2 comments/ 3272 views/ 0 favorites Johnny Lettuce By: HunterShambles Let me introduce myself; my given name is Jonathan James Letwin, however since the age of five or six everyone's called me Johnny Lettuce. It came from a group of kids at school and my liking for a certain salad leaf. Even my family call me Johnny Lettuce, Christmas cards, Birthday cards all arrive written out to Johnny Lettuce. Still it's better than my best mate, who, ever since I can remember has been called Cromwell. Which for an unorthodox Jew is a proper laugh. We discovered soon enough he was different, and the circumcised head of his penis earned him an early nickname of Roundhead, which soon mutated to Cromwell. We thought it hilarious, so he was stuck with it. Even now, forty odd years later, I still phone up and ask to speak to Cromwell when his delightful wife Lilith answers. Once I thought I even heard her shout "Cromwell" as she held the receiver with her hand over the mouthpiece. To be perfectly honest most of the time I can't remember his real name. Anyway I digress. I'm 49 years old, tallish but slightly overweight, thinning hair and poor dental work. I drink, my diet's poor and the only exercise I get is dodging the bills that come through my door with regularity. After school and a second tier university education, I emerged at twenty three with an upper second class degree and no idea what to do. I had married young and after a disastrous nine years got a divorce. Now I have an ex-wife and a daughter who hate me. I went from job to job until I graduated to this. I'm a private detective. I've been "Detecting" for about a decade now and I'm passably good at it, even if I say so myself, which I do frequently. I specialise in divorce, particularly in getting evidence on unfaithful spouses. I have an inside track on this, as you probably guessed. However, there's a million of us out there doing the same job, but I have an angle, I think it's a clever angle, I'm dirt cheap. In order to make my reputation, I cut a few corners, and I went the cheap route. So I've done a few freebies for mates, or mates of mates, I even helped an old girlfriend for a fumble in her jungle, could I sink lower? probably given enough time. Somehow I pay the bills (often late) and I put a bit aside. My needs are modest and my habits bad, but hey you gotta say I'm making a living. I was between jobs, as in I'd sent the last client the evidence that her loyal, attentive husband was a lying two timing piece of shit and she sent me a cheque. Now I had a few days off as nothing new had come my way. Anyway, I was sitting in my office, now if you're thinking a beautiful air-conditioned apartment above a chic art dealers, it's nothing like that. It's more a rabbit hutch on the first floor over an undertakers, pick the wrong door and you're looking at the Chapel of Rest instead of my place. With some of my clients I have to say it's a toss up whether it's the right door or not anyway. Getting back on track. It was a lousy Thursday, as I remember, raining, cold and miserable and bloody January to boot. It was very overcast and the office was poorly lit. I had a thirst like a camel on a ten day trek and my head pounded from last nights cheap red gut rot. I had the need for a Starbucks, but not the energy to get one and the only paracetamol I had was washed down with an instant coffee five hours ago... then she walked in. I thought at first she'd got the wrong door and was about to offer to show her the Chapel of Rest, when she spoke, and it sounded like honey dripping from a spoon onto silk. "Hello, are you Mr Lettuce, I was looking for Mr Lettuce?" "I'm Johnny Lettuce, how can I help?" I need a detective Mr Lettuce, one I can trust to be discreet. Are you... discreet?" "Lady I can be anything you want, or need. Do you need... anything?" "A coffee would be good, I like it strong, it's the way I am?" "I prefer strong myself, why not take a seat while I fill the kettle." "Thanks, oh, thank you." I slid the chair under her delicate derriere, and she sat legs primly together, facing the desk, or pasting table as the DIY Superstore labelled it. I quickly filled the kettle and boiled it, straining the water through a small sieve to stop the majority of the limescale getting into the cup. I gave up with a water filter after two weeks, it make no difference to the taste. The drinks always tasted like chalky crap anyway. "Sugar?" "Yes darling?" "I mean do you want sugar?" "I know, it was a joke, I'd really like a large one." This was getting out of hand, what the hell was going on here? Was she for real? She was impeccably dressed in a white raincoat, calf length. Blue jacket, tailored. White blouse, semi see through. Blue skirt, knee length and boots up to meet it. This was not chain store material either, these were damn fine threads. Her face was made up, but not overdone, someone who knew just how much and when. Her hair was auburn, wavy and shoulder length. Add to that two huge blue eyes and post box red lips and that's the gal sat in front of me. Wait, wait, where is all this poor Raymond Chandler dialogue coming from. This was Ilford, East London, not New York or Chicago. "So, Miss... I'm sorry I didn't catch your name?" "I didn't throw it Mr Lettuce, but it's Cynthia, Cynthia Barlow." "Please call me Johnny, all my clients do." "I think Mr Lettuce is best, at least until we know each other much better." She breathed in a breathy, sighy sort of way. I felt something stirring, Oh great! a stiffy and I had two cups of coffee in my hands. I managed to place a coffee on the table by her hand and pass behind her, adjusting the equipment swiftly whilst behind her back. I smiled at my smartness, then it disappeared as I saw her face reflected back at me from the mirror behind my chair, her smile said everything, busted. "So, Mr Lettuce, I need a favour... I want to retain you, exclusively for myself. What do you charge?" "Well dependent on the case, Cynthia, I have a per day rate and a weekly rate, it depends on what I need to do, and how long it takes." "Obviously Mr Lettuce, now would you like to know what I want?" "I would love to know what you want, so I can work out the best way to give it to you, at the cheapest rate, obviously." "Oh Mr Lettuce, don't sell yourself short, I think you've got what I want and I want a lot believe me." "Tell me what I have to do, I'll tell you what it costs." "Right up front aren't you Mr Lettuce?" "Cynthia, I will be all over you like a rash as soon as you open up." "Mr Lettuce, please, I'm just trying to make sure I have the right man for the job." So spill it Cynthia, what can I do for you?" "Mr Lettuce I need a man, to do something special for me. He needs to be by my side for the next week, I want him up close and very personal, can you do that?" "Cynthia I will