3 comments/ 27905 views/ 8 favorites Case of the Executed Evangelist Ch. 01 By: WifeWatchman The Case of the Executed Evangelist, Ch. 01 by TheWifeWatchman The order of my stories to read is: Todd & Melina series, Interludes 1-5, Sperm Wars series, Russian Roulette series, Case of the Murdered Lovers series, Case of the Murdered Chessplayer series. Case of the Executed Evangelist series. Feedback and constructive criticism is very much appreciated, and I encourage feedback for ideas. This story contains graphic scenes, language and actions that might be extremely offensive to some people. These scenes, words and actions are used only for the literary purposes of this story. The author does not condone murder, racial language, violence, rape or violence against women, and any depictions of any of these in this story should not be construed as acceptance of the above. There is a lot of background information mixed in with the hot sex. Please bear with it, as the information is important to this story as well as upcoming stories. Thanks in advance. Also, I have received private comments that have been very complimentary of my writings. I want those commenters to know that I am deeply grateful for the kind remarks and positive feedback! - WW. Part 1 - Prologue The man grunted as he thrust into the young woman beneath him, fucking her with raw power. Sweat trickled off his back and her legs as they copulated with deep intensity. "Oh Jonas!" the eighteen year old beauty sighed, running her hands through the man's thick black hair as he pumped his cock into her virgin-tight cunt with merciless abandon, his thrusts getting harder and faster as he neared his climax. Even in the throes of lusty sex, he made sure to think of the sinful actions he was performing, acts of defiance of the spectacle that he had become in the eyes of the world. The Reverend Jonas Oldeeds was considered the Nation's top tele-evangelist and seen by some as a near saint. But the Public did not know the man's truly dark side. He always enjoyed seducing young girls, girls that looked at him with eyes full of worship, taking advantage of their trust and love to bed them. He had popped many sweet young cherries in his years as a Messenger of the Lord God. And that was just the tip of the iceberg. The thoughts of his deeds and his true nature gave him a surge of sexual pleasure as he pounded his meat into the teen babe rutting beneath him. Unknown to the young blonde girl, the physically fit tele-evangelist's gorgeous wife Vicki was secretly watching their intense coupling, fingering her sopping wet pussy as she enjoyed the site of her husband's cock sliding into the girl's tight cunt, seeing his balls swinging and thudding against the girl's ass as he fucked her in sinful adultery. The beautiful blonde wife didn't feel jealous; indeed, she knew she'd be getting plenty of young college cock during the upcoming visit to the University and the hell hole of a town next to it. She also was thinking of her public image, of the sweet, loving wife totally devoted to her loving, incorruptible husband. The deeply sinful actions she and her husband enjoyed committing gave her a deep sexual thrill. Her reverie was broken by the harsh rasps of her husband's voice as he fucked the girl beneath him. "Oh baby, do you feel it? Do you feel the Lord's spirit filling you as we make love? Do you feel the Lord's power flowing through you?" Oldeeds grunted, his voice in rhythm with his powerful, hungry thrusts. "Oh yes... oh yes, Jonas! Oh YES!" the girl cried out as another orgasm exploded inside her. Her clamping cunt was too much for Oldeeds. He drove his meat as deep as he could into her teen pussy and began pumping his load against her cervix. "Oh yes, take it! Take the Lord's offering into your sweet body!" Oldeeds gasped as the pleasure of his climax flooded up his back and through his whole body... -------------------------- The girl had left some time ago, after Jonas Oldeeds had cuddled with her for long minutes, telling her that their mating had been the Lord's will. He was always amused at how these sweet young girls believed every word of it, that they would fuck like whores on his cock thinking they were feeling the blessings of God. "So, was she as good as the last one?" Oldeeds heard his wife say, her voice a languid drawl, as he dried off after his shower and entered the bedroom of their luxurious home. "She was okay." Oldeeds replied. "Like most of those young sluts." He came up to his wife and slid his arms around her waist. "Nothing compared to you, though, baby." "Mmmm, I'll bet." the blonde replied as she shared kisses with her immensely wealthy husband. "So, why are we going to this hell hole of a town for a Revival for a few old ladies and a school Protestant student group?" "Oh, there'll be tens of thousands at the football stadium service the last night of our trip, giving us generous donations." Oldeeds replied. "But it'll be good publicity to do the small appearance, too. And I've got some business in that Town I need to get done. Serious business, baby. Our little empire might depend on it." "That important, huh?" Vicki Oldeeds said. "I guess I'll find a couple of college studs while you're preaching. I heard that benefactor of yours, the one that died, Douglass something-or-other, has a grandson at that school who has a really big cock." "I heard that too." Oldeeds said. "And that reminds me, we've got to keep Douglass's son Don very close during this trip. His successes are starting to stir up talk in our 'professional' circles. Maybe you can... distract Don with your feminine charms?" "Sure, baby." she replied, not really eager for the task, but willing to do whatever it took to help her husband's cause: their personal enrichment. A thought occurred to her: "What about Don's sister, Elizabeth? Think you can find her and fuck her? Like you were fucking her under her daddy's nose all those years?" "Baby, that's past history." Oldeeds said, maneuvering his wife towards the bed. "Let's just forget about the past and create some new sex memories..." Their kisses deepened as Oldeeds began removing his wife's clothing from her smoking hot body... Part 2 - Promotion "Congratulations!" the chief said as he handed me some papers in one of the small Lieutenant offices across the hall from MCD at six o'clock in the morning. "You are now officially the Supervisor of the Major Crimes Department." It was actually a Lieutenant's position, and the Supervisor rank simply allowed me to fill the position with some semblance of authority. Tanya Perlman, also a Supervisor and too young to officially be a Lieutenant, had one of the other offices. We officially did not yet have any Lieutenants in the Detectives division. "Thank you, sir." I said. "I'm still in charge of I.T., also?" "Yes, for now at least. We're close on the Lieutenant bar for MCD, though." the Chief added. "Councilman Lewis is willing to take some bait offers. Adams is still against you, but she's nothing without help." Councilman Reginald B. F. Lewis was a black man and a skilled politician who represented the mostly black areas of Town. He was sincerely concerned for the people of the district he represented, especially when it came to racial relations. Councilwoman Malinda Adams was virulent in her politics, and made her disdain for "peace officers", as she called the Police, well known. "Uh oh, what's the bait?" I said, knowing. The Chief cut me no slack. "Precincts, of course." Chief Griswold said, his voice a growl. I groaned, having put forth many a debate point for why this Town and County did not need police precincts, and that we did not need our Police Force divided. But Councilman Lewis did make some good points that a precinct primarily in his district and those around it would be helpful in relationships between blacks and police. Malinda Adams simply wanted to divide the Force and make it hard for us. Ironically, it was Captain Harold Malone, who held considerable sway among some Council members, who was most stridently against precincts. I knew of course that Malone simply didn't want to do anything helpful for blacks or racial relations. He also wanted to keep his concentration of power within one Police station. And I also knew that he was working to force me under his control. Captain Malone was technically over all Detectives. But when I had taken the job with the police, the "Powers That Be", the powerful people that had brought me in, had arranged that I would pretty much answer directly to the Chief, since the chain-of-command over I.T. was unclear, and since Malone pretty much paid attention only to Vice, leaving MCD somewhat rudderless. I had filled that void in MCD, but it was now chafing Malone. And Chief Griswold was putting me into a Lieutenant office just to chafe Malone even more. "Don't worry, Don." the Chief said, his eyes twinkling a little bit and his big mustache quivering even as his voice maintained the growl. "Lewis thinks you're great, and he knows you're no friend of Malone. He just wants to talk about precincts in exchange for supporting your early promotion. It's all politics, and Lewis is good at politics." Then the Chief brought up his next subject. "Keep thinking about more staffing for the MCD Department. Get with Captain Forsyth." I understood what he meant: with Tanya Perlman promoted already, and with my desire to also promote Cindy Ross as well as to get Hugh Hewitt leading a S.W.A.T. team, I knew we needed to bring in some more Detectives, either by promotion or hiring from the outside. Douglas Forsyth was a longtime veteran of the Town Police Force, having served most of it in Personnel and Records, of which he was now Captain. He had brown hair and a somewhat sour disposition. Though seemingly fit enough and not fat, my observation of him was that one day he was going to have a massive heart attack. I also didn't like him: he aspired to the Chief's office, was extremely political and would throw anyone under a bus to advance his own ambitions, and he would be strongly considered for Chief of Police when Chief Griswold retired... but in my opinion he had no "connection" with the men and women, the officers of the Police Force, and never tried to make such connections nor understanding of what police officers deal with on a daily basis. One consequence of his political games: he was called "Captain Brown Nose" behind his back. It did not take long to move my few personal items from the basement IT office to the new one. I told Myron Milton to make as much use as he could of my old office, a hint that he needed to consider the I.T. Supervisor job. Once installed, I sat down in my new office, wondering just why a Lieutenant's office was so much smaller than my old one. At least I had a window, a small one, but a window nonetheless. Looking out the window, I saw that the sun was just rising on a beautiful late Spring/early Summer Monday. School had let out for the semester the week before. Things were settling down quite nicely, except for my impending divorce, of course. Even that was going as well as could be expected, with no contesting of property divisions, and my lovely lawyer Jeanine Olivet had told me that it might be only a matter of days before it was finalized. I had not seen Melina in some days, but Laura had more than filled that void in my life. I already was making payments at the jewelry store for the engagement ring I'd picked out for Laura. I reached for the morning papers. The Town paper headline immediately caught my full attention. It said that the Reverend Jonas Oldeeds was coming to Town in two weeks to lead a "Spiritual Revival". That such a world-renowned tele-evangelist as Oldeeds was coming to our relatively small Town for such a relatively small event seemed very out of the ordinary to me. After a moment of thought, I reached for the phone and called Laura's office. She was already there. "Good morning, darling." she said huskily and sweetly, perhaps thinking this would be a flirtatious personal call. "Good morning, Professor." I said, letting her know that this wasn't ordinary. I could almost feel her coming to rapt attention on the other side of the line. "I need to ask you a rather professional question: Are you or your department doing anything in particular two weeks from now?" "Uhh... why yes, we are." Laura replied. "Our series of symposiums is going to be here at the University.... why? Is there some kind of threat to the symposium?" Laura knew that some religious-based groups did not like the sexual research that she was doing, nor the seminars that were being held. There had been no trouble in San Francisco, but the one at the University of Georgia had been marred by protests from religious groups, and the recent one scheduled for Salt Lake City at the University of Utah had been cancelled due to strong protests within the school and the city. Laura told me that she had never understood why they'd tried to schedule a symposium on sexual subjects in heavily-Mormon Utah, and was glad that one had been moved to Las Vegas: it had been much more fun during the evenings. "Check the morning paper." I said in reply. Laura said she'd call me back. In the meantime, I read an online news service usually read only by police, and paid attention to the ongoing investigation of the strange murder of the wealthy gambling magnate and Korean national Soo-Yung Kim in Las Vegas. The FBI had been called in, and could not add any explanation to how the man was shot dead with one well-placed bullet to the head while standing on the balcony of a penthouse during a party. The nearest tall building was about 800 yards away and the place Kim was shot was at a bad angle to it. That nearest building, the hotel where Laura and Melina were staying during the symposium that same weekend, was very secured. Even Hugh Hewitt, who said that only someone as well-trained as an Army sniper could've made that shot, was at a loss to explain how a military sniper rifle could've been sneaked into the building and extracted without getting caught. And then there was the mysterious death of Professor Al-Saheem in Athens, Georgia. An autopsy had come out showing no evidence of poisoning, which had been the first thought of the authorities there. He was a guest speaker at Laura's symposium there, discussing Middle Eastern sexual habits and mores. I had drily remarked to Laura that his speech would be very short considering Islamic suppressions of women there. Professor Al-Saheem had collapsed at the dinner banquet the last evening of the three-day seminar, and died at the hospital the next day. I'd heard the name of Professor Al-Saheem before; he'd caught some flak protesting the University of Georgia's mascot, which was a bulldog. Apparently Islamists don't like dogs very much... and certainly UGA fans did not like their beloved mascot being besmirched. I thought to myself that I personally would rather face an entire army of Islamist terrorists than Georgia students and alumni angry at the insult to their mascot. Still, something about these murders was bothering me... and I also wondered why I was noticing them in the first place. I had more than enough to deal with right here in this good ol' Town. And as if on cue, the phone rang. "I see it." Laura said when I answered the phone. "Your friend Jonas Oldeeds is coming to town. Some coincidence, huh?" 
"My friend? I don't think so." I said, knowing Laura was teasing me, if a bit too roughly. "But you're right, it's not a coincidence." ----------------------------- "How's the new office?" I heard that sweet but mischievous voice say. It was Tanya Perlman. It was 9:00pm and she was checking in on me as she left her office right across the way from mine. "Just fine." I said, glancing up at her, then doing a double take. "Wow, you look fine tonight. What's the occasion?" Tanya was wearing a tight, form-fitting black mock turtleneck blouse that really outlined her big, high-riding breasts and her tight body, a gray skirt that matched the gray jacket she had draped over her arm, no stockings and black pumps... much higher heels that she normally wore. "Well..." Tanya said, entering the room.... and locking the door. As she approached my desk she said "I want to be the first woman to help you break in your new office... by fucking your brains out." She came around the side of the desk and stood between it and myself. Sitting down, I was inches from her torso... and her cunt, barely concealed by the skirt. "Well, I think I can take you up on that offer." I said, standing up as Tanya perched her cute ass on the desk. "And as hot as you look," I said, sliding my arms around her waist and giving her mouth a deep, hard kiss, "I can't think of anyone I'd rather break in this office with, right now." Our kissed deepened as Tanya's hands nimbly went for the zipper of my pants, opening them and fishing out my cock as it began to lengthen and harden. I was kissing her mouth and nuzzling her neck, enjoying the taste and smell of the lovely woman as our sexual temperatures soared quickly. "You're hot tonight, baby." I said. "How long has it been since you've been fucked?" "Days!" Tanya replied, her voice a mixture of need and exasperation. "I was going to call Pete Feeley if I didn't get some dick soon." "I think you're sweet on that guy." I said, teasing her as I kissed her and roughly massaged her breasts through the blouse. "He's better than nothing." she said, and I knew she was hiding deeper feelings. "But I want your big dick inside me right now, Don. Fuck me, baby!" Tanya brought her legs up until her heels were planted on the desk right next to her pussy. She was wearing no panties, and it was a very easy, quick move for me to step up and, with her guiding my size, penetrate her and sheath my meat to the hilt in her soaking wet twat. "Oh God damn, that's good!" she gasped. We continued to kiss and clutch at each other as I pumped her with short strokes, unable to get a real good rhythm going at this angle. After a couple of minutes, I slid my cock out of Tanya's cunt and sat down in the chair. "Baby, this desk is never going to be this clean and free of papers again." I said in response to her confused look. "Why don't you lie back on it. I want to eat your pussy!" Tanya wasted no time in complying. She lay back, lifting her luscious legs high up in the air and pulling them back. Still sitting in my chair, I eased forward and buried my face between the lovely policewoman's legs. Inhaling the musky scent of her womanhood, my cock throbbed as I eased between Tanya's legs and began licking. "Oh sweet God!" Tanya gasped, trying to keep quiet, but unable to completely control herself. Her hands massaged her breasts through the blouse, then ran through my hair, then back up and down her body, often squeezing her own breasts. For myself, it was heaven. Tanya's cunt was delicious; I knew she'd been eating lollipops and sweets all day, and the sweetness definitely enhanced the taste of her. Eating her cunt was like eating a sweet, juicy Georgia peach, I thought to myself as my tongue delved deep into her quim. Then I licked her slit and roughly tortured her clit as I drove one, then two fingers into her wet hole, making her moan. After several moments of orally enjoying that truly delicious pussy, I stood up and guided my throbbing cock, achingly hard with desire, to Tanya's twat. Fitting the thick cockhead between her swollen labes, I drove forward, once again burying my hard male meat balls-deep inside her. "Ohhhhh yesssssssss!" Tanya hissed as I plunged into her. "Oh yeah, fuck me with that big thing!" I guided Tanya's legs so that her ankles rested just over my shoulders. I did make sure to turn my head and get several tasty licks and kisses of her feet and ankles, taking off her shoes one at a time and sucking on her heels. Tonguing a woman's feet while fucking her was one of my hottest fetishes, and my cock was throbbing as I held Tanya's hips and vigorously fucked her. Case of the Executed Evangelist Ch. 01 Then I felt her lower her legs off her shoulders and try to sit up. I helped her, again pumping her from the high angle of standing in front of her as she sat on the edge of the desk. "Oh God, that cock is so fucking hard!" Tanya said, breathing heavily, her eyes boring into mine. "I love your iron hard cock, Don! Unnh, uh.... oh, wait the fuck a minute!" Her look turned to one of inquiry and surprise. She suddenly reached over and opened a drawer to my desk. Finding a ruler, she reached with her other and to grasp my cock, essentially pushing me out of her warm wet hole. Slapping the ruler onto the top of my hard cock, Tanya said "That's what I thought... you DO feel bigger inside me... because you ARE. Don, your little iron crowbar has grown!" "C'mon, that can't happen." I said, but as I looked down I got a shock: I had never been over seven inches, was slightly shorter than a full 'lucky 7' when I moved to this town... but the ruler clearly showed the tip of my cock well over the 7-inch mark... closer to 7 1/2! "How can that be?" I asked, not complaining but wondering. "I don't know, but I want you to keep fucking me with this thing!" Tanya said, grinning, pulling my cock back to her cunt. Together we re-sheathed my cock and continued making hot sweaty love until I erupted and shot my load deep into Tanya's quim. The office was well broken-in. ----------------------- Arriving home at The Cabin, Laura was there waiting for me. As she kissed me, she immediately knew what I'd been doing. "Mmmm, you've been getting some pussy." she said huskily, kissing me more deeply and sliding her long tongue deep into my throat. "Yes, Tanya wanted to help me break in my office properly. Who am I to say no?" I said. With amazing athleticism, Laura knelt down, still on her feet with her legs bent almost double. She opened my pants and fished out my half-hard cock and engulfed it in her mouth. "MMMMMmmmmmmm!" she moaned as she deeply sucked my cock. "God that tastes great! So this is how Tanya's pussy tastes on your big cock!" Laura continued to suck me hard, and I felt my erection growing despite the recent hard fucking Tanya had given it. "Baby, I've got a question." I gasped as the beautiful professor sucked my meat and tongued my balls. "Tanya said she thought my cock was bigger, and when she measured it, it was nearly a half-inch bigger. What's up with that?"
