Photo's in the Mail

This is a repost of a 2008 story that has been re-edited.

This is satire, please. Have fun. There is no actual sex in this story. Sorry.

*****

My name is Bruno Randazzo. Most people consider me to be a nasty son of a bitch. I run my own construction business and last year did over a hundred million dollars. I am a great businessman and I am proud of it. Most of my workers are union members. They cost me more in wages and benefits, but I make up for it in getting contracts, that I might otherwise have missed out on, and no work stoppages. I also have no problems with inspectors or permits. There are rumors that organized crime people are associated with the union but I don't have any knowledge of that. Several competitors of mine have had accidents and problems with equipment and such. I have been blamed for some of this but there has never been any proof. I am, of course, innocent of any misdeeds. Some people even whisper that I have been the direct cause of a few deaths. Of course, that is pure bullshit but I find it to my advantage to let the stories persist.

About ten years ago I found it necessary to be married for business reasons. I obtained a trophy wife for myself. There was no love or courtship involved in this union. She was a very attractive and classy chick that seemed to be interested in me. At the time I was a good catch so I had a lot of girls to choose from. Unfortunately, I didn't do too good of a job. While she met all of my meager criteria, she turned out to be a less than loving wife. The only smart thing I did was to have a strong prenuptial agreement. For the last four years, Betty has been trying to get a divorce. Of course, she is looking for the big bucks. She seems to believe that by making herself a miserable bitch I would be more inclined to dump her at any cost. Sorry, it just doesn't work that way. I was raised to believe that divorce was not an option.

"Bruno, I am not going to be able to put up with this shit marriage much longer. Just what the hell do I have to do to get you to give me a divorce?"

"We have been over this before and you know the answer."

"Come on, Bruno, neither one of us is happy and there is no reason to perpetuate this misery."

"Take up a hobby or something. I am not going to give you a divorce, and that is final."

"Well, how about if I file for it, what then?"

"What are you going to use for grounds? My lawyers will eat you up. I haven't done anything to justify it and you know it. I don't beat you, I don't cheat on you and I don't even verbally abuse you. Anything you can come up with will not hold water. I am afraid we will be married until you are ready for social security."

"Damn it, Bruno, how about if I cheat on you. Will you divorce me if I start sleeping around?"

"No sweetheart I won't, but I can assure you that there will be a couple of dead lovers around. Pretty soon the word will get out and they will start avoiding you like a Typhoid Mary."

"You are a son of a bitch, do you know that?"

She turned and stalked out of the room. I couldn't help but admire her beautifully rounded backside as she slithered out of the room. She swayed from side to side when she walked. Her dark hair, down past her shoulders, would swing back and forth in time with her ass cheeks. It was a sight to behold. She wasn't skinny like a lot of trophy wives. She was curvy and shapely. She never did seem to be that bright thought. If only her brain was as sharp as her tongue.

I put this conversation behind me like I had countless others. I figured she would be up to something but I didn't feel like sitting around waiting for it. But all good things come to an end.

It was a simple plain brown manila envelope. It was addressed to me and didn't have a return address. I looked at it carefully because something did not seem right. Finally, I opened it. Inside were about twenty photographs. They were of my loving wife, Betty, having sex with a big Latin looking guy. After flipping through the pictures quickly I sat down at the kitchen table with a cold Fosters.

I arranged all the pictures on the table very carefully. It was funny, I thought I would be outraged but I wasn't. Something was strange and the longer I looked at the pictures the more mesmerized I became. Several of the pictures were of very clear cum shots. There were eight of them. Three were on or about her face, three on or about her pussy and a couple on her ass. They were all different. They were not the same cum shots taken from different angles. Now the guy in the picture was well endowed, granted, but I doubt very much that he shot that amount of cum for eight times in a row. It was evident that all the pictures were taken at the same time.

After several more Fosters, I was starting to get a clear idea of what was going on. There was a third person involved because the pictures were all taken from different angles and were well focused. There was no actual penetration showing in any of the pictures. His cock was close to her mouth but never in it. It was close to her cunt but never in it. Hell, I never got into her ass so I was sure he didn't. Some of the pictures showed them bumping hips but still no actual penetration. I was convinced now that the gobs and gobs of cum all over her face and body were something other than what it appeared to be. How stupid was that? My dumb wife was simulating sex and showing me the pictures. The pictures were so phony that there was no way I could use them to prove adultery on her part because her lawyer would make me a laughing stock. How ever, if I looked at them and got raging mad and went out and killed the guy, I would go to jail and she could get the money. Sneaky bitch.