stick to you like a Band-Aid in a sauna, what's the problem?" "My father wants me married, he's been busy flinging men at me for the last ten years, and now he's getting particularly headstrong about it and he still hasn't cottoned on." "To what Cynthia?" She looked down into her lap, then raised those sparkling blue eyes to meet mine, I melted, this was some woman. "That I'm gay, Mr Lettuce, I prefer slits and tits, I munch carpet, I like a womans touch. I am in short a Lesbian." "Shit!" "Hmm, you sound like daddy, are you disappointed in me?" "No, not at all, your orientation is your affair. Although a women's gain, in your case, is a mans terrible loss, in mine." "Does that mean you'd fuck me given the opportunity?" She was staring at me intently, her gaze never wavering, I blushed, how could she make me feel like a sixteen year old caught gazing down his sisters cleavage. "Whooo, wait up, we will have a client-detective relationship here. Whatever my personal feelings are, I can offer to represent you, at a favourable rate if possible. nothing else comes as standard" "Good, because you come highly recommended. Although I also have it on good authority that you'd shag your granny if she gave you a tenner." "What the..?" "Your daughter told me to say that. She is my lover Mr Lettuce, she thought you'd help me, in return for a meeting or two with her. Mending broken fences so to speak." "Michelle?.. Shelly is your?... She sent you to me?.. she said that about me?" A shadow fell across the doorway, I looked over and frowned, "Hi Dad, see you've met Cynth. Hi honey, how's Dad doing?" Michelle ambled in, she was dressed like a dream, I'd never seen her looking so glamorous. Hair, face, clothes, all perfect. What the fuck? Had I really spawned this babe? I'd not seen her in two years, not since she's thrown a punch at me and hadn't missed. I deserved it but it still rankled. She bent to kiss Cynthia on the lips, then strolled round my desk and sat in my lap, grinding her bottom into my cock. She grinned and licked her lips. "So Daddy, can you help us out, have you got what it takes, what we need, have you?" "Shelly, what the fuck is going on? Who the hell do you think you are, rocking up like this and fucking up my day?" "Oh Daddy! cool down, we're just fucking with you, and I bet you'd like to fuck with at least one of us." She leaned down and kissed my neck. Her hair filling my face, a strange and gorgeous perfume coming off it. I was stiffening by the second and her crotch wiggling and throaty giggle told me she knew and was enjoying this. "Hmm, so, Mr Big in His Pants, can you please help us out here?" "Get off my lap you little minx and go sit with your girlfriend, then you can tell me the truth." I reluctantly pushed her off me and she stood awkwardly, before moving gracefully round to sit on Cynthia's lap. They kissed, tongues, hands on each others bodies, ignoring me and my hard-on. Finally they surfaced and grinned at each other. Swinging an arm around Cynthia's shoulder, Michelle looked at me with something approaching that look you get, you know the one, when you tread in a really big turd in your best shoes. "Dad, and I use that term loosely, Cynthia's father apparently doesn't want her hanging round with women, especially a little tramp like me. He's a rock hard hetero and so insists that Cynth must be too. He's offered me money and also threatened me to get me to leave Cynth. And that's something that I won't do. Now he's allegedly putting out a contract on my head. He'll pay a hundred thousand quid to anyone who can remove me permanently from Cynthia's gloriously sensual arms." "Fuck, what the hell does your Dad do?" "He's a Councillor and has his own waste disposal business." "Oh that Councillor Barlow! I seem to remember the last election, he stormed it, must be very well liked." "Not really, he's an evil, twisted, manipulative sexist bastard, but there are some people who actually really just hate him." "No redeeming features?" "He sired me, but that's about it. My poor mother died a few years back and he's never forgiven her for it. Now he's always on the arm of some girl he's picked up at some club or other. Some are younger than me and our home is becoming a knocking shop. He doesn't care if I see them or not. He's even banged one in the lounge in front of us, just so we know how powerful he is." "I'm guessing then, you don't want me to just call round and talk this through with him?" "No, not quite, we want you to go and pose as a hitman, get him to offer you money to kill Shelly. We'll have you miked up and record it, then we hand him over to the cops." "Well that's easy enough, we'll do it this afternoon." I paused, "Are you crazy? He'll never believe I'm a hitman, come on be honest, do I look like a killer?" They both burst into laughter and shook their heads. I took that as an affirmation. I grinned too, it was ridiculous, I'd be out on my arse within a minute. Shelly got up and ambled into the kitchenette, I heard the kettle boil, then she returned with the only other mug I had steaming with boiling water. She opened her purse and her fingertips fluttered inside, I waited anxiously for whatever. She fished out a teabag and dropped it in the mug. I relaxed, then she pulled the small calibre pistol out and casually pointed it at me. "Relax Daddy, I wouldn't kill you outright." "That's a relief." "No I'd shoot your balls off and let you bleed out." "Fuck, put that down please." "Shelly's a really good shot, she's won medals." "You don't say?" "Oh but I do. She has a definite knack with small bores." "Excepting you of course Daddy." "Thanks, look whatever you're feelings are about me in this situation, just relax. Well maybe I can pull this off." "Ohh cheeky!" "You tease." They grinned and air kissed each other. Michelle put the gun on the table, then used my best (read: only) pen to fish out her tea bag. She walked round and aimed for the bin. Flicking the end, the hot tea bag flipped over and landed in my crotch. I grabbed it, but not before a hot wet patch appeared at the fly of my trousers. "Silly me," she grinned and walked round to sit on Cynthia's knee again. She sat demurely knees together sipping her tea. I rubbed a hanky over the damp spot, making it worse instead of better, giving up I pocketed the hanky, pushing it to the corner. I hoped it would soak up some of the dampness. Shelly finished her tea and dropped the mug on the table. the gun bounced slightly and I winced. Shelly picked it up and put it back in her purse, clicking the catch shut. I ran a hand through my thinning hair and looked at them both. Suddenly I saw through their bravado and underneath were two very vulnerable girls and I knew I would help no matter what. "OK, I'll go see daddy and offer to take you out for a hundred thou. Then what?" "See