 "Mmm, that's not a complaint, is it?" Laura said, not stopping her oral assault upon my meat and my balls. "No, but could it be a side effect of the drugs I was injected with in the past?" Laura still sucked my meat, but much more slowly, apparently thinking about it. "Well, we can measure you later when you get fully hard again, and make sure she measured correctly. And I can run some more tests. You probably are due a full workup, anyway. I'll call in Todd also." Laura said. "But in the meantime, I want my share of the action. Let's go to bed and fuck." Part 3 - The Arrival "He did what?" I asked, stunned. "Captain Malone volunteered to personally oversee our security arrangements for Rev. Oldeeds's visit." Chief Griswold repeated. Seeing my look of absolutely speechless shock, he added "No, I don't know why, either, and he's going to lose a lot of sleep in the next few days, but he said he wanted to do it... and I just got out of the way and let him." "Well... good." I said. "He can do that and I'll volunteer to do something far, far away from that mess." Then I noticed the Chief's eyes gleaming again and that all-too-familiar twitch of his big curly mustache. "Sorry, Crowbar, but Rev. Oldeeds has asked for you personally to be involved with his entourage. He cites his long friendship with your late father and his admiration for your work since coming to work on the Police Force here." Chief Griswold said, his voice sounding sad and supportive, but his eyes giving away his amusement. In reply, I used language that cannot be repeated here in this family environment. Then I settled into a "brown study." The Chief was patient with my introspection, having seen it many times and knowing something good would come at the end. "Chief..." I said... "let's think about this. Malone actually wants the security detail. That puts him into close contact with Oldeeds. On top of that, it's been nagging me for days why Oldeeds is even bothering to come to our good Town here. Even with the big rally in the football stadium, this man is, by far, too big for something like this." "I couldn't agree more. Keep your eyes and ears peeled." Chief Griswold replied. "And by the way, I just love it when you start putting seemingly unrelated things like that together. No wonder you get the results you do." "So what do I have to do now?" I asked. "Nothing until his speech for the Ladies Auxiliary Saturday morning at the County Fairgrounds. Malone knows Oldeeds asked for your presence, but will probably have you guarding a water cooler by the railroad tracks or something. Meanwhile, all the real work is on him." -------------------------------------- That Thursday, Town & County Police Captain Harold Malone escorted his wife Madelyn to the home in the most exclusive enclosed country-club neighborhood in the County, north-by-northwest of the Town. The Oldeeds entourage had rented the home for the full month, though they would only be staying a few days. Harold Malone was a tough man who had seen the wars of the police beat and the streets. His face was square and chiseled, and his broad shoulders made him look larger than he actually was. In his mid-50s, age was just beginning to catch up to him. His wife Madelyn, also in her mid-50s, had salt-and-pepper hair kept in a very severe style, combed sideways, but people didn't notice: she had a great, saucy body. She wore a bit too much makeup but her face was attractive. She was not in the super-hottie-MILF category that Sally Wellman and Eleanor Burke easily fit into, but Madelyn Malone's body was fine, with large natural breasts, an hourglass shape with that saucy round ass, and shapely legs. The Oldeeds greeted the Malones as if they were old friends, and Harold Malone noticed Jonas Oldeeds giving Madelyn several good looks. After the right amount of small talk, Jonas Oldeeds invited Captain Malone into his private office for a discussion of security arrangements. Once in the room, Malone noticed two men using electronic gadgetry. "No bugs." one man said as he finished his sweep. He "frisked" Malone with the wand, making sure Malone wasn't wired. "Sorry for the intrusive security, Captain Malone." Oldeeds said. "I'm sure you understand the need to be careful, though."

 "I certainly do, Reverend." Malone replied. "Now how can I help you?" Both men knew what Malone meant: they were not meeting just to discuss measly police security details, which were beneath Oldeeds' consideration and singly in Malone's pervue. Still, Oldeeds was careful in his speech. "I would like to make an arrangement with you." Oldeeds said. "I'd like one of my branches to have the exclusive access to bring my merchandise to the university market and the Tenderloin District. Perhaps the entire County. I understand that you, Captain Malone, are the sole arbiter of the county's markets." "Well, sir," Malone said, beginning the negotiation, "I already have very good arrangements with another 'business group', and it does me no good to change partners right in the middle of the dance." "I understand." Oldeeds said, his voice smooth and soothing. "But I can certainly make it worth your while. Very much so. I'm prepared to make you offers that my competitors could not possibly match." Malone was wary. "You mentioned the Tenderloin District. Is 'product' all you plan to do business in?" "Ah, very good question, very astute, Captain." Oldeeds said. "I like working with men who are not complete idiots, like that last bunch at Northwestern University. And yes, 'product' is actually an expansion of my original businesses." Malone had to tread carefully; he'd heard very thin, vague rumors of some of the operations Oldeeds had been running in Texas... and into Mexico, and it wasn't drugs Oldeeds was interested in. Malone remembered the leering looks Oldeeds had just given his (Malone's) wife. "I'll have to think about that." Malone replied. "By the way, I'm not sure why you even want to come anywhere around here. You've heard about that new whiz kid we've got. It won't be ten minutes before your operation hits his radar. It's all I can do to keep him distracted for my current partners." "Oh yes, Don is the son of one of my earliest friends and benefactors, and his sister will always hold a special place in my heart." Oldeeds said. "Don't worry, I'll use Godfather Corleone's advice and keep my friends close and my enemies closer. Besides," Oldeeds grinned evilly. "I might even be able to bring young Don to our side, at least partially." "You're kidding me." Malone said involuntarily, then recovered. "Did you not hear what the man did to Sergei Molotov... just for offering him a bribe?" Oldeeds laughed, a hearty, rich, full laugh. "Oh yes, I heard. Wonderful! I loved every minute hearing that story." "So how in the world do you expect to hook him?" Malone asked, genuinely curious. "Ah, a fishing term is indeed the correct analogy, Captain. Every man can be hooked... by the right bait. I think I know the right bait to offer him." Oldeeds said, giving no further details. "Let's rejoin our ladies, shall we?" Oldeeds said, getting up to indicate the interview was at an end. "You'll both stay for dinner of course? Perhaps I can arrange for you to sample one of my best 'products'." "Yes... " Malone said, then made his own offer. "My wife is a big fan of yours... a very big fan. Perhaps you could spend some time with her. She loves... 'worshipping the Lord'." -------------------------------- "Yes, I know just what you mean." Vicki Oldeeds was saying as she and Madelyn Malone sat on the sofa, sipping tea. "Those niggers are all about praising the Lord, but when it comes to giving money, they don't contribute a damn thing." She had found the older woman's "hot button" and was pushing it mightily. "Yes." Madelyn Malone said. She was one of the most vicious racists in the country, much less the county. "The niggers are always making demands of our politicians, wanting to be given this and that, demanding everything but not giving a God damned thing in return. My poor husband is at his wits end trying to deal with their crap and their rhetoric." "I quite understand. Your husband is such a good, generous man, such a servant of the good people of this county." Vicki continued. "Why thank you, dear." Madelyn replied. "And you are so right: he has to deal with that nigger woman in the D.A.'s office, and I've even heard that the nigger councilman is going to force us to hire niggers on our detective force. Everything has just gone to hell in a handbasket." "I'm sure that your husband and mine will find... mutually satisfactory arrangements about that. Oh-- hello dear, are you done?" Vicki said, noticing her husband and Malone coming into the room. "For now." Oldeeds replied. "And the Malones will be joining us for dinner. It should be a... most pleasant evening." The Malones did not seem to notice the evil at the edge of the other couple's smiles. ------------------ "Mmm, baby, let me take care of this nice, big cock." the girl said, kneeling in front of Malone in one of the luxurious guest bedrooms. She was the eighteen-year-old blonde girl that Jonas had fucked just the other day, and she had felt so honored when he had asked her to do a special mission for the Lord and for him, Jonas. She had breathlessly complied. Harold Malone groaned as the girl's mouth enveloped his six inch cock, her hands massaging his crinkly nut sack. Although not exceptionally long, Malone's cock was very thick, and he'd been called "Beer Can Malone" in his younger days. The girl slid her mouth up and down the length of his thick shaft then lashed her tongue down its length and over his balls. "Mmmm, I've never sucked a policeman's cock before, Captain Malone. Are all policemen as big as you are?" Her compliments mixed with the scent of her perfume, Malone's favorite, had him feeling exceptionally good... almost as if he were high on something. The pleasure of the girl's mouth spread through his loins like fire, burning to a crisp any thoughts of concern that Malone had. He idly wondered how Oldeeds had managed to transform this young girl into such a hot slut in just a few days, remembering Oldeeds telling him that he, Oldeeds, had popped this girl's cherry just a few days before. But she was sucking him like a pro now... and that's what she would become, a pro... The young girl climbed onto the bed as Malone slid back and lay down flat, his cock standing straight up with taut tension. "I think I'm going to learn to like fucking police officers." she said. "I'm going to ride you, baby." She mounted the older man, grabbed his meat and positioned it into her slit, then let her weight drop, sinking down and impaling her tight pussy onto the police captain's hard male meat. She began to ride him, vigorously pumping her ass up and down his rod. Don and those young whippersnappers aren't the only people with open marriages in this county, Harold Malone thought to himself as he enjoyed the pleasure of being fucked by an eighteen-year-old girl. My wife and I were doing this long before they were a gleam in their daddies's eyes.... -------------- "It's so nice of you to make some time for me." Madelyn Malone said to Jonas Oldeeds as they stood close together in the master bedroom. "I've always wanted to worship the Lord with you." She felt mellow and good, and maybe just a bit too loose. Perhaps it was the wine they had been drinking with that delicious dinner... "It's my pleasure, Madelyn." Jonas said, his arms slipping around the older woman. "I look forward to showing you the true goodness and power of the Lord." He kissed her mouth and she immediately responded, and their tongues twined hotly as Oldeeds hands slid up her body and unzipped her dress. As he slid the dress down, exposing her large, natural breasts, the kiss broke. "Mmm, what a lovely creature of the Lord you are." Oldeeds said, his voice a hoarse whisper. "What beautiful... white... breasts." Oldeeds leaned down and sucked Madelyn's left nipple into his mouth, feeling it harden at the wet touch of his tongue. He sucked her breast for a moment, then turned to the other one and sucked it as her hands slid her dress down until it puddled around her shapely feet, still encased in high-heel closed-toe sandals. "Mmmm, you're a good white man that knows just how to treat a lady." Madelyn said. "A true man of the Lord." By now the couple was feverishly kissing as they helped each other strip naked except for Madelyn keeping her heels on. She felt herself being maneuvered to the bed. Falling onto the luxuriously comfortable mattress and the thick sheets, she eagerly dove for Oldeeds's throbbing hard cock. As she engulfed it into her mouth and fellated the famous evangelist, she thought of how it was really no larger than her husband's. As Jonas' words of encouragement barely reached her ears and she concentrated on sucking the hell out of his manhood, her thoughts drifted to that detective Don, whom all the ladies about town were discussing as having a bigger cock... and the ability to use it well. And then there was Don's young nephew Todd... now there was a handsome, well-hung young man! Every woman in the county wanted Todd's monster prick plowing their married pussies and filling them with his potent sperm. I wonder what woman is going to land Todd? Madelyn idly thought as Oldeeds turned her onto her back and confidently mounted her. She thought that the tele-evangelist was in shape and good looking, and spread her legs to receive the Lord's blessing from His Messenger. "Unnh!" they grunted together as Oldeeds penetrated Madelyn and buried the full length of his meat balls-deep into her sopping wet quim. As he began to fuck her with a smooth, steady rhythm, he was surprised at how vigorously she was fucking him back, especially at her age, and he increased the intensity and power of his thrusts. "Yeah baby, you're one fine piece of white ass!" Oldeeds growled as he relentlessly plunged into her. "How does that big WHITE cock feel inside your hot WHITE cunt, baby?" "Fuck me, white man! You know how a white woman wants her cock! Give it to me! Give me the Lord's full blessings!" She wrapped her shapely legs around Oldeeds's muscular waist, the heels of her feet digging into his ass to urge him on and give her a fuck worthy of the Fires of Hell. Vicki Oldeeds watched in secret, her pussy wet as her finger probed deeply into it. This older woman was on fire! She was giving Jonas as good a fucking, maybe even better than those teen girls he would easily turn into whores. She then thought of how Jonas was a racist like the Malones were, but she, Vicki, would have no problem taking a huge black cock into her tight little pussy and letting a black man come inside her. The thought of interracially cheating on her husband sent sparks of electricity up and down her spine as she climaxed around her fingers... Part 4 - The Offer It was eleven o'clock Saturday morning. The day was clear and beautiful, and would reach a perfect 72 degrees during the afternoon. I could feel the air of excitement and expectation, which had been building for days, and I was just going to be glad when it was all over and this Town would return to normal life. The big tent awning was decorated with white balloons and ribbons. Members of the Ladies Auxiliary and the Wives Club were milling about, directed by University Trustee Myrtle L. James. Mrs. James had taught home economics at County High School for over thirty years, and she just loved staging events like these with the Ladies Auxiliary. Despite her age, she was milling about in her fussy way, supervising the tents of food and the main tent, where people were setting up white wooden chairs facing the stage, the podium in the dead center of the stage at the very back of the tent. Laura was a member of the Ladies Auxiliary, but had made it clear to them and to me that she would be "otherwise detained" and unavailable to help in any way. I knew that she detested Jonas Oldeeds. Melina had also told Laura and myself that she was not going to be anywhere near the events, and that she planned to work at her fitness center that day. The amusing thing to me was that the building Town Fitness Centers was in was not that far away: it was on the edge of the Fairgrounds, at the very far north end, though several hundred yards away from where the Event tent had been set up. Author's note: the following might be cluuuues... The podium in the tent faced south. Behind the podium, to the north, was the huge parking lot of grass, stretching several hundred yards. These were the County Fairgrounds. The railroad tracks were to the west, with 100 yards of flat grassland between them and the tent. The entire area had been cordoned off with metal barriers, ropes, barrels and cones. Captain Malone had the police controlling the parking entrances, only allowing entrance and exits at a few points. I had to commend Malone for his plan's orderliness. A number of RVs were parked to the north side of the canopy tent, people who had driven in to see the Reverend Oldeeds. This area had electric hookups for those RVs, as it was used for County Fairs and other events. Also, RVs often parked there for University football games. Case of the Executed Evangelist Ch. 01 The back of the Police Headquarters was to the east of the tent. I could see the fenced-off area on the jail side, where inmates were taken to get some exercise, and the fenced-off parking lot was to the right side (left if one faced the front entrance of HQ) and around back. I saw the windows of the Chief's office and the conference rooms, then other offices and rooms as my eyes went left towards the jail side. "Hi Don!" I heard a lovely woman's voice call out. Lovely, indeed! it was University Police Lieutenant Brittany Maxwell. She looked great in a navy blue jacket, white blouse and navy skirt, with sheer navy blue stockings and high heel pumps. Her eyes sparkled in the warm sunshine. "Hi Britt. You look wonderful... as always!" I said as we hugged and kissed cheeks on both sides like French people do. "But isn't it warm for dark blue?" I was wearing a white, short-sleeved, collared, button-down shirt with my police badge over the left pocket, Supervisor bars on the shoulder epaulets, and the small rectangles denoting the Medal of Valor and Purple Order over the right pocket, along with police blue slacks with black "piping" down the side, hoping the white would keep me cooler. Normally only Lieutenants and above wore white shirts; all else wore light blue or the well-known traditional dark blue. But I was a Supervisor in a Lieutenant position, and no one was attempting to tell me I couldn't do it. "It's still cold to me." Britt replied. "And I just got back from those Florida beaches!" "I'm already warm. I'll be longing for a vacation to the Arctic Ocean soon. So how was your vacation?" I asked. After school let out, Britt had taken over a week of vacation and traveled to Florida. By sheer coincidence (not), Cindy Ross had also taken vacation at that time, and by sheer coincidence (not), had gone to the same destination. At any rate, I had not seen Britt in some days. "Great!" Britt said. "By the way, congratulations on the promotion, but when are you going to get that Lieutenant bar?" "Soon... probably at the same time you get your Captain bars." I said. "Especially if I have anything to do with it." "Yeah, right." Britt said, somewhat bitterly. "If you can pull that one off, you are truly the Miracle Man around here." "Have faith, my friend." I replied, smiling. "You should have more Faith. Let the Revvvrend Ollldeeeds bring you the faith you neeeed!" Britt laughed at my sarcasm. She had the same disdain for this spectacle that I did. "Sir!" I heard a voice say from behind me. A uniformed officer came up to me. It was Patrolman Hicks. "Sir, Rev. Oldeeds has requested that you come to his RV." "I'll be right there." I said. "Well, Britt, duty calls. I'll talk with you later." I followed Patrolman Hicks to one of the RVs behind the tent. It was the set up as an office, not as living quarters: Oldeeds had a separate RV for himself and his wife to relax inside of. This RV was the height of business luxury on the inside, with all the amenities money could buy and stuff into an RV, all for the Reverend Oldeeds comfort in conducting his business activities. A man was using electronic gadgetry that I immediately recognized as being listening-device-detection equipment. The little box began beeping wildly when it came near my police radio on my belt. "Would you mind turning your radio off for just a few minutes?" Rev. Oldeeds requested. I spoke into the microphone that I was going "off radio" for a few minutes, and turned the radio off. "Thank you, I appreciate it." Rev. Oldeeds said. "I'm sure you can understand that I have to be cautious. The Press is unrelenting and unscrupulous in what they will do to get some 'dirt' on a man in my position." "I understand fully." I said. "How can I help you?" "Please?" Oldeeds said, looking startled. "Ah, I thought when you requested for me to come here, you had something to say." I said. "Oh.... well yes, I certainly do want to discuss a few things with you." he said, a bit nonplussed at the perhaps inappropriate speed with which I had him come right to the point. "First, I understand you've been doing very well with the police here. However, I have a very extensive operation throughout the nation, and even around the world. Security