Case of the Murdered Lovers Ch. 03

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32


The chronological order of my stories to read is:

Todd & Melina series., Interludes 1-5, Sperm Wars series 1-4.
Russian Roulette series 1-2 (may not yet be published)

Case of the Murdered Lovers

So…. let’s see if soap-opera-police-dramas with sex are of interest to Literotica readers…

This story contains graphic scenes, language and actions that might be extremely offensive to some people. These scenes, words and actions are used only for the literary purposes of this story. The author does not condone murder, racial language, violence, rape or violence against women, and any depictions of any of these in this story should not be construed as acceptance of the above.

Feedback and constructive criticism is very much appreciated, and I encourage feedback for ideas.

Part 8 – Interview

My reverie was broken by a sharp knock on the door to my office. It was Hugh Hewitt. “Time to go.” he said. I followed him upstairs, knowing I had to get my head back in the game.

We met Lt. Britt Maxwell upstairs. As we sped along to President Wellman’s house, I told Britt and Hugh how I wanted the interview to go. I also told Britt that if President Wellman tried to hang around, I’d need her to get him out of the room somehow.

Once there, Sally Wellman let us in, giving Hugh and myself looks that bespoke a hungry Cougar on the prowl for young men for sex. We were shown into a den with sofas and chairs and President Wellman brought Joe Arruzio into the room. Arruzio looked much better than he had the night of his wife’s murder, though he still looked solemn.

“Mr. Arruzio, thank you for meeting with us today.” I said. “You remember Lieutenant Maxwell?” He nodded and I introduced Hugh. “This is my partner, Detective Hewitt.”

“The war hero, right?” Arruzio said, then offered his hand to Hewitt. “It’s an honor to meet you; I’ve heard about some of the things you did.”

“Thank you, sir.” Hewitt said, blushing at the praise. For myself, I was noting how adroitly Arruzio had steered the conversation into something less tense, and also potentially ingratiating himself with us. We sat down for the interview.

“Mr. Arruzio,” Lt. Maxwell began, on cue, “we’ve checked your story and whereabouts during the time of the crimes, and everything checks out.” Arruzio looked attentive but also relieved as Britt continued, “We still have to ask you some questions that you may find personal and probing, but it’s to ascertain if you had or have any enemies that might have done this.”

Arruzio nodded. “I understand. If there’s anything I can do to help…”

“Thank you, sir.” I said, picking up the bit. “First, you said that you were supposed to have a meeting with business partners, but that it was cancelled. Can you give us the names of those partners?”

“The only name I actually know is Jack King.” Arruzio said. The others were part of his group and I hadn’t met them before, and I never got their names. It was an initial contact meeting.” I got the information of how to contact King.

Per our plan, Hugh Hewitt asked the next question: “Sir, we understand you were celebrating something and bought a round at the bar. Could you tell us more about that?”

Arruzio’s face did not change as he said “Some other deals I had going were taking turns for the good. It was somewhat… spontaneous of me, I guess, to go to the bar and buy everyone a round, but I just felt good about it.”

“I understand.” I said, to ease any tensions that question might have brought. Then I hit him with the bomb: “Sir, can you tell me where you went to high school?”

“Why, er… Demetrius High School in–” Arruzio said, naming the town and state of that school. “Detective, do you really think someone from as far back as high school would hold such a grudge that he’d kill my wife now?”

“One never knows, sir.” I said, “but we also have had some trouble identifying where you went to high school.” As I expected, Arruzio was realizing that we’d been checking into his past, but he seemed unfazed. He got up, went to his briefcase and fished out a document.

“I can explain that.” he said. “I was adopted as a baby, and don’t remember anything about my real parents. Do you remember the Pressley bank fraud case about 30 years ago?” Britt and Hugh looked blank, but I remembered hearing of it, as my father had been legal counsel to the Apple Grove bank that was one of many that had been defrauded.

As I nodded, Arruzio looked at me and said “Pressley was my adopted father. The scandal happened when I was just graduating high school. That’s when my mother told me that I was adopted, and gave me this copy of my original birth certificate. ‘Arruzio’ is my real birth name. My mother suggested that I take that name back, so to not be stained with any connections to my father.”

Arruzio handed me the birth certificate. I looked at it, passed it to Lt. Maxwell, and wrote down the number and place it was issued as bursa escort she examined it.

