The Long Fall

by Daniel Quentin Steele

  But beyond the human reaction of jealousy, of second thoughts, of regrets, there was more roiling under the surface. There was still that unexplained anger and rage that came through and probably, not certainly but probably, was now being transformed into psychosomatic reactions of physical illness.

  Nausea was a classic reaction of the body to emotions and feelings that a person couldn’t deal with on a conscious level. He had the feeling that it still all traced back to her relationship with her aunt Clarice. There had been problems aplenty in her marriage and whatever had happened with her Aunt didn’t create them, but something triggered a massive psychological change.

  When she returned, so pale she was almost white, he said, “You definitely need to see a physician. But, would you consider hypnosis? I’d like to see if you could be put under into a light hypnotic trance and try to see if we could get a better idea of some things that happened in your past?”

  “You think that...would help?”

  “You told me that these symptoms are recent. If you can remember, did they start occurring about the time your divorce became final, or on the day your divorce became final?”

  She put her face in her hands and took a few steadying breaths.

  “Actually.....I got some kind of bug....the night the divorce was finalized. I don’t remember what I dreamed about, but I must have had a horrendous nightmare. I felt so bad the next day, not just physically, but emotionally, that I basically stayed in bed until that evening. But I know I was nauseous all day long.”

  She stared at him in sudden realization.

  “That was the day all this started. The day we split for real. My God, not only did he ruin my life while we married, but he’s making me sick when we’re not even together anymore.”

  Suddenly her mood changed.

  “You think I could sue him—for inflicting emotional distress on me AFTER we split?”

  His grin answered hers. For being an overly developed sex kitten who had been spoiled and pampered her entire life, there were times when she flashed a wicked sense of humor and he thought he glimpsed part of the reason why Bill Maitland had loved this woman beyond her obvious physical attributes.

  “Unfortunately, if that were the case, Ms. Bascomb, half the divorced population of the United States would be paying emotional damages to the other half...and vice versa.”

  He played with his pipe.

  “Of course, it would mean vastly more income for divorce lawyers.”

  She gave him a sad smile.

  “You forget, I was married to a lawyer for 18 years and now I’m working in the middle of a whole nest of them. I tend to think like a lawyer. It’s like he’s haunting me. I guess he’s the Spook of Christmas Past.”

  Teller looked at her and realized something he had always known, but hadn’t consciously realized.

  “You are a really lonely person, aren’t you, Ms. Bascomb?”

  She just looked at him.

  “Guys are so obsessed with your breasts I don’t think one in a hundred ever realize there’s an actual person in there, or get that sense of humor. And I imagine women don’t want to like you.”

  “It’s okay, Doctor.”

  She put her hands under her breasts and lifted them slightly, then planted light kisses on each one.

  “Flat chested women can tell you all day what an inconvenience big boobs are.

  “And they are. But when I used to go on dates before I met Bill, I never had to worry about a date being disappointed. I’ve never had a blind date try to bail on me.

  “Guys might never look me in the eye, but I’ve never walked into a room filled with men and been ignored. You have to take the bad with the good.”

  Monday, August 22, 2005 -- 11:30 P.M.

  “Ohhhh......God...god...that feels good....”

  “You like that Mr. Maitland? Feel that?”

  “Oh shit, how can you do that? It feels like you’re squeezing it with your fingers...it feels good but stop...I’m going to lose it...damn it’s like your jerking me inside....”

  “There are exercises for the vagina. Any woman can do that if they’re willing to work at it, and the younger...aaahhhh that’s good....you are the better you get at it....”

  I lay my head back on my pillow and took a deep breath and tried not to squirt inside Meagan Whitcomb’s soft center. She rested her small breasts on my chest and her weight on her hands on either side of me. Her nipples fascinated me. They had to be an inch long and thick as pencil erasers. They were red and bruised now because I hadn’t been able to take my mouth off of them in the first frantic moments when we got naked together.