I told you he'd help, whatever else blood's thicker than water. Thank you Daddy." Shelly swung her legs off of Cynthia and walked round the desk again. She sat in my lap, oblivious of the wet patch and kissed my cheek, wrapping her arms round me she hugged my tightly. My arms crept round her sides until I was able to close them and hug her back. We hung that way for a good five or six minutes. She sat up and kissed my lips. "You're still a fucking shit for what you did to Mum, but I knew I could rely on you Dad." She shifted and lifted, smoothed her skirt round her bottom and walked to the edge of the desk, sitting slowly she let it take her weight, which I estimated was barely anything at all. The pair of them were definitely size zero material. "So, if we can get you wired up, are you game for say tomorrow morning?" "Sure, where do we meet to set this up?" "Here, ten thirty, I'll get something in his diary for eleven, OK with you?" "Fine, I'm err.. between cases at the moment so you got me full time." "And the rate is?" "Shelly, you know I can't take money from you!" "OK we'll work something out." "OK, well tomorrow morning then?" "By Dad," "By Shelly," "Bye Johnny," "Bye Cynthia." Then they were gone, and I was alone again. Oh! how the day dragged. I knocked off early, about half eleven that morning, then went home. My crash pad was a one room affair, where I could eat and watch TV in bed, mainly because a bed and a TV were the only two items of furniture I had. I had an investment property but I rented it out, since this squalid little rats nest did me for now. I sat watching the daytime schedule spew out game shows, women talking, bargains in your loft, all that crap. I wasted the afternoon, snoozed during the evening, then hit the hay going straight off. The next morning I sat watching the breakfast show and the news, all predictable until a sudden breaking update crashed into my consciousness. It seems one of Tommy Barlow's many admirers had saved me the trouble of a visit. Sometime early this morning they had entered his property, tied him up, cut his meat and two veg off and shoved it up his arse. Then just to show how really peeved they were, they then slit his throat and belly open, after hanging him upside down from the chandelier. I heard the phone ring and answered, a near hysterical Shelly, clearly panicked, tried to talk, but all I got was sobs and cries. I patiently calmed her enough that she could write down my address, then sat back and waited. I heard the doorbell ring and opening the door was flattened against it as Shelly and Cynth stormed in. Shutting it I walked back into the lounge-bed-diner, they were huddled against the far wall crying fit to bust. I pulled them to me and just hugged them. As the tears subsided I relaxed my grip and offered them a choice of hot drinks. They refused and sat on the bed, amidst the rumpled sheets. "Cynthia, I'm sorry about your Dad, I really am, whatever else you didn't deserve this happening." "Dad, it's worse than that, much much worse than that." "OK want to bring me up to speed?" "You know yesterday morning at your office?" "Yeess." I felt the hairs on my neck prickling. "Well we used the equipment to test it worked." "Okay so?" I extended my hands inviting them to continue. "We recorded our meeting at your office." "And...?" It's all recorded on the receiver I had in my purse." I rolled my eyes, I knew what was coming. "We left it in Cynthia's bedroom and didn't have time to delete it, and by now the Police will have it." "And then they'll likely want to talk to me and ascertain my whereabouts at the time of..." "Exactly." "Do you have an alibi Johnny?" "To be frank no, I didn't consider it necessary, as I wasn't aware that your father was going to end up as an advert for an abbatoirs artwork." "DAD!" "Sorry but I'm completely fucked and you know it." "They can't pin this on you surely? But I bet that they can hold you for questioning and stuff." "Stuff?" "When we saw what had happened we had to get out, so we emptied the safe," "Genius, pure bloody genius. I knew a formal education was wasted on you." "Bastard!" "Bitch!" "Wait, wait, look, it's not your fault, either of you. But we need to lie low for a while, before we come in and volunteer information to the Police." "Why?" Shelly and I said in unison. "Because our prints are all over the safe Shelly and my Dad's strung up like a turkey at Christmas." "I don't recall stuffing a Turkeys whatsits up it's arse, but I agree, we need to sort things round. How much did you get?" "Seventy two thousand pounds." "Whaaat?" "It was his emergency fund, his running away money, just in case." "Well at least we can hide in style, I'll call the Ritz... Joking. Look we need to go to the Police and tell them what's happened from our point of view and we'll be free clear." "Not quite! I had a run in yesterday with him and said I'd slit his throat, rather than leave Shelly." "Oh God!" "Half the staff heard me say it, and they have the day off today." "Who?..Why?" "Me, I thought he would be more likely to say something if he knew no one would be there to hear it." "Smart," "No really? oh! dumb huh?" "No, no one could anticipate this, but why today?" "Well I had the appointme.." "No why pick today unless they knew he'd be on his own. Someone inside your house tipped them off, or did it." "Someone on the staff?" "Got to be." "I told you he was smart, come on Dad, who could it be?" "Smart Shelly, not psychic. How many staff do you have?" "Nine, excluding the gardeners who come weekly." "any newcomers?" "No. Oh yes, Irene, she does the bedding, she took over from Lisa who left in a hurry." "Really?" "Dad, touched her up in the linen cupboard once too often, she complained, he sacked her and Irene appeared." "Not approached her yet then?" "She's not his type." Johnny Lettuce "Howso?" "She's over twenty one and quite large." "Figures." "She came recommended." "Who by?" "Not sure, Dad was pissed about it at first, but she's okay, beds are always fresh and made properly." "OK, that's our start, do the people live in or come in daily?" "Irene comes in daily, I have her address on my phone, I carry everyone's in case of emergencies," "Let's start there then, come on I'll drive us over." Putting the address in the Sat Nav, we drove across town in my old Skoda. I started to get suspicious when we left the housing behind and moved in to the older industrial area. Sure enough Irene's address was a clapped out, boarded up single storey, brick built , old retail unit. It displayed a logo for a long defunct cleaning business, a little joke on her ex-employer. We sat there looking stupid as a police car cruised round the corner, slowing and stopping behind us. I opened the door and stood up, as an officer got out on the passenger side. "Hello officer, just looking