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By Likegoodwine copyrighted February 2012
Here’s another story for you. It will be published in 3 parts. There is almost no sex to speak of in this one. Enjoy! Thanks to Scalia for his patient editing.
Your votes and constructive comments are appreciated, as they will help me grow.
My name is Allan Smith. I am a private detective. I normally investigate dubious insurance claims, performing due diligence searches on prospective employees and the like. But when business gets slow, I work a few unsolved murders provided there is a nice little reward for any new information that might lead to solving the mystery.
A few months ago, I found a very interesting case: $100,000 for information that would identify the murderer of a healthy businessman in our city.
Now that’s a very good incentive for me. So I used a police contact and got a copy of the investigation files. Then, I stumbled upon a name, Martha Cicerone. I had a friend in grad school named Martin Cicerone and the two names Martin and Martha were very similar. Nothing very interesting you might say, except that it was not the first time I had made the same connection.
Two years ago, a personal trainer of an upscale gym was found stabbed multiple times in the back alley behind the gym. It was first assumed that it was a robbery gone wrong when the police arrested a man trying to pawn the trainer’s Rolex. He was simply a vagrant that had discovered the crime scene and decided to relieve the dead man of his valuables.
Apparently the trainer had no known enemies. He was well liked by everybody. He was not into drugs, and he didn’t owe money to any suspicious characters. The police were unable to come up with a shred of motive. All they could surmise was that it was personal. The trainer had been stabbed numerous times when he was already dead. Since the reward wasn’t that large, I didn’t pursue that investigation then.
The name Martha Cicerone appeared among the persons interviewed as an acquaintance of the victim. That is a very weird coincidence: that the same person was somehow involved with two murders in a span of two years.
Then Martha reappeared in another unsolved case. One morning, Matthias Raymond seemingly drove himself off a cliff. At first, everyone thought it was an accident until they discovered that his brake lines had been tampered with. This time there were plenty of motives. Matthias was a successful businessman with a reputation of taking no prisoner when dealing with the competition. In a word, he was a ruthless businessman.
Being recently divorced, his ex-wife came under suspicion but she had an airtight alibi. So were his most offended competitors. Then the name of Martha Cicerone came up: she had been seen with him on a few social events.
All of a sudden I wanted to know: who is Martha Cicerone? She became the focus of my investigation. The police had previously covered all other avenues; I only had the long shot scenarios.
Martha Cicerone, born Nesbitt, is a prominent patron of the art in our small city. She works as a senior partner in a public relation firm that caters to many powerful companies. At 37-years old, she is an extremely attractive woman, tall, slender, blonde, and with a flawless body that only numerous hours in a gym can provide.
I have been following her on and off for the last two months and I can say that has a very charming personality, classy but warm, a rare occurrence. All the males of her acquaintance seemed to be under her spell. In a word, she is a husband’s nightmare. And that was before I surmised, then verified, that she was hopping from bed to bed, keeping the gentlemen interested and anxious to be the next lucky one.
That leads me to her husband, Hector Cicerone. He is a 51-year-old electrical engineer. He works for a small company that is a subcontractor for many US army weapons manufacturers. He is a non-assuming individual, friendly with everyone, from the janitor to the chairman of the board. Just over 6′ tall, he still carries a leanness gained from his military training in the 90’s and preserved from a regular regime of exercises. Did I mention that he was also a war hero?
In 1991, during the first Gulf war, Lt. Cicerone was the engineer in charge of restoring power using an old diesel generator in a small Iraqi town. Since they were far from the front line, his unit was escorted by a few infantry soldiers when they came under attack. Most of the escort was mowed down in a matter of minutes. Lt. Cicerone and his team were stuck inside the building housing the generator. Because there was heavy fire, one injured soldier was unable to get back to shelter. Without a second thought for his own safety, Cicerone had his small team of technicians provide cover while he went and brought back the soldier. In the process, he suffered a non life-threatening injury. Not long after that, they were rescued, the injured soldier received medical attention and Cicerone later was awarded a büyükçekmece escort Silver Star.
After his return to the States, Cicerone met Martha Nesbitt and within a year they were married. They never had children.