Ok, now who was the guy? I separated the photos so that I could get a good look at his face. There were only four of them but it was clear enough that I knew who it was. Carlo Quarteira was a Portuguese import that moved here from Rhode Island about five years ago. He tried to set up an earth moving business in my area using nonunion labor and charging a lot less than I did. He was gambling and it didn't work. I put him out of business in less than a year. Betty knew I hated the guy for muscling in on my operation. I can see why she picked him. For some reason, he stuck around, even after he lost everything. I thought for sure he would head back to RI. Ok, I knew where to find him so now what do I do? I was out of cold beer.

I went to the bedroom. I looked in Betty's nightstand. Her 25 caliber Berretta was there. I thought about it a few minutes and I decided I would use my old Army Issue .45. I still wasn't sure how I was going to play this but I hated being baited. It took about thirty minutes to get to Carlo's place. A worn out 89 Chevy was parked in front of the house. Things got very busy after that.

About six-thirty, I got home. I walked into the kitchen. Betty was sitting at the table picking at a salad. I yanked open the drawer to the buffet, threw the .45 into it, and slammed it shut. I had blood on my shirt and pants. I stripped them off and carried them over to the laundry room. After throwing them in the washer I walked back into the kitchen in my underwear. Betty was just staring at me.

"What's wrong darling? Do you have a problem?" I asked.

"No. Nothings wrong. Would you like me to make you a sandwich?"

"I'm going to take a shower and go down to Porzio's and get some linguini. Don't wait up."

As I walked out of the room, I noticed a small smile on my wife's face. Everything was going just like she planned.

There were some very important people at Porzio's that night. In fact, they were there almost every night. I stopped by the table and paid my respects. I mentioned that I was going to be tied up for a few weeks and that everything was going to be Ok. I took a table over in the corner and ordered a bottle of Lancer's rose. I felt a Portuguese wine was appropriate for the occasion. I started with an antipasto. There was no hurry; this was going to be a long night.

About nine-thirty they showed up. Two detectives in cheap suits walked over to my table. There were two uniforms by the door. I smiled and pushed myself back from the table to greet them.

"Bruno Randazzo, you are under arrest for the murder of Carlo and Louisa Quarteira. You have the right to remain..."

His voice went on and on and I didn't hear anything else he was saying after that. They led me out of the restaurant in handcuffs and I smiled as I was put into the police cruiser. What they didn't know was that my lawyer was already down at the police station waiting for us. I always liked to plan.

The session at the police station was as expected.

"Mister Randazzo, do you know Carlo and Louisa Quarteira?"

My lawyer, John Fermi, would nod if it were OK for me to answer and shake his head if it wasn't. He nodded on this one.

"I knew Mister Quarteira but I never had the pleasure of meeting his wife."

"How did you know him?"

"A while ago he opened up a non-union construction company in the area in direct competition with my company. He was in business for less than a year and then folded up."

"So you had a grudge against him?"

"No, he was out of business. I settled my grudge and moved on."

"When was the last time you saw him?"

"About six months ago. Why?"

"We believe that mister Quarteira and his wife were killed this morning in his home and we have reason to believe that you were the one who killed them."

My lawyer leaned over and told me not to say anything more.

"Why do you think that my client had anything to do with this?"

"The Quarteira's were shot with a .45 caliber automatic. We found the shell casings at the scene of the murder. The firing

pin markings matched the firing pin on Mister Randazzo's gun."

"How did you get mister Randazzo's gun?"

"That's not important at this time."

"It certainly is and if I don't get an answer we are leaving."

"We also have a shirt belonging to mister Randazzo that has blood on it. We believe the blood is from the Quarteirs's and we are waiting for DNA results."

"And how did you get mister Randazzo's shirt? We are not going to cooperate any more unless you start leveling with us. Where did you find the bodies and did the bullets removed from the bodies match the bullets from my client's gun?"