at that unit. We're starting up and considering whether this is suitable." "It's been derelict for about six years sir, are you sure you're in the right place?" I had a sheaf of papers with me, adverts and crap left in the car. I pretended to study it and looked back at him. "Well this is the address, and it's the only one here. The others are off Fosters Avenue over by the Bakeries." "I think you'll find they'll be better value, this lot needs pulling down if you ask me." "We were just sitting in the car wondering why they'd included this, although the rentals cheap, but with a short lease. Might explain it, oh well back to the drawing board." I half turned awaiting the call back, but instead got, "I'd go over to the Fosters Avenue sites sir, you'll find it much better and more secure. Lot of these places have been vandalised, bloody kids." With that he strode back to his car and they drove off. "Fuck that was close," said Shelly as I hopped back in and headed back to town. "It also tells us I'm not at the head of their wanted queue." Passing a chain hotel, low rates guaranteed, I pulled in and we registered, asking for two adjoining double rooms. Although we paid cash, they insisted I scan my Credit Card in case we ran off without paying any extra's. None of us had eaten so we booked into the pub/restaurant attached and went straight through. The low single storey building was anchored to the hotel by a covered awning. After a reasonably low price cooked meal we sat nursing a glass of wine each. "So what now?" "Well, Cynth why don't you try phoning Irene, see if she answers?" "Do you think she will?" "No, but we have to try, use the payphone in the corridor by Reception, less chance of it being monitored." After ten minutes, I started to worry about sending Cynthia on her own. Suddenly she slipped back and hastily sat down, grabbing her drink. "Police in the Car Park, looking at your car, what do we do, run?" "No, we'll sit this one out, if they are after me, we'll just gloss over staying here and say we came out for a meal, got it?" They nodded and we sat at the table, I asked for the bill, paying cash again. The tip was awkward, too little or too much and they'd remember us, enough and we're just three napkins, anonymous and unmemorable. Hopefully fifteen percent was adequate for the job. We slid out of the booth and headed for the door. The Police car had moved down the car park and they seemed to be looking at cars in general. Probably checking for evidence of Road Fund or Insurance dodgers, Thankfully I was fully paid up for both. We strolled back to the girls room, settling down in the comfy chairs. Suddenly it was daylight and we'd slept through, I sat up and felt the dryness in my throat. We used the mugs and kettle in the room to make teas and coffee. Then the girls took turns to use the facilities. I took the opportunity to slip out to my room and shower. We had each brought an overnight bag, which we had filled at an out of town store, getting enough for a few days change of clothes. I put on a fresh shirt and underwear, pulling on my sturdy suit jacket and trousers. I never wore a tie, it always seemed an inconvenience and looked like a badly knotted rag, no matter how I tried. I had reached the 'whatever' stage now and just didn't bother. I knocked on their door and it clicked open, I walked in and shut my eyes. My daughter and her lover were naked, wandering around talking to each other. Clothes were strewn on the bed and steam billowed out the bathroom. I turned to leave, "Oh Dad! don't be such a prude, get over yourself." "Johnny, morning, ready for breakfast?" "I,, errm, Sure, full works, sausage.." I opened my eyes, they stood side by side, hands on hips staring at me, grinning, still naked. "Mmm, I fancy a sausage too," Cynthia winked lewdly and Shelly laughed. "Seriously father, when you can keep your eyes above tits level, tell us what's the game plan for today?" I'd been thinking about that, in the shower. I sat down, now not even pretending not to gawp at these two incredibly sexy young women.They laughed and carried on dressing. I noted that they looked fabulous even without makeup. Both had flawless skin and even tans, all over. "Look this is out of line and I hope you take it as a compliment, but you don't need makeup, either of you, you're both gorgeous. Ok, that over, does Mum know about that tattoo on your thigh Shelly, never mind." Shelly looked down, opening her leg and glancing at the small dolphin high up on her inner thigh, she raised an eyebrow as she looked at me, I blushed. "No and don't tell her, you know she still thinks I'm twelve?" she said in exasperation. "We always do, every parent has an image of their child at a certain age, with you for me it's seven, hands on hips at the seaside, arguing about an ice cream." I smiled at the memory. Shelly grinned and blew a kiss. "That's probably the last holiday we had together," I risked a sniff, as I dabbed a tear away. Shelly gulped and turned her head away. Meanwhile Cynthia had managed to put a top on, no bra I noted, not that those two, perfect, precious tiny orbs needed containing, but she still had a bare ass and shaven pussy on show. I looked back at Shelly, she stood and pulled a sweater over her head, still nude below the waist. I sighed and shook my head, they both looked at me, I shrugged and they grinned. "You still haven't managed to articulate the days schedule, Mr Big Eyes." Cynthia wagged a finger at me, smiling and pulling on a pair of brief high cut knickers. I shrugged again. "Too many distractions old fruit. Now I had some thoughts in the shower this morning." "Porn alert, Porn alert, waah, waah!" Shouted Shelly jumping up and down as they giggled and tumbled on to the bed. As noted Cynth had a pair of knickers on, but Shelly hadn't, so bouncing slightly on the bed she spread her legs to balance, affording me a view of my daughter no father should ever see. I closed my eyes but the vision was there still. I was bound for hell for sure. I opened an eye to see Shelly about to burst, she had realised what I'd seen and had her legs firmly crossed. "What? what?" Cynth looked from her to me and back, I was beetroot red and speechless. Shelly burst out laughing and grabbed Cynth, whispering in her ear. Cynth sat back and went the same colour as me. "Shelly, your poor Dad." Shelly collapsed laughing, legs everywhere, I looked away, now she was just taking the piss. Eventually we all calmed down and Shelly and Cynthia finished dressing, finally I could marshal my thoughts. "Irene is the key here, if we can find her, we can get a handle on who's behind this, how we get to her though, that's the difficult bit." "If I phone her and she answers can we trace the call?" "If I was a tv detective yes, I'd have a friend in telecoms who could trace it