by R Weir
Within forty minutes the pizza had arrived. I paid with the twenty and generously tipped the driver. It sounded as if Emily was still in the tub, so I called up.
“Why don’t you bring it up with some wine,” she answered. “We can eat it in my room.”
I found a bottle of red wine and two glasses in the kitchen and proceeded upstairs. The throat was a little hoarse and my heart rate was racing. I told myself I needed to eat as the smell of the pizza filled my nose. I walked into her bedroom and could sense her getting out of the tub, the bathroom door adjoining still closed. I sat the box down on the dresser and poured us each some wine. The door opened and she traipsed in wearing a revealing negligee leaving little to the imagination, it sticking to her damp body, her hair slicked down still wet from the bath. She walked over to me, threw her arms around me and kissed me with full tongue, which I was obliged to return with my own.
“Dessert first,” she said seductively while undressing me, her hands and mouth touching every prime area of my body.
The pizza was cold when we finally got around to enjoying it but neither of us complained. Maybe nourishment wouldn’t have helped me resist her. After finishing the pizza and the wine we did it again, my manhood rejuvenated and ready for more.
Chapter 30
I wasn’t proud of myself for giving in, but I was proud of my sexual stamina and flexibility, as Emily was a wild woman in bed. If there was a position or type of sex you desired she was up for it. Her pleasure was my pleasure. She enjoyed giving and receiving, and, I had to say, so did I. By the time the night was over I was completely spent, but certainly had a smile on my face and slept like a baby, mostly from exhaustion. If someone had broken into her house I don’t think I’d have had the strength to fight them off.
After a good eight hours of sleep, showered and shaved, I joined her downstairs. She was again quiet in the morning and seemed distant, as if regretting what happened, much like after our previous encounter. I did my best to break the ice with humor, some of it a bit bawdy. I got a couple of smiles and glances but little else. Shopping was on the agenda with Jeanine today, and she didn’t seem at all interested in my being there, or even once mention the threat from the night before. By 10AM I had been ushered out of the house after offering to tag along to provide protection, her saying we could hook up later. She had plans for dinner and drinks at Dave and Busters to enjoy the Broncos game on Sunday Night Football, and I was invited.
Verifying the list of phone numbers in my pocket I returned home to begin research. The first number from yesterday she had called led me to Mark. I couldn’t find it listed on the web, so I dialed it and he answered. I recognized the voice right away.
“Mark, this is Jarvis Mann. Do you remember me?”
There was a long pause. “Yes.”
“I think we need to talk. Are you available today?”
Dead silence on other end.
“I won’t be there to push any of your buttons, I promise,” I said trying to convince him.
“I’m playing in a softball tournament at Olympic Park in Aurora. It’s an all-day event, so long as we keep winning.”
“I’m sure you’ll have breaks where we can talk. It’s about Emily, and it’s important we speak. I’m pretty certain she’s manipulating you and putting you through the wringer. The only question is why?”
Another long pause again. “I’m not sure. I’m trying to get on with my life.”
“I doubt she’ll let you. I may be able to help. Believe it or not, I’m on your side.”
“Why should I trust you when you’re working for her?”
“She might pay the bills, but that doesn’t change the facts. Facts I want to share with you.”
I could hear lite breathing and the gears in his head, trying to decide if trusting me was the proper course of action.
“OK. You know where I’ll be. If I find some time, we can talk.”
After hanging up I checked the other numbers. Two were Jim’s home phone, which was listed, and possibly his cell, as I got voicemail with a greeting announcing he wasn’t available. Another led me to Rickie Ward’s employer Consulting for All. The number was still posted on their website, though it was no longer in service. So she called them over the last couple of weeks on a burner phone that she could dump at any time. All of the calls via the call log were outgoing, meaning she had initiated them and used *69 to block the number. Almost all of them lasted for ten minutes or more. My PI smarts were detecting a pattern here of what she was up to. She seemed to be toying with these men. The question was why? Apparently, I was her new toy. It could be construed that I conspired with her as Mallard mentioned, a fact he and the DA would use against me, which wasn’t a pleasant notion.
I changed into some jeans and a T-shirt and put on my good running shoes. I grabbed a Rockies baseball cap, as it was windy today. With dark sunglasses on, I hit the road headed towards Aurora and Olympic Park. I was keeping the .38 handy and on my belt in its holster, the Beretta as a backup locked in the glove box. The shirt I chose was extra-long and I left it untucked to cover it up. I arrived shortly after noon and wandered the center grounds, checking out the four fields. I spotted Mark’s team playing on the backside field to the right. I bought a soda and leaned against a light pole so I could view the game. Sitting down wasn’t an option as the bulge of the gun might reveal itself. Even though I was licensed I wanted to remain somewhat inconspicuous. This didn’t last as an Aurora police officer in his blue uniform had spotted me and stopped by to chat.
“Officer,” I said as he approached. “I guess you noticed my gun.”
