Private Detective: BENNINGTON P.I.: A thrilling four-novel political murder mystery private detective series...

by D. W. Ulsterman

  Kat approached him and nuzzled her face into his chest and then looked up.

  “I tried to get Chris to let us both go back home with her, but she was too much of a prude!”

  Chris put up both of her hands in front of her.

  “I’m a good girl. Don’t go for that silly ménage à trois stuff. People just end up getting hurt when they play around with that shit. Give me one good woman and that’s all I need, thank you very much!”

  Jolene stepped forward, her face hinting at a suggestion before speaking it.

  “How about if I was the third slice of that three piece pie?”

  Kat laughed, hugging Jolene tight and then did the same to Colin.

  “Thank you for taking me out tonight. All of you. I don’t get to do this kind of thing much. Actually, not at all. I’ve never really had friends since coming to America. I’m….”

  Kat’s voice trailed off as her eyes moistened with tears – tears interrupted by a deeply accented voice that emerged from the shadows to their left.

  “Katalina, you are to come with me. Now.”

  Kat looked up, her face a mixture of shock and fear.

  “Arman? What are you doing here? Did Ivanka send you?”

  Colin shook his head, trying to clear the effects of the alcohol from his mind, hoping he could provide Kat protection if it was needed.

  “No, this has nothing to do with Ivanka, but I am taking you with me - now.”

  Kat stepped backwards, her head shaking from side to side.

  “I am not going with you Arman. I am not a prisoner. I can do what I want.”

  Chris moved herself between Arman and Kat, pointing at the large Russian man.

  “Look asshole, if Kat says she’s not going with you, then she’s not going with you. So crawl back to whatever hole you came from and leave her alone.”

  Kat’s eyes widened even further, her right hand trying to pull Chris back away from Arman.

  Arman’s laughter was more a bark, his dark eyes looking back at Chris with the kind of indifference that indicated he didn’t care if she lived or died.

  “Stay out of this woman. You’re opinion means nothing to me.”

  Colin moved next to Chris and tried to lessen the tension between the two.

  “Hey, uh, Arman was it? Kat asked if this was Ivanka who sent you, and you said no. So who was it? What are you doing here?”

  Kat’s voice whispered a response from behind Colin.

  “It’s him. You’re working for him. Does Ivanka know?”

  Arman stepped forward, his voice now an insistent snarl.

  “My sister knows what I want her to know. Now get moving little Kat. You’re coming with me.”

  Colin felt as if he watched outside of himself when he saw Chris’s right hand move upward to strike Arman’s left cheek. The big Russian took a half step backward, rubbing the side of his face as he answered Chris’s punch with a thin smile. Chris continued to appear fearless, her left fist already moving toward the Russian’s face to land yet another blow.

  That blow never arrived though, as Arman brought his right forearm up to block the punch, and then grabbed Chris by the throat with his left hand and pushed her backward into the wall of The Rub, causing the back of the woman’s head to bounce painfully off the hard stucco exterior.

  “Hey!”

  Colin’s shout was followed by his own attempted punch, a punch severely compromised by the night’s alcohol consumption. It flew wide of Arman’s head, almost hitting Chris instead. Arman’s right elbow moved violently backward, smashing into Colin’s nose and sending him crumpling to the ground as he struggled to remain conscious.

  Jolene suddenly jumped onto Arman’s back, her arms wrapped tightly around his neck. Her attack caused the Russian to release his grip on Chris’s neck, though this in turn allowed him to grab onto Jolene’s upper arms and then throw her over his back where she landed against the pavement, her right wrist snapping from the impact.

  Jolene cried out in pain as Colin willed himself to get back onto his feet, his vision moving into and out of focus. He prepared to once again launch himself at Arman when the sound of gunfire tore through his senses.

  “Enough!”

  Arman stood with his just fired handgun pointing into the sky, his face a mask of rage and deadly intent.

  “Katalina, you come with me, or I kill your friends. Understand? Now move your whore’s ass. My car is across the street. Get into the back seat. NOW.”

  Kat moved quickly and without question, the sound of her footsteps as she crossed the street echoing in the night. Arman hissed a warning to the others as he began to follow Kat’s departure, his gun pointing at Colin’s head.

  “Nobody moves from here until I am gone.”

  Colin stood motionless with Chris and Jolene, who cradled her broken wrist in her left hand, flinching every time it moved.

  “Where is he taking her?”

  Colin and Jolene glanced at one another before Colin answered Chris’s question.

  “To the congressman.”

  All three watched silently as Arman’s black sedan tore past them, the pale and crying face of Kat flashing briefly behind the back passenger door glass, before disappearing into the night.

  26.