“Well, that makes sense.” I said. “You don’t think anyone from that time knows you’re Pressley’s adopted son, do you?”

“I seriously doubt it.” Arruzio said.

“Sir, what about your own financial deals?” Hewitt asked, suddenly changing the direction of the conversation, as pre-planned. “Did any go bad, or perhaps good at someone else’s expense? Was there anyone who might wish to harm you or your wife because of any of those deals?”

That led to a long discussion of some of Arruzio’s deals. He spoke in fairly vague terms, and said several times he’d have to get information from files to get us details on the people involved.

After a few more questions to get some timeframes correct, we thanked Arruzio for his time, said our goodbye’s and thanks to the Wellmans, and headed back to headquarters.

?”Crap.” Britt said as we pulled out onto the road. “He might start hiding or destroying documents related to those deals. Did we make a mistake mentioning them instead of subpoenaing them?”

“No.” I said, to Hugh’s relief. “They don’t matter.” Seeing the looks of shock on their faces, I realized I’d said more than I’d intended. “Guys, Myron is going to find more on Arruzio’s deals than Arruzio would be able to give us.” I said, covering my tracks. They seemed mollified.

“What’s next?” asked Hugh.

“Lunch.” I said. “And then back to headquarters. I’m going to put Myron on the scent of one live birth certificate and certain adoption papers.”

Part 9 – New Direction, New Suspects

“We’ve got something.” Tanya Perlman stated, bursting into my office. Good thing for her that I wanted to fuck her; I excused her rudeness knowing she was excited and enthusiastic about something. “Possible place where Burke was living.”

“Possible?” I asked witheringly. “We don’t get things done with just ‘possible’ around here.”

Tanya’s look back was just as withering. “Well, what we do have is an apartment in the Central district… the rent was paid for every month for the past four months with a credit card paid for by Marie Arruzio, but using her maiden name from a bank account created… just four months ago.”

“Okay, ‘possible’ is now looking ‘promising’. Let’s get a warrant.” I said. Tanya was back to mischievously grinning again.

“ADA Patterson is already on it. The judge is pissed off he’s having to work so hard on Sunday, but she’ll probably have it for us by the time we get our stuff.” Our “stuff” meant bulletproof vests. Hugh and Cindy were outside the door; they already had theirs on. It took just moments for Perlman and myself to put ours on and be ready to go.

Upstairs we were met in the hallway by Chief Griswold, Captain Harold Malone and Detective Teresa Croyle. Teresa had her vest on, also. “She’s going with you.” Malone said, almost maliciously.

“Okay, fine.” I said, not arguing. “Perlman, you get to stay here. I don’t need the whole frickin’ Force for this.” Perlman pouted as the rest of us left and got into a police van.

Moments later we were in the modest Central district, which was on the west side of the main north-south highway that split the Town to the west and University to the east. Some college students lived there but mostly it was average-income workers. There were a number of apartments. As we pulled up to the address, I noted that these apartments were not well-kept, on the lower end of the scale of the neighborhood.

We took up positions near the door. Hugh Hewitt would knock. To my surprise, Teresa Cunt was almost physically holding me back.

Hugh knocked and got no answer to his summons. He then tried a key that had been obtained from the dead man’s personal effects. It opened the door.

?The apartment was still and nearly completely empty. Once cleared, we began looking around. Some utensils, dishes and cans of food were in the kitchen. A futon was in the bedroom, nothing more than a mattress, really. A few items of clothing, all in Jack Burke’s size. But in a closet Hugh found some electronic equipment.

“Your specialty, Don.” he said, knowing my experience with this stuff. Sure enough, I found the hidden cameras in various places in the room as well as several DVDs hidden behind the recorder in the closet.

“Not a particularly professional job.” I remarked of the equipment. Everyone was around me, listening and looking. Teresa Croyle was especially watching me and it dawned on me that she’d been sent by Malone and the Chief to watch me. Understandable, but irritating. “Looks like this bozo was making porn films, with himself as the star.” I said.

“How the heck would you know that?” Croyle asked. I thought I detected a note of real interest in her normally sneering voice.

“All the cameras are pointing at the bed.” I said. “I think Burke was using a remote to film himself with various women. We’ll take this stuff in for examination. bursa escort bayan Also the computer in the closet. Hugh, call in a Crime Lab team.”