“Yes,” he answered. The ID on this shirt had him as Officer Williams and he had one hand on his own weapon, which was much larger than the .38. “Making sure you aren’t here for trouble.”
“I’m a Private Detective,” I stated. “May I show you an ID? It’s in my back pocket.”
“Slowly.”
I reached and pulled it out. I didn’t want to call attention to myself so I handed it to him. He opened it and saw the permits. He gave it back, the tension in his body now relaxed.
“You on a case?” he asked.
“Yes. I’m not here to cause any trouble. I’m needing to talk with someone who is playing for the team on the field over there.”
“OK. Keep it civil. Lots of wives and kids wandering the concourse.”
“Absolutely.”
“You need anything, let me know. I’ll be walking the grounds.”
“Good day to you,” I said and he headed on. It was great to learn he didn’t have an attitude about me being a private cop, as many did.
Mark was playing pretty well, but not at the level he’d shown previously. He had spotted me and glanced my way a couple of times. He appeared distracted by something. His team pulled out the win barely and was moving on to the next round. I wasn’t sure where they were in the tournament, as normally there was a winner’s bracket and a loser’s one. They appeared to be on the winner’s side for now. They had some downtime, about an hour before the next game. As his teammates and he stepped out of the dugout I nodded at him. He walked over with his equipment bag over his shoulder, a grim expression on his face.
“Are those your goons with you?” he asked.
“What goons? I’m here alone.”
He pointed over in the middle of the complex. At first it wasn’t clear whom he was pointing at, but I saw them. It was Brandon’s two henchmen, sitting in one of the bleachers directly behind home plate. I somehow hadn’t spotted them, though in my defense I wasn’t anticipating them being there. Why the hell are they here? How did they know where Mark would be? I caught one of them glancing our way. I doubted he recognized me since I was just another face in the crowd, and I wanted to keep it that way. If they recognized me, it could be trouble.
“Shake my hand like we are old friends,” I said to Mark.
Mark did as he was told. “What for?”
“I’ve run into th
em before, and I’d rather they didn’t know it was me. Keep talking and don’t look back at them.”
“I know them too,” Mark said. “It’s been a while but it appears to be the muscle that work for Emily’s stepdad. I’ve met them before and they weren’t civil.”
“Yes, I’ve experienced them as well. I got the upper hand on them once but I doubt I would again. Where do you play next?”
“The same field in an hour. We are the top team in the winner’s bracket. We’ll play the team that comes out of the loser’s bracket. We’re one win away from the championship. They will have to beat us twice.”
“OK, go about your business. I don’t believe they’ll try anything here. There are too many people. I think they are trying to make you nervous.”
“Well, it’s working because I played like shit! I let my teammates down in that last game. They bailed me out. Probably Emily told them I was here.”
“That’s what good teammates do,” I replied. “How did she know?”
“I told her when she called me yesterday,” he said shaking his head. “Damn silly of me. She started out all sweet on the phone, asking how I was, what I was doing, and a lot of small talk, even some suggestive innuendo. The next thing I know she is giving it to me, telling me I’m no good for her and she had found someone who lights her fire: her words not mine. It was the usual with her and the crazy mind games. She likes to be in control. You’d think I’d know better, but I always fall for it.”
“Why didn’t you tell me this before?”
“I wasn’t sure you’d believe me since you’re working for her.” He still had his glove on and was pounding it with his fist. “It’s hard to admit a woman has you by the balls.”
“I can relate.”
I glanced over my shoulder while pointing to the field they just played on, trying to give the impression of asking about where Mark was playing next. They were watching us, but didn’t seem to be aware of who I was still.
“Let’s shake hands again like old buddies and you can walk away,” I stated. “I will be around in case there is trouble. Are you going to Pitchers afterwards?”
He nodded.
“We’ll talk then if that’s OK. I do think we can form an understanding to assist you with Emily. I don’t know if it will help, but you aren’t the only one she plays mind games with.”
He nodded again, shook my hand and joined the rest of his group. The nod was half-hearted, though, as if he doubted my help or even my abilities. He wasn’t alone, as the line was long. His team found an open area in the grass between the two fields and was enjoying some playful banter while relaxing. The two henchmen stayed in their seats and were occasionally looking their way. They seemed to mostly be interested in Mark and not me. I turned to keep the bulge on my backside away from their view and began walking towards the center of the complex. Out of the corner of my eye I peeked, and they didn’t seem to be paying me any mind. I returned to the concession stand for more to drink and a snickers bar, which always worked well at filling the void in the stomach. I parked myself a long ways away, still with a good view of where they sat, watching and waiting. Waiting was something you needed to be skilled at when being a private detective.
Time went by slowly, but I occupied it as best as I could by observing. Since it was a sunny day, with temps reaching the low 80s, there were several ladies walking around dressed in tank tops and shorts. One even had a bikini top on, and I imagined her in the bikini bottoms as well, tightly fitting the region most men dreamed to get into. Both fantasies were pleasant, a reminder of the new-found sexual energy stoking my libido.
