so with a tan and some hair dye, like me, he can pull it off. It's a local number."

"Why are you smiling?"

I stopped on the sidewalk and forced the smile down. "Bigger mystery. If Bowers was looking for Finn it means they weren't working together."

"Au contraire. Perhaps Finn double crossed him. Seems to have a habit of doing that." Luis walked around the car.

"Touché," was all I could mutter.

Luis popped the locks and sighed. "Let's call him."

I shook my head. "We need to be prepared. Scout a meeting location, know if anyone controls the area, get our hands on guns."

He gave me a small smile of approval, like I was earning my fee, or was a dog who just shit on the disliked neighbors lawn. "I know just the place."

He drove us to a neighborhood that was the transition from ghetto to tourist developments. The houses were small but the yards tidy and here kids played happily behind fences. There were no women lounging about smoking and waiting for johns, but a few of those hungry-eyed young men, only better dressed.

Luis put through a call as we drove telling someone he was the big man, and he was coming. Big talk for an entertainment lawyer half a world away.

We were met by a man with enough gold chains and tattoos he could have a great career as a rapper back home. He grinned, called me the boss' woman, told me I was beautiful, then blithely ignored me. Great to be in a world where tits downgraded you.

Luis asked for guns and the young man was shocked he indicated me as well, but fetched some. A Smith & Wesson 9mm for me, and a Glock for Luis. Travel the world over and languages, currency, and customs changed, but guns were as constant as gas companies.

Luis asked about a safe house with an eyebrow waggle, intimating we needed a place to screw. I lit another cigarette, itching for action, preferable to slap him for the act, but kept silent and let him get the directions. My partner declined to talk business, praised the rapper-wannabe, and we left.

Back in the car I shifted my gun and sighed. "Sure you don't want any part of the family business?"

He started the engine and laughed. "If the connections can get us guns and a place to lay low, I'll use it."

Smart, I admitted, and didn't respond as we pulled out. We found a neighborhood bordering on the business district that had coffee shops and restaurants beneath office buildings, all controlled by his family.

The safe house was a luxury apartment ten stories above the street. Further than I'd like but it helped.

We checked it out and found a space that looked like s timeshare; full furnished everything in cream and neutral tones. Starved we picked up sandwiches from a restaurant below and coffee and a disposable cell phone. It was now seven a.m. and I wanted sleep but we had work to do.

Upstairs we discussed the plan and then Luis called the number. Shockingly he was answered by an answering service and he left the message to call back regarding a job offer.

Now we had to wait.

We ate, did the necessary, and he let me take the bed and slept on the couch. We rose before dinner time and there was no response.

"Mind if I smoke inside?" I asked when we'd cleaned up.

"On one condition. If you find this strange and decline I won't ask again. Will you blow the smoke into my face?"

I lit up without responding. He found an ashtray in a nearly-empty cupboard and sat next to me on the cream couch, our coffees still cooling on the table.

I turned and leaned close, exhaling. He breathed it in and closed his eyes, moaning softly. He really did have good bones, showing in sharp contrast to his slicked back hair. With the fake black plastic-rimmed glasses he was one zoot suit away from a costume.

He opened those dark eyes so close to my face and smiled slowly. "Very nice."

I pulled back for another pull and feeling braver, cupped his chin and drew his face so close our lips almost touched. This smoke I let waft out slowly and he inhaled it deeply, shivering.

He opened his eyes once more and gave me plenty of time to stop the kiss, but I couldn't. Stressed, disoriented in life, I wanted human touch, comfort, and that this was kink helped me to accept him without worry it would be seen as more than simple comfort.

He kissed softly, hesitantly, with surprising shyness. He had the calm, confident, capable manner of a man used to taking charge but this reticence spoke volumes. We didn't know each other, didn't trust each other.

Sickly, that only aroused me more.

He reached for my cigarette and brought my hand down to the ashtray to stamp it out just as his tongue slid inside. My other hand slipped to one broad shoulder and stroked slowly.

His hands returned and stole under my shirt, tugging down the cups of my bra and Luis pinched my nipples lightly, without warning. I gasped into his mouth and dug my nails into his arm and he chuckled.