is a large, complex task...and I'm sure you have what it takes to help run it. I'd like for you to consider joining my team." He has got to be kidding, I thought to myself, not letting myself show any surprise at his offer. I don't think Jonas Oldeeds realized that I knew quite a bit about him, from the things he did to my sister and mother to some of the sleazy operations he was alleged to be running. There was no way in Hell that I was going to go to work for this man. "Well, sir, I appreciate you thinking of me." I replied. "But I have to tell you that I am very happy where I am, in this Town and with the Police Force here." Oldeeds smile was set and firm. "I can certainly understand that. But I'll be blunt with you, Don: you're too big for this town. You need to get into the big game-- ah yes..." Oldeeds had seen my reaction, but misunderstood why. He could not have known, so I thought, that I had recently heard those very words before... while verbally facing off in a professor's office with one of the most dangerous men in the entire world, a man that the Rev. Jonas Oldeeds was no match for. "Yes... you have tremendous capabilities, untapped strengths." Oldeeds continued, thinking he might have caught my interest, using his well-worn spiel of personal development and self-confidence. "A man like you could go such a long, long way in an organization like mine." I just smiled. "I do appreciate your kind words, Reverend. But really, I'm happy where I am for now." Oldeeds was not a man that took being turned down very well. He played what he thought would be his trump card. "Well, while you think about that, at least let me make you another offer: my organization is extensive, as I said. I have... resources... that I can use to help you find that rogue nephew of yours." Okay, this time he had my attention. "Of course, there is something I would want in return." "What would that be, Reverend?" "Your sister." I guess my look of skepticism, perhaps of anger gave me away, as Oldeeds hastily continued. "I simply would want you to back off pursuing your sister, let her stay with me within my organization. I'd ask you to forgive her for her transgressions, which I'm sure were made in error and under duress.... and I'd keep her out of your way, completely out of your county, even your State. "In return, I'll deliver that punk kid to you any way you like... on a silver platter, like the head of John the Baptist.... or even in very small boxes, like the Chinese would send their enemies home inside of." Jonas Oldeeds was known to be a connoisseur of Eastern cultures and traditions. "I'll have to think about that one, Reverend." I said. "My sister is wanted for some very heinous crimes. I feel she is responsible for the death of your friend, my father." Oldeeds did not react at all to that; I wondered just how much he knew about my family situation. "And who's to say I won't find Ned myself?" "Well, just think about it." Oldeeds said. "Letting your sister go in exchange for getting the bastard kid that put a bullet in your side. Sounds like a good trade to me, but it's your call." This was not the discussion one would expect a man of the Lord to be having, and I'd heard as much as I needed to. "I'll consider it. In the meantime, Reverend, would you permit me to introduce a couple of people to you?" "Why.... sure." Oldeeds said, again a bit startled at the way I had taken control of the conversation and ended it. I got up and opened the door to the RV and called for the two men outside to come in. "Reverend, this is Detective Steven Ikea of our Vice squad. He's a man of the Lord and a fan of yours. And this..." I said, indicating an older man, tall with a beak nose and prim mouth, balding on top of his head but full-haired on the sides, "is Pastor Raymond Westboro. Pastor Westboro is a member of the Town & County Council, very influential in our politics here. And if you'll excuse me a moment, I need to check on the security arrangements with Captain Malone." I quickly exited before Rev. Oldeeds could protest, already hearing the gushing praises of Steven Ikea. I had to pat myself on the back just a little bit: I had Ikea out of the way, had him fawning all over Oldeeds, and gotten myself out of Oldeeds's lair. And Oldeeds would have to listen to Ikea and not be able to talk politics with Pastor Westboro... which of course was one reason I had surmised Oldeeds had even come to this town. I wondered what the rest of the equation was... Oops..... the only cloud to the silver lining was that Bettina Wurtzburg ambushed me with a live-to-camera interview as soon as I stepped out of the RV. Oh well, the devil or the deep blue sea, I thought to myself. Might as well throw Bettina a bone... speaking of that, I thought as I answered her first question, I'd sure like to give her my bone... Part 5 - The Crime "UHHH!!!" Jonas Oldeeds groaned as he came deep inside his wife after a hard, intense fuck. His semen flooded her womb as jolt after jolt coated her cervix. As usual, the pleasure of his orgasm calmed any stress he had, and he had built up quite a bit of stress having to deal with those two Bible-thumpers that Don had saddled him with. The son of a bitch, Oldeeds thought, remembering Phyllis with sinister satisfaction. But that Don was indeed as crafty as Oldeeds had heard and been warned about. "Mmmm, that was good, baby." Vicki Oldeeds said, glorying in her own deeply satisfying orgasm while taking her husband's hard thrusts into her womanhood. "You haven't fucked me that good in a loonnnng time." "Yeah, it was good, baby." Oldeeds said, deeply kissing his wife before climbing off of her, his penis slipping out of her wet, cum-filled vagina. He wiped himself off with a wet towel, smoothed his hair into place, and began quickly dressing. They were in the "living quarters" RV, and his first appearance would be in a few minutes under the big tent. The RV was sumptuous in its luxury, all the amenities possible were stuffed into the RV, all for the personal comfort of Reverend Oldeeds and his wife. Just as a bullfighter would have sex with a lover just before facing the bull in the arena, Jonas Oldeeds always liked to fuck a woman just before going out and preaching to a crowd. The wealthy evangelist smirked as he thought of how every single time someone was watching him on TV or on his tapes or seeing him preaching to a crowd, that he had come inside a warm pussy just moment before. "You're going to do great today, baby." Vicki said as she dressed, thinking of all the times she had accompanied her husband onto the stage, sitting to the side and watching, knowing that all those thousands of people in attendance didn't realize that her husband's semen was leaking out of her freshly fucked vagina and soaking her panties. "Yes, it's going to be quite a weekend." Jonas said. "The Protestant Student Alliance that sponsored our visit to the University tonight and tomorrow will be the perfect stooges for our attack on that bitch Dr. Fredricson and her wicked, sinful sexual research. I intend to put one hell of a dent in her operations." Oldeeds smiled with pleasure at the thought of his plan of attack. "And so far, my other business here is going well." he continued. "We can really expand our profits if we can get a foot in the door and a toe in the water with Captain Malone." He paused, then said, almost wistfully, "I just can't believe that Don didn't jump at my offer to give him Ned's head on a platter." "I don't think he shares your feelings of caring towards his sister." Vicki replied. "Don't worry about him. I don't think he's the hot shit that people are making him out to be." "Oh really? Woman's intuition?" Jonas asked. His wife smirked at him, and he continued "I guess we'll see. Okay, babe, are you ready to go out?" ----------------------- After looking around the tent and speaking briefly with Captain Malone, I made my way to the south end of the tent, which would be at the end away from the podium. Lt. Britt Maxwell joined me there, standing just in front of a temporary metal box shed that housed some of the wiring for the speakers and lights. Despite the daytime brightness, there were lights inside the tent to illuminate the Reverend Oldeeds as he was filmed by his video company's cameras. In addition, I don't think I'd ever seen as many mobile phones and tablets at the ready to photograph and perhaps videotape this spectacular visit from this most famous of religious men. The parking lot was full of cars, there were several hundred people crowded into the tent, along the aisles and around the edges, most of them middle-age to elderly and middle-class. The whole area was being secured and law enforcement and event security placing themselves in their appropriate positions. "Well, here goes nothing." I said to Britt as I made out the procession approaching the tent from the other side, knowing what to look for. Precisely at noon, Mrs. Oldeeds appeared on the stage, then a roar sounded as the Reverend Jonas Oldeeds appeared, flashing his toothy, reassuring smile. He waved at the crowd as his wife and other persons took seats on the folding chairs at the right of the stage, to Oldeeds's left as he was standing. I watched as his security detail spread out, and then saw Steven Ikea standing just off the back of the stage, having been invited by Jonas Oldeeds to be present and nearby. Entirely too kind of the Reverend, I thought to myself, but maybe he and Ikea did hit it off after I introduced them and left quickly. "I'm going over there to the command post." Britt said, wanting to get a bit closer and get a better look. The command post was to the right of the tent, near the closest entry/exit point to the Fairgrounds. I felt the metal of the shed against my back as I rested against it, not really listening as Myrtle L. James introduced Jonas Oldeeds to the crowd, followed by a loud roar as the tele-evangelist came onto the stage to begin spiritually rallying his flock. As Oldeeds was speaking, I felt an electrical energy around me, like a charged aura. I stood up and looked around briefly, wondering what the cause was. Then I suddenly felt as if my right shoulder was being jerked down by an unseen hand. *SMACK!* Just as my head moved sideways with my shoulder, I both felt and heard a loud impact on the metal shed just inches from my left ear. I let my body continue to fall as time seemed to slow down. Looking onto the stage, it seemed as if the world was in slow motion. I saw an explosion of red right in the middle of the chest of Jonas Oldeeds's white shirt. He seemed to stumble forward, grabbing the podium to steady himself. As he stood back up, he looked down at his hands, seeing the blood smeared all over them. I felt myself rising up and begin running towards the podium, everything still in slow motion and an eerie silence coming over me. I saw Oldeeds look to his left at his wife, his face a mask of pure shock and horror. Her face was beginning to show the horror of what she was witnessing as well. And then.... ... the left side of Jonas Oldeeds's head exploded in a fountain of red and gray. Steven Ikea's face was a mask of sheer horror as he leaped forward to catch Oldeeds just as he fell, easing the stricken minister to the stage floor. I remember running up to the stage, yelling "police officer!" as I pushed people out of the way. Just as I and several other police arrived at the stage, two EMTs in hospital scrubs appeared with unbelievable speed, carrying a stretcher onto the stage. They quickly put Oldeeds onto it and whisked him out of the tent and into the ambulance that had just driven up. Mrs. Oldeeds ran desperately to the ambulance as it was pulling out, and one EMT opened the passenger cab up front to allow her in. Police allowed the ambulance to leave but no other vehicle or person. Captain Malone was screaming orders to secure the entire place, that no one and no vehicle was to be allowed to leave. The entire fairgrounds were locked down instantly. Steven Ikea was nearly immobile, still on the stage. He was sobbing, tears streaming down his face as he looked at his shirt and hands heavily stained with Oldeeds's blood. It was just then I heard more about blood as I suddenly noticed a sting on my temple. "You're bleeding, Don!" I heard a voice say. It was Lt. Britt Maxwell. She and Captain Malone rushed up to me. I had been grazed by the bullet that had smashed into the metal wall of the shed. Police immediately scrambled to where I had been standing to look for evidence while a paramedic examined my wound, which proved to be extremely superficial, barely breaking the skin. But that was nothing. The Reverend Jonas Oldeeds had absorbed the full impact of two shots, the second one blowing his brains out of his head. He was pronounced dead-on-arrival in the Emergency Room at University Hospital. To be continued... Case of the Executed Evangelist Ch. 02 The order of my stories to read is: Todd & Melina series, Interludes 1-5, Sperm Wars series, Russian Roulette series, Case of the Murdered Lovers series, Case of the Murdered Chessplayer series. Case of the Executed Evangelist series. Feedback and constructive criticism is very much appreciated, and I encourage feedback for ideas. This story contains graphic scenes, language and actions that might be extremely offensive to some people. These scenes, words and actions are used only for the literary purposes of this story. The author does not condone murder, racial language, violence, rape or violence against women, and any depictions of any of these in this story should not be construed as acceptance of the above. Part 6 - Youthful Pleasures 12:00 noon, Saturday. "Mmmm, such a lovely, big cock." Laura mewled as she licked up the long, veiny nine-inch shaft of the youthful stud's penis. "I love sucking your cock, Mike." she said. Suiting her deed to her word, she engulfed his rod in her hungry mouth, sucking him deeply. Mike was eighteen years old, and had enrolled early at the University on a football scholarship. He would be a Freshman in the fall. He was a quarterback, and slated to compete for the starting job. He was handsome, muscular, 6'5" tall, with brown hair that was cut fairly short. He certainly knew his way around women, but had been amazed when this beautiful professor had not only asked him to come to her office, but had taken him into a little room fitted out as a bedroom and began making out with him. Their clothes came off quickly, except for Laura's high heel strappy sandals. As Laura sucked Mike's meat, she made a mental note to tell Todd that this young man was indeed an excellent candidate for the SEX fraternity. His cock was definitely nine inches, and she could already tell he was going to be good in bed. Mike moaned as he watched the beautiful woman, her knees under her between his legs as she knelt over his cock and sucked it. Her black hair was in a tight bun, her natural, big breasts were scraping the insides of his muscular thighs as she fellated him, her nipples rock hard. The teen stud had never felt such pleasure, having never had a girl or woman deep throat his entire penis as Laura was doing, swallowing every one of his meaty inches into her hungry throat. "Oh my god, that's amazing!" Mike gasped. "You're amazing, Doctor!" "Call me Laura, while we're alone together like this." the beautiful professor said. "And I'm going to show you a lot more amazing things." She began to climb onto him, ready to impale her sopping wet cunt onto the young stud's dick, when he suddenly grabbed her, whirled her around and she found herself lying on her back with him on top of her. "Ooooh, I do like a confident man that does it like he wants." Laura said, appreciating the young man's confidence and initiative. After kissing her mouth, Mike began kissing his way down her chest, sucking her tits for a moment, then working his way down to her crotch. "Oooohhhhh...." Laura moaned as Mike settled between her legs and began eating her pussy. He was good, definitely experienced, she thought as she allowed her mind to lose itself in the pleasure of her body. As the boy hungrily ate her out, Laura thought of her husband Don. It was nearly noon, a beautiful Saturday, and he had to work that ridiculous event at the Fairgrounds. She remembered how two days earlier, she and her husband had talked... "Are you going to be there?" Don had asked as they cuddled on the sofa at The Cabin after dinner. 
 "No way in hell I'm going to be anywhere near there." Laura replied. "So," Don had said, teasingly, "going to find a young stud to fuck?" "Mmm, I think you'd like me to do that." she had replied as they shared warm kisses. "Are you really okay with that?" She knew he was, but liked to tease him by asking him, forcing him to admit it. "Mmm, absolutely." Don had replied. "My only regret is that I won't be able to watch you with your young stud." "I'll make it up to you." Laura said, as she opened her lover's pants and reached her hand inside to fish out his cock. "First installment now...." Back in the present, young Mike was mounting her. She gasped as the big cock penetrated her labes and began sinking slowly into her. Mike lightly humped his hard ass, working his cock into her as if she were a young virgin. Despite her extensive experience at being penetrated by big cocks, Laura's tight cunt still had to stretch to accommodate Mike's size. "Ohhhhhhh yesssssss! Oh Mike, that feels so fucking good!" Laura gasped as Mike bottomed out inside her, his big balls resting against her ass-crack. "Fuck me with that big hard thing, baby!" Mike wasted no time complying with her request. He began fucking her with a deep, hard rhythm so normal for young men Mike's age. "Uhhh, oh shit, I think I'm going to come." Mike said after only a minute of fucking. "Yeah baby, come inside me and just keep fucking." Laura said, knowing Mike would stay hard. Ah, the perpetual hard-on of young men! Laura thought, loving every moment of it. "Should I pull out?" Mike gasped, his nut beginning to rise. 
"No baby, I'm already pregnant." Laura replied. "Shoot it up into me, stud! Give me every drop! "Maybe after you have the baby, I can put the next bun in your oven. How about that, Laura? Want me to knock you up?"

 "I'll think about it." she replied, knowing Mike was really getting off at the thought and hot talk of impregnating her. Her own orgasm neared: knowing a man wanted to knock her up with his baby turned her on like few other things could. "Now come inside me, give me that sperm! I want your SPERM, Mike!" Her words had the desired effect. "UUUUHH!!!!" Mike gasped hoarsely as his penis exploded, large spurts of thick, ropy jism blasting out of his rod and coating the beautiful older woman's cervix. Pulse after pulse of sheer ecstasy coursed through his young loins as he came inside Laura's clutching cunt. "Keep fucking, Mike, keep pumping!" Laura ordered. Mike did so, and soon realized that his cock was staying hard. "Oh god, it's never been this good!" he exclaimed. He slammed his mouth onto Laura's and they shared deep kisses as he plowed her pussy into a creamy, frothy lather. The rutting couple was still humping steadily when the phone rang on the bedside table. It was a secondary number, private to Laura's office. Who the hell was calling? Laura thought. She ignored the phone, pulling Mike's head to hers and kissing him hard to keep him going. He got the message and thrust hard and deep as their tongues twined. 
The phone rang at least sixteen more times. Whoever it was simply was not giving up. "Just a fucking minute." Laura said to Mike, exasperated. She wrapped her legs around him to keep him on top of her as her long arm reached out for the phone. "What the hell *IS* it?!?! I'm busy with a patient!" Laura practically screamed into the phone. "I'm sorry, ma'am," said her grad assistant Connie Chen, a lovely Asian girl. "But Reverend Oldeeds was shot at the Fairgrounds! They're rushing him to the Hospital now!" Despite the chill that rushed through Laura's spine as she heard the news, she said "I'm going to finish with this... patient. Do not call again until I'm done, Connie!" She hung up. "Okay, Mike, keep fucking me." Laura said, turning back to the young man whose big cock was still buried balls-deep in her aching pussy. "I want you to come in my mouth this time. I want to swallow every drop of your hot cream..." Part 7 - A Failure to Communicate 9:00 pm. We assembled in "Classroom J", the second-largest meeting room in the Headquarters Building after the main large auditorium. The room had been swept for bugs at my request: I had learned from the late Jonas Oldeeds. We were using the large space because it had a projector, a small stage and podium, and of course because it had long tables and chairs to fit the sheer number of people in the room: SBI agents, FBI agents, every detective and senior officer on the Police Force, as well as technicians from the Crime Lab. This one was big. As I walked in, I noticed Steven Ikea sitting in the back. He still looked dazed at what had happened right in front of him, and was still reeling over the loss of the tele-evangelist that he had idolized. It was amazing what Tanya Perlman's Crime Lab team had been able to do in the short amount of time. They had voluntarily received 50 video tapings from various people's mobile devices, and through a subpoena had gotten KXTC's footage. ADA Paula Patterson was giving a rundown of their actions. 