I don’t know where their marriage went wrong but she started cheating on him. I don’t know when it started, but right now all I know is that she cheats on him left and right.
The funny thing with this couple is that she is very fond of her husband. In public, she beams while holding his arm or simply hovers around him. In private, with her friends and lovers, she has only nice things to say about him. He has similar feelings toward his wife. Always proud to be with her, his whole face lightens up when she enters a room he is in. Kisses, caresses, and small loving words are part of their daily life.
If she could only keep her legs close, they would be a perfect couple. But as the matter stands, I can see her through my small monitor in a van parked outside her lover’s nest. She is now standing on her elbows and knees while a guy named Thomas Nelson is pounding her pussy.
“How does it feels Baby?” asked Thomas.
“Oh, so good!” whimpered Martha.
“Hubby can’t take good care of you the way I do, does he?”
“Don’t go there, Tom! Just keep fucking me.”
“Well, I am the lucky one who can pound this gorgeous ass while your wimp of a husband has no clue that I can give you what he can’t,” Thomas said while thrusting hard into her pussy.
Without a word, Martha disengaged herself from his grip on her hips and jumped out of bed, leaving Thomas Nelson dumfounded, still on his knees, his erect wet penis standing up.
“What the fuck! What are you doing? I’m not finished. Get back in bed.”
“No!” Martha said. She grabbed her clothes lying all over the floor and headed toward what I knew was a washroom.
“Martha, what are you doing? What’s this all about? Was I going at it too hard?” asked Thomas.
At the door of the washroom, Martha turned toward him. “I told you numerous times not to talk about my husband. You are not half the man he is and I will not let you belittle him. I’m gone and remember that rule the next time we meet, if we do…”
“That’s a stupid rule. Why do you cheat on him if he is such a great guy?”
Martha shrugged. “Not a man in this world can satisfy all my needs, not him, not you – that’s for sure – nobody. No man is good enough.”
“Moron! And don’t forget to call me Thursday, I might be available.”
“Will do! Can I talk you in finishing me off before you leave?”
“Not a chance! Look at it as a hard learned lesson.”
Thomas looked at her, dejected. “You know that you are the only woman that could leave me with blue balls but I would still eagerly welcome back in my bed?”
She came back in the bedroom and kissed him gently on the lips while caressing his deflating cock. “I know! Men are all like that, all 3 billions of them. And you are one of the sweet ones.”
She went back to the washroom and within minutes, was dressed and prepped-up ready to go back home. End of the show for today, folks!
In the van, I zipped myself back up and started to think about the case.
I was not surprised that the investigators didn’t pursue the links between Martha and each murder victims. Everything in her behavior was kosher! She was a loving wife. She was a nice lady. Every man was in her thrall when meeting her. She exuded sensuality with every pore of her skin. In my opinion, she was lucky that no one in the investigating team members was a female. I had to fight very hard not to dismiss her as a suspect. But now there were $110,000 reasons to pursue the matter.
I was busy over the next three months with two cases of cheating husbands and a case of a missing child in a bad divorce case. The funny thing about that last case was that I provided the husband with the proof of his wife cheating. One year later, after an aberrant court ruling that gave the wife sole custody of the kid with little visitation rights to the father, I had to find the poor sap. I did but it didn’t give me joy. It did however inflate my bank account by a few thousand dollars. Hey, welcome to America! Like we say: business is business.
One morning, while reading the newspaper, I almost choked myself on my coffee. On page 1, was a headline: “Prominent lawyer found dead”.
There was a story about Thomas Nelson being found dead in his mansion. The story gave almost no information: he was found dead in his bathtub around midnight when his wife came home from a social event. I tried calling the police contact but it was off-duty.
Since I had previously hidden a GPS tracker in Martha’s car, I ran to my computer, to locate the car. After what seemed to an interminable wait, the blip of her car appeared on a map of the city. I though for a second that she was parked, but then the fatih escort blip started to move. Knowing her habits, she was on her way to work. I ran out the door.