  “Didn’t Debbie ever do that to you?’

  “No. God, I didn’t know that was possible.”

  She shot me those dimples again and if it was possible, I got a little harder inside her.

  “She just laid back there and let you enjoy that body?”

  “No.”

  I don’t know why I felt compelled to defend her, but I did.

  “No, she was energetic as hell...a long time ago. She fucked me under the bed plenty of times. It’s just that....”

  “She was so hot she never had to work at it, did she? Not like me with my little boobs...right?”

  I answered her with my mouth, reaching up to suck on one nipple and bit and pull at it until she groaned.

  “Meagan, size isn’t everything and you damn well know it. I haven’t’ been able to take my eyes or hands or mouth off those boobs of yours since your bra came off. “

  I bit her again.

  “You really think you have anything to feel inferior about?”

  I cut her off before she could say anything because she had squeezed down one time too many.

  “Meagan, I can’t-“

  She felt it coming and shouted, “Cum, cum baby. Give me everything you’re got.”

  I bucked upward lifting her body which was lighter than it looked while I squirted and squirted and squirted. Where the hell was it all coming from? It seemed to last a long, long time and when I was finished she just rode me for another half minute and then slid over to lay beside me.

  After a pleasurable silence, she leaned over and kissed me and said, “You see what you missed out on, Mr. Maitland. You could have had me years ago. But I never pushed it because you were a nice, married guy.”

  “What is this Mr. Maitland shit? I think you could call me Bill.”

  She smiled.

  “Somehow it’s sexier fucking you as Mr. Maitland, than Bill. So, Bill, are you sorry you accepted my invitation to supper?”

  “What do you think?”

  “I think you enjoyed me, at least there’s a lot of you leaking out onto the bed that gives me that impression.”

  “Shit, Meagan, I’ve loved every second of it, and you. Should I…I mean, do you want me to…”

  She leaned up on one elbow over me and kissed me on the nose.

  “No, you don’t have to call me anytime. And I won’t be waiting by the phone. And I won’t start stalking you or coming by the office. No flowers. No candy.”

  “Alright, but-“

  “Bill, you don’t owe me anything. I invited you out. I came here willingly. I wanted your body and your dick and I got them both. I had a wonderful time tonight. We’re two old friends who finally scratched an itch. That’s all.”

  I looked up and down her slender body with her amazing nipples and a small ass and bent down to kiss her left nipple again, this time gently.

  “I know, but-“

  “Bill, this was just sex. The kids would call it a booty call. No strings. No ties.. Please, don’t get weird around me. If we bump into each other or I come by your office, I don’t want it plastered in big letters across your forehead: I FUCKED THIS WOMAN. Okay.”

  “I know, Meagan. I’m only about 10 years or so older than you, but I feel like a grandpa right. When the hell did I get so old and out of touch?”

  “The last 20 years or so. You’re
Rip Van Winkle just waking up to the modern world.”

  She gave me another kiss and rolled out of my small bed.

  “But for an old man, you’re pretty damned good in bed.”

  “Meagan....?”

  She smiled down at me.

  “No, I didn’t climax. But I had a good time tonight. This was our first time. Sometimes it takes awhile.”

  “I am sorry.....you sure as hell got me off.”

  “Do I look like I’m leaving unhappy? Look, let me slip on my clothes, call a cab and get out of here. You’ve got a big day tomorrow and you need your rest. Good luck.”

  Ten minutes later I walked her out to a cab, came back inside and locked the door behind me. I set the alarm and lay down in the bed that smelled of her perfume and our sex. I tried to figure out how I’d gotten here. I really hadn’t planned on having sex with a cute girl I’d had a few fantasies about back when I was married. I hadn’t planned on having sex period.

  Meagan was only the third woman I’d had sex with in 20 years. It should have meant more than it did. Aline was special. Debbie, despite having torn my heart out, had been and always would be special. Meagan was....was... was just a pretty, nice girl that I liked. But.....

