Bob Moats - Jim Richards 01-03- 3 for Murder Box Set (44 page)

“Or profit. You could start a nice little sideline entertaining gentleman callers,” I said.

She ignored me and continued, “The show is getting a stripper pole for the demo and I claimed it after they’re done with it. My producer said only if he could come and watch. So, I’m selling tickets.”

“$20 for men at the door, plus nice tips. We’ll make a killing.” I grinned.

“What do you mean, we?” she said.

We talked a bit more, then I helped her up and we went in the house. I went out to the family room to get the TiVo ready to watch the show, and Penny said she was going to throw some grilled cheese on the stove. I said that was fine with me. I sat waiting for Penny before starting the show, which was now being picked up by the CW network, running mornings around 11 a.m. Penny was pleased with the reaction she was getting from the ratings. She was getting more controversial guests and subjects to keep up the interest. I hoped all the weirdness didn’t rub off on her. She brought me two grilled cheese, two beers for both of us, and we sat and watched her show. She never really liked to watch herself on TV, but since the show went nationwide, she wanted to watch for things that needed improvement.

The show opened with the new format, no longer showing Penny around Detroit. The show had to be more generic. It had some nice pictures of her in front of places she’s never been to, thanks to the wonders of special effects. She came on the TV and said, “Welcome world, I’m Penny Wickens, and this is
Penny for your Thoughts
.” At least they kept her show name. She announced that today’s show dealt with spicing up your marriage with a little leather and lace, also known as bondage and S&M. She introduced her guests today, Mistress Terry and Mistress Dyan. They both wore the traditional black leather bustiers, choke collars, spiked heels and mesh nylons, but Mistress Dyan was wearing a cat-woman mask. She said she was a single Mom and was protecting her identity.

“Single moms of the world rise up and snap your whips.” I smirked. Penny whacked me. “Sorry,” I offered.

We watched the show as the two women explained a little about SMBD and the beneficial effects on a marriage if practiced properly. I wondered if Ralph had watched this show. Or Elma. They went into various paraphernalia for hog tying your man and some simple whips and paddles for stimulating his libido. I was just about covering my eyes over the toys they had. I looked at Penny and hoped she didn’t get any ideas. She glanced sideways at me, smiled and made a strange little growl. I just said, “Forget it.”

She laughed when it ended, and said I should have no fear of being handcuffed in the night, although the thought was intriguing. It was 9 p.m. and we had been watching TV for a while when the phone rang. I answered.

“Hello?”

“Is this the famous Fearless Fosdick?” came a male voice.

I said, “I am,” and asked, “Is this the famous Dick Tracy?”

I heard Lynn’s voice saying she was and that Deacon was with her on the speakerphone. I waved Penny over, and she came.

“How the hell are you two doing?” I asked, holding the phone so Penny could hear.

Deacon was talking. “Great. We’re all settled in, and I’m on the Metro squad now. They put me in Detectives because of my natural abilities.”

Lynn interjected, ” Bull hockey. I kissed a lot of ass to get him on. Don’t let him fool you.”

“How’s things in Michigan?” Deacon asked.

“Same crappy weather, same lousy economy, same high unemployment, otherwise really good,” I joked.

They both laughed, and Lynn said, “Penny, I’ve been watching your show every morning at work, I lock myself away and watch it. You are really good at it.”

Penny blushed and said, “Thank you, but most of it is special effects.”

Lynn and Deacon sounded happy, and we talked a while longer about what was going on in our little worlds. I told Deacon about Trapper helping me with my cases now. He said he was going to call him tonight to say thanks for the praise he gave Weber. I told both of them we missed them, and Penny said we’d be out next summer for a vacation so they should be prepared for more murder and mayhem when we got there.

We said our good-byes and hung up. I looked at Penny. She had a sad look on her face. “What’s wrong?” I asked.

“I just miss them, and the fun we had in Vegas,” she said.

“Fun? I was nearly thrown off the tallest building on the west coast, you were almost kidnapped, I was shot in the chest and you nearly killed Nick North with my gun. That was fun?” I was amazed.

“Yes, it was. I miss it now we are back in boring Michigan.”

“OK, I’ll try and stir up a little murder and mayhem for you here. Just give me a week or two.” I laughed.

We watched a little more TV, I got on the computer and checked my emails, remembering the ones from the classmate murders, or I should call it, the cheerleader murders. I had nothing important, so I got off and grabbed my girl’s hand and pulled her to the bedroom, saying that I saw a couple of things on her show we might try. She asked if I had my handcuffs. I pulled them out of my back pocket and she laughed.

The next morning the phone rang. I answered.

“Still in bed? It’s time to get to work,” came a voice.

I asked, “Who the hell is this?”

“It’s Trapper. I got some hot info for you, if you’re working today.” He sounded excited.

“I’ll be in around 9, my usual time to start,” I moaned.

He said he’d be there and hung up.

I looked at Penny and asked if she knew where the damn keys for the handcuffs were. I held up my hands, still cuffed together. She just laughed.