She always stops at the same coffee shop near her office. Every morning she would get a cappuccino coffee, a muffin, a light yogurt, and the newspaper. With some luck, I could be there just in time to see how she reacted to her lover’s death. I beat her by a few seconds. We were both walking toward the coffee shop from opposite directions so I had time to scrutinize her. Nothing seemed amiss. She was beautiful as usual. I slowed down and we reached for the door at the same time.
I opened the door. “After you Miss!” I said bowing my head slightly.
“Well, thank you sir!”
I was right behind her. She grabbed a newspaper and so did I. I made a show to look through the newspaper and then I said:
“Oh my God” I exclaimed, attracting the attention of everybody in the coffee shop. Martha had instinctively turned around to look at me.
I looked around apologetic. “Sorry Folks, I just read that a friend of mine has been murdered last night.”. I went back to the story and Martha turned toward the clerk to order her usual.
“I can’t believe Tom is dead,” I said, muttering just loud enough for Martha to hear. “Well I guess there will be no Thomas Nelson Jr. Sad, real sad!”
I have to give her credit: she didn’t turn around. I could see her hands shaking when she took her coffee, muffin and yogurt but that was the only sign showing that she heard me. Any person learning that a close friend was murdered would have been all over a copy of the newspaper. Of course, I invented the murder part, to see her reaction. Was he supposed to have died of a natural cause, a freak accident? I don’t know. But it sure shook her up to hear that foul play was openly acknowledged.
She quickly glanced at me on her way out. I love to make an impression on a woman, and I am sure she won’t forget me anytime soon. I wish I had a listening device for her thoughts. As a matter of fact, I don’t even have a listening device in her office, the security being too tight.
Back in my van, I was finally able to reach my police contacts. So far, no foul play was suspected. Darn! But my contact knew me better than that. He tried to get some information from me, namely the reasons behind my interest. Lying through my nose I said that a client who was an acquaintance of the deceased expressed surprise that such a young man, would die so suddenly. My contact didn’t believe a word I said but he let it slide.
Well, three dead guys in just over four years! Folks, we officially have a black widow in our hands. Now I had to find more information about her. What traumatic event in her life might have screwed her so bad: an abusive father, molesting siblings, a high school date rape, what? There must be something to explain that a woman chose to kill three — as far as I know — lovers.
I know that all three had a wife or girlfriend. They were cheating assholes and for some people, that alone was a good enough reason to terminate them. But it can’t be her reason as she herself is cheating on her husband. Well, let’s face it. If she really is screwed up she could probably provide an explanation that no sane individual could comprehend.
The big problem was she comes from out of state. Investigating her that far would be too expansive for me to undertake. I already learned everything to learn from my Internet research and there was nothing on her youth.
Then an idea occurred to me, an idea that would give me several bad nights of sleep mulling over it. Can I learn it from the horse’s mouth itself? Can I get close enough to have her confide in me?
This idea was still running through my head when the autopsy report came. He didn’t die of a heart attack: he was electrocuted. The same day the information was provided to the media, his law firm posted a $250,000 reward for information leading to the arrest of the murderer.
Talk about an incentive! For that price, I was willing to try and get closer to Martha! A woman that I had fantasized about since I first laid eyes on her! A woman of dream, a woman of nightmares! But still, a woman that gives me a hard-on on a regular basis, even through a small 7-inch monitor.
Oh shit! I suddenly remembered the surveillance equipment I had left at Nelson’s apartment. If the police are investigating a homicide, they will soon discover his love nest. I have a lot of equipment there and I wanted it back.
I jumped into my van and was soon in front of the apartment building. Monitoring the signal from my cameras (bedroom and living room), I ascertained that they were still active and that nobody was there.
In a matter of minutes, I was in the apartment and removed all my equipment. Finally satisfied that nothing was amiss, I left the apartment and headed toward the elevator.
When the door opened, esenyurt escort there was Martha. Face to face, we exchanged a look of recognition. Neither of us moved. It was so surprising that I wasn’t sure how to react. It was obviously the same for her. The elevator door started to close but I put my arm up and it reopened. I stepped in and pushed the ground floor button. No button was lit. She was coming to the apartment.
“Good morning!” she said almost inaudibly.