Many kids were hurling themselves around playing, chasing and running, grabbing each other and wrestling. Most of their parents paid them no mind and allowed them to do what they pleased. Once or twice I had to shift to one side or another to avoid a collision. One little girl hit the ground and began to cry, having scraped up her knee. Her mother slowly came over to pick her up and console her. Though kids had always been in the back of my mind, this hadn’t been part of the happy memory. I was certain the good outweighed the bad when having children, but seeing the chaos did not endear me to be a parent.
I moved on from this spot and stood on the first base line. The contest on the field finished and the winning team was preparing to play Mark’s, with no time to enjoy the moment. It wasn’t long before the game started, and Mark still was playing poorly. He made a crucial misplay of a fly ball which turned into an inside the park three-run homer. I could see he was cursing at himself after the mistake. When he came off the field he threw his glove at the fence in anger. At bat he swung so hard he popped the ball straight up into the air, which was caught by the shortstop. He stopped part way down the first base line and turned to stare at his two spectators, who were laughing at him. This did not help his mood any. As the game went on it got worse for him and his team, as they were soundly beaten 15-4. Mark had only one hit to drive in one run. He was hardly playing to his skill level.
There was a short fifteen-minute break between games, and many of the players headed to the restroom to relieve themselves. Mark strolled by the bleachers still looking hot. One of the men made a choking gesture and set him off. One of his teammates had to hold him back and drag him away. I had a thought, but I needed to talk to him. I walked nonchalantly towards the men’s room to pee myself. When he came out I pulled him to one side.
“I have an idea,” I said. “I’m going to have someone hold up those two after the game. So when it ends, come with me and we’ll get out of here. We don’t need them pissing you off any more than they already have.”
“I want to kick their ass!” Mark said. “I want to kick her ass!”
“I understand, but it won’t end well. They are tough and likely armed. You don’t stand a chance against them.”
“I don’t care. I need a piece of them!”
“Focus on the game. Don’t let them and her get to you. It’s a victory for them. They win and you lose, and it will only make them happy. I’ll get them out of our hair so we can talk. But you need to come straight with me when it’s over. OK?”
Mark glared back at them while sighing, trying to find his composure. He reluctantly agreed, returning to the field, and I stepped in to relieve myself. Once done I searched around the complex and found Officer Williams over near one of the other fields. I strolled over and said hello.
“I need a big favor,” I asked. “And only you can help me.”
“What is it?” he replied.
“There are two guys sitting in the bleachers causing trouble. When the game ends I’d like for you to delay them, so the gentleman I’m here to talk with and myself can leave without them following.”
“Why would they follow you and him?”
“They have a score to settle and are trying to cause him grief. Harassing him, so to speak. Watch them, you’ll see any time he comes to the plate or makes an error they taunt him.”
“And you want me to stall them?”
“Yep. Just enough so we can get away. I’m sure you can tell them they should display better sportsmanship at a family place like this and show a little class. Several of the people sitting near them have moved because of how they are acting. They are in the center bleachers.” I gave him a basic description of them both.
“OK, I’ll watch and if you’re correct, I’ll detain them. Give me the word. I’ll be nearby when the game ends.”
“Thanks,” I said while tipping my hat to him.
I walked back over and took up station near the dugout where Mark’s team sat. They had lost the toss so they were the visitors and batted first. Mark started out OK by hitting a gapper between the center and left fielder. But he tried to stretch it into a triple and was thrown out. His two nemeses hooted and hollered at his misfortune. The rest of the contest didn’t go any better. They got down quickly again 7-1, but rallied to tie it, only to give up a big inning that cinched it after another error in the field by Mark, to
lose 15-9, much to the glee of Brandon’s men. I saw Officer Williams stroll by a couple of times and he nodded at me. Once Mark got his gear together, he stormed out of the dugout, not wanting to speak with anyone. I was following behind him and I saluted Officer Williams, who was right on top of Brandon’s men, blocking their path.
“Gentlemen, let’s talk,” I heard him say.
Mark was moving quickly and I hurried to keep up. As we hit the parking lot, I called for him to wait. He reached his car, turned to me showing bright red cheeks as if he was going to explode.
“Let’s go and talk,” I said, hoping to calm him down. “We can work this out.”
“It will never end,” he stated. “I thought it was over, but it will never end. I must put a stop to it one way or another!”
“I’ll buy you a beer at Pitchers.”
I tried to tell him to settle down while putting an arm on his shoulder. He pushed me aside and seemed to lose all control. He turned his body and out of nowhere slugged me with a right cross, knocking me down with a thud. It was a doozy of a punch I never saw coming. My head was spinning, eyes glazed over. He kicked me once in the side and I could hear the .38 skid onto the pavement. I couldn’t get up, and he rolled me away from his vehicle with his legs and feet. I sensed his movement, a car door closing, the noise of it pulling out, the smell and sound of flaying rubber filling my senses. That was the last thing I remembered as I eased into unconsciousness.