"No vehicles left the scene after the shooting. The police were that good and fast in locking the scene down. Every vehicle was searched before being allowed to leave." Patterson said. I noted she did not credit Captain Malone personally, who I had to admit deserved praise for his planning and leadership in making that happen. But the tensions (to say the least) between the black woman Patterson and the race-hater Malone were strongly in play at this moment. Agent Carter Fischer of the SBI asked "Did anyone object to being searched?" "Yes." replied Patterson. "Over 40 people refused to be searched or allow their vehicle to be searched without a warrant. Fortunately, Judge Folsom was on site. He set up a desk in the parking lot and just started issuing warrants. Warrant after warrant. No one had an excuse." Paulina Patterson was smiling broadly at that memory. "As a result, every vehicle was searched. The Crime Lab, very efficiently run by Supervisor Perlman of the Town & County Police Force, found one cartridge in an RV. It had not been fired." The acknowledgement of Tanya Perlman was well-deserved, but was also a clear shot at the SBI, whose attempts to interfere had nearly caused problems with evidence collection. "Supervisor Perlman, would you like to continue from here with the evidence discussion?" "Thank you, District Attorney Patterson." Tanya said, returning Paulina the favor of respect by leaving off the "Assistant" from Paulina's title. I loved it that my team was learning these little social tricks, which bonded us and really shoved our buttocks into the SBI's faces. "The unfired cartridge was a 7mm-08 caliber." Tanya said. "This is a .308 necked down to a 7mm bullet. It's a hunting cartridge, but it's not common at all, and we rarely see it used in crimes." "We found two bullet fragments, also." Tanya continued, looking oh-so-fuckable in her white blouse, blue skirt and high heel blue pumps. Why was I thinking of fucking this woman during the intensity of this crime investigation? I wondered to myself as I listened to Tanya's details. "One bullet was found smashed into the wall of the metal shed where our MCD Supervisor was standing. It was a soft-nosed, jacketed bullet, and we recovered the base of it. We were able to measure that it's very likely a 7mm bullet. Further testing should be able to show if it is from the same lot as the unfired cartridge we found." "The other bullet was the one that went through Jonas Oldeeds's chest." Tanya said, her voice crisp. "It struck the top edge of the podium and was found with a metal detector. It was on the ground in the middle of the tent. I don't understand how it did not hit any other person in the tent, but it fell to the ground between two rows of chairs. We will run comparisons against the other bullets... "she paused for effect. "... but from our measurements we believe that this cartridge was not a 7-08, but a .308 caliber." A murmur went up in the room as this fact was revealed, and then continued as Tanya said "The .308 caliber is well known as a sniper round, is very common and is often used in crimes. We will now see a 3D mock-up from our technical team." Myron Milton took the stage. I noticed he seemed to be enjoying the limelight as he showed a short film. "This is a computerized 3D composite taken from the video we found useful today. As you can see from this red line here," he said, stopping at a frame looking down from behind the podium where Oldeeds had been standing, "the first bullet struck at this angle and close to Don's head... too damn close for my comfort." The crowd murmured at just how lucky I had been to escape harm. They had no idea just how close, I mused. "This yellow line is the bullet that hit Jonas Oldeeds in the back. It went through a lung, clipped his heart, exited just left of the sternum between two ribs, struck the podium and apparently tumbled up into the air and back down between a couple of rows of chairs in the middle of the tent." "The third bullet struck Rev. Oldeeds solidly in the head. We hope that an autopsy will recover the bullet. It was from virtually the same direction as the second bullet, from what the computers can simulate." An SBI agent piped up: "So the first shot was from a completely different angle. What conclusions do you draw from this?" It sounded almost as if it were a challenge. "Don?" Myron offered. I got up and approached the podium... ----------------------------- The nine hours between the murder of the Rev. Jonas Oldeeds and the present moment had been some of the most tense and chaotic in my personal memory. Shortly after the murder, as Tanya Perlman's Crime Lab teams quickly and efficiently gathered evidence, the State Bureau of Investigation showed up. "Special" Agent Richard "Dick" Ferrell attempted to put himself in charge of the investigation. He began bossing people around, including Lt. Maxwell, who technically outranked him. When she began yelling at him, he made physically threatening gestures towards her, which was a huge mistake. At that point I had one less T&C officer to work with, as Cindy Ross confronted Ferrell and openly challenged him to try to get physical with her. She and Britt stayed together and harassed Ferrell for the next hour. And it only got worse: One of our guys was using a metal detector on the grounds of the tent, and was being harassed by SBI agents. When he found something, they tried to take it from him. Tanya Perlman went for her gun but didn't draw it as the SBI officers backed off. And then Ferrell tried to confiscate our Crime Lab's collected evidence. The State Crime Lab people actually disregarded Ferrell's orders, out of what I was observing to be their increasing respect for Tanya Perlman... but also because a certain other Detective was now brandishing a blue crowbar in his hands, and no one present wanted to test my willingness to use it. After 90 minutes of this crap, Ferrell and his fellow agents had become so distracting, and so inept, that I finally got on the podium, took the microphone that Oldeeds had been using when he was shot and was still turned on and working, and broadcast explicit orders to every Town & County Police Officer that they were to disregard and not follow any instruction by Dick Ferrell, and anyone obeying ANY order of Ferrell would be disciplined by losing pay and even rank. Ferrell rushed the stage, and me, but stopped when Cindy Ross put her gun in Ferrell's ear. Damn... I loved Cindy Ross, but she took away my chance to use my crowbar and whip Ferrell's ass once and for all. Lt. Maxwell threatened to arrest him on the spot, not only for "assaulting" me, but for disobeying her orders as a superior officer. That created another shouting match. The ensuing standoff was only brought to a peaceful conclusion when Detective Steven Ikea, still dazed and wearing a bloodstained shirt, stepped in and quietly told Ferrell that none of this was helping find the murderers of Jonas Oldeeds. I noted that Ikea and Ferrell at least knew each other and got along... no real surprise for birds of an asshole feather to stick together. Hmmm, was Ferrell also a religious nut like Ikea? Is that the cause of his tension? I wondered to myself. And then the Deputy Director of the SBI himself came onto the scene and agreed with Chief Griswold to take Ferrell off the case and off site in exchange for us working with some of his other agents. Chief Griswold told me to choose an SBI agent to work with. I chose a young man named Carter Fischer. He was about my age, late twenties to early thirties, had a full head of brown hair, and had seemed much more reasonable to work with in the short time I had to size up all the agents. After that, things calmed down, though Ferrell remained on site. Tensions rose when the SBI tried again to confiscate our collected evidence, citing jurisdiction. That was stopped by an amazing turn of events. To add to the direction of the day's "progress", Special Agent In Charge Jack Muscone of the FBI arrived with several FBI agents. He did not try to bully his way into the lead role, but told the Chief that he was sent to "assist" us, and that there was a Federal interest in the case due to investigations of Oldeeds's religious empire. He and his agents were professional, and did not hinder our team's progress. But Ferrell turned nasty with Muscone at one point, and while Ferrell, a tall slender man, looked to be in better shape than the slightly husky Muscone, we found out differently. I admit that I started what happened next: As Ferrell berated Muscone, I noted the FBI agent's red face and pending explosion as I walked up to them. "Would you like to borrow a crowbar, Agent Muscone?" I asked. It was my first contact with him on this day, and I remembered that he was the FBI agent that had come and rescued Sergei Molotov from my crowbar previously. Muscone looked at me, a gleam in his small, dark eyes, and said "Thanks, but I don't need it." Then, with unbelievable speed, Muscone threw a right-hand haymaker and smashed his fist into Ferrell's jaw. He followed it up with several hard punches into Ferrell's gut, then a knee to the ribs. I could've sworn I heard a rib crack, and soon Ferrell was on his hands and knees, vomiting violently. Muscone then shoved Ferrell's head into his own vomit. "Fuck with the FBI again, you little shit, and I'll wipe your god-damned ass out, you understand me?" No one had moved to help Ferrell, but Steven Ikea came over and helped Ferrell stand up, then escorted him away from us, getting him out of there before further damage happened. A good bit of tension left with Ferrell, but there was still that unease amongst the rest of us. The Chief looked apoplectic. I looked around to see if the Press had gotten any of it, but they were being kept at bay and I could see no cameras in sight. Fortunately for us, Bettina Wurtzburg and her crew were at the hospital, trying to get information about Jonas Oldeeds's condition. --------------------------------- At 3:00pm Chief Griswold called me into his small conference room, as some of us had returned to Headquarters. Present were SBI Agent Carter Fischer and FBI agent Jack Muscone. "Ah, the Iron Crowbar!" Muscone said, getting up and shaking my hand as if I were his best friend. "I wish you could've seen Sergei in those hours after you whipped him. He could barely walk, his back seized up. I've never seen a hardened criminal like him look so defeated. You really put the psychological as well as physical beatdown on him." "Glad to have been of service." I said nonchalantly. I took the time to size up Jack Muscone. For some reason unknown to me, and having no reason to do so, I felt that I liked Jack Muscone... that despite him being a Federal agent, he was someone I could reasonably trust. Muscone was not particularly tall and looked up when he looked into my eyes, which I noted he had no problem doing. His eyes were small and dark, but very perceptive, I also noticed. He had black hair, and his lack of height made him look even more stout. But I knew he was athletic and in good physical condition after watching him give Ferrell that ass(hole)-whipping. Case of the Executed Evangelist Ch. 02 "I enjoyed what you did to Ferrell today, also." I said, returning his compliment. 
 "Yeah, I've known that asshole for a while. He's had it coming for some time. I figured you local guys would have no problem with me doing that." Muscone said. Turning to Carter Fischer, who had been sitting at the table looking very uncomfortable, Muscone said "Agent Fischer, please don't ever become a dick like Dick Ferrell. You'll make a lot more friends and get a lot more help by treating guys like this guy--" he was pointing at me "-- with well-deserved respect." "Yes sir." Fischer said, rather meekly. He WAS learning, or else he was faking it very well. "Okay guys." the Chief said. "I do want our various agencies here to get along. Agent Muscone, this is still our jurisdiction, but we're glad to have your help. Agent Fischer, we would like to work with your agency also, but I won't tolerate what Ferrell did to my officers today, is that clear?" Fischer nodded unhappily. "Now, to start mending relations, I think you three guys should call each other by your first names." the Chief said. "Work as equals and partners, okay?" "Good idea." Muscone said. "Don, I've heard a lot about your abilities and your rising star power, not only in this County but over in the City and in the State. What do you think of all this?" "We'll know more if and when we get the bullets, but I believe the bullet that was shot at me did not come from the same place as the ones that struck Oldeeds." "Two shooters?" Muscone said. "For real?" "That's what I think, so far. The angle I was at compared to Oldeeds was really wide. It would be some ability for a sniper to shoot at me, then turn himself and his gun to shoot Oldeeds twice, and so quickly after the shot at me. By the way, that is NOT what I intend to tell other people, so you guys keep it quiet." The Chief's face was ashen. "Don, do you think someone was explicitly targeting you?" Ah, the chief was catching on, I thought to myself with satisfaction. "I don't know for sure yet." I said. "And I know of no connection between Oldeeds and myself that would have one person want to kill us both at the same time. But it's possible. " "What about motive?" Jack Muscone said. "I think you FBI guys are going to find out more at the national level than we can find here, my excellent I.T. staff notwithstanding." I said. Muscone was deeply aware of Myron Milton and how good he was at 'gathering' information. "Think it's from within Rev. Oldeeds's organization? Or someone local here taking an opportunity?" Muscone said, pressing. "At this point, we simply don't have data to make an educated guess from." ------------------------------------------- "I think the conclusion is obvious." I said, on the stage of Classroom "J" with a totally captivated audience. "It is extremely likely that there were two shooters." I wanted to keep some things out of the Press's and SBI's ears, though, so I continued: "I would have to say that the first shot missed Oldeeds and came near me. My guess is that his arm was disturbed when he fired, causing him to shoot way left of the target, and I happened to almost get in the way." I continued, wanting to bring this conference to a close: "With the cooperation and great help of the FBI, we are working up a profile for Jonas Oldeeds, his enterprises, and looking for any reasons someone might want to kill Oldeeds. With their national resources, the FBI will likely be taking the lead on this part of the investigation, while we work at the Town & County level to find the killer or killers." I saw, out of the corner of my eye, the Chief frown at me for purposefully omitting the SBI; I knew I was due for a scolding. "Sir!" Officer Pete Feeley said, his hand raised. How Feeley had gotten into this meeting I did not know, but I indulged the young policeman. "Yes, Feeley?"
 "If no guns had been found in any cars, and only one cartridge or shell when there were two calibers fired, how and from where did the killers make these shots?" Feeley asked. Another murmur of quiet conversation ensued at the bringing up of this point. "That is what we do as police officers." I said. "We have to determine that, and everything that happened this morning. Remember Lao Tzu's famous quote: 'Muddy water, let stand, becomes clear.'. As we gather and study the evidence, the answers will come..." Part 8 - Winding It Down "This is Bettina Wurtzburg, KXTC Channel Two News!" the lovely redhead reporter shouted into the microphone, reporting from near University Hospital. It was 11:00pm. "The nation and indeed the world continue to pour in their condolences, still in shock at the assassination of the Reverend Jonas Oldeeds today during a public appearance at the County Fairgrounds. Despite tight police security, Rev. Oldeeds was gunned down by assassins who remain at large." Bettina was really taking shots at the police right now, I noted. We had been less than cooperative with her and the FBI had not helped her either, but we knew SBI leaks would be coming. "Channel Two News has learned that the police have recovered bullets of two different calibers, suggesting multiple shooters. At least three shots were fired, two of them striking Rev. Oldeeds, one fatally. An autopsy will be performed in the morning to ascertain further evidence. The resources of the State Bureau of Investigation have been brought in to assist our local police in the investigation..." There it is, I thought to myself. She's buttering them up in exchange for them leaking info to us. But what came next irritated me. "... however, Channel Two News has learned that there has been a lack of cooperation between local and state investigators, which the SBI believes could have a detrimental effect upon their ongoing investigation." Bettina said, a malicious near-smile on her face as her voice turned to velvet. Have I mentioned that I am not a fan of the Press? "Channel Two News has also learned that Police Detective Donald--" I almost gasped as Bettina mentioned my name, "... was grazed by one of the bullets. He is of course the same detective who was grievously wounded in his daring rescue of three kidnapped children some months ago. He is said to not be seriously hurt, and is leading the local investigation of Rev. Oldeeds' murder." Wow, was that actually some praise for me from Bettina? "God damned leaks." the chief said quietly, having all but snuck into the MCD room behind us. Even Jack Muscone was startled at his voice. "Don, who? Ikea?" asked the Chief. "Carter Fischer." I said, naming the SBI agent who was not currently in the room. "Ikea's still crying over Oldeeds's death. And Fischer has been believed to be a leaker in the past." "Then why the hell did you choose him as our SBI liaison?" the chief asked, his face reddening even as he managed to keep his voice controlled. 

I shrugged. "He's the only half-decent asswipe among the current SBI bunch. And I was hoping to use him to leak stuff that I want to get out, whenever the time for that is." "And Chief," I added, knowing this had to be said, "this case is too big; there are simply going to be leaks on this one. We're going to have the national press all over us tomorrow morning. Might as well just breathe and relax, sir." "Yeah." said the chief, his voice turning to a tone of resignation. "At least I can do something about the quality of the SBI. I've been talking to the Director and Deputy Director..." He caught himself, then added "Well, we can talk more about that later." Chief Griswold then raised his voice to make sure it was well heard within the room. "All of you: go home and get some sleep. That is not a request, ladies and gentlemen." The MCD room emptied. "Where are you staying?" I asked Jack Muscone as we left the building. Tanya Perlman was walking with us. "University Hotel." Jack replied. "Your future wife, Dr. Fredricson, was very helpful in getting my guys rooms there." "Oh really? That was nice of her." I said. "And how do you know she's going to be my future wife?" Muscone just laughed. "I think you know how." Muscone replied. He was right; I did know. Muscone continued: "Care to join me for a drink before heading home? What about you, Miss Perlman?" ------- It was well past midnight when I arrived at The Cabin. Laura was reading a book, a very heavy psychology tome, but it was clear she had been waiting up for me. "Would you like a drink?" was the first thing she said as she got up. "No thanks. I had a couple with Tanya Perlman and Jack Muscone of the FBI at the University Hotel bar. By the way, do you know him?"
 "Not really, but I've heard of him." Laura said. "He's a really good FBI agent, from what I've been told. Was in the Missing Persons bureau for some time, then started working cases that have national scope. Why?" "Just wondered. He said you helped get him and his agents room at the University Hotel." "Yes, they all come to me for things like that... I did the same for you and Melina the first time you came here, remember?" I did remember, but didn't want to dwell on it at this moment. "So, tell me what happened." Laura said as we settled down onto the sofa. I recounted the day from the moment of the murder onwards, not telling her about my meeting with Oldeeds and his offers. I made sure to fully recount the issues between our Police and the SBI, and also what Jack Muscone had done to Dick Ferrell. "So where were you during all this exciting time?" I asked. "I..." Laura said, her voice turning sexy as she turned towards me, "... was fucking a handsome young college Freshman with a really big cock.... big enough to be in Todd's fraternity." "Mmmm." I said, getting interested. "Tell me all about it." "First," Laura said, kissing where I had been grazed, "are you okay? This could have turned out to be a very tragic day if I'd lost you instead of that bastard Oldeeds." "I'm fine." I said. "And well protected by the Universe. So what happened?" Laura was now kissing the side of my face, down my jaw and nuzzling my neck. I let her, enjoying the feeling of being seduced as her left hand slid down to my crotch and began massaging my cock through my clothes. Minutes later, the beautiful woman was straddling me, my pants open and her panties pushed to one side, and my cock buried inside her hot, wet cunt. As she recounted the lurid details of her fuck with young Mike, her cunt clutched at my cock as I pushed up into her. Though barely moving, we enjoyed our deeply sensuous coupling, our love for each other continuing to grow... "He was... he was so... big!" Laura gasped as she ground her loins against mine, our pubic hairs mingling. "So young... just a... unnnh!... teenager.... oh yeah, it was sooooo hot!" "Did he feel good inside you, baby?" I asked, my own cock throbbing, aching at the thought of my beloved Laura copulating with a hung, young stud. "Did his big cock stretch you and fill you up?" "Oh yesssss..... oh God yessss!" Laura hissed. She continued to gyrate on my cock for a couple of moments then, unexpectedly, stood up and allowed my cock to slip out of her juicy hole. "Let's go to the hot tub." Laura suggested, her voice sultry and promising. "My feet are tired; they need massaging." I knew what she meant, and I felt a jolt run through my cock: I was going to get to give Laura's shapely feet some hot foot worship! --------------- In the semi-darkness of the bedroom, Michael Burke sat naked in the chair, his large cock throbbing and his body covered with sweat as he watched the rutting couple lustily fucking on his marital bed. Todd's enormous weapon of lust was thrusting deep and hard into Eleanor Burke's sodden cunt as the young stud fucked his new stepmother furiously in front of his father. It had taken Todd less than three days to find out that Mrs. Burke and her son Jack had carried on an illicit, incestuous liaison, and Todd remembered his own sexual relationship with his mother Elizabeth... relationships that had caused both boys' younger brothers to seethe with jealousy. Eleanor Burke was one hot piece of ass, Todd had realized. But he'd also realized that while his father was confident and bold in business and in public, in private Michael Burke was a very submissive man who enjoyed being cuckolded and seeing his wife deeply fucked by other men... he'd certainly watched Jack confidently fuck Eleanor and was pleased that Todd had so quickly seduced Michael's lovely MILF wife... -------------- I sucked greedily on the heel of Laura's right foot as we lay in the hot water of the hot tub, my tongue circling her flesh. Then I licked, sucked and kissed my way up the inside of her foot to her big toe, admiring the high arch of her sexy peds as I sucked her big toe and then all of her long toes, one by one, two at a time, my mind and body lost in the ecstasy of it. Laura was just lying back, enjoying the sensations and fingering her clit. I moved to her other foot, giving it equal worship. Some time later we were in bed. I was mounted on top of my wife in the missionary position, my hands sliding under her back and holding her shoulder blades as I deeply nuzzled her neck. Occasionally I would whisper to her how beautiful she was, how good she felt, how much I loved her and loved fucking her. Laura only moaned in reply, enjoying letting herself be deeply fucked by a man who deeply loved her. It simply could not last forever, and I felt the pressure and pain growing as my nut was rising. As I groaned that I was about to come, Laura wrapped those long, luscious legs tightly around me. I reached the crest. "UHHHH!!!! OH MY FUCKING GOD!" I screamed as I began to come, feeling the pulses deep within my loins as I shot spurt after spurt of hot creamy jism deep into the vagina of the woman I so deeply loved. I saw the gray mist and felt the pleasure that seemed reserved only for the gods. It took a long time to come down off that orgasmic high. I finally rolled off Laura onto my back, then felt her turn and nestle herself into my side, her head on my left pectoral muscle and her hand caressing my abdomen and groin, deliberately and teasingly avoiding touching my cock. In my bliss, I suddenly was transported to that moment at the Fairgrounds, remembering the feel of that electrical energy that had enveloped and then grabbed me, literally saving my life. I wondered what that phenomenon was, trying to concentrate on feeling that sensation again before I fell asl--- To be continued... Case of the Executed Evangelist Ch. 03 The order of my stories to read is: Todd & Melina series, Interludes 1-5, Sperm Wars series, Russian Roulette series, Case of the Murdered Lovers series, Case of the Murdered Chessplayer series. Case of the Executed Evangelist series. Feedback and constructive criticism is very much appreciated, and I encourage feedback for ideas. This story contains graphic scenes, language and actions that might be extremely offensive to some people. These scenes, words and actions are used only for the literary purposes of this story. The author does not condone murder, racial language, violence, rape or violence against women, and any depictions of any of these in this story should not be construed as acceptance of the above. Part 9 - Accumulation of Evidence 6:00am Sunday morning. I sat in MCD rather than my new office, reading media reports and other information about the Oldeeds assassination... yes, the Press was already calling it an "assassination". I knew the National Press would soon be all over this, but Captain Forsyth, who generally handled press relations in addition to his personnel and records duties, had already executed what he'd rather too dramatically called "Emergency Plan B" to handle them. Jack Muscone entered the building shortly afterwards, in the company of Tanya Perlman. I had left them together at the bar the night before, and it was no great feat of deduction on my part to see that she had slept with him. "Nothing new, so far." I said. "Waiting for the autopsy to see if we can get a bullet from the head wound. By the way, Tanya..." I continued, "you did one hell of a job yesterday." "She sure did." Jack Muscone said in agreement. "You guys really have your shit together around here. No wonder the SBI hates your guts so much. They usually expect to be called in to save the day because they think the locals are dumb fucks." "This ain't TV." I said. "But we do have the trump card that the University Police run a Crime Lab, and so we're not dependent on the SBI's joke of a lab. Besides,..." I said, smiling, "we've got Tanya, and the SBI doesn't." As Cindy Ross, Hugh Hewitt and others came in, I gave them a heads-up on what was going to be happening today. We were going to have to interview Mrs. Oldeeds, everyone in the Oldeeds entourage, any security personnel, probably have to talk to our own police officers to see what