He shifted to his knees and then bent me back to lay on the cushions. He broke off to sit up and began unbuttoning his jeans to free the large bulge behind it.

Sensing what he wanted I licked my lips, ready for a little fun, but suddenly the phone rang.

We both cursed and reached for it before I remembered he was the one expecting the call back.

"Si?" he said nearly panting.

I flopped back down, horny as hell and disappointed, trying to will the blood back into my head to get ready for action.

"When? When did you last? How does he pay. Yes, I can wait." He gave me a look that did not say he was happy. "I understand. Well, thank you," he said in flawless Spanish and hung up. Suddenly he cursed and threw the phone across the room.

"She said they haven't been able to reach Arturo, the last time he called in was a month ago and the number is disconnected. He paid a year in advance in cash."

"He was here with a working number as recent as a month ago. I'm good at what I do, I can work with this."

It was almost visible the way he pulled his temper back in. "It's almost dinner time now, what can we do?"

I smiled and pulled my t-shirt over my head. "I can think of a few things."

"Shower. Now." He stood and helped me up, then put his hands on my waist and pushed me to the bathroom off the hall. I was content to let him start the show as long as I got a chance to be in command at some point.

He stripped off my clothes, keeping his on, as the shower started. "Get in," he said roughly when I was naked.

I slipped in and ducked my head under the water. Since the haircut the back of my neck had been itchy and this was heaven. Luis kept the curtain open, watching me. Well, a new kink was always promising.

At long last he removed his shirt showing lean finely sculpted muscles. He was the kind of man who likely had a high class gym membership and a personal trainer and it showed.

He reached behind me and wet his hands in the spray then grabbed the bar of soap. He tore off the wrapping and let it fall to the floor then sudded up his hands.

"Come closer," he huskily intoned and I stepped from the spray. "Hold the shower head, both hands."

I raised my arms above my head and saw he appreciated the lift of my breasts. Then those soapy hands began washing me, thoroughly. It wasn't sexual, it seemed almost medicinally clinical, but his erection never flagged.

Everything was attended to with detachment, even as a soapy hand smoothed between my legs. "Spread wider," he said softly but briskly and I did. I was rewarded by a slick finger teasing over my clit and I gasped.

He smiled, eyes riveted to his own hand, not meeting mine. He stroked and smoothed, teasing only, and it was so strangely arousing my toes curled and I leaned my hips into his hand, silently begging for more.

His free hand then reached and grabbed the detachable shower head from where I grasped and pulled. I kept my grip on the holder and he trailed the water over my suds-covered body, teasing my nipples with it, almost tickling my stomach until he reached my pussy.

I'd never masturbated with one before like I'd read in 70's novels, but when he turned it on full blast I wondered why I hadn't ever tried.

He spread my lips and touched it close, the water pulsing now and I gasped. Luis laughed and my hands slipped, going for my breasts.

"Back up!" he ordered and I clutched at it.

It felt amazing, but was just a tease. I'd never reach orgasm this way but he didn't seem to care, and kept it moving back and forth, almost rubbing but not quite.

At long last I was getting close, and I began to beg in a broken voice. Luis dropped the showerhead and jerked my body to face him standing outside the tub. He dropped to his knees and pressed his mouth to my pussy and formed a tight seal with his lips. He sucked and at the same time his tongue lightly flicked my clit.

I came with a wail and grabbed the shower curtain rod, jerking it as I fought to stay standing. Luis brought his hands to my thighs to help me but did not stop his mouth and it kept coming in wave after wave of pleasure. I shook the rod and jerked, trying to get away from him as my clit became sensitive even as the orgasm continued but Luis kept fastened to me.

Finally he pulled away as I was panting and gasping.

He stood but quickly sat on the closed toilet and opened his pants, pulling that erection out. It was thick and curved, heavier at the top which was wet with precum.

"Out," he ordered curtly and I stepped from the shower. I dripped water everywhere but didn't give a shit. I was lightheaded and still aroused and here was a chance to control him in one of my favorite ways.

I knelt and he grabbed my head, forcing it to his crotch. I used my hands to stay my mouth, cupping his balls and fisting the base and began massaging both. Only when he growled did I lower my mouth and begin to suck.