  It had been casual. That’s what it was. It hadn’t meant anything. That’s what felt so strange. When I’d been married committing adultery, bedding a pretty girl who was willing and eager, would have meant something. Even if the sex was casual, the act of having sex would be a big deal. But now I was single and I could do this and it meant—nothing?

  I felt like I had wandered into a strange land. Stranger in a strange land, that was me.

  Wednesday, August 24, 2005 -- 11:30 P.M.

  “Mr. Ballantyne, can I call you Gerry?”

  The big dark haired men dressed uncomfortably in a suit and tie fidgeted in the witness seat as Lew stalked around him, looking for all the world like a tiger circling a tied-down pig in a clearing.

  “Yeah, that’s my name.”

  Lew looked at him and I swear to God it looked like a bit of drool at the edge of his mouth as he envisioned sinking his teeth into Gerry’s tender flesh.

  “Alright, Gerry, let’s see if we can get this straight. You’re a bartender and you like trolling the dating sites for—female companionship. Is that correct?”

  “Yeah. So what. There’s no law against hooking up, not the last I heard. I like women, women like me. Works for me.”

  Lew rested his elbows on the edge of the witness box and leaned forward toward Ballantyne.

  “The stats I got say you’re six-foot-four, 190. You’re obviously a good looking guy. Ever have plastic surgery?”

  He grinned.

  “Nah, everything is the original equipment, up and down.”

  Lew rubbed his lower lip.

  “There are rumors, not that I’ve confirmed but my investigators have talked to a number of your former girlfriends, and they tell me that you are—let’s be polite—abundantly endowed. That’s true, right?”

  “I got the complete package. Women usually only need one taste and they come back for more.”

  “I’m sure. What I’m a little curious about is why, with your....attributes...most of your female companionship seems to be a little....how to say this...a little ‘mature’ for a man of your age. You have testified that you engaged in a year-long affair with Judy Johansen, while she was married to Mr. Carroll. Ms. Johansen is 67 years old. We’ve confirmed four other fairly lengthy relationships...all with women in their late 50s to 60s. One lady was in her 70s.”

  “I like older women. So what? They might not be as tight in certain places, but goddamn, they do appreciate a guy who appreciates them. You ought to try some. You’d be amazed.”

  “I’m sure you know what you’re talking about, but it does seem somewhat odd that ALL of the female friends we’ve been able to confirm were women of considerable wealth.

  “Several of them are extremely unhappy with you because of your dropping them after receiving some valuable presents. Others still have strong feelings for you despite your moving on, without paying them back for the motorcycles, condos, vacations, etc., that they provided you while your relationship with them was still going strong.”

  “What are you trying to say?”

  Lew leaned back and the smile vanished from his voice.

  “Oh, I think you know what I’m saying, Mr. Ballantyne. You have made a living romancing older women and accepting gifts and money from them that has allowed you to live well beyond any income you could legally lay claim to.”

  “You’re fulla shit.”

  “A lot of people might agree with you but we have extensive proof in the form of receipts, bills-of-sale, sworn testimony to that effect. There really is no doubt as to what you are.

  “What I do doubt is your testimony in this courtroom today that Ms. Carroll told you, in your bedroom, that she was going to kill her husband, pass it off as an accident, and spend a lot of the $30 million she would inherit on you.”

  Ballantyne sat up straighter.

  “I swore it under oath. I wouldn’t lie. Judy did tell me what she was planning. She didn’t tell me exactly when, but I knew what she was planning.”

  Lew walked to the jury and looked at them while talking to Ballantyne.

  “You have lied under oath and I want you to know right now that when Mrs. Carroll is exonerated, I am going to do everything I can to see you charged with perjury.”

  He turned back to face Ballantyne.

  “Detective McDonald testified that after she made your acquaintance on the adult dating site, ‘Plenty of Fish’ and your relationship had advanced to the point of dating, you bragged to her while inebriated about dating and knowing Mrs. Carroll before her husband’s tragic death.”