they'd observed. "Cindy, would you get with Captain Charles and ask him very nicely for as much manpower as he can spare? Ask for Sergeants and Senior Patrolmen who are good at conducting professional but not-too-harsh interviews." "Wilco." Cindy said as she quickly stalked out of the room to find Captain Charles. The reason I had sent Cindy instead of myself to see Captain Charles was because I wanted her to forge a working relationship with him. If I had my way, she'd be working with him a lot more... at a supervisory level. At that moment I was called into Chief Griswold's office, and was asked to bring Jack Muscone with me. "Don," Chief Griswold said we entered his office. "I'd like for you to work with Special Agent Muscone here. I'd like the two of you to re-examine the crime scene, see if you can tell where shooters might have perched themselves. There's not a fence post or splinter around there, much less a tree, but those gunshots came from somewhere." "Yes sir." I said. Chief Griswold said "Don, Jack Muscone here is a very experienced FBI agent. His record of finding missing persons is one of the best in the history of the FBI. You can learn a lot from this man." The chief was making it clear to me to not be big-headed and that being a student of an experienced agent could be a most very good thing. The chief was always teaching when he could, a habit I very much wanted to emulate. I agreed, of course. "Yes sir, I'm glad for the opportunity." "I'm not." Griswold said shortly. "I would have much preferred that Oldeeds had not gotten himself shot dead in my County. I don't need the national press sniffing around here. The University Trustees and the Council get very agitated when the Press comes around sniffing at our asses like dogs looking for mates." Jack Muscone burst out laughing at that one. Back in the MCD room at 7:00am, we tuned in for our morning fix of Bettina. "This is Bettina Wurtzburg, KXTC Channel Two News!" The lovely reporter looked great this morning, full of journalistic fire and energy. She was loving the spectacle, I realized to myself. "Channel Two News has learned that the FBI has also joined the investigation of the assassination of famous tele-evangelist Jonas Oldeeds. The FBI's office in the City has released a statement that their participation in the investigation is to lend help to the State and local law enforcement authorities, and is not part of any other investigation of Jonas Oldeeds's religious empire. However, sources tell Channel Two News that there have been investigations in the past of Reverend Oldeeds, and that his murder might be linked to possible activities within his organization. Channel Two News will continue to bring you updates as we uncover any new details..." "Wow." Muscone said. "I see why the Chief hates the Press around here. By the way, wasn't that the reporter who was beaten and raped during the Arruzio case that you solved?" "Yes." I replied, wondering why an FBI agent like Muscone was so full of knowledge about this County's local crimes. "Wurtzburg is annoying, but she's a damn sight better reporter than some of the trash, especially those City jerk journalists that don't know their asses from a hole in the ground." Muscone laughed, something I suspect he rarely did in the professional FBI setting. I had the feeling that he was enjoying hanging around with us and being part of this investigation. Cool beans, as I was beginning to like and respect him, as well. ------------------------------- At 8:00am I was shocked to see who was standing before me in the MCD room. "What can I do?" said a very somber Steven Ikea. I wondered if he'd been drinking the night before, but he seemed okay. "I want to help find the bastard that killed Rev. Oldeeds." The room was virtually silent, as everyone present watched and wondered what I was going to do. "You know what you can do?" I said. "Contact all of your religious friends, Pastor Westboro, other people of influence, and see if you can get any clue at all as to who might have wanted to kill Rev. Oldeeds, and why. And then check in with the SBI and see what they're finding out." "And keep away from the Press." Chief Griswold said as he came up to us. Ikea glared at him, but walked off as if he had a purpose in life. "You getting soft on him, Crowbar?" the Chief asked, the mustache twitching. "Yeah, right." I said. "But seriously, if he comes up with something from his religious buddies, I won't have a problem giving him the credit for it." In truth, I was just getting Ikea out of the way, but it wouldn't hurt to see what he'd dig up. "Yeah, you are getting soft." the Chief said, teasing me hard. I'd have to get him back for that, I thought amusedly, and my look at the chief silently transmitted that very thought. ------------------------ At 9:00 am, I found myself on the grassy plain of the Fairgrounds with Jack Muscone, two young FBI agents, Myron Milton and several Town Police officers, including Patrolmen Morton and Rudistan. The roped-off crime scene of the tent and ancillary structures were still in place, but the field was empty of cars... except one RV. It was the RV in which the 7mm-08 cartridge had been found. It was about 40 yards away from the northern edge of the tent. "So, Morton, how did you and Rudistan come across this RV as 'the one'?" I asked. "Sir, as cars were searched and cleared, they would leave." Morton replied. "After a while it became apparent that this RV was sitting empty. Rudistan stood guard while I went to the judge and got a warrant. We picked the lock, not hard really, and it smelled of powder. We saw the unexpended round and immediately called in the Crime Lab." "I see." I replied. "And I see from this Lab report that no fingerprints were found. Not on the cartridge, but also not anywhere in the RV. This RV was wiped totally clean." "What about the license plate?" Muscone asked. "The numbers were run, and according to this report that plate should be on a Cadillac Escalade in Southport, in the southern part of the State." I said. "The plate was reported stolen just a week ago." "Professional hit job." Muscone said. "I'm assuming your Crime Lab tore this thing down to the bolts and rivets to see if a rifle is concealed anywhere in it?" Obviously that had not happened. "No need, Agent Muscone." a voice behind us called out. Tanya Perlman walked up to us. "We had a dog sniff for explosives and gunpowder residues and another dog sniff for drugs... and he found the prescription morphine unerringly. But we also used sonar equipment to find any cavities. The rifle is not in the RV." "Damn, you guys have sonar equipment?" Muscone said, obviously shocked that we'd made such expenditures. He apparently didn't realize just how beneficial it was to have a University in our town, complete with rich benefactors that like to keep their campus daughters safe and so help the Police Department with expenditures like that. I didn't hear the rest of their conversation: I was inside the RV. The windows on the driver's side, the left, faced the tent. Once inside, I took up a position as I thought a sniper might if shooting through the driver's door window. I also did the same for the small windows on the left side of the RV. "Okay, this window just behind the front driver's seat is the likeliest location. The window opens sideways and not more than a few inches. The shooter could rest the barrel on the windowsill and take aim, and likely would not be noticed. Myron!" "Yes sir?" Milton replied. "You got the computer with all the video and pics loaded onto it?" "Yes sir." "Let's go to the tent and look at it." Once inside the tent, sitting on chairs in the front row to the right side (the podium's left), Milton asked me which pictures I wanted to see, as many had been taken from many places. "Right up here, up front." I said. "Something that might show the RV in the background-- oh, you've already got it. You're reading my mind, Myron." "Yes sir, you can see the front part of the RV in this still, taken from a videocamera." "Yes, that window is visible from this seat. A sedan was parked next to it, not obstructing the view from those front windows." I said, then looked directly behind me. "Morton, Myron, what's significant about this seat?" I had deliberately sat in a particular chair, but neither man understood why. "What's significant about this seat, Tanya?" I asked as she and Muscone walked up. Tanya looked in every direction for a moment, then her eyes brightened. "Ohhhh, it's in the line of sight from that RV window and where you were standing when you got hit." Tanya replied. Muscone also looked around, his head swiveling, totally amazed. "And that is why she's a Supervisor, gentlemen." I said. "Good job, Perlman. Damn good." "She's going to be a 'Special Agent' soon." Jack Muscone said. "I'm going to steal her from you." "Sorry, Jack." Tanya said, her blush showing that she was pleased nonetheless. "I'm happy right where I am, working for this guy." she finished, pointing at me. "Don, you get all the girls." Jack said, pretending to sound miffed. I grinned, then turned back to the photo on Myron's computer. "Myron, what is that white and blue car whose front is poking out from the other side of the RV?" "Can't really tell, sir." Myron said. "I'll see if I can find a better image." "Morton, do you remember what was parked next to the RV, on the other side of it?" I asked. "There was nothing, sir." Morton replied. "Just a space in the grass. I thought it was probably a vehicle that had already pulled out." "Myron, did we get any shots from that direction?" I asked, pointing forward, north towards the RV. "Just a KXTC footage video." Myron said. "I'll bring it up." He did so and we watched the film. "Freeze it there, Myron." I said. "This is ten minutes before Oldeeds was shot. And that forward leaning car is.... oh, it's an ambulance. There's a Police HERO unit parked right behind it at the rope line." "Hmmm, the ambulance could be the one that took Oldeeds to the hospital." Muscone said. "Likely it was." I said. "Oh well, it looks like we have the right RV for the shot on me." Just then Tanya's cellphone rang. After taking the call, her eyes gleamed as she announced the information she'd just received. "That was the Medical Examiner. He did the autopsy at the hospital, and found a slug stuck to the inside of Oldeeds's skull just above the right ear. It stayed in the head and didn't go through. It was virtually intact, meaning it struck Oldeeds with low energy." "Meaning it was a long, long range shot." I mused. "Okay Tanya, quit teasing us... we're on pins and needles about the caliber." "7.62 NATO... the military version of the .308" -------------------------------- Muscone was driving his Federal Government vehicle and I was in the passenger seat, headed for the only possible building to the north of the Fairgrounds that had any kind of visual on the targets: Town Fitness Centers. Detective Hugh Hewitt was with us, at Muscone's request. Muscone had shown himself to be an encyclopedia of Hugh's military and combat record. As we left the Fairgrounds, I noticed Tanya continuing to look at the line of sight of the gunfire. Damn! I thought to myself, very impressed: I think she might actually figure it out before she's done! Meanwhile, there was business to take care of: "Jack, I gotta let you know something before we get there." I said. "The co-owner of the fitness center and the one likely to be working here today is my wife Melina... soon to be my ex-wife just as soon as the ink dries on the divorce papers." "Think that'll be a problem?" Muscone asked, not showing any surprise at my announcement of my relationship (or lack of it) with Melina. "No, you just need to know going in. The divorce has been amicable, no violence... so far..." Muscone grunted. "Wish I could say the same about my divorce. Anything but amicable. Wife moved 2000 miles away and took my kids." "You ever get to see them?" I asked, knowing this was a soft spot for Muscone.
 "Yeah, at Christmas and for a couple of weeks in the summer." We pulled into the parking lot. Every shop was closed, as it was Sunday morning. Even the fitness center was closed, with only two cars in front. Easy deduction to make as to who was inside. The bell rang as we opened the door and went in, and I heard Melina's voice shout out from the women's side "We're closed!" "It's me, Melina." I said, then led Muscone into the women's workout area. Melina was sitting on the floor near the back of the large open area, dressed in athletic workout clothing and painting some plywood boards from gray to black. "Hi Don." she said brightly. "I'm just painting some false walls to construct temporary rooms for yoga classes." "Hi Uncle Don." Todd said, sitting by another board and painting it. He was dressed in a t-shirt and gym shorts. "I'm helping Aunt Melina with arts and crafts today." "So I've observed." I replied. "Melina, I'm afraid this is not a social call. You know Detective Hewitt. And this is Special Agent Jack Muscone of the FBI. Jack, this is Melina, and that is my nephew Todd." "Hello, Mr. Muscone." Melina said. "I'd shake your hand but I've got paint all over mine." "That's all right." Jack said. "And please, call me Jack." Melina nodded. "Hello, Todd." Muscone said. "Agent Muscone." Todd said, nodding. "Hey, Hugh! How are you doing?" "Good!" Hugh Hewitt said. "Trying to stay out of trouble and failing, of course." As Hugh and Todd bantered, Jack Muscone turned to Melina. "If you don't mind, we'd like to look around the place, to ascertain if it could possibly be a location where Rev. Oldeeds's killer fired from." "No problem." Melina said. But all those windows--" she pointed at the windows just under the ceiling "-- are sealed and don't open." "Can we look at the roof?" Muscone said. 

 "Sure." Melina replied, leading the way to the stairs to the roof. Todd stayed behind upon my instruction to do so. "Was anyone here yesterday, during the time of the shooting?" "Just me." Melina said. "I was doing paperwork in my office. The gym was closed; hell, the entire Town was at the event." Going up to the door to the roof, Jack Muscone glanced closely at it, then asked me if I saw anything. There was nothing to see. Going out onto the roof, we stood at the doorway, looking to see if there were any footprints or disturbances on the roof. Then we made our way carefully to near the edge facing the Fairgrounds. We could see the tent, a mere speck in the distance. "800 yards." Muscone said, using a small laser rangefinder to obtain the distance. "Hugh?" "Yep." Hewitt said. "That would be one hell of a shot, even for me with the best Army sniper rifle in the world." I wondered if Hugh realized he'd just given away some information about himself... "And done twice within seconds." I added. I was examining the ledge at the edge of the roof. "I don't see any marks anywhere along here, or any scuffing. I don't think anyone's been on this roof since the building was built." Back down at the second level, where Melina's office was, Muscone satisfied himself that her office window and the other office windows could not be opened. To the right of her office door was a fire escape door. "Let me get the key and turn off the alarm." Melina said. Taking a key from her desk drawer, she cut off the alarm and opened the door. The small ledge balcony outside generally faced the Fairgrounds. The ladder that would swivel to the ground was up, and there was no way anyone from the ground outside could reach it. I noted the gray of the building walls, the ledge and the railing. "An even tougher shot." Hugh pronounced. "Yes, and anyone on this balcony could possibly be seen from the road." I said. "Damned dangerous to try shooting from here." We went back inside. After saying our goodbyes, we were driving back to Town to get some lunch. "Well, that is the only possible place a sniper could've shot Oldeeds." Muscone said. "And I just don't see it. Besides, your wife was there. Oh-- why do you think your nephew is hanging around there today?" I smiled as I answered that one. "Oh, he's trying to get some pussy." 
"Think he'll succeed?" Jack asked, a bit of a smirk on his face, as Hugh laughed in the back seat. "Yep, he probably will." I replied. "Just as soon as she gets the work out of him that she wants done." ----------------------------- 2:00pm. Vicki Oldeeds was lying naked on her bed, lying partially across the naked young man as she deeply sucked his huge cock.
 "Mmmm, Mike, what a great cock you have." she said between sucks, her left hand grasping the base of his nine inch rod and gently jacking it. "You have truly been blessed by the Lord, young man." "Thank you, ma'am." Mike groaned. "Your mouth is a true gift from God." It was just over 24 hours since witnessing the horrific event of her husband's murder. She was still in deep shock, and the grieving was building inside and would come, but for now her cunt was soaking wet and steaming hot, and she needed some good hard sex. She was used to being fucked twice, three times a day, and not always by her beloved husband. Case of the Executed Evangelist Ch. 03 The blonde's mouth glided up and down young Mike's throbbing shaft as he compared her techniques to Dr. Laura Fredricson's from the day before, finding both women to be excellent, accomplished cocksuckers. But Vicki Oldeeds's pussy was totally shaved and glowingly bare. She was one hot bitch, Mike thought. "Mmmmm, so God damned good!" Vicki mewled as she continued to suck deeply on Mike's big cock. She could tell his nut was rising and that soon her mouth would be full of--- *KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!* "Who is it? I told you I did not want to be disturbed!" Vicki yelled. "I'm sorry, madam," said the butler of the house, an old gentleman with an aristocratic air about him, a servant of the Oldeeds for some years, "but the Police have arrived and wish to speak with you." Damn! Vicki thought to herself. "Okay, tell them I'll be right there in a few minutes!" She then very quietly told young Mike to get dressed and accompany her downstairs. She quickly dressed in her black dress, veil and pumps, applied fresh makeup, and with Mike in tow, dressed in a suit and tie and carrying a large Bible and notebook, she went downstairs. "Please excuse the delay." she said to the officers waiting in the sitting room of the rented mansion. "We understand." said Detective Cindy Ross. "And we're very sorry for your loss." "Thank you." Vicki replied. "This is my secretary, Mike. He's been a true gift from God these last couple of days. A wonderful young man of the Lord." I'll bet, both Cindy Ross and Teresa Croyle thought at the same time, both noticing the considerable size of young Mike's package underneath the crotch of his pants as they introduced themselves and took seats at Mrs. Oldeeds's invitation. "I am sorry that we must speak to you about your husband's murder so soon after it occurred." Detective Teresa Croyle said, anything but sorry. She knew a whore and a lying con artist when she saw one, and Vicki Oldeeds was the very height of both, the piety of her and her husband's presentation of religion notwithstanding. Continuing, Teresa asked "Are you aware of any threats to your husband in these last few days or weeks?" "No, none at all." Vicki Oldeeds replied. "My husband was a very powerful man, so of course he had enemies, but I'm not aware of any specific threats." "Did he have any arguments with anyone, any altercations, anything at all that would be considered out of the ordinary?" "No, nothing at all that I saw or heard about." "Was there any sudden changes in his actions, in his routines, in your lives together?" Teresa asked. "No. Our lives are-- were-- very scripted, very scheduled, often down to the minute. The appointments with people were different, but the schedule and our daily routines were virtually always the same. And there had been nothing unusual at all, for weeks... months." As Teresa asked questions, Cindy Ross was attempting to size up Mrs. Oldeeds. The widow's makeup was fresh and likely would've been freshened upon the arrival of the Police for an interview, she noted. But her eyes don't look to be red from crying. She's either not grieving yet... or she's not going to. The woman's eyes were sharp, skeptical and inquiring... very common when being interviewed by police... but is that a look of craftiness, of cunning? Is she thinking that all this is some sort of game? "Can you tell us what your schedule was in coming to this Town for this trip? Was there anything unusual about this trip, different from others?" Teresa asked, trying a new line to reach the same desired result of her previous questions. "Mike, do you have the schedule book?" Vicki called out to the handsome young man behind her. "Yes ma'am, it's right here." he replied, handing her the appointment book. "This is my schedule, not my husband's, but we're so often together that you can hardly tell them apart." Vicki Oldeeds said, handing Teresa the book. At that moment, the butler brought in a young man in a suit and tie. "Ma'am, this gentleman is from the FBI, and would like to join this interview." "Certainly." said Vicki Oldeeds. The young man introduced himself and sat down next to Teresa. What Vicki Oldeeds did not know was that his entrance after the policewomen's was planned in advance with them. At Teresa's invitation, the Special Agent began asking some questions. "Did your husband have any business deals in the works recently?" "Not that I'm aware of." replied Mrs. Oldeeds. Cindy was sure of it now; Vicki's eyes were almost jet, they were defensive, careful and cunning.... and contemptuous of the FBI agent. "Nothing that might have caused someone to get angry, a deal that might have washed out leaving someone out to get revenge?" "No, nothing of that sort at all. Jonas's business dealings and those of his Ministries were all smooth and orderly." Knowing it was the right time, Cindy Ross came straight out with her question. "I'm afraid we have to ask questions of this nature, Mrs. Oldeeds. How was your relationship with your husband? Any problems, any at all?" "Why no, we were very much in love and things between us were the best they've ever been." "No affairs by either of you, no jealous past lovers?" Cindy asked. "I understand your need to ask that question." Mrs. Oldeeds said, a bit derisively. "But we were committed to each other, open and honest with each other about everything, both personal and business-wise." "And that brings me to the next question I must ask." Cindy continued, showing no emotion nor surprise despite many interesting observations. "Do you inherit your husband's fortune upon his death?" "Yes... and no." Mrs. Oldeeds replied. "I inherit our joint personal holdings, of course, but only part of the controlling interest of the company itself. Most of the Ministries' assets were not personally owned by Jonas, but by himself and his group of trustees as a separate entity. I believe your fellow Detective's father was one of Jonas's first trustees, and Jonas liked and always kept that arrangement. The answer had been a bit too well prepared, too smoothly delivered, Cindy thought to herself. Mrs. Oldeeds was hiding something. And she had not explicitly denied that the Oldeeds were having extramarital sexual relations... of course everyone in Cindy's Police Department from Captain Malone to Don and Melina to half the Town Council and University Trustees had open marriages, and that was none of her business... but what did it mean for these 'Disciples of the Lord' to be so adulterous? There were several more questions, but it was becoming obvious that Mrs. Oldeeds was shutting down, refusing to say much further about Oldeeds's businesses with the FBI agent present. Part 10 - Badges "Don, Brittany, get in here." Chief Griswold ordered, ushering us into his small conference room. It was 4:30pm. Inside the room were two men in expensive suits. "Folks, this is the Director of the SBI, Jack Lewis, and the Deputy Director of the same, Tom Conlan." Griswold said. "Have a seat, please." "First, I want to apologize for Agent Ferrell's actions yesterday." Director Lewis said. "Totally unprofessional, and I want to do what I can to prevent it from happening again... while at the same time keeping Ferrell working on cases. He's a good agent, even if he rubs you people in this county the wrong way." I don't know if Britt's look or mine was the more skeptical, but the Director made haste to continue. "We've been talking with Chief Griswold today, and he has agreed to our potential solution. Did you know that we have an SBI Reserve?" Britt nodded affirmatively, but I had not heard of it. The Deputy Director took up the discussion. "It's usually for early retirees from the SBI to work with us temporarily, and sometimes for contractors in our I.T. departments, stuff like that. But both of you pass all the requirements to be part of the SBI Reserve. You can only be active duty SBI for 30 days in a calendar year, then have to apply for 30 more days." "You could be brought up temporarily by the Director, myself, or the Governor." the Deputy Director continued. "But you can also activate and deactivate yourselves by signing in to our website and 'clocking in', so to speak. There is the caveat that while you're active with the SBI, then by law you won't be active with your local law enforcement agencies, and the same law prevents you from being called up for a case within your own local jurisdictions." "You'll both be Special Agents of the SBI Reserve." the Director said. "Lt. Maxwell, we'll have to run more paperwork through to get your rank up to where your current Campus Police rank and status is, but if you accept, we'll start that paperwork immediately." "This is a great opportunity for you both." Chief Griswold said, making his desire for us to accept very plain. "Where do I sign?" I said, hoping it didn't sound too sarcastic. The Director swore us in, we signed a couple of pieces of paper, and the deputy director handed us our new SBI badges. Was it sheer coincidence that my badge number was exactly the same as my Town & County Police badge number, "1640"? --------------------------- 4:30pm. After watching Don and Lt. Maxwell get called into the chief's conference room, Cindy concentrated on getting her reports of interviews into the computer. The computer keyboards were clicking frantically throughout the entire Headquarters, trying to meet deadlines to get the material in so that Myron Milton could begin massaging the data and cross-referencing things. How that computer whiz had not been kidnapped by the FBI and CIA and made to work for them, Cindy did not know... and did not care to contemplate further... After cross-checking with Teresa that their notes of their various interviews matched, Cindy Ross submitted her information. Then she began thinking about the things she had not put in the formal notes, but that she wanted to discuss with Don. It really was too bad that he could not have been at that interview, she thought. He would've nailed Vicki Oldeeds's sweet ass to the wall on a whole range of things... --------------------------- "I'll take you two to dinner." Chief Griswold said as our talks with the SBI Directors ended. It was 6:00pm. "How about you let me take all of you to dinner." Jack Muscone said as he walked up. "My expense account, your tax dollars doing you a little bit of good?" "You don't have to ask twice." I said. "Chief, okay with you?" "By all means, but I get to pick where we eat." the Chief replied, smiling. I knew where that meant: the Cop Bar, which actually had great food. At dinner, the Chief told us how he had worked hard to arrange our SBI status. "This way you can just log in, deputize yourselves, and you can tell asswipes like Ferrell to beat his face. It also gives you a bit stronger access to University campus jurisdiction, Don, if ever there's a problem."