His balls were tight, he was close and the novelty almost did me in. We were fucking like kinky teenagers, and it struck me I hadn't bought any condoms and I doubted he had so this was our only option.

He tasted salty and heady and I swirled my tongue around his head with every suck until he urged me faster. His hands fisted in my hair and he began to move me. I kept my hand fused to my mouth and sucked hard and soon he was making nearly helpless little pants and his balls were plastered to his body.

Luis came with a groan and I swallowed it all, careful to gently suck it out and let go as soon as the spurts stopped.

I lay my head on his denim-clad thigh panting, and he leaned back doing the same.

"That was...distracting," he said.

For once in recent memory I fucked, in a manner of speaking, a man other than Finn and it didn't feel wrong. I didn't feel hollow or guilty. I felt...intrigued.

***

The good padre cleared his throat and I was snapped back to the present day. I realized I had a hand tracing the indent of my waist and had perhaps lingered too long on that part of the story.

The Franciscan was blushing and I cleared my throat, asking for another cigarette. This time he passed me the lighter as well, moving stiffly enough I knew he was effected, and I smiled.

"So what did you do to find this Bowers? Did you ever find him before he found you?"

I lit the cigarette and passed back the lighter. "It was one dead end after another. I never knew Arthur to be smart when we worked together but apparently those ten years of living off the radar had taught him a few tricks. He paid cash, used disposable phones or temporary numbers. We never got closer than a month behind, after two months of looking.

"Luis and I got an apartment together. He found someone to help him with papers and got his license in Caracas and opened up shop as a lawyer. Ironic as he was a felon on the run, but it worked. He grew his hair out, straightened it, and those glasses made superman into Clark Kent.

"I kept looking but after two months turned to Finn. Juanita's neighbor said he'd been injured when he was staying there and so I checked with every area hospital.

"All the while Luis and I grew closer. Maybe it was the bond we shared with a life on the run, maybe it was the fact we both had our kinks, maybe it was true love, but whatever it was I did fall in love with him."

He frowned and passed me the flask. "Did you forget Finn?"

I shook my head and took a swig. "You never forget your first love. Oh, I tried not to think of him that way, think of him as a case, but it was hard when I was living with a man who reminded me of him in almost every way but Finn's goofy sense of humor." And Luis had never learned, nor had I told him the one erotic trick Finn knew that drove me wild. Kind of hard to tell a man who proposed to you at a five tar restaurant how you needed a thumb in your ass to be truly happy during sex.

"Finn had been shot, went to ground, it got infected. He checked into a hospital but something spooked him and he checked out and went to stay with Juanita Morales. Nothing suggested Bowers had been there other than once to buy a gun as Luis' man reported then once again looking for Finn when both Juanita and Finn had skipped town."

"So what does a PI do in this situation?"

"Actually, I retired."

He raised his eyebrows and pulled out a cigarette, offering me one. I took it and he lit for me so I could take a deep pull and sit back. "I retired when Finn's trail disappeared, and Juanita's seemed to never exist. Luis and I grew closer and he asked me to marry him.

"I loved him, all right, and by then I was truly Angela Meyers. I said yes and we got married in Caracas one year after we'd left the states.

"It was all right. He worked the firm, low level cases, made good money, had more stashed away. I studied art in college and he worked some magic to get me a job as a curator at the Museum of Colonial Art. For almost a year we were the perfect couple. He hired other P.I.s to find Finn and Bowers, I had a fulfilling job, and we grew closer. It was all good until the night Luis came home late from work bedraggled. He told me he had to leave town for a case, packed enough for a week, kissed me, and left saying he'd explain it when he came back."

"Where did he go?"

"At first I assumed he was going with a mistress. Surprised? One reason I loved my husband was he, like me, didn't believe in monogamy. He had far more lovers than I did but he always gave me priority."

"So he was with a lover?"

"I thought so, and maybe that was why I was so receptive Erik Hamm when he arrived."

"Who was this man?"

I took another pull. "It's best left to the flow of the story."

"Please, continue."

***

It was a foggy night of the Pacheco when I spent my first night in Caracas alone and a knock came at the door of the townhouse.

December and January were the coldest months in Caracas, a balmy 70 Fahrenheit, but peppered by fog called Pacheco by the locals. It was like the city dressed itself for a movie and the crime rates rose when anonymity was granted by the weather gods.