  Ballantyne had stopped talking but was looking at me anxiously. I just shook my head slightly. I had coached him to be prepared for what I was sure would be Lew’s attack on our star witness.

  Lew continued.

  “Mr. Maitland has played the tapes made by Detective McDonald which appear to be candid and unrehearsed conversations between yourself and Detective McDonald. You have, as a somewhat unfriendly witness for the prosecution, testified as to the validity of those conversations.”

  He left Ballantyne and walked to my desk and looked at me with a fairly theatrical expression of disdain.

  “You certainly realize by this time, Mr. Ballantyne, that you were ensnared in a sophisticated sting operation spearheaded by Mr. Maitland and carried out by Detective McDonald. I must admit to being a little curious about one thing, though.

  “As a good, dedicated, policewoman, did Detective McDonald have sex with you to convince you of her cover story as a lonely, wealthy older woman? Did she hold out the promise of future sex as a sweetener for your testimony against Ms. Carroll? How far was Detective McDonald willing to go to convince you to commit perjury?”

  I was on my feet striding to the judge, raising my voice louder than necessary to convince the jury that I was really, personally pissed at this point.

  “Your honor, I insist that you order the jury to ignore this cowardly attack on the character of a dedicated police officer. Mr. Walters knows full well that Detective McDonald did not engage in an unacceptable behavior to obtain Mr. Ballantyne’s testimony and that no such illegal or illicit promises of sex were offered for his testimony.”

  Lew looked at me and flashed me a tiny grin that the jury couldn’t catch.

  “Unfortunately, your honor, I haven’t worked as closely, or intimately, with Detective McDonald as has Mr. Maitland, so I really don’t know how far she would go to make her case.

  “I know that in the past she has masqueraded as a prostitute, going so far as entering a suspect’s bedroom and stripping before fellow officers came in. I’m not sure it’s that big a stretch from stripping before a suspect to...going further...to obtain cooperation.”

  Before I could open my mouth, Lew pivoted, told the
judge, “I’ll withdraw those comments your honor and you may ask the jury to disregard them.”

  After Judge Pizarro did exactly that, Lew turned back to Ballantyne and launched what I figured would be his main attack on his credibility.

  “Mr. Ballantyne, it’s clear from Detective McDonald’s testimony that you basically admitted a relationship with Ms. Carroll while intoxicated. Detective McDonald taped those comments and when you sobered up, she and Mr. Maitland badgered you into following up on those comments.

  “I have to wonder, I must admit, why you were not charged with anything. You admitted you were aware of a plot to kill Mr. Carroll, that you stood to gain financially from the crime, yet did nothing to notify police of what she planned. Most lawyers would say you could easily be charged with—at the least—with being an accessory to murder. And yet no charges have been filed against you. Why is that?”

  “I- you’d have to ask Mr. Maitland.”

  “I don’t think I need to ask him. I think the jury is smart enough to figure out why you haven’t been charged. I think they can understand while you were attempting to seduce what you thought was a wealthy older woman, or bragging to her in bed with her, that you would brag about a relationship with a woman involved in a national case.

  “And once you had admitted to that relationship, and had provided information about hotel and motel stays, telephone records and the like, Mr. Maitland and the police could threaten to file charges against you—UNLESS you lied under oath that Ms. Carroll had planned to murder her husband.

  “I believe, Mr. Ballantyne, that you did have an affair with Mrs. Carroll. That is reprehensible, to be sure, action on the part of a married woman, but as we’ve made clear, you’re a very good looking, skilled seducer of older women. But I believe that there was never any confession by her of plans to kill her husband.

  “I think that has been the state’s view since the day he died as a result of a tragic accidental poisoning. I think the state, under Mr. Maitland’s direction, trolled the adult dating, matchmaking sites under the assumption that Ms. Carroll had been having an affair.