 "Sounds like a good deal." Muscone said. "Wouldn't mind getting you and Perlman into the FBI that way. I wonder if we could do something like that..." He lost himself in thought for a moment. "Well," I said, "I only accepted this for two reasons: one, because Chief Griswold worked to get it for us; and two, because I don't think the SBI has realized what they have just done." I was grinning. "Don't give yourself airs." Cindy Ross said, ever my foil if I started getting the big head about anything. Cindy had been invited to dinner with us, and at my and Britt's persuasion had come along. "They're doing this all over the State with certain, very select local cops." Cindy continued. "My sister in Midtown was brought in three months ago, and I also heard that someone in Southport is in their Reserve club." "I've heard that, too," Britt said, "but Don is right: there may be unintended consequences for them." "For my part," I said, "I'm hoping that this really will mean some changes in the SBI and better working relationships with local LEOs. Chief, it's not just us that have problems with assholes like Ferrell. The SBI has built up quite a reputation: the City Police won't even talk to them anymore. Hopefully this Reserve plan will make things better." "That's what I'm hoping, too." said the Chief, ever the diplomat. (Not.) "By the way," Muscone said. "This is the best steak I've had in years. Really delicious food, here. Who the heck is the chef?" Chief Griswold said "The Irish Pub, a.k.a. the Cop Bar, is run by that old man at the bar. He's a friend of mine, and he was a military officer for years, then a Town Police officer. His son refused to go into the military or the police, and went out and became a trained chef. Worked in kitchens all over Europe and America, then came back here and opened the restaurant and bar with his father. You're right: the food here is terrific. Best kept secret in Town." "We should call that TV show 'Diners, Drive-Ins & Dives'" I said. "Get Guy Fieri out here...." I could not hide my grin as I looked at the chief. "Don't you dare." said the Chief, pointing his finger at me. "Not until I've departed this earth." Part 11 - Brainstorming The 9:00pm conference in "Classroom J" centered around one issue. Where was the rifle? "I just don't understand how that rifle disappeared into thin air." Captain Harold Malone said. "We searched every vehicle that left very thoroughly. Dogs sniffed many vehicles. We made 35 arrests for pot possession and found 72 pistols, all legally owned and their owners permitted to carry concealed. Those old people do like to be armed, I guess. But that rifle has just disappeared." "Don?" Chief Griswold said.

"All I can say at this moment is that these perps took the time and effort to put stolen license plates on the RV and wipe it down totally. This was a well planned, carefully orchestrated assassination plot." I said, trying hard to be and sound diplomatic. "And if it was planned that well, then the extraction of the rifle, or rifles, was very carefully thought out, and as such it was successfully executed despite our best vehicle search efforts." "We're missing something here." the Chief said, stating the obvious. "Okay, let's hear the rundown of the interviews. Settle in for a long evening, people. Croyle and Ross, start us off." Cindy Ross discussed her interviews with various Oldeeds' Empire people, including Mrs. Oldeeds, with Teresa Croyle occasionally filling in some details. Having read the transcripts of the submitted interviews, I had a couple of questions. "Cindy," I said, "you and Teresa both noted that Mrs. Oldeeds mentioned that her husband's business dealings AND those of his company are doing well?" "That's right." Cindy said. "That suggests that there are personal businesses separate from company businesses." I said. "Did she speak in terms of separate businesses at any other time?"
 "That's why I wish you were at these interviews, Don." Cindy said. "She never said so explicitly..." Cindy looked at Teresa, who nodded agreement, "but some of the things she said could be construed that way." "Make a note of that." I commented. "When, not 'if' but 'when' we talk to her again, let's bring that up and see if something shakes out." 

"Tell you what, guys." Jack Muscone said, breaking in. "Let my agents handle that. Our offices are working up some information on the Oldeeds's businesses, and we're going to be having some 'extended' conversations with Rev. Oldeeds's company officers... including his wife." "Good idea, Agent Muscone. Don, you had another question?" the Chief said to me. "Yes... Ross and Croyle, I'd like you to give us your impressions of Mrs. Oldeeds, her mannerisms, her actions and reactions, during the interview. Your professional opinion, your unprofessional opinion... anything stand out?" "I'll go first." Cindy said, glad to have been asked that question. "I think Mrs. Oldeeds knew a lot more than she was telling us. She really shut down when Scott, the FBI agent who went with us, joined us and began asking questions about the businesses. She also might know if there was a threat to Mr. Oldeeds, but was not prepared to share that with us." "Teresa?" I asked. "This won't sound professional, but I have to say it." Teresa "Cunt" Croyle said. "As I told Cindy earlier today: I've worked in Vice departments here and elsewhere long enough that I know con artists and I know whores when I see them. Vicki Oldeeds is a con artist and a whore. In my opinion, she would do anything, and I mean anything for money, especially lots of it." "You think she's a suspect?" the Chief asked. "She cannot be ruled out. She couldn't have done it herself, of course; she was sitting on stage with all those people watching. But could she have hired someone?" Teresa replied. "Muscone, that might be something else your Federal people will have to look into." said Chief Griswold. After hearing from several other officers and FBI agents about their interviews, which were essentially inconsequential, the Chief took steps to wrap it up. "Myron, correlate all of the information from the interviews." he said. Myron got up and addressed the assemblage. "First, I appreciate your efforts to get your reports into the computers in a timely manner." Wow, I thought, Myron was really taking leadership steps, complimenting people, making friends and influencing officers. I was proud of him. He continued. "Second, not a single person in the Oldeeds entourage or company said anything about any problems, nor any reason that someone might want to shoot Rev. Oldeeds. They're either well-trained to not say anything, or there really is nothing at all to give us a clue who might have wanted to shoot Oldeeds. Furthermore, there is no evidence of any problems within the organization, nor grudges, and Rev. and Mrs. Oldeeds were said to be totally in love, had no problems or fights, or any of that sort of stuff." "Okay Don, wrap this up now and tell us who did it and what he did with the gun." Chief Griswold said, unable to hide the gleam in his eye. "Thanks for lowering the expectations so much, Chief." I replied, coming right back at him. Everyone laughed, but then fell silent as I said, "As Myron summated, I don't think we're going to get anything from the Oldeeds people. The FBI are the guys who will, and who will have to, find any information on the company that might give us a lead there. What we do know is that there were two shooters firing two from different locations." I paused, for the effect of the unexpected, then said "Detective Perlman! What did you think of the examination of the crime scene today?" I wanted to see if she had gotten it. Tanya stood up. "I came to the conclusion that whoever fired from the RV was shooting at you, Don. Deliberately. At you, not at Rev. Oldeeds." she said. The room burst into a hum of discussion. "I think you're right, Tanya." I said, taking back control. "So tell everyone why you came to that conclusion." Tanya replied "I am not the best shooter in the world, but if I can't take a scoped rifle and hit a broad shouldered man wearing a white shirt in the back at 40 yards, then I need to turn in my service weapon. I don't see how in the world a shooter at Oldeeds from that range would have missed that badly. And the fact that the shooter almost did get you, Don... it just adds up. I think you were the target." She had figured it out... and while I wanted to make sure she got credit for it, I had another reason for having her announce it.... it was imperative that certain people heard that it was someone besides myself that had figured that out. I knew where this was leading... it was only a matter of figuring out where the gun had walked away to, and finding the perp or perps that had shot at me. Case of the Executed Evangelist Ch. 03 "Hewitt!" the chief called out. "You're the weapons expert around here. Do you concur with Supervisor Perlman's analysis?" "Yes sir, I do." said Hugh Hewitt. "And the other shots? That killed Oldeeds?" the Chief asked. He liked to do this rapid-fire questioning in front of others, putting an officer under pressure to respond. It was based upon a method of getting results espoused by Microsoft founder Bill Gates, and it got good results. I was learning a lot today, I realized. "No idea, sir." Hugh replied. "Either another rifle in the same RV, or another rifle in another vehicle that got around us. Maybe from much further back." ------- "I am not the best shooter in the world..." Tanya had said, I remembered as I drifted off to sleep, Laura nestled by my side. The best shooter in the world... I lay there, hearing the silence, turning it over in my head. How, how did they get the rifle out of there? I must have dozed off because the clock had changed to 3:10am when I looked at it. And then I saw. "Oh my God." I gasped, sitting straight up in the bed. "Wha... what, what is it?" Laura said groggily? "I know... I know what the answer is. I know how the gun was smuggled out of the Fairgrounds!" I said. I leaped out of bed and rushed into the walk-in closet and began getting dressed. Time was now of the essence I realized as I quickly kissed a stunned, confused Laura and rushed out of the house to my car... To be continued... Dear readers, have you determined from the clues just how the rifle was spirited out of the Fairgrounds? Case of the Executed Evangelist Ch. 04 The Case of the Executed Evangelist by The WifeWatchman The order of my stories to read is: Todd & Melina series, Interludes 1-5, Sperm Wars series, Russian Roulette series, Case of the Murdered Lovers series, Case of the Murdered Chessplayer series. Case of the Executed Evangelist series. Feedback and constructive criticism is very much appreciated, and I encourage feedback for ideas. There is a lot of background information mixed in with the hot sex. Please bear with it, as the information is important to this story as well as upcoming stories. Thanks in advance. This story contains graphic scenes, language and actions that might be extremely offensive to some people. These scenes, words and actions are used only for the literary purposes of this story. The author does not condone murder, racial language, violence, rape or violence against women, and any depictions of any of these in this story should not be construed as acceptance of the above. Part 12 - The Gun That Got Away 5:00am Monday morning. We were in the main conference room. Present were a very sleepy and disgruntled ADA Paulina Patterson, Police Chief Griswold, Detectives Cindy Ross, Hugh Hewitt and Teresa Croyle, Senior Technician Myron Milton, Captain Harold Malone, Crime Lab Supervisor Tanya Perlman, University Police Lieutenant Brittany M. Maxwell, and FBI Special Agent Jack Muscone. And myself, of course, having called them all in. "Thank you all for coming so quickly." I said. "Time is of the essence if we're to have any hope of recovering the rifle that was fired from the RV." "We're obviously not sleeping on it, so don't keep us in suspense." Paulina Patterson said. "I've already called the Night Judge at the Courthouse to be on standby for warrants, so this better be damn good." I loved Paula's feisty attitude when she was sleep deprived. "Well, obviously the rifle was smuggled out on the one vehicle that left the premises after the shooting." I said, seeing if any lights came on in any eyes. Maybe it was just too early in the morning, but none did. "But... no vehicles did leave." Teresa Croyle said. "Captain Malone shut it down instantly." By her voice, I could tell that Teresa Cunt still had vestiges of loyalty to Malone, though she herself was a good and honest cop. "Yes, he did." I replied, "but one vehicle did leave after the shooting: the ambulance that carried Jonas Oldeeds to the hospital!" I counted fifteen seconds of frozen silence. "Holy shit." Captain Malone gasped, the first words to break through the dumbfounded looks etched on everyone's faces. "You're saying the rifle was in the ambulance itself?" "Yes." I said. "By Conan Doyle's Law, it's all that's remains, therefore it must be the truth." I continued: "Myron and I have been here for the last hour looking at videotape. It's University Hospital ambulance number 375. There's a lot more to it, but for now we've got to try to find it and pray that the rifle was spirited out on that ambulance and that it might still be there. Paulina, call in for that warrant now, say probable cause is video evidence that I shall provide forthwith. Britt, call out your Campus Police and send them to the hospital for a search. You have jurisdiction, obviously." 
 "You're officially invited to the party, and if anyone whines about jurisdiction, just send them right along to me.... and let me borrow your crowbar." Britt Maxwell said, her eyes twinkling. "No problem." I replied. "Hugh, Officer Pete Feeley has rounded up ten night shift uniformed officers. Take them to the hospital now, fuck the jurisdiction issues, and start looking for that ambulance, but you can't search it until Paulina says she has the warrant in hand. Tanya, did you call up a Crime Lab team?" "Sure did, and the bomb-and-gunpowder-sniffing dog, Sergeant Seymour." Tanya replied. "Excellent. Cindy, Teresa, we're going to go try and find two orderlies that were in that ambulance when it left. Some of Hugh's uniformed men can help once the ambulance is found. Myron has stills of their faces from the video that he has sent to our mobile phones." 