  Silia’s beautifully curved, deeply tanned ass was the perfect platform from which to inhale another line of cocaine from. Frank Bennington had been on what the D.C. longtimers knew somewhat affectionately as a “Bennington Bender” – a journey of several bars up and down the Capitol Hill corridor that left a trail of rounds bought, jokes told, and often, as was the case tonight, polite but firm requests for Bennington to move his self destructive one man roadshow somewhere else.

  I’m gonna be back in the White House bitches! But I tied myself to the devil to do it.

  Bennington had left his last meeting with Congressman Latner on less than amicable terms. The congressman had become a twisted remnant of the man and legislator he once was – a vile, hate filled, self obsessed tyrant. The man had the audacity to warn Frank to clean up his act, or be dropped from the team. The same congressman who had a longstanding penchant for barely legal girls.

  He’ll probably make a hell of a president some day.

  It was far from the first time Frank Bennington found himself having to ignore the deep, personal faults of a politician. Washington D.C. was home to far more sinners than saints – himself included. It was what it was, his chosen path in life. Helping get people elected, promoting them, pushing them, keeping them on the most opportune political track - even if it meant working with the ones like Latner who seemed nearly devoid of all humanity.

  The cocaine fired off the synapses in his brain, bringing the dimly lit bedroom of his apartment into focus. The alcohol induced fatigue he had been feeling was once again, temporarily pushed aside. That, combined with the little blue pill he had taken in the back of the cab as he and Silia made their way to his home, was jumpstarting the lust that was one of the few remaining pleasures Frank Bennington had left in this world.

  Silia rolled over onto her back, her dark form contrasted against the white sheets of the bed. Frank could see her smile flashing in the near darkness as her hands moved upward slowly to cup each of her ample breasts.

  “You ready for this Frank?”

  Bennington nodded drunkenly as his tongue licked his lips that were dry and cracked from dehydration. He traced the fingers of his right hand down Silia’s stomach, then hesitated just above her groin, that playground of pleasure the political operative had become so fond of in recent months.

  “For you, I’m always ready Silia. Beautiful, beautiful Silia.”

  At least, that’s what Frank Bennington intended to say.

  He saw the look of concerned confusion on Silia’s face as he realized his mouth wasn’t forming his words properly. She heard something that sounded far different than what Bennington attempted to say.

  “Fah yah, Ima allwa ida thila. Bewful, bew
ful thila.”

  Silia sat up and took Frank’s face in her hands, looking at him closely.

  “Frank, what’s wrong? Are you ok?”

  Frank Bennington grasped Silia’s wrists and pulled them away from his face and again nodded. This time his words were more spoken more clearly, though still slightly slurred.

  “Just a little tired. I’m ok.”

  Silia didn’t look convinced, her full lipped mouth curled downward slightly into a frown.

  “You’re very pale Frank. And sweating badly.”

  Bennington shrugged away Silia’s concerns.

  “I’m always pale and sweating baby. Now just be quiet and let me get to work.”

  Silia lay back down, though her eyes still communicated uncertainty over Frank’s insistence he was ok. This concern and uncertainty began to melt away soon after though as Bennington’s face positioned itself between her legs and enthusiastically engaged in a task for which Silia considered the older man to be incredibly adept at. Whatever personal faults Frank Bennington had, and there were many, expertly navigating the most critical parts of a woman’s sexual anatomy was not among them. The man knew what to do.

  Bennington remained at his work for nearly thirty minutes, inducing Silia to three heaving climaxes, her hips thrusting upward as her shoulders and head arched back against pillow and mattress beneath her. Following her third orgasm, Silia grabbed the back of Frank’s head and attempted to gently pull him upward on top of her, wanting to repay him for the pleasure he had just given her.

  Bennington’s body was unmoving below her, his face mashed against the now drenched area between her thighs.

  Panic gripped the Brazilian prostitute. She had heard stories of clients dying in the act, but thank God, had never had it happen to her.

  “Frank! Get up!”

  Silia’s panic intensified as Frank remained unresponsive. She pushed herself backwards against the wall behind the bed in order to remove her legs that remained trapped under Benningotn’s head and chest.

  Silia glanced at the near empty vial of cocaine on one of the night tables, knew that Frank had ingested nearly half its contents in the last few hours, reminded herself she had already been arrested just four months earlier on prostitution charges, and was informed upon her release that a another offense would result in jail time for her.

  The panic soon transformed into near unthinking fear for her own survival. Silia considered Frank among her favorite clients, but he was after all just another old guy paying her for sex. The world she lived in required her own needs to always come first.

  Grabbing her clothes, Silia left Frank Bennington face down on the bed, and fled the bedroom, her mind already concocting a story that while she had been with him earlier that evening, she left long before he had made his way back to the bedroom. She would indicate she didn’t know of any drug use, that Frank was just a heavy drinker, and that as far she knew, he was fine when she left.