for me, but I'm not so I can't." "Well I'll just phone anyway, see if she answers." "OK, nothing to lose." Cynthia pulled her phone out and dialed, we left the room to go to breakfast. As we walked down the corridor, Shelly stopped, Cynthia stopped and said hello was that Irene. We all heard the voice in the room where we stopped say yes. I knocked on the door. She asked Cynth to excuse her and opened the door. Her face was a picture. We pushed into the room. She was dressed in just a thin robe, which just about wrapped round her. The room was like ours, laid out exactly the same way. I saw her case, open on the floor, which was messily filled to overflowing, so she was not a naturally tidy person. "Well good morning Irene, how's your day?" I asked, as I pushed her onto the bed. she sat back and looked at her feet. "Irene, what in the hell are you playing at?" Cynthia shouted as Shelly put her hands out to hold her back. "Leave it to Dad hun, he's the expert." She nodded at me to carry on. I knelt next to Irene and rested my hand on her chin, gently lifting her face up. I smiled and winked at her. "Why don't we let Irene tell us all about it." I sat beside her on the bed and put an arm round her broad shoulders. In a fair fight, I'd lose as she had about sixty pounds on me and she was twenty years younger. But she was spent, she knew when she was beaten I thought. Her fist came crashing down into my gonads and I screamed and doubled up. She stood, but Cynthia was quicker, she slapped her face and punched her twice, then a foot sank into her stomach and Irene collapsed back on the bed sobbing. My beautiful daughter found an ice machine in the hallway and taking a plant out of its container, filled it. Coming back she undid my trousers, pulled them down, then pulling my pants wide of my belly jammed a handful of ice onto my family jewels. I screamed again. She did this twice more, I sat my pants soaked, my prospects ruined as they manhandled Irene flat on the bed. Using her clothes they tied her to the bed. I moved gingerly and found that the pain was subsiding although I still felt sick. "OK pop?" Shelly said, a comforting arm around my waist, I nodded, still unable to speak. "You better tell us everything now," said Cynthia, inches from Irene's face. Shelly reached over and pinched her breast, causing Irene to scream before Cynth covered her face with a pillow. Waiting til the muffled cry stopped, Cynth lifted the cushion. "You going to co-operate, or do we start lower down?" Her finger lifted the edge of her robe. "Wait, wait, no more, no more. Okay, listen I'll talk but you have to let me go, they're picking me up at ten to take me home, only I expect it's not about me going home really." "Who's they?" I managed. "Sorry mister, I wanted to get away, didn't mean no harm." I nodded okay, she continued. "Ted Dacre's boys are coming, they set me up with the job, I do this they cancel my debt." "Debt?" "I had a bit of trouble repaying a loan, they doubled the interest, I lost my job, they offered a way out. Except I think it's a one way ticket." "Where's Ted Dacre from?" I held up a hand, I signaled for them to release Irene, she sat up rubbing her wrists, "Get dressed, no here where we can see you, I really don't trust you," I raised my eyebrows and cupped my prospects, they still hurt. She slipped the robe off, her nightdress clung to her frame, she was generously proportioned I'll give her that. She stared me in the eyes as she pulled that nightie off. Her slack breasts hung down onto her large belly, which itself almost concealed the bulge of her hairy pussy. Turning she bent to the suitcase showing off her large backside and extracted clean underwear. She dressed insolently, enjoying the voyeuristic exhibition. Finally dressed she sat on the bed. I left to change. Arriving back ten minutes later, I saw she was still on the bed. The girls were in the corner crying however, that's when I noticed the small round hole above her eyes. The wound was so new the blood hadn't started. I saw the hole in the window and immediately hit the ground, a tinkle and a puff as the bullet passed through the bed. I crawled to the girls and got them to flatten themselves, seconds later, the tinkle again and a round smacked into the wall where they had been. "We have to try to leave, we're like rats in a barrel if we stay," I said, we crawled back towards the door. Tinkle, more glass and the door took a hit by the handle. I reached immediately and pulled rolling backwards onto Shelly, she moaned as another round hit the opening door. I rolled sideways and threw my jacket high in the air, as I hauled Shelly past me, tinkle, tinkle, my jacket danced and fell on the floor by my head. I threw again, but he had my measure and I felt the sting as the bullet zipped across the arm of my shirt and grazed the skin, even before I heard the tinkle. I pushed Cynthia past me and Shelly hauled her out of range. I grabbed my jacket and jackknifed through the doorway, as another round hit it. In the corridor a crowd had gathered. A lot of sirens announced the posse's arrival and I guess the bad guys moved out. Later we sat in the Police Station awaiting interview, I'd asked for the girls to have some warmer clothing as they were both in shock. Each now wore a very large and unflattering man size woolly jumper with Police emblazoned on it. I had a patch on the graze from the bullet, the Police Doctor unimpressed with the wound. He'd seen far worse he said. Snapping his case shut he left me sitting on the bench awaiting interview. Detectives, Ardly and Robinson were awaiting Cromwell. I had dragged him out of a case conference, grumbling to the phone. But he laughed and said he'd be right over. Later, well eight hours later, the four of us sat in the bar opposite the Police Station. Ardly and Robinson were getting the beers, although Cynthia insisted on paying. If only they knew where the money came from. The two detectives were running the murder case and we were now very material witnesses. Cromwell had earned his retainer today and insisted we would be welcome at his place, phoning Lilith who was quick to say yes. I think, lesbian lovers and bad old school friends in trouble had raised her excitement level several hundred percent. Anyway we had a drink with the boys and went over everything again. They were pretty sure it was a vendetta or revenge attack, if Dacre was involved. The Police had been after Cynthia's father for five years and were close to raiding the house anyway. Cynthia had gladly given then written permission to tear the place apart, much against Cromwell's advice, so they were happy. The sniper was an unexpected addition to the mix, they thought it was likely that they were planning to kill Irene anyway and our interruption had added to the plan, since killing