"We don't have the bodies at this point."

"So we have a murder with nobodies. That is very interesting. Anything else you have to tell us?"

"We found the car belonging to the Quarteira's on the back of one of mister Randazzo's construction equipment lots, burned to a crisp."

"Were the bodies in the car?"

"No."

"Why would my client do something like this?"

"Because of the photos, he got in the mail."

I looked at John and shrugged my shoulders. "I didn't get any pictures in the mail."

"Gentlemen, either charge mister Randazzo now or we are leaving. You don't even have proof that a murder was committed so there is nothing that you can charge him with. We still want to know how you got the gun and the shirt that you claim were connected to the mysterious crime."

There was no response from the other side of the table. John and I got up and quietly left the room with no objection.

We went to John Fermi's office after we left the police station.

"John, you know I am being set up."

"It sure looks that way. Is it your wife?"

"I think so. She wants out of the marriage bad and I believe this has something to do with it."

"Bruno, if she gets you sent to jail, she can petition for divorce and get a settlement even though you have the prenuptial. Somebody must have given her some legal advice. I'll look around."

"John, There is a lot more going on here than meets the eye, but I am going to keep some of it from you. In some cases, the less you know, the less chance you will have to get yourself in trouble. I'll tell you enough so that you can defend me but not enough to screw up the works."

"That makes it rough Bruno. What do you want me to do?"

"Just keep me out of jail and find out who is helping Betty."

It was morning, I stopped by my office and Joe Stempi was waiting for me. Joe held a unique position within my circle of business associates. He was a coordinator and fact gatherer. I knew what he was there for.

"Bruno, give me an update."

"It's easy Joe. My wife is trying to set me up to go to jail so she can divorce my ass and walk away with some dough."

"How did she do that?"

"She set up a fake affair with Carlo Quarteira and fed it to me so that I would blow my stack and go kill the guy. Then I would end up in prison and she would be able to dump me."

"Why would she think you would fall for that dumb crap?"

"I told her if I ever caught her with another guy I would kill him. She knew I meant it and is trying to use it against me."

"I don't understand. If that was so, how come Frankie Donato is still walking around?"

"What are you talking about? Who the hell is Frankie Donato?"

Joe did not say anything. He just sat there and then he shook his head.

"Damn it, damn it. Bruno, I screwed up bad and I am truly sorry."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"We all thought you knew about Frankie and that you were all right with it. We never even imagined that you didn't know."

"Come on Joe. Get it out. What are you trying to say?"

"Ok Bruno, but remember, don't kill the messenger.

I nodded at him.

"Frankie and Betty have been lovers for about twelve years. They were together before you got married and since you got married. They meet at his place about two times a week. Frankie even brags about screwing Betty at your wedding reception before you got to take her to the hotel. You were drinking and having a good time and Betty was upstairs, having a romp with Frankie in her wedding dress."

"How come I didn't know about this Joe?"

"Everybody thought you knew. It was common knowledge. They figured you didn't care."

"Hell, I don't think I ever even met Frankie Donato. How did she keep this from me for ten years?"

"I don't know, but that's why, when you said you were going to take out any guy she was with, I didn't understand why you didn't just do Frankie."

Both of us sat there for a minute.

"Bruno, what do you want me to do?"

"Nothing Joe, everything is fine. Fermi got the cops under control and there is no way it will ever come to trial. I got a couple of aces up my sleeve. Tell everybody there is nothing to worry about."

My loving wife was waiting when I got home.

"What are you doing here? How did you get out already? How did they get bail set so fast?"

"Damn woman, you sure ask a lot of questions. They don't have enough evidence to charge me with anything and they had to leave me go. There was no bail even necessary. By the way how the hell did they get my gun and my shirt?"

Betty stammered around a little bit. It was a hard question for her to answer. " I don't know Honey, they just showed up at the door and ask for you. I said you weren't home and they ask if it was all right to look around. I was scared so I just said, 'yes'." They found the gun and the shirt and then they just left."

Well, I knew that was all bull shit, but let it slide. I went upstairs, took a shower and caught a couple of hours of sleep.