  With a final glance behind her, Silia closed the door to Frank Bennington’s apartment, moved quietly through the lobby, and quickly disappeared into the still dark D.C. morning outside.

  27.

  Colin called Bennington, knowing he should communicate Kat’s abduction to him as soon as possible. After three rings, the call went to Bennington’s voice mail.

  “Frank, the congressman just had Kat picked up to be brought to him – tonight. She’s scared, I mean she’s really afraid of him Frank, and there was a fight, the big Russian guy, Arman, uh, there was a gun outside the club – it’s a damn mess Frank. I don’t know what to do. Call me back.”

  Colin looked back at both Chris and Jolene. Jolene, despite her broken wrist, managed a smile as she shook her head.

  “You just drunk called Frank. That message made no sense.”

  Chris, the owner of the The Rub, began laughing.

  “Worst – phone message – EVER.”

  Colin shrugged, his alcohol drenched mind struggling to come up with a viable plan to get Kat back safely.

  “We need to get Jo to the hospital Colin. Her wrist is pretty messed up. I’ll call a cab.”

  Colin nodded absently as his eyes looked out into the empty street where Arman’s car had so recently sped away.

  “You don’t need to worry Colin. If the congressman was the one to send for her, none of this is your fault. You were just doing what he told you to do – watch over her.”

  Colin spun around and glared back at Jolene.

  “Exactly! You see how afraid she looked in Arman’s car, knowing where she was being taken? Knowing the congressman was waiting for her? I was supposed to keep her safe Jo!”

  Jolene’s brow furrowed.

  “Uh, she’s going back to the Congressman Colin. He’s the one who told you to keep an eye on her, right? So what’s the big deal? Besides the fact we work for a guy who likes his girls on the younger side, and that might mess up our chances of getting on the ticket, I don’t see why you should be so concerned about Kat.”

  Colin remained silent, though his eyes betrayed his secret. Jolene’s face suddenly took on a look of sadness as she looked back at Colin.

  “Oh shit, really? She’s a prostitute, Colin, and not only that, but she’s the congressman’s prostitute. You have those kinds of feelings for her?”

  Colin still stood without speaking, though Chris came to his defense.

  “She’s a pretty girl Jo, and since when is it ok for us to judge someone like that? I thought you broke your wrist, not your compassion.”

  Jolene gave Chris the middle finger while continuing to look at Colin with a mixture of bemused pity.

  A few minutes later and the taxi arrived to take Jolene to the hospital. Chris indicated she would go with her, while Colin said he would call his own cab and head home.

  “Don’t you dare go to the congressman’s, Colin. You’ll end up getting fired, and word will get out. Nobody will hire you. In D.C., we’re paid to keep our mouths shut as much as we are paid to do anything else. Ok? Go back to your room at Tracy’s and get some sleep. We can talk tomorrow after we’ve both sobered up.”

  Colin O’Shea gave a simple nod and then began calling his own cab as Jolene and Chris were driven away. The night, now turning toward morning, had grown colder.

  If he hurts her, I’ll kill him. I don’t care who he is, I’ll kill him.

  Hearing the thought echo in his mind left Colin shocked. Yes, he had come to care about Kat, likely far more than he should have, but since when did he harbor thoughts of killing?

  The sound of the approaching cab broke through morning silence. Colin opened the rear door and slid inside, pausing as he reconsidered where he wanted to be taken. He knew the congressman’s address.

  What would you do when you get there Colin? Jo is right, you have to leave this alone.

  “Where do you need to go?”

  The older Pakistani cab driver smiled warmly back at Colin, waiting for an answer.

  Colin decided then he wouldn’t go to the congressman’s house, but instead go to see Bennington. Maybe Frank could figure out a way to get Kat back home safely. Keep the congressman’s attention focused on being the running mate for the Mendez presidential campaign.

  Besides, seeing Frank Bennington first had to be a better idea than trying kill a United States congressman in order to protect a Russian prostitute, right?

  28.

  Kat sat across from the congressman inside his living room, her eyes fixated on her own feet, afraid to look up.

  “Thank you Arman, that’ll be all for now.”

  Congressman Joseph Latner held out an envelope which Arman took as he walked past where the congressman sat. The big Russian paused very briefly to look at Kat, silently surprised at how afraid she seemed at this moment.

  Perhaps I should not have brought her here.

  Arman walked toward the door and then turned around, his eyes boring into the congressman.

  “Ivanka will expect her back by late morn
ing.”

  Congressman Latner waved Arman away.

  “Of course, of course. Safe and sound. I have a busy schedule. A cab will drop her off there in a couple hours.”

  Arman paused again as Kat raised her head, her eyes imploring Arman to take her with him. The envelope he held was full of the congressman’s money. He had taken it. It was business, nothing more.