us would help muddy the waters anyway. He was a professional though, not leaving a single shell case behind, even though he'd obviously left in a hurry when he heard the sirens. We went back to Cromwell's. Now, we meet every now and when, but I've never seen his place nor he mine. Chez Cromwell was a massive brick built monster, with three storeys, a Palladian style portico (look it up) and eight bedrooms. It stood in seven acres of ground, had a driveway and a massive wall around it. The entrance gates were electrically controlled and tonight a Police Car and two constables were outside. They saluted as we entered, the girls waved, bringing big smiles to their faces. Lilith stood at the entrance, my God what a beautiful woman she was, tall willowy, grey hair tied loosely in a ponytail, her face was blemish free and her smile an invite to kiss those glorious lips, so I did. She hugged me and said hello. She kissed everyone in turn, saving the best for Cromwell, she ate him up. We grinned and slapped his back. Inside, the house had a grand central stairway leading to the upstairs from the hall, and two doors led off to rooms either side, two smaller doors under the stairs led to the back. We were turned left, and asked to leave our bags in the hallway. In the lounge Rosa their eldest daughter was sitting on a chaise talking into her phone, she raised a hand and acknowledged us without a pause in her chat. We sat and Cromwell took our drinks order. Cynthia asked why he was called Cromwell, when the detectives called him Mr Sternberg. I looked down and was surprised to hear Lilith fill her in. Her musical voice making the rudest story sound ladylike. Cromwell smiled as he handed out drinks. "Course your fathers a turtleneck," he said as he handed Shelly her wine. "What's..." Cynthia winced as Shelly's foot landed on hers. "Ooops sorry lover," she said, touching her arm. I blushed, saved by my daughter. I lifted the glass and felt the warm liquid flow down into my body. That felt good. This was no cheap supermarket plonk. This was rich, full and ruby red, really tasting of summer fruits with a great depth and a lingering mellow aftertaste, reminiscent of blackberries I think. "Ohh! good plonk maestro, nice drop of the red stuff." "Up your bum you snob, you know this is a decent bottle, and even I wince at the cost when I buy it." "Seriously Cromwell this is very, very palatable." "Fucking ought to be at ninety quid a bottle." "Christ, ladies put those glasses down carefully that's about nineteen quids worth of wine you're gargling." "Prat!" We giggled, evenings with Cromwell always went like this. We were still just seven when we met up. Lilith grinned. "Will you two ever stop playing who's got the biggest prick. Why don't you just whop them out on the table for God's sake." "He'd win," I said," He's had two inches cut off, and he's still bigger than me." We dissolved at an old joke we always managed to squeeze in at some point in the evening. "Children," Lilith grinned. Shelly and Cynth relaxed and I watched the tension ease out of them. Later we ate, drank and then Lilith showed us to our rooms. Shelly and Cynth, disappeared and I walked into my room and sat on the bed. I rolled back onto the duvet and shut my eyes. Later I woke, undressed and climbed between crisp white sheets and dropped off again. I heard a knock and the door open, Lilith came in wearing a silk kimono that clung invitingly to here lithe body. Walking slowly she came across the room with a small tray in her hand. She placed it on a stand by the bed, smiled and sat on the bed. "It's been a long time, but I am so glad to finally meet you, although I had hoped for better circumstances." "Likewise Lilith, you're even more beautiful than Cromwell says." "And you are a silver tongued devil, just like Cromwell says." She stood and left, the impression of that kimono, clinging seductively to her body, with the tiny imprints of her nipples high on her chest, haunts me still. Pulling on a robe I took my tea and walked across to the girl's room. Knocking I entered. They were sitting on the bed, naked obviously, I waved and sat on the bed by Cynth. "Haven't you seen enough of us?" Cynth asked, a smile playing over her lips. "Never, you're both incredibly beautiful, now what do you suppose today brings?" "After the last few days I'm hoping for nothing worse than a hangnail or a spot." Shelly said and grinned. "Well were off the hook as far as your Father's death's concerned, but I have a feeling there's a lot more going on." They nodded, I sipped my tea, staring at their tiny perfect breasts unashamedly. Cynth giggled and Shelly laughed. "Dad, couldn't you at least pretend not to stare," "You're blushing," "You're embarrassing." "You're very beautiful, never forget that, both of you." "Thank you, I appreciate that, now go, I need to go to the bathroom, and you're not having a gander at my pussy or butt again." Johnny Lettuce "What a shame, how about I shut my eyes?" "Can I trust you?" "No, probably not, oh well, it was good whilst it lasted, I'll pop off now." I stood, kissed each and walked. As I reached the door, I heard a whisper, then giggles, I stopped. "Dad, how's the old family jewels, Cynth says she'd like a little quid pro quo, you've seen ours, now show us yours." I walked back to the bed, unwrapped the robe and pulled it open. They whistled and I grew, they laughed and I grinned. Finally I closed up and walked away. "Bloody hell, if he's built like that what's Cromwell like?" "Cynth?" "What? What?" I left them to it. Breakfast was calling. Breakfast was a chaotic affair, held in the kitchen at an enormous oblong wooden farmhouse table, with about two dozen chairs round it. Rosa was there munching cereal and explaining she was off to College, supposedly for a lecture, but really to meet up with her boyfriend Rick, who's dad was a millionaire, but who was as normal as you or I. I looked at this obviously pampered, Jewish Princess and giggled. Her look would have pierced steel, I looked round at the girls who were grinning at me. Eventually fully fueled we decided to go to Cynthia's place, extract clothes and jewelry if we could and take it from there. The Police were polite and referred back to our old friends Ardly and Robinson. They were on site and said come up as they had a few more questions. Up at the house although the corpse was gone the marks, blood etc, with forensic markers were still there. Luckily there was another room, where guests were taken on arrival. Cynthia sat in a chair, Shelly holding her hand. She answered the questions as best she could. The detectives, writing down the answers which then spawned new questions. Finally the open safe was brought up. Cynthia and Shelly didn't deny opening it but said it was empty, except for a couple of hundred pounds which