“Do we know each other? I’m sure I saw you before, probably talked to you because I really recognized you, but not many times, I am sure…”
She had a hesitation. “I have a friend living in the building, and I also kind of remember seeing you.”
“I am flattered. It’s a no brainer for me to remember you, as you are simply breathtaking. But I don’t usually have women take notice of me,” I said smiling and showing all my teeth.
I knew that her mind was already set on a retort but a reflex must have kicked in. “Don’t sell yourself short,” she said a slight smile appearing on her face. “I am sure many women take notice of you… as I did”. Her eyes were modestly cast down at the end. This woman has class.
The elevator finally reached the ground floor. I stepped out and, as expected, she stayed in.
“Sorry! I forgot something at my friend’s apartment. I have to go back up. Nice talking to you again,” she said.
“It was a pleasure,” I said with my upper body leaning right to keep eye contact with her while the elevator door was closing.
Too bad all my equipment was gone. I wish I could look at what she was doing in Thomas’ apartment.
She certainly looked strained today. Her make-up did a good job to hide the obvious signs of stress on her wonderful face, but not that good.
Knowing all of her habits, I spent the next few days trying to figure out the best way to get close to her, without arousing suspicion.
At the gym? That was an option but I didn’t really want to fork the few hundred dollars needed to take a membership. But I could probably find a good enough explanation for my presence there.
At work? That would be difficult if not impossible. There is no way I could bluff my way as they cater to well-established firms. Anyway, her job is not a front line position with the public.
In her social circle? That would also be hard, as I didn’t associate around her kind of crowd – not even close.
I was still debating the different possible approaches when Nelson’s funeral was held.
Over 200 mourners were attending at the Church. As expected, Martha, her big boss Henry, and her immediate supervisor — and sometime lover — Bill Braden were there.
So were a couple of familiar detectives from the police department, Tim O’Hara and Duncan O’Toole. O’Hara had a long look toward me when I came in, question marks stamped all over his face.
At the end of the ceremony, when people started to leave the Church, I happened to bump into Martha. I said a quick apology, turned my back to her, stopped in my track, and turned back toward her. What do you want? I am a gifted actor.
“Hey! Hi! Nice to meet you again, although I wish it was in different circumstances,” I said while offering her my right hand.
She tentatively shook my hand. “Hi! Again!” she said, the beginning of a shy smile appearing on the corner of her luscious lips.
“My name is Allan by the way.”
“So, you knew Tom?”
“Um! His law firm was a good client of ours. I worked on their web site and also on their annual scholarship program. I work in PR and marketing.”
I wanted to keep it going, but it was wiser to simply let go. Let’s say that a funeral might not be the best pick-up place.
“Well, I have to rush back to work so… Have a nice day Martha!” I said, offering again my hand.
She shook it again, more firmly this time, in a warmer way it seemed. “Same to you Allan.”
It had been very difficult to let go of her hand and initiate the parting. In her presence, I only wanted to bask in her proximity, to talk to her, to touch her. But I had 360,000 good reasons to keep my head level.
In the background I saw her supervisor, Braden, looking at us. He didn’t seem happy with the attention Martha was paying me. Trouble in paradise?
Two days later, making sure that she saw me, I entered the coffee shop a good 30 seconds ahead of her. I was waiting in line when I felt somebody tapping on my shoulder. I turned around ready to present the nicest smile I could when my eyes fell on Sergeant detective Tim O’Hara. My half formed smile froze on my face.
“Hi Smith! Mind if I have a word with you?” he asked.
I could see Martha looking at us. I had to play it cool.
“Tim! Just let me order a couple of coffees and I will be ready to talk shop after a few sips. What do you want? You take cream and sugar? Is Duncan here too? What does he drink?”
I knew I had him off-balance. “E… yeah! Cream and sugar! Yes, Duncan’s here! He takes cream only.”
I look at the line-up. “I’ll be there in a minute.”
One minute later I walked to their unmarked car, opened the back door and climbed in. I distributed the coffee around.
“Hi Duncan! Here’s a coffee, cream only. And here’s the cream and sugar for you Tim.”
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