“And by the way, Teresa…” I added for her particular benefit, “Burke was a real ladies man, but a real sleazebag as well. Filming himself fucking women would be right up his alley.” Croyle scowled mightily; she was more than a bit displeased with that remark.


“Oh wow, mother lode.” Myron exclaimed. “Mother fucking lode.” He was examining the materials we’d brought in.

The DVDs were indeed porn tapes of Jack Burke having sex with several women on the bed in the apartment. They were crudely made, had poor lighting, but clearly showed him in sex acts with women.

The woman Jack was fucking in the DVD we were currently watching was known to us. She was Jeanine Olivet, wife of Timothy Olivet who was one of the wealthier people in town. Olivet ran a company in the industrial sector of town, and had done very well for himself.

I’d met him on a couple of occasions at functions given by President Wellman, who was hoping to get some contributions from the wealthy man. But Timothy Olivet was very much reclusive and did not want his name associated with any public works, though he agreed to privately and secretly donate to the University Hospital. Timothy Olivet was tall but slender, wispy brown hair, kind of geeky looking… in fact, now that I thought of it he really resembled my nephew Ned.

By way of contrast, Timothy Olivet’s wife Jeanine was a gorgeous beauty of what appeared to be French extraction, with long dark brown hair, a medium frame, nice legs… overall a hot smoking body. Jeanine was very active in charity work and fundraisers, but made sure that her name was never attached up front to any of her work. All in all, they were a very quiet, private couple that seemed to want no publicity at all.

“Damn, Olivet sure outpunted his coverage, didn’t he?” Hewitt said as he watched the tape of Jack Burke deeply fucking Jeanine Olivet in the dogstyle position.

“Turn that shit off.” a voice growled from behind us. It was Police Chief Griswold. This man did NOT like coming downstairs to the Dungeons, so his appearance got our attention fast.

“Myron, you and Lainie are to review this material privately and report directly to me what you find. Do not pass ‘Go’, do not collect two hundred dollars.” the Chief ordered, then addressed the rest of us: “Folks, this is some very sensitive stuff. We’ve got some of the town’s so-called ‘high class’ women banging this guy and getting filmed. We may have some blackmail going on. Very sensitive stuff, people. And let me be abundantly clear: any leaks of any of this to the press, and may God have mercy on your soul when I’m through with you. Any questions?” Not a word was spoken in the silent room.

“Okay, what’s on the computers, Myron?” the chief asked.

“Some porn, none of it with him in it. Emails, nothing that speaks out so far. Not much at all.” Myron replied.

“Keep at it.” the chief ordered. “And once again: no fucking leaks.”


“You need to see this.” Myron said, handing me a DVD. I made two observations: that it was a copy of the evidence DVD that Myron had just burned off, and that Myron had a very serious, concerned look on his face. It was just two hours after Chief Griswold’s visit to the I.T. dungeon, and from down here we could not tell that the sun was setting outside upon this very long day.

Putting the DVD in my “private” computer, the one not hooked up to anything so that not even I.A. knew what I was doing with it. I watched the video that had been recorded. It did not take long watching the rutting couple on the tape, hotly mating with fierce intensity, to understand why Myron was concerned and why he’d disobeyed the Chief’s orders and showed it to me first. Popping the DVD out of the machine, I tried to hand it to Myron, but he wouldn’t take it. “That’s your private copy.” he said.

“Okay.” I replied, then got serious. “I have not seen this. You have not told me anything. Take the original to the Chief right now, immediately. When, not if but when he asks you if you’ve told me, you tell him only that you told me that you found something but that I sent you up to him per his directive. Capice?”

“Got it.” he said and hustled out. I hid my copy of the DVD in the secret compartment of my personal bag, having learned that much from my hated big sister Elizabeth… and got ready for the shit to hit the fan. I though the Chief would call me into his office, but he did not. Instead, after an hour Myron came down, his face white as a sheet. “He’s called I.A.” were his only words.

I just nodded. “Play this one straight, Myron. No peeking into the IA computers, either.” He nodded and left.

The video Myron had shown me had been made recently. It clearly showed Jack escort bursa Burke having sexual intercourse… and the beautiful woman he was deeply and passionately fucking was my wife Melina.