*

Chapter Three

We found the keys, but Penny insisted on teasing me a bit longer before I was extricated from the cuffs. I got ready and was on my way out after seeing Penny off to her show. It was taped around 9 a.m. for broadcast at 11 a.m. on the east coast and rebroadcast same time on the west coast, three hours later from here. I got to my office and found Trapper sitting on a chair in the lobby waiting for me.

“About time you got to work.” He smiled.

I looked at my watch. It was just 8:40. I said, “Trapper, do you have any concept of time?”

He grinned. “You’ll need my info for your investigation into your little pervert and possible murderer.” He was glowing. “I want in on this bust if you get him.”

I was puzzled. I opened up my office and we went in. Trapper planted himself in the client chair at my desk. I sat in my creaky desk chair and looked at him. “OK, what’s so exciting?”

“I ran the background check on Mr. Wonderful and came up with some interesting facts. First, he’s been married two times prior to Elma, both rich women. They both died mysterious deaths. Wife number one died in a car crash, no links to hubby, he was out of the country. Wife number two commits suicide by hanging. Hubby is out with drinking buddies the night in question. I ran a check on his driver’s violations. He had three tickets for illegal parking in Pontiac in the last two months, all on the same street. I called a friend of mine on Pontiac PD and asked about the street in question. It has a party store, gas station, three ordinary houses and one huge mansion that houses a legal and above board bondage club. Coincidence? I think not.” He took a breath.

“I think I should be watching Elma, not Ralph. Did he inherit the money from his first two wives?”

“Well, he lived high on the hog as they say, and most the money was gone by the time of the wives’ deaths. Sounds like a quickie divorce to me, once the money dried up.” He grinned.

I looked at Trapper and said, “If Elma dies mysteriously; I’m going to feel really bad that we didn’t do something. But what can we do?”

“Well, he’s been cleared of both his late wives’ deaths, so we can’t bring him in on that. I guess you’ll have to tail him and see what he is up to. It might make him nervous if you were a little obvious about it,” Trapper said.

“Yea, but he might take it out on Elma. She’s not exactly Cindy Crawford, but she is a human being. I don’t want to see her hurt,” I said.

“Well, then you may just have to confide in her and ask her to hide out from him till you get something on him. Think she’d go for that?”

“I don’t know. She enjoyed the sex he provided her. She may not give him up fast. You know the ‘bad boy’ syndrome,” I said.

“Jimmy, being a detective creates many problems that you have to work out, which one is the most appealing and the one that gets nobody killed. Now you have to do the leg work to find out more about your bad boy.” Trapper smiled. “Please keep me informed, not in an official capacity, but just curiosity on my part.”

Trapper took a folded sheet of paper out of his inner coat pocket and dropped it in front of me. “This is the rest of his background check. Military, he was a combat medic. Financial, of course, he’s got money, or Elma does. Criminal record, none. He’s been a good boy,” Trapper finished.

“Yea, the perfectly nice man next door who happens to be a wife killer,” I said.

Trapper got up. “I heard from my friend Mark that you’re taking his case.”

“I’m going to see what he’s got today, and I’ll decide then,” I said.

Trapper headed to the door, “Well, keep me in the loop, I’ll see what I can stir up on the perfect husband.” He smiled and went out the door.

I looked at the report Trapper gave me and thought about how I was going to attack this. I could bring in Elma and tell her my suspicions, but I really didn’t have much to go on. So I would have to follow him for a couple days to see what he was up to. Elma still had money so he probably wouldn’t harm her yet.

My door opened, and I looked up, finally into the bluest eyes on any gorgeous blonde I have ever seen. She smiled and asked where the Davis Travel Agency was. I was crushed, but told her upstairs. She went out. OK, I came so close. Not that I would cheat on Penny, not in a million years. She was all I could ever want or handle, but just having a sexy femme fatale as a client would have made me feel like I arrived in the world of P.I., kind of a Sam Spade thing.

Around noon, I went to get a bite to eat at my favorite place, Subway. I was watching the people around me wondering how many of them could be killers or closet perverts. I was cynical about people. I believe that 80 percent of people are basically stupid, 18 percent are trying to get what they can from the first 80, and the last 2 percent just didn’t give a damn about the other 98. I was in the 2 percent. Not that I don’t totally care about people. I do care about things. I just don’t want to have to put up with stupid and conniving people. As a detective, I would try to cut through the bull and get some justice for those in need.

I was at Mark Benson’s office building in Roseville at 1 p.m. and entered the very expensive looking layout that screamed big lawyer fees. I was asked by the receptionist who I wanted to see. I told her. She got on her phone and made a short call, smiled and sent me through a door to his private office.

“Mr. Richards, thank you for coming in. Have a seat.” The shark smiled. “Will has told me good things about you.”

“Well, he has a tendency to gloss over things,” I said. “What kind of law are you into?” Jumping right in.

“This office handles both divorce and criminal,” he said.

“Aren’t they both the same?” I joked.

He laughed and said he’d have to remember that.

“What do you have for me? Will said you needed some evidence gathered?” I asked.

“Yes, I have a case of murder. My client, David Weston, says he was with a woman on the night his wife was murdered at their home here in Roseville, but we can’t seem to find the woman to establish his alibi.”