"No." said the Chief, stopping everyone for a second. He pointed at me. "YOU stay right here for a moment. You stay here too, Agent Muscone. The rest of you get out there and kick ass." Everyone scrambled to leave except Paulina, who was sitting in her chair and calling the Court for the warrant. Myron, Captain Malone, and Jack Muscone also remained. "Okay, explain everything to me from the top." Chief Griswold said. "Okay, but first: Myron and I have been here for an hour, and he put together this video for me. Myron, send a copy to Paulina to forward to the judge for the warrant. Then play it here on the screen in this room." Myron complied, and the video was from one of the front rows, slightly to the right of Oldeeds and facing Mrs. Oldeeds and the seated guests on the stage. "Okay," I said, as Paulina, the Chief and Jack Muscone watched with great interest. "You can see right here where Oldeeds is being shot in the chest. There's the sudden bloodstain on his shirt... he looks left, at his wife.... takes the second shot to the head..." Paulina grimaced at the sight. "Okay, there's Ikea catching Oldeeds and easing him to the floor... there's the doctor that came up to try to help.... ah, there it is, now the ambulance is driving up right behind the tent.... we can see right here the number "375", it's a University ambulance and not a Town & County EMS ambulance... we see these two orderlies come up, almost stumble as they stop short, then come over.... they reach down and put Oldeeds on the stretcher, and get him into the ambulance immediately, practically over the doctor's objections... and there they go out of the picture. Fortunately, the video quality was very good." "Wow." said Jack Muscone. "But... but why do you think the rifle is in the ambulance? Were the shots fired from the ambulance?" "Just one shot was fired from the RV." I said. "Myron, run file 2." As the video came up, I explained. "This is a static camera on a pole to the west, or left of the tent, which would be to the stage's right. It doesn't show much of the tent, but it had a great view of the parking lot. Notice the front of the ambulance right behind the RV." "First, there is fairly clearly no rifle shot from the ambulance. Second, we'll have to enhance the video, the quality was not great so I'd be surprised if we get smoke from the gunfire, but what's important here is that the ambulance is parked next to the RV.... okay, there's a bit of commotion around the edges of the tent, which is when Oldeeds was shot.... okay, here comes the ambulance... notice the unbelievable speed with which it responded!" "They got a radio call immediately." the Chief said. "From the reports submitted, which I re-checked," I said, "no one admits calling for the ambulance. No one. And it gets better. Myron, show the time-synchronized videos." Another video came on, a split screen of the static camera and another one inside the tent. "I believe this time sync is correct, and it shows that the ambulance began moving before Oldeeds's head shot." I said. "My opinion at this point is that no one knew enough to call for an ambulance. It came up of its own accord." "What does that mean?" Jack Muscone said, his eyes showing sheer disbelief. "I'm thinking that the shooter fired from the RV then bolted to the back of the ambulance, dropping the unfired cartridge in his haste. The fired shell was still in the bolt of the rifle, of course, so the perp did not look around and notice the unfired cartridge." "But what about the second shot?" Chief Griswold asked, his voice not hiding his inability to fully grasp what he was hearing. "There was no second shot from the RV, Chief." I said. "Now watch as the ambulance moves out immediately and is pulling up. I imagine the shooter is concealing the rifle during these few seconds. Out pops two orderlies, likely one of them being the shooter, as the ambulance driver was already behind the wheel... and there they go... they collect Oldeeds and whisk him off." "I am truly stunned." Paulina said. Was that worship in her dark eyes? "Don, you are amazing." I smiled. "There's more. Let's watch the first video again, shall we?" Myron started it up, the one from inside the tent. "Notice that the ambulance pulls up to the back of the tent, and that's where the exit is, so they were lining up and could get no closer. "But watch the orderlies! They go towards the side of the tent, as if they were going to go around it.... they literally stumble and change direction, moving back to their right and sideways to the stage, where they look at each other... hesitate... then finally pick up Oldeeds and take him out of there. So... where were they originally going?" They had no clue, so I said "Myron?" "They were going to pick up your dead body, Don." he said. "Yep." I confirmed. "Guys, this proves the RV shooter was gunning for me, not Oldeeds. The shooter fired, saw me fall, thought he'd gotten me. He and his partners drive the ambulance up and see a commotion, but they're planning to go get my carcass. They literally stumble onto Oldeeds, and they're stunned to find another body. Perhaps they know by now that I'm alive, but until they got to the tent... they had no idea that Jonas Oldeeds had also been shot. Jack Muscone's small eyes were staring lasers at me. "Brother," he said, "if you had lived 400 years ago, they would be burning your ass at the stake right now." "Who knows, maybe they did." I replied. Muscone still stared at me. Captain Malone just shook his head. "You figured all of that out in less than two hours?" Muscone said, still stunned. "Well, once I realized that there had been a vehicle that left the grounds and that the ambulance was that vehicle, everything else was easy to find. As James Clavell wrote in his book Sho-gun , "it is easy to find the solution, once given the answer." "Get your butt down to the hospital." Chief Griswold ordered, simply unable to articulate any further words. Malone, Patterson and Muscone were likewise silent with shock, and admiration. Part 13 - Arrests As the quality of light began getting better in the dawn, I arrived with Myron in tow at University Hospital. As expected, the Hospital Administrator complained about jurisdiction until University Police Commissioner and Provost Marshal Dexter Robinson showed up and threatened to arrest the Administrator if she continued to obstruct justice. Britt had called him "just in case", and rightly so. "We found 375 in the back parking lot with other ambulances." Britt told me as I walked up. "The dog sniffed all of them, and got excited in 375. He found a concealed panel on the left side of the ambulance, but it was empty." I saw the dog in the distance with his handler and walked over. I loved meeting the K-9 sergeants. "Hi, who is this?" I asked the handler. "Sergeant Seymour, sir." the handler said. "He found a hiding place, but no rifle, I'm afraid." Sergeant Seymour was a German Shepherd, healthy and happy to be getting attention. He was our K-9 Corps' youngest dog. "That's okay." I said. "Can I give him a treat?" "Sure." the handler said, giving me a treat to give to Sergeant Seymour. "Hi, Seymour!" I said, giving him the treat and patting his head. "You did a great job today, Seymour! You're a great dog!" Sergeant Seymour panted happily, his tail wagging mightily. As I petted Seymour, I gave orders: "Myron, secure the ambulance's GPS, then get Britt's people to help and secure the radio transmissions to and from this ambulance on Saturday." I'd hardly finished as I watched Myron literally run towards the ambulance in question. "Why the GPS and radio logs?" Britt asked. "I suspect this vehicle left and went somewhere else after they brought Oldeeds in on it." I said. "They had to get rid of the rifle. They probably did so while taking it to be washed down." "The Hospital has a contract with the County Maintenance facility, which is on the east side of the mountain ridge, near the cemetery." Britt said. If one went east, as towards the City, the Maintenance facility was just off the main highway. The cemetery was on a hill further southeast. "We're lucky, Britt." I said. "I was worried that it was a fake ambulance and would have disappeared by now." "No, the Hospital Staff would've immediately noticed that and called the police." Britt said. "They had a scandal about that some years ago, when a private company ambulance tried to charge the Hospital for patients that were never delivered. They've been very watchful and keep meticulous records now. No. 375 was logged in at 12:07pm, right after the shooting." Just then Teresa Croyle walked up. "You called me?" she said shortly. "Yes." I said. "Call Steven Ikea and bring him down. When you find the perps, let him personally make the arrests." Teresa looked shocked, but got her cellphone out as she walked away towards the Hospital. "Are you kidding?" Britt said. "The man's beloved idol died in his arms." I said. That did not mollify Britt Maxwell, who continued to stare at me. But she asked nothing more. ------------------------------ At 7:30am I received some incredibly good news. The two orderlies had been arrested, one at the Hospital, another in his University dorm room, and the driver had been apprehended at his home. They all had been brought in and were being processed under freshly printed arrest warrants. To say that the Headquarters was buzzing would be an understatement; word of my discovery followed by the arrests had spread like wildfire among the Force... and outside of it also. "This is Bettina Wurtzburg, KXTC Channel Two News!" the redhead reporter blared precisely at 7:00am. "Channel Two News is following the fast breaking story that arrests are being made in the murder of world-renowned minister Jonas Oldeeds!" "We are just learning that search warrants as well as arrest warrants were issued and that an ambulance, believed to be the one that transported the late Rev. Oldeeds to the hospital, was impounded and is being searched by State and local crime lab teams. The search on University property is being headed by Campus Police Lieutenant Brittany Maxwell, and University Police Commissioner Dexter Robinson is also on the scene and is being apprised of the situation. Channel Two News will bring you any new fast breaking developments as they occur..." The SBI, including Dick Ferrell, had stormed in moments later, and tried to take custody of the arrested suspects, but we were having none of that. Steven Ikea actually stood up to them and said that they were his busts (ah! good idea on my part to let him make the arrests, n'est pas?). Then Britt Maxwell backed up Ikea by "suggesting" to Ferrell that he leave... and Cindy Ross was right behind her and extremely eager to start some trouble. Agent Carter Fischer was openly stunned at what had transpired in the last few hours, and as it sank in that we had succeeded where the SBI had utterly failed, the looks I received from him and other SBI agents at Headquarters would've been fatal if looks could kill. I retreated to the empty office next to Paulina Patterson's, hiding away and letting all the processing and paperwork happen, mentally preparing for the questions I was going to ask the perps as I struggled to put the full picture of these events together. The door opened and Paulina Patterson walked in as I stared out the window. "So," Paulina said, sitting in a chair on the other side of the desk, "why did these guys try to kill you? Is this your bad nephew at work again?" "That's what I'm thinking about now." I said. "If it's what I think it is, we might have gotten Ned's moles in the Hospital. But the problem is... I'm not sure Ned just spontaneously did this...." I felt as much as heard Paulina get out of her chair and come around to my side of the desk. She sat her gorgeous ass on the edge of the desk, "inappropriately" close to me. She was wearing a gray sweater and gray slacks and high heel gray pumps. Out of the corner of my eye I admired her shapely, pretty brown feet in the high heel pumps. "That was an incredibly impressive thing you did this morning." Paulina said, her voice husky and warm. "I've never seen anything like it." "Thanks." I said, looking up at her face. She was incredibly beautiful, and I felt my loins stirring not only at the physical sensations of her nearby, but of the intense sexual chemistry that was forming as our eyes locked. It only lasted a few seconds, then Paulina stood up. "I'll see you in Interrogation-1." she said as she let her hand caress the back of my neck and my shoulder before turning away and leaving. "Be there in a minute." I replied, still feeling the heat of that moment deep inside me. Part 14 - The Interrogation It was 1:30pm. All three suspects had immediately asked for lawyers upon being read their considerable rights, and early questioning had proved fruitless. The driver was an older man, had white hair and a white beard, could be Santa Claus during Christmas festivities, and had not said a word except that he wanted a lawyer. I immediately recognized one of the orderlies as "Skinny Beard" from the Barry Bounel raid during the Case of The Murdered Lovers, the guy who'd been sexually servicing Bounel when we raided his dorm room and recovered Steven Ikea's stolen gun. He was weak; I knew he would break quickly. It was the last man that interested me. His name was "Gruff" for his raspy voice. His hair was cut short into a flat-top crew-cut, and his hair was white, dyed white as he was only in his late 30s or early 40s. He was short and slender. He was believed to be a homosexual, but more importantly he was regarded as being near-psychotic, though he'd passed every psychological test and was cleared to work at the Hospital. I'd been reading up on him and trying to trace his hospital movements over the last several months. When I had finished my research, I was sure that we had just placed under arrest the "mole" that had been feeding my nephew Ned information from the hospital. So here I was at 1:30pm, ready for mental and verbal battle. I entered Interrogation-2 alone, knowing that eyes were watching us through the one-way mirror and that we were being recorded. Gruff was sitting at the table, his hands handcuffed in front of him. He had asked to speak to me, and me alone, and he had agreed to talk to me without his lawyer present, even signing the written waiver presented to him by Paulina. "Well, well, well." Gruff said. "You're a lucky man, Detective Don. May I call you Don?" His voice was full of sarcasm. 
 "Whatever." I said. "It wasn't luck that you didn't kill me with that shot." "I was talking about figuring us out." Gruff said. "But you have no idea how lucky you've been this last year." Gruff was playing psychological games with me, I noted. Nothing I couldn't handle, but why was he bothering? "So, do you know this man, Gruff?" I asked, showing him the photo of Ned on my cell phone. "Brother, you know I do." he said, and I could tell that the psychotic edge was showing up. "And you know I'm not going to say anything about that man. I don't want to end up shredded into little pieces. That is one fucked. up. dude. Just like you are, brother. It runs in the family, don't it?" "What about the driver and the other orderly in the ambulance?" I asked. "They with him, also? "Naw, the young guy is hooked on drugs, he has to be a male prostitute just to get his fixes. Your family man forgave him ten percent of his debt to ride in the ambulance with me and help pick up the body... and it was supposed to be your fucking body, Uncle Donald." Case of the Executed Evangelist Ch. 04 "And the driver?" "Shit, Santa Claus? I dunno, maybe he is and maybe he isn't. But he'd better head to Punk City and sing like a canary if he wants to live. Witness protection is his destination, if I don't miss my guess. He's part of your syyssss-tem now." "So you have been giving Ned information from the hospital." I said. "Including those paternity tests. And you're the one who helped him escape from the Hospital both times, aren't you?" "Yeah, I wanted to get paid and not get found dead in a ditch, so I helped him escape. And yeah, those paternity tests were a shock to him, too." Gruff said. "I mean have you seen a cat that gets ambushed? Your boy jumped sideways just like a fucking cat when he saw those papers." "So why would you or he want to kill Jonas Oldeeds." I asked. "Oh, Detective, you bore me." Gruff said, his eyes gleaming. "You know I was shooting at your ass, which you call your head. I still don't know how I missed." "If it's any consolation, you didn't." I replied, remembering the 'intervention' on my behalf that day. "So where is Ned now?" "No idea, brother." Gruff said. "Memory does not serve me correctly at this time." "Where is his mother?" I asked. "How's your wound, brother?" Gruff replied. "Does it ache on cold days?" "Nope. Thoughts of you in jail keep it from hurting and keep me warm at night. Do you know where his mother is, Gruff?" "Oh seriously? If she ever shows her face in public anywhere on this planet, she's a dead bitch. That boy seriously wants to kill her, and he ain't gonna rape her first like he did the last time." "What's he gonna do next, Gruff?" "Does not compute. Memory failure on RAM chip 1." I knew I wasn't going to get anything more from Gruff. I got up to leave. "You have a nice day, brother." Gruff said. "And keep your eyes peeled." I turned to face him. "Is that a threat?" I said, my voice menacing. "No, brother. I had my shot. I'm out of the loop now, I'm part of your system, brother, the one you call 'hard time'. But he's still out there, brother. And so are the people protecting him." I sat back down. I was now fully interested. "Who are those people, Gruff?" I asked. "System error. Blue Screen of Death if I respond." "I can make your time much less hard, Gruff. Who's protecting him, and why?" "Hear the words, brother." His voice slowed way down. "Ssssyyssstemmmmmm error." And then I realized it, Gruff was giving me a clue. He would say no more, but that was a clue. "You have a nice day too, Gruff." I said, getting up. "Just one more thing." Gruff said. I turned and peered at him as he played his trump card in our little repartee. "Why did your wife fuck your nephew when he was in the hospital?" "My wife?" I said, shocked. "Oh, maybe it's ex-wife now, but she was hot to fuck your boy's big cock. She rode him like a whore on payday." "Thanks for the info, Gruff." I turned and exited the room as Gruff grinned evilly at me. "And no, I have no clue about that." ------------------------ Once outside, I was virtually attacked by Paulina Patterson, Cindy Ross, and Captain Malone, who all had been watching and listening. "He confessed to the attempt on you, Don." Paulina said. "But what was all that other stuff about?" "Let's go to MCD." I said. Once there, we were joined by my entire MCD team, Jack Muscone, and the Chief. "What was that paternity test shit about?", "What was that about Ned raping his mother?", "What is the 'mole' stuff about?" The questions came fast and furious and all at once. Finally I got a chance to speak. "The paternity test stuff is something private with Dr. Fredricson, not related to any police investigation. The stuff about Ned's mother is not clear to me." Yeah, that was a lie: that night wasn't so hazy that I don't remember watching Ned rape Elizabeth. Quickly moving on, I said "As to the mole: Gruff was Ned's mole in the hospital. I don't know if the other two are moles, but they're working with Ned. "So why was the evangelist executed?" Malone asked. "Right now, I have no clue." I said. And I wasn't lying: I didn't know 'why'. ---------------------------- What a lot of people don't know is that most GPS devices have memory and store recent places that the vehicle has been. The ambulance GPS showed the route the ambulance had taken on Saturday, as it had not been driven since being cleaned out, and Myron soon had the data in Tanya Perlman's hands. A Crime Lab team not only retraced the route, they went to two locations where the ambulance had stopped and found the stock of the disassembled rifle, covered with Gruff's fingerprints. Further down the road, Sergeant Seymour found the rifle's bolt, which had been thrown out of the window of the moving vehicle. Damn good dog, he was! But we never found the barrel. Even so, we had enough physical evidence that Gruff was bound over for trial with bail denied to him upon consideration that he was an extreme flight risk and a significant danger to the community. Part 15 - Promotion, Redux The National Media was agog at the news that arrests had been made, firing out stories that barely had resemblance to the truth of what happened. They were already beginning to move on... the FBI was expanding its investigation of Jonas Oldeeds's business activities, which interested the rabidly anti-Christian Press more than any solution to Oldeeds's murder discovered by some local hick cop. Jack Muscone and his agents had left for the City that evening after dinner. As we shook hands and said goodbyes, he said he'd be back soon for wrap-up activities. "By the way, if you ever want a job with the FBI, let me know. I'll do whatever it takes to get you in." "Thanks, but I'm very happy here." I said. "I can tell... but just keep it in mind... for the day you may change your mind." Jack said, somewhat mysteriously and as a warning. The SBI was furious again: Bettina Wurtzburg, who got the scoop and first reports of the arrests, told her viewers that I had been the one to crack the case leading to the finding of the evidence and the arrests, that the SBI had played no significant part in bringing the case to its successful close... and that a "shake-up in the internal structure of the SBI" was imminent. Everyone wondered who'd leaked that to Bettina; had Ikea actually returned the favor I'd given him of making the arrests? For myself, I was wondering about something different: the Press was already saying the case was solved and closed. I knew that it was not, that there was a second shooter, and we were still working to find perps. The next day was Tuesday, and the Town & County Council went into executive session at their meeting that evening. It lasted three hours, and I heard reports that it was bitterly contentious. But Chief Griswold was smiling when his cell phone rang, and smiling more brightly when the call ended. On Wednesday morning he made it his first order of business to instruct the MCD Department to be in formal uniforms on Thursday morning and report to the Courthouse Square at 9:00am sharp. And on that Thursday morning, I became the youngest Lieutenant in the Town Police Force in 25 years as the Chief and my mom pinned silver bars upon my shoulders in the open-air ceremony on the Square. After accepting congratulations from the politicians and police officers that were present, Bettina Wurtzburg corralled me for a brief interview. "She's hot for you, son." my mother said after the interview was over. "Did you see the way she was looking at you? She would fuck you right here in front of everyone if she could get away with it." "You don't think that was a bit of acting for the TV cameras?" I asked. "You might be right." Mom said. "but anyone watching on TV is going to see her looking at you with worship in her eyes. That will be very good for your stature in this Town." Before I could reply, Cindy Ross was walking quickly up to me. "We've got to go." she said. We hustled into the police SUVs and sped over to Old Hall on the University Campus. Taking our seats inside the auditorium of the oldest building on campus, rich with history, we watched as more history was made: University President Wellman and University Police Commissioner Dexter Robinson pinned well-deserved and long-overdue Captain bars on the shoulders of Brittany M. Maxwell, the first woman to become a Captain in the history of the Campus Police. At the reception after the ceremony, I congratulated Britt. Her eyes were sparkling more brightly than I'd ever seen before as she bore in on me. "This was your doing, I understand." she said. "I think Commissioner Robinson pushed pretty hard for it." I replied modestly. "Uh huh." she replied. "You really are a miracle man, Don. I heard how you twisted some arms. I don't think anyone else could have gotten my promotion through." Then she added playfully "But I guess the Regents didn't want crowbars applied to their butts." "They can't keep a good woman like you down, Britt." I replied, smiling. But Britt was right: while I had not threatened the Trustees in any way, I'd recommended Britt's promotion in the strongest allowable terms, and they weren't about to say 'no' , what with my recent success and with the National Press still in Town. "I do appreciate it." said Britt. "Well, it was you that pushed them to bring me in," I replied, "so I had to return the favor--" "Well, congratulations Major!" a voice said behind me. It was my nephew Todd. He was in a suit and tie, had most of the women in the room mesmerized, and was sparring with Britt again. "There is no 'major' in the Campus Police, Todd." Britt said, trying to make her voice withering but unable to hide the underlying playfulness. "Captain is the highest rank except for Commissioner. Now there's nobody stopping me from busting your ass if you step out of line." "That'll never happen, Colonel. Congratulations to both of you." Todd said, then walked away to begin talking to a beautiful college girl and her equally lovely mother. "What'll never happen?" I asked. "He won't step out of line? Or you'll never bust him for doing so?" Before Britt could answer, Laura stepped up to us. She was looking marvelous in her white dress with a black belt, and high heel black pumps. "Congratulations, darling." Laura said, hugging Britt. "There's going to be a celebration dinner for both of you at President Wellman's home tonight. But afterwards, Britt, I'd like you to come home with us." Laura's eyes were on fire with seductive lust as she said, "I'm going to show both of you what a real celebration is." "Mmmm, I can't wait." Britt replied seductively. "Excuse me a moment." I said, separating myself from everyone. I then made a quick phone call to Headquarters, and made sure that Cindy Ross was put on duty for that evening. If she had wanted to celebrate with Britt tonight, she would think that duty had intervened instead of Laura. I liked covering all the bases. Part 16 - A Proper Celebration "Take that, you fucking bitch!" I snarled as I fit the head of my throbbing cock into the woman's slit and thrust as hard as I could, shoving the full length of my meat balls-deep into her cunt. My right hand held her arm against her back as I withdrew and violently thrust forward again, knowing that many more pressure on her twisted arm might break it. But I didn't care. My left hand pushed against the small of her back, keeping her pressed flat against the surface of the desk. I was standing behind her, our feet on the floor, and I was fucking her with all the furious power I could muster. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed the other woman watching us, a mixture of lust and vengeance in her eyes... --------------------------- The promotion dinner at President Wellman's was a semi-formal affair, once again combining the odd partners of the Town & County Police with the University's elite. On the police side, the Chief and his wife were present, as were Captain Malone and his wife. Tanya Perlman had brought Pete Feeley as her date, and he seemed stunned by the spectacle and pageantry of it all. Todd was there, in the company of Melina and his parents Michael and Eleanor Burke. My mother had also come and was charming the socks off of everyone in the room. I, of course, was with the lovely Dr. Laura Fredricson, who was showing off her considerable charms, and her pregnancy, in her beautiful black evening gown. Jack Muscone had arrived with a lovely strawberry-blonde woman, who he introduced as FBI Special Agent Sandra Speer. She didn't look German, so I surmised that "Speer" was not her maiden name. I did observe that Laura and Jack were a bit formal during the introductions, and that they did not talk to each other very much. The entire Town & County Council was present, even Malinda Adams, who had bitterly opposed my promotion. Pastor Raymond Westboro of the Council led a small gaggle that I observed to be the Town's "Religious Elite", which included Councilwoman Kelly Carnes and Councilman Thomas P. Cook. The University side was composed of a large number of professors and their spouses or dates. It did not take me long to observe the tremendous brown-nosing and politicking going on amongst them, especially with the Trustees and President Wellman. University Commissioner Robinson had brought his daughter, City Detective Robin Ventura along, and I was glad to be able to talk with her for a few minutes, as I was considering asking her to join our Force as a Detective. The Regents, a.k.a. the University Trustees, were there. Myrtle L. James was extremely effusive in her praise towards me for "solving" the Oldeeds crime. She and Beatrice S. York, also very religious and a fan of Oldeeds, had me trapped for too many minutes, until I was finally rescued from her by Sally Wellman bringing over Henry R. Wargrave and his wife for introductions, and adroitly moving the other ladies along. "Don, this is my wife Lilly." Wargrave said. Lilly Wargrave was a stunningly lovely woman. Her hair was styled in a relatively short cut and was dyed blonde. She had deep, penetrating eyes. She was slender with smallish breasts, and as nearly as tall as Laura, who had come up to us and joined in our light conversation. Sally Wellman was playing the perfect hostess, introducing people here and there to each other, looking terrific as always, her luscious body well toned by yoga and exercise at Melina's fitness center. At first she kept Britt and myself nearby to introduce people to us until the guests had all arrived. But I did notice that there was one person Mrs. Wellman did not introduce me to, seemed to be making sure I had not contact with... someone who I could not believe was here. Vicki Oldeeds, widow of the late Rev. Jonas Oldeeds, was working the room, dressed in black but fully interacting with the "money" people. "Well, Teresa," I said, "what do you think of that?" Teresa Croyle and Hugh Hewitt, still wearing their formal police uniforms, had come together as a matter of convenience. "She's actually asking these people for donations to the Oldeeds charities." Teresa said, barely able to contain her disgust. "Her husband is dead less than a week, and that whore is harping for money." Hugh Hewitt's face showed a mixture disgust and humor at the spectacle. "Now that is a cute couple." Teresa said, almost mockingly. She was looking at Tanya Perlman and Pete Feeley, Tanya intermingling with people, her cheeks rosy and her eyes bright as she enjoyed the social rituals... and Pete nearly a frozen statue by her side. We heard the call to dinner and went outside, where many large round tables had been set up. The dinner was delicious. I was sitting between Laura and my mother at one of the head tables, joined by the Chief and his wife, and Tanya Perlman and Pete Feeley. Also at my table were Town & County Council members Dagmar Schoen, a smoking-hot Teutonic, tall blonde trophy wife, and John "Jack" Colby, a slender, handsome, tough-looking rancher in the agricultural western part of the County. They were very much my allies on the Council, and I observed that though they were with their spouses, their furtive looks toward each other suggested extramarital carnal knowledge between them. Britt was at the other head table with Commissioner Robinson and some Trustees and the Wellmans. Her table looked a bit less comfortable than ours. Jack Muscone and his lovely fellow agent had been seated there, also. Melina was sitting with Cindy Ross at one of the other tables down the way, with Teresa Croyle, Hugh Hewitt and Jeanine Olivet and her law firm partners. Hoo boy, my divorce lawyer was breaking bread with my soon-to-be-ex-wife. I made myself not worry about it. To my surprise, I saw Daniel Allgood of Internal Affairs, sitting at another table with Captain Malone and his wife Madelyn, chatting mostly with her. Steven Ikea was at their table, still looking like a lost puppy dog having witnessed the death of his idol Jonas Oldeeds. "They didn't put this together in 3 days." I said to my mom in a low voice as we ate. 