they took. Satisfied the detectives then asked if they had any knowledge of any other hidden safes, Cynthia rolled off six other sites in the house, then went to a bureau and produced keys for them. The detectives were over the moon. Cynthia asked if she could remove her clothes and jewelry and personal items. Robinson was happy to do this if she was prepared to let a female DC do an inventory of the items. Cynth said that was perfectly OK. DC Anita Symes was wheeled in, shook hands and we began. I was asked to get the cases from the storage room, on the ground floor opposite the kitchen. Running downstairs I avoided a couple of cops prodding at a pillar in the hall, checking for hidden spaces. In the storage room I found two large pink cases, these would do, well for a start anyway. I ambled back upstairs and followed the musical sounds of fun and laughter to a room which was so utterly girly I winced. Cynthia had been indulged to excess. Inside even the DC was down to her underwear as dresses, trouser suits, skirts and blouses were traded between them. I grinned and put the bags down. Shelly waved and held up a Stella McCartney original. I flicked my thumb up and whistled, she blew a kiss. Cynth was trying to get the DC to try a D & G frock on, the poor girl obviously flustered by the sheer cost of the item and my presence. Her serviceable underwear was chain store standard against the up market clothing of the girls. They decided that was easily solvable, next minute the poor girl was stark naked as they removed her bra and knickers, I laughed and faced the door. Then as the ooohs and aahs started turned to see her dressed elegantly in the vivid red creation, diaphaenous and floaty, her hands held the dress as she swayed and sashayed around. I clapped and whistled. Dave Ardly stuck his head in and stood gawking at his colleague's transformation, his phone came out and he filmed her for about thirty seconds, then he called Robinson in. Neil Robinson's eyes were on stalks, he stood transfixed. The three girls, linked arms and walked seductively towards the two detectives, who flushed and flustered, backed out of the door. I sat on the chair and clapped again. They grinned and hugged each other. All in all it seems they had to try everything and so finally after about three hours clothes were packed and listed. Jewelry, and other items took about another two hours, and again were tried, twisted, swapped and presented for discussion. At four pm we loaded the bags and boxes into my car and sat wondering where to go. My crash pad was out and I didn't want to presume on Cromwell again. I knew he and Lilith would leap at the idea, but we'd imposed enough already. We could try my ex's place, which she nominally shared with Shelly. We had to go there anyway, as Shelly needed to get more clothes. We arrived at my old house, given to Sandra, my ex, as part of the settlement. I felt a twinge of remorse, Sandra hadn't deserved to marry the arse I had been. She was better off without me, even so, I felt a little nervous standing with them on my old doorstep. Shelly let us in and called out to Sandra. The hallway looked neat and bright, Sandra had an artistic talent and it showed. We walked into the lounge and there she was. She looked really good, better than I thought she had the last time I'd seen her, in court. Her hair, makeup and clothing were perfect. I nodded, "Hello Sandra, sorry to crash in on you like this, bit of a flap going on." "No, it's fine, you look well, perhaps a bit 'Plump' but well." "Plump, do I , well I don't get enough exercise, so it's going to have to go somewhere." "He's cuddly mum, trust me." Shelly winked and then hugged Sandra. Cynthia was obviously a fixture as she had disappeared into the kitchen and I could hear her making us all a hot drink. I went to shake Sandra's hand but was surprised when she slipped between my arms and hugged me tight. I wrapped my arms round her and it seemed the most natural thing in the world. Her head rested on my shoulder and I kissed her hair. God she felt and smelt good. We held ourselves together for a bit too long and separated with blushes and stammered apologies for presuming too much. Our denials were then reduced to helpless laughter and we held hands until Cynth arrived with the ubiquitous tray of drinks. She put it down and hugged Sandra. We settled on the furniture and the girls brought Sandra up to date. She had been pretty worried until Shelly's call last night and was pleased we were all in one piece. I just sat and looked at Sandra, what the hell had possessed me to walk away from her. The rows and shouting matches were petty mean affairs. Lack of money, lack of commitment, my drinking, it all came back. I realised they were all looking at me, staring at Sandra. "Sorry, I.. Look I.. Sandra can I say you look absolutely stunning. I need to say this, I'm sorry for what I put you through, I was a complete arse, it was all my fault, please forgive me." I shrugged my shoulders, Shelly wept silent tears, Cynthia held her round the shoulders. Sandra looked at me and smiled. "Thank you, that's all I ever wanted to hear you say, you've grown up a lot Johnny. There's nothing to forgive." She knelt in front of me, put her hands on my knees and leaning in kissed me gently on the lips. I felt the tears, hot and stinging, falling down my cheeks. She took my face in her hands and wiped the tears away with gentle movements of her thumbs. Then she kissed me again. This time I lost it entirely and for fifteen or twenty minutes sobbed uncontrollably, shoulders heaving, my hands grabbing her, pulling her to me and holding her, holding that warm, fragile beautiful woman against me, feeling her breath on my neck, her lips on my skin. The last fifteen years had taught me a lot, I had laid out my failings and prodded and poked at my shameful stupidity, I had been vain, venal and arrogant. I knew every one of my faults, I had wallowed in self pity and drowned in false bluster. I was a shell, I was nothing, against this woman who had carried on, built a life for our daughter, placed herself last and carried no animosity towards me. I held her tight and cried from my heart. After I had calmed down, we had agreed to stay. The girls in the main bedroom, Sandra in Shelly's room and me on the couch in the lounge. Sandra bought down pillows, a sheet and a duvet. I plumped up the pillows, doubled up the sheet and draped the duvet over it. We'd got a takeaway and sat drinking for a while. Then bedtime. After everyone went I stripped off and climbed into bed. I lay thinking about the last few days, certainly the most interesting time of my life so far. I heard the door click and Sandra came in. She had her robe on, white full length and wrapped snuggly round her. "Hi," "Hi, came to make sure you're okay," "Thanks, this