I stayed busy at work the next week. John Fermi told me that Betty had gone to Allentown and found a lawyer who told her everything she needed to do to get me set up. John said the Allentown lawyer would not be advising her any longer. The DNA results came back on my shirt. There were three different blood samples, mine, Louisa's and Carlo's. The police still didn't have a body. It appears that they also talked to my wife again and ask her about the photographs that supposedly sent me on my rampage. She insisted I had them, but since I denied it, she couldn't prove anything. That meant the police didn't have a motive. The police were trying to put a case together based on the shell casings and the bloody shirt but it was pretty weak.

Joe picked me up and drove me to Porzio's. Several important people were waiting for us but most importantly, there was a new face. I had never seen the guy before but he had an air of authority about him.

"Bruno, I would like to introduce you to Roberto Costas. Mister Costas came down from Rhode Island to meet you."

"It's a pleasure, Mister Costas. I haven't met too many other people from your neck of the woods."

Roberto smiled and shook my hand. "Yes, but you have met my brother in law, Carlo."

"Indeed I did. Sorry about any problems I caused for him."

"Oh, not to worry. No hard feelings about his attempt to start a competitive construction company. I told him it was a stupid thing to do but he was a hard worker and figured he could make it work in spite of you."

"What can I do for you, mister Costa?"

"My sister Louisa is worried."

"I haven't harmed your sister and I have no intention of harming her."

"I know that. She is not afraid of you, Bruno. She told me that you were very generous in sending her and Carlos on that Alaskan Cruise. She tried to explain the circumstances to me but I am afraid it was just a little too complicated to follow. In any event, I am grateful to you for your benevolence. Louisa is afraid of your wife, Betty. She said she is a fierce and determined woman and not to be trusted."

"I understand. Hopefully, the problem will be resolved in a few days. By the time Carlos and Louisa are home, everything should be under control. I also got them a new car, to repay them for the trouble that my wife caused."

"Thank you, mister Randazzo. My sister will be pleased to hear that it is safe for them to return next week. I appreciated your cooperation and I am looking forward to working with you in the future." We all shook hands again. Joe and I left for my office.

"OK, Bruno now is the time to tell me what the hell is going on. The guy from Rhode Island knows more about it than I do."

"Joe, you have to keep it quiet for a while. I still have some things to take care of. Betty went to see a lawyer in Allentown who told her what she had to do to get me sent to prison. Then she could divorce me and bypass the prenuptial agreement. Carlos and Louisa Quarteira were having financial problems since I put him out of business. They were over three months behind on their mortgage payment and going to lose the house. Betty found out about it some way and went to see them. She agreed to give them enough to make the back payments if Louisa would take some pictures of Carlos and Betty having sex. They didn't have sex but the pictures indicated otherwise. Louisa said Betty filled a ketchup dispenser with mayonnaise and squirted it on herself to make it appear that Carlos had climaxed. Louisa had to keep Carlos hard until they could shoot all the pictures. Betty mailed the pictures to me and I immediately recognized Carlos. Then, I figured out the pictures were fake. I went over to see Carlos and Louisa and they told me the whole story."

"You went over to shoot them?"

"Well. I wasn't sure. The photos looked phony and I just needed them to verify it. Louisa was pissed when I explained what Betty was trying to do. She did not appreciate Betty setting them up to be shot by an irate husband. It wasn't hard to get them to agree to help me."

"Does John Fermi know all this, Bruno?"

"No, but I'll update him this afternoon. I had to keep him in the dark a little so he wouldn't get in any trouble with the bar."

"What about the blood and the shells?"

"I told them to pack a small bag but make sure that it didn't look like they were going anywhere. Stella at the Travel Agency got them flights to Seattle and a cabin for a three-week Alaskan cruise. They had enough time in Seattle to buy clothes with the two grand I gave them for expenses. I took a couple of old living room cushions and fired a half dozen muffled shots into them leaving the shells on the kitchen floor. We threw the pillows in the back of the Chevy. Carlos and I had a hell of a time getting Louisa to cut her arm but she finally did it. We smeared blood from all three of us on my shirt. I had him sign the title for the car over to me and drive it to my Mt Penn equipment lot. After we torched the car, I drove them down to the Philly airport. When I got home I stashed the gun while Betty watched and put my bloody shirt in the hamper. I was pretty sure what she would do next."