"Obviously not, son." my mother replied. "They knew Miss Maxwell was going to be promoted and they simply anticipated that the Council would approve yours on Tuesday." "Kind of a big spectacle for a couple of police promotions, don't you think?" I asked. My mother smiled knowingly. "With these people, the politicians and money people, it's any excuse to throw a party and intermingle with each other. Even in a small town like Apple Grove, your father and I had to attend entirely too many of these events." She paused, then added, "Don, you're reaching the point you have to play the political games at times. I know you hate it, and you should never give up your integrity, but get to know these people for the times you'll need to use them." "And that's why you're here, Mom?" I asked, realizing that my mother was a lot better at "the Game" than she let on. "Oh, I'm here being the proud mother of my wonderful son." she replied, teasing me. As dessert concluded, President Wellman stepped up to the podium that had been placed on the second step of the stairs leading back into the house, near our tables. "I want to thank everyone for coming today. This evening has been far too long in coming, and I am extremely happy to be able to host this celebration of the promotion of some wonderful law enforcement officers. I'd like to ask Chief Griswold to come forward and introduce our three promoted officers." A small gasp went out; who was the third? "Thank you, President Wellman." the Chief said, his gruff voice carrying well over the sound system. "Of course we've had two promotions this past week, but I'd also like to acknowledge another promotion that occurred a few weeks ago. This lady has taken our Crime Lab and made it into an organization that I was proud to show off to the SBI and FBI these past few days. Her leadership made this recent crime much easier to solve. Would everyone please congratulate Detective Supervisor Tanya Perlman." Tanya blushed as she stood up to the loud applause filling the air. She had not expected this, and neither had I: the Chief had gotten us again, and in a great way. Tanya deserved the acknowledgement. My introduction was next. I felt a bit embarrassed hearing his praise of my heroism in being wounded while rescuing the children, and the rest of his words were a bit flowery, but I stood and accepted the applause for me. For a moment they would not let me sit back down, but finally the applause died down. "And third, this lady has done an incredible job of keeping our University and its students safe while keeping order and handling cases under extremely stressful conditions..." the chief said as he introduced Britt Maxwell. I took note that the Town and Police applause (including my own) was loud and raucous... the University and State side much less so. Case of the Executed Evangelist Ch. 04 At the end, President Wellman asked everyone to stand up and drink a toast to the three of us. That essentially got the fun and drinking part of the party going. "What Chief Griswold said is what I think your father would've said about you." my mother said to me. "Your father was very proud of you, and would be very proud of you if he were here today." "Thanks, Mom." I said. And she was implicitly right about one thing: professionally speaking, Chief Griswold had become something of a father figure for me, as well as many others on our Force. I knew he wanted to retire, but I hoped that day would not be soon in coming. "Here son, take this." my mother said. She dropped a small gray diamond-shaped pill in my hand. "What is it?" I asked. "It's like viagra, but better. I won't try to trick you into taking it." my mother said. "But Laura and I think it's time Vicki Oldeeds reaps the harvest of what her husband has sown, to use a Bible quotation." I took the pill. I did not need to be told what the plan was... it was long overdue and I was looking forward to implementing it. Looking around, I saw that Laura was listening to us. As I caught her eyes, she nodded, no smile on her features. -------------- Thirty minutes later, as people were dancing and talking and laughing, my mother called me into the house. "If you go into the President's personal study by his bedroom upstairs, she'll be there." Mom said. I went upstairs, making sure no one followed me or was watching as I stole into the private personal quarters of the University President and his hot Cougar wife. Once inside, I made sure the surveillance equipment in the room was totally shut down. I knew how to do this -- because I had personally installed the equipment at the request of Dr. Wellman, upon Laura's recommendation. I also quickly checked for other devices with a small device that I had purloined from one of Oldeeds's security people; they were still looking for that missing device. There was only one lamp light on, leaving the room in a soft, dim glow. I glanced around the room, seeing the heavy desk. It would suit my purpose. And it did not take long for the object of my purpose to arrive. "Sooo... it's the great Detective Don." Vicky Oldeeds hissed as she came out of the shadows through the door that led to the bedroom. "All full of himself and thinking he's hot shit." She had removed the veils, but the tight black dress she wore still showed off her slender, firm body. "At least everyone else thinks so." Vicki said. I couldn't tell if she was drunk or not, but there was fire in her eyes... fires of evil. "But I see through you. You're as dumb a fuck as your daddy was. Jonas had your daddy wrapped around his little finger." 
"And my sister, too?" I asked, my voice low. "Shut up about that." Vicki Oldeeds growled. "Your sister was a little whore. Seducing Jonas like that, corrupting him with her young body and her evil ways." "And you are just as evil as her, you little bastard." Vicki spat. "And now you're getting promoted... promoted on my husband's dead body! May God damn you!" she said as she hurled herself towards me. Her attempt to slap me was blocked as I grabbed her wrist, then twisted her arm behind her back. "Yeah, you bitch!" I said, "I'm being promoted for solving your husband's death. He got his ass blown away for his evil ways, and now it's time for you to get yours!" Still holding her arm twisted behind her back, I shoved Vicki face-down onto the desk, her breasts squashed against its surface. With the other hand I hitched up her skirt, ripped her panties apart, then began opening my pants. "It's about fucking time you got what you deserve, bitch!" I snarled as I brought out my cock. It was iron hard and thick, and it was throbbing so hard that it hurt. "Yeah, you're just a fucking whore for cock, Vicki!" I grunted as I slid the big cockhead up and down her swelling labes. "And I'm going to give it to you, bitch. I am really going to give it to you!" Vicki struggled and demanded that I stop, calling me names but not screaming very loudly, I noted. I fit my cockhead into her cunthole and shoved forward. "Take that, you fucking bitch!" I roared as I sank balls-deep into her. I was in! I was raping Mrs. Jonas Oldeeds! Her cunt was surprisingly wet and I began a hard, driving rhythm, pounding my meat into her, feeling her asscheeks smashing into my hips as I shoved it into her with raw male power. "It's about time you get what's coming to you, bitch!" I gasped hoarsely. "I'm going to give you what you need!!" My thrusts were relentless, violent, powerful. Intense pleasure and a hard, driving desire coursed through my burning loins. Vicki was gasping and swearing, still trying to get away even as I put more pressure on her twisted arm, but she was not kicking at me as she stood on her legs and took my thrusts. "This is for what your god-damned husband did to my mother and sister." I snarled at her, leaning over to make sure she heard my words. "It's for him raping my mother, and especially for him molesting my sister when she was a young, trusting girl." Fury overwhelmed me. "And you know what else it's for, bitch?" I said, "It's for all those girls Jonas Oldeeds raped. It's for all those girls he sold into prostitution and slavery!" 

"Oh my god." Vicki gasped, the change in her body acknowledging her shock that I knew. 
 Yes, I know, the thought of it making me thrust even more powerfully into Vicki Oldeeds's helpless, sodden cunt. I know that Jonas Oldeeds has been running a human trafficking ring for years, taking helpless young girls and forcing them into unspeakable horrors. It won't be long, Vicki, I thought. It won't be long until the FBI brings your husband's filthy ring down. I happened to look up. My mother was watching from the shadows. The look of hatred on her face betrayed the disgust she felt for Vicki Oldeeds, and the gleam in her eye told me that she was enjoying me getting vengeance by raping Vicki in the same position that Jonas Oldeeds had fucked my mother years before. "That's right, bitch. And now I'm going to come in you, and then you're going to get the hell out of here. You get out of my county... bitch... and... don't... ever... fucking... come... back... ohhh... unnnh... UHH!!!!!" Deeply painful ecstasy tore through my loins, the pulses hurting but joyful as my semen exploded out of my cock and into Vicki's well-fucked womanhood. I kept thrusting hard until the pulses died away. "Get out of here, bitch. And get out of my County." I said again, catching my breath after pulling out of Vicki, putting up my male equipment, and zipping up my pants. Vicki had not moved, but as I backed away from her she slowly stood up, pulled her shredded panties back up and fixed her skirts. "I'll see you in hell, you son of a bitch. And your mother, too." Vicki said, not looking towards my mom but knowing she was there. Seeing the look in my eyes as I was about to attack her again, Vicki Oldeeds turned and headed for the door. Part 17 - Epilogue At 6:00am the next morning, Jack Muscone and I entered the anteroom to the chief's office. "Go into my conference room" the chief said from the door to his office. We did so, and I got a shock. Standing alone in the room was a tall, broad-shouldered man with thinning gray hair. He had a strong air of command and leadership about him, a power which I could sense immediately. "Thank you for coming, Lieutenant. Jack, would you go to the Chief's office? My assistant needs to tell you and the Chief some information, and I want to talk with Don." he said. Jack Muscone left the room, leaving me alone... with the Deputy Director of the Federal Bureau of Investigation. "Congratulations on your promotion, Don." he said, not assuaging my foreboding at his presence. Taking a seat, he asked me to do the same. Once settled in our chairs, he said "Jack has told me all about you and your work on the Oldeeds murder. I've never seen him so impressed and speak in such glowing terms as he has about you. He told me that he'd offered you a job with us." The Deputy Director bore in on me. "I want to reiterate that job offer, Lieutenant. I know you're happy where you are now, but there will come a day when you might see the need to join us. We'll be there for you when you need us. Just let us know."

 I realized that I was now in waters of depths far greater than a small town cop was normally subjected to. The murder of Jonas Oldeeds had torn the lid off Hell and allowed us to see things, deeply ugly things, that were playing out on a stage far higher than my own. "Thank you, Director." I said. "I appreciate your kind offer, and I'll keep it in mind. For now, though, I truly am happy here." "I understand. This police force is lucky to have you." the Director replied. "I'm going to call the others back in now." he said, reaching for a small keychain fob and pressing the button. "I think you're not going to like this news, but we have to bring it out." 
Oh shit, I thought to myself, trying to keep any emotion off my features. What's up now? As the Chief, Jack Muscone and the other FBI agent came in, I noticed that Jack was red-faced and the Chief was somber while glancing at me for clues to my conversation with the Deputy Director. "Tell him, Kurt." the Director instructed his agent. "Lieutenant, the FBI is taking over the jurisdiction of the Oldeeds case. We are taking all three arrested men into Federal custody." He paused, then continued, "The driver of the ambulance, whose name is Keeler, has fully confessed to shooting Jonas Oldeeds while the man called Gruff was shooting at you." I looked at him, then the Director, who was boring in on me. I glanced at Muscone, who was obviously not happy with it either. "Did Keeler produce the weapon that killed Oldeeds?" I asked. "Because without that, it's impossible that he could've done it, you know." "We have his confession," the agent said, "and that is all we need." "Oh, come on!" Jack Muscone said, obviously wanting to get his frustration out. "There is no way that Keeler did this. The evidence is strongly against it. This case is still unsolved!" "We hear you, Muscone." the Deputy Director said, boring in on his Special Agent in Charge. "This isn't from me, either. This is from the very highest levels. They consider this case solved and closed." "Don," Muscone said. "I don't know what's going on here. This is not being done with my agreement." "I understand, my friend." I said to Jack Muscone, then let my eyes bore into the Deputy Director's as I said "I definitely smell Washington politics, here." "Lieutenant, you must understand that this is doing you and your Department a favor." the Director said. I peered at him. We understood each other. At least I think we did. ------------------------- "This absolutely sucks." Jack Muscone said as he, the Chief and I ate breakfast at a local diner. "I don't know what's going on, but they know damn well Oldeeds wasn't shot from the ambulance! Don, what's going on?"

 "Well, from the local level here," I said, "it's obvious that some high-level politics has intervened. Wayyyy beyond my pay grade." "Mine, too." said Muscone. "And the fact that the Deputy Director himself came down.... that's really, really big..." "This driver, Keeler, or 'Santa Claus' as we were calling him, he's the key to the matter." I mused. "I would love to question him again... but I suspect we'll never see him again... ever." "Why's that?" Jack said, very interested. "I'm sure he didn't shoot Oldeeds. Not with a 7.62 NATO round from that close a range." I said. "So he's either being forced to confess, or he's 'confessing' voluntarily... which suggests he might have been an undercover agent himself and they're protecting him by coming up with this very, very thin cover." "He's not with the FBI." Muscone said. "I'm pretty sure of that." "I agree." I said. "But he still might have been a mole. Gruff kept saying Keeler was part of the 'system.' I think he meant it differently than just being arrested. Gruff also said that he thought Keeler would be in witness protection. He may have been right, or close to it." "By the way..." I continued. "I don't think this was my nephew Ned's doing. Gruff was lying about Ned being involved. Gruff was Ned's mole, but was recruited by someone else for this mission." Chief Griswold was beaming, almost laughing, but then turned serious. "Gentlemen, I think it'd be a good idea just to move on. The truth will come out eventually. Jack, you especially should not pursue it; I'd hate to see your career short-cut by stepping on higher-level toes." "I understand, Chief. Maybe Don can kick their asses with his crowbar when he takes the FBI job we've offered him." Muscone said. "Don't tempt me." I muttered. "You can't have him until I retire." said the Chief. "Period." The Chief was looking at me, his eyes determined. "Don't worry, Chief, I'm not going anywhere." I said. "I'm having way too much fun here. Besides... I still have some work to do in these here parts, some messes to clean up." The chief was beaming again. -------------------------------- "So, the FBI came in and took over." Laura said as we sat on the back deck of The Cabin, enjoying the view and the setting sun as we sipped glasses of her favorite wine. "No, it wasn't like that." I said. "But it's over, for now." "For now?" Laura asked acerbically. "I would suggest letting it go for now and for ever." I knew why she was saying that, and that ultimately she was right. "I don't intend to pursue it, my dear." I said. "Unless they truly do try to put an innocent person to death for it. I'm suspecting they won't, though." "We should let it go." Laura said. "It was the Lord's will. Yes, the Lord's will." she repeated as I looked at her very skeptically. Laura was not religious. "It was an Act of God, in my opinion. Oldeeds got what he had coming to him, and it was long overdue." "Whatever you say, my love." I said. "An Act of God..." Finis. .... for now. The truth will come out in a future adventure, but the clues are there to determine who exterminated the Rev. Jonas Oldeeds... can you tell who it was, dear readers?