Part 10 – Turning Up The Heat

I had taken my bag and personal computer home and not brought them back. When I arrived at 6:00 am the next morning, I knew it was going to be one of “those” Mondays, and having slept alone I had missed having any sex or the morning blowjob that I got from Melina every morning when she was at home with me.

I also knew the call to the chief’s office would come, and it did. The chief told me shortly and crisply that I was still on the case but essentially confined to headquarters, and to send my people out for any field investigations. He also quietly but firmly advised me that it might be most very good that my conversations with my own wife be limited and guarded until she was interviewed when she got back.

It was 7:00am in the MCD room, and I had just let my team know what the situation with me was. Hugh Hewitt was sitting next to me at “my” desk, Tanya’s cute butt sitting on the desk right in front of us. Ross was at her desk a few feet away.

“This is Bettina Wurtzburg, KXTC Channel 2 News!” the redhead reporterette all but shouted into her microphone on the television screen, arresting all of our attention. The reporter was just a bit too eager, a bit too excited. “Channel Two News has learned that that the other victim of the Marie Arruzio murder case, Jack Burke, was a drifter who may have been having an affair with Mrs. Arruzio for several months. Additionally, Channel 2 News has learned that Mr. Burke may have been having extramarital affairs with other women in the area–“

“Jesus Christ,” Hewitt said. “Chief’s gonna have a heart attack over that.”

“Yep. The Press is going to be all over it. It’s all about sex to them now.” I said. Just then, the most totally unexpected of events occurred: Steven Ikea strode casually into the MCD room, hands in his pockets as if taking a leisurely stroll.

“Heard you got suspended, Donny.” Ikea said. The tension in the room instantly went to red-hot levels with my entire team.

“You heard wrong, Betta fish. Like always.” I was somewhat glad Hewitt was between me and Ikea.

“Oh really. I also heard that Burke guy was banging your wife. Was that wrong?” Ikea queried. “Oh by the way, you still think Arruzio flew in from town and killed his wife?”

Ikea continued, almost becoming excited with his enjoyment of the situation. “You and Arruzio have something in common, you know: that guy was fucking both your wives under your noses. Maybe you can fly too, huh, hotshot?”

I grabbed Hewitt’s forearm and held it to the desk, preempting him from getting up, knowing that I had just stopped the war hero from committing murder right here in this room. I don’t think Ikea realized the danger he was putting himself in at this moment.

“Well, good luck using your crowbar to solve the case… from your desk.” Ikea said sneeringly as he walked toward the other door to the hallway. He was passing by Cindy Ross’s desk and I knew that not only was I too far away to stop her, but that she could snap his neck in a second if she so chose.

Fortunately, she stayed seated, despite Ikea continuing, “Well, I’ve got to go, field investigation of the case. Hold the fort down for me, Donny!” He exited the room and we heard him and Captain Malone laughing loudly in the hall.

Everyone in the room was angry and embarrassed for me. “Don’t worry about that piece of dog shit.” I said. To my team, it looked like I was holding my temper. In reality, I was struggling not to laugh out loud. The guy could not have set himself up to fall any better. “We’ll have the last laugh on him.”

Then I got serious. “But folks, before he or Wurtzburg do any more damage, we’ve got to get moving. Get your interviews with Burke’s lady-friends done quickly, make damn sure the Press is not tailing you when you go see them. Move, people, move.” Everyone scrambled to get out.

I went downstairs to the IT dungeon and begin poring over the data that I had asked Myron to obtain for me by “whatever means necessary.” What that slug Ikea couldn’t possibly know is that the solution to this case was in this data, not chasing ghosts with whatever his idea of “field investigation” was.


It was 10:30am. Detectives Cindy Ross and Teresa Croyle were headed to the far northwest part of town, the “rich section” as we called it. Indeed, the several gated communities of mansions near the Town’s very high-end mall bespoke of the wealth of those that lived in this sector. The river ran off the hills through this sector and then along a southerly course to the west of town and railroad, and two golf courses had been built with communities around them up there. It was certainly nicer than Central district, the more industrial middle part of town, and the increasingly bad southwest sector.

Cindy was driving as Croyle reviewed her notes. “Olivet.” Croyle stated flatly. “Timothy Olivet.” She gave the address, though Ross knew well where she was going. “So what’s all this crap with Steven and Don about?”

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32