So Luis who had left mysteriously the night before for a week had left me with guns and ammo, two things this girl valued more than diamonds. I might wear suits and work days at a museum but some things never change.

I'd been eating dinner, fresh fish cooked by the maid we employed since domestic was one word that would never describe my husband or I. I grabbed my new Taurus from the hall table, checked the chamber and cartridge, turned off the safety, and put it in my left hand.

I put on the chain and opened the door to the hall. The hall was common to our townhouse and the empty one next door Luis also rented to guarantee privacy. The outer door had a buzzer and only Luis, the maid, and I had a key.

I opened the door to a man I didn't recognize. Tall, slim, Caucasian and blonde he had the razor-sharp bones of Germanic ancestry. He wore a suit, carried a briefcase, and looked tense.

"Yes?"

"Mrs. Gonzales?"

"In the flesh," I said tersely in English.

He seemed surprised. I tanned regularly, still dyed my hair black and wore those brown contacts. My Hungarian side was often interpreted as Hispanic. "I'm Erik Hamm, I work with your husband. Is he home? I have urgent news."

"He's indisposed. What do you do for him?"

He reached into his coat and pulled out an ID that said he was a P.I. Venezuela didn't license them and his said Argentina. "I'm an investigator, he paid me to find two people."

"Hang on." I closed the door, slipped the gun under my suit jacket and undid the chain. I opened it wide and stepped to the side to let him in.

He rushed past me with a nod, eyes taking in the townhouse. My husband, every the particular one, was obsessed with white. Everything was white from the carpet to my outfit to the pots and pans.

Against it his black suit and shoes looked like coal. He saw my looking and fidgeted. "Should I remove them?"

I shook my head. "I was eating dinner, join me in the dining room and you can tell me what this is about. Do you like white wine?"

"Yes," he said with that trace of a German accent.

I sat back at my plate and motioned to the place next to me at the round table. The maid had left two glasses out and set two places since I hadn't told her my husband was gone. I poured him a glass but did not offer food, instead returning to my lovely fish in wine sauce and sautéed potatoes.

"So what is this news?"

"I must confess Mrs. Gonzales, I lied."

I raised a brow and swallowed my bite. "P.I.s usually do trying to gain access to a home."

"The urgent news I gave your husband a few days ago and he left town without paying my fee."

My heart stopped. This German man from Argentina had found Finn? Maybe Bowers? Maybe both? And Luis, who I'd come to trust had gone off alone to find them? "Who did you find?"

"A man named Dujuan Hill, aka Alabaster."

I slammed my fist on the white-laminated table making the plates and Hamm jump. "Where is he?"

"I could not narrow down a location more specific than Paris but I spoke to him on the phone. I'd tracked an Arthur Bowers there but his trail went cold. I looked a bit more into your husband's past and, I apologize, yours, and discovered this Alabaster. I got a number for him in Paris.

"When I spoke to him he claimed he knew nothing of Bowers but he wanted to speak to your husband. I gave your husband the number and then he took off, leaving on a flight to London last night."

I stared at him levelly for a moment, set down my knife and fork and took out a soft pack of Belmonts from my jacket and shook one loose. "So what is it exactly you want?"

I lit the cigarette and shimmied the gun into a better position. Shooting Hamm in the white dining room wasn't a great idea but if I had to, I would.

"I was promised fifty thousand American for any information, one hundred more per each man I was paid to find, this Arthur bowers and a Michael Finnegan. I simply want my fifty thousand."

"My husband will be back in one week. Surely you can wait."

Hamm took a sip of wine. "I was given a paltry ten thousand up front. The problem is this has become my only case. I have a lead on this Michael Finnegan but I need more money to pursue it."

My poor heart stuttered again and I had to wonder if at the ripe old age of 35 I was having a heart attack. "How good is this lead?"

He leaned in close despite my exhalation of smoke. "As recent as four days."

"How reliable?"

"I understand you yourself worked as a detective. It's solid gold, as you Americans say."

The way he casually dropped so much info on my real life made me wonder if this was a blackmail scheme. My husband and I were worth far more than $50,000 so it seemed a stretch.