is really good of you, especially.." "Shhh, don't say anything, just..." She knelt and kissed me, I ran my arms round her and pulled her close. We kissed with a passion I hadn't felt since I can't remember when. She pulled closer, her robe was undone, my hands on her small firm breasts. She had her hands on my chest, teasing my nipples. I was pulling her onto me, she was rising up pushing the duvet and sheet away. Her hands were on me, stroking me, I felt her firm buttocks as she lay on top of me. We kissed and licked and bit each other, she lifted up and reached for me. We coupled and it was unbelievably perfect. We moved, developing a rhythm, clung to each other, kissed, and licked and explored and suddenly we both reached an almost incandescent climax, we screamed and moaned and kissed and moved together. Neither of us heard the thumps upstairs or the crash of feet on the stairs. All we knew was the door flew open and the light came on. We were caught conjoined at the groin, sweaty, slippery, panting, grinning. Sandra lay flat on me and I wrapped my arms round her. "We thought you'd been attacked, we thought they'd found us, Mum.. Dad have you been..?" "Oh My God Shelly your Mum and Dad just fucked on the couch." "Hi girls, could you give a couple of minutes," I managed with a grin. I could feel Sandra's breath on my neck, I knew she was laughing. "We'll make some tea, or coffee, Mum?, Dad?" "Tea please honey," I felt her breath as she said the words. I started to laugh, she joined me, it felt good, we were still joined. I heard the girls laughing. We attempted to sit up, and tried to separate , I withdrew slowly, jolting at the electric shocks in my loins as we parted, we winced and grinned. I reached down to my bag and pulled out a t shirt and a pair of pants, Sandra pulled her discarded robe on. We straightened the bed covers and sat knees together side by side, grinning like two seven year olds caught by their parents. They came back in with the tray of drinks and we sat quietly sipping, I put my arm round her shoulder, she snuggled in. Shelly sat with Cynth on her lap, they stared at us. "Sorry," I said, "I'm not," Sandra said and kissed my cheek. "I can't believe after all this time, after all the fights you had, that you two would.. you know, would.." "Well we did, and I for one am grateful for that, the single most beautiful astonishing act of lovemaking I have had since before our divorce. No one, ever, ever came near your mother, she was and is perfect. I've had fifteen years to realise that." "Me too, it's just not the same, there's just something, I can't describe it. Your father is just the most perfect lover. I didn't need too many failed attempts with others to realise that." "You've had other lovers?" "Haven't you?" "Yes, there's always something missing though." "Yes, you and me." "Yes that would be it, they weren't you." We finished up and I went upstairs with Sandra. We slept together in Shelly's room, the fact that the bed is not quite a full size double, didn't trouble us. We were wrapped up together, dropping off swiftly and waking to the sound of the clock-radio and a driveling early morning presenter, which we quickly switched off. We lay in each others arms and just gazed into each others eyes. We heard the girls in the bathroom, so stayed put. Letting them wash and dress, before venturing out. Downstairs breakfast was being readied and we soon tucked in to cereals, hot buttered toast and preserves. We talked and ate, but knew we had work to do, so we cleared away. As I finished loading the dishwasher, the part of breakfast I did best, my phone rang. Cromwell needed to see us urgently, could we get over to his office soonest. I said twenty minutes, he asked for quicker. I explained and twenty five minutes later all four of us hauled up outside a modern office block housing his practice. We left the car in the care of the protesting doorman and hurried inside. Cromwell came out of his office, his eyes gleaming and his grin enlarging as he saw Sandra. After greetings he ushered us into his office. We grouped around a two sofa and coffee table arrangement. Sitting he started without preamble. "The Police are applying for a proceeds of crime order to recover monies they say your father amassed from his criminal activities. Looking at it, they want the house, the cars and several millions he's amassed in various offshore accounts." "I hate that house so I don't care. I've got some money of my own and I have an account that acts as my pocket money. I will need to get a job though, that'll be novel." "What they can't or won't touch is his scrap metal business, I've had an accountant look at it, as a going concern, which it is. We reckon you should be able to get about two point four million, if you agree to sell to the first bidder rather than wait for a better bid, that is." "Agreed, I'll need your accountant friend to take on my financial affairs and I'll leave it to him to arrange it so I have investments and income. Get any forms over to Sandra's place. I have a feeling we'll be there for a while." "Actually I can help there, I have an investment property in St Katherine's Dock.I've been renting it out, but the lease is up and I have asked the agents to have it deep cleaned and brought up to standard. You can use that if you want." "Dad, how long have you had that?" "Several years now, I bought in at the bottom of the market, but it's worth a few bob I'm told." "Why didn't you live there instead of that flea pit you have?" "It was an investment for the future?" "What future?" "Yours, yours and Sandra's, yours and Cynthia's, whoever." "Dad, you idiot, I don't need that, all I ever wanted was your love." "I know, but this was an instead of, in case you never got to know me, a kind of sorry I wasn't there for you sort of thing." "You are a complete and utter wanker, but I love you Dad." "Shelly, that's no way to talk to your Dad." "Oh Mum come on, I love him to bits, but, honestly.." She shook her head, then reached over and kissed me, followed by Cynth. "Can I come back to your place tonight?" I looked at Sandra, she smiled, "Early days remember, but yes, please come home tonight." "Home, my home?" "Our home, but don't forget who's name's on the deeds buster." "Yes Sandra." She kissed me and Cromwell beamed. "Do you two fancy dinner on Friday, I'll phone Lilith and confirm, oh sorry, ladies would you care to join us?" "Thanks Cromwell, that would be great, around seven thirty." "Perfect." "Oh! Oh! No!" "Cynth?" "Sorry, I just realised what you said the other day, about Johnny being a turtleneck, oh my!" Sandra looked at me with a smile, as did Cromwell, Shelly put her head in her hands. Cynth just sat there, face beet red and her mouth open. Later over lunch I took a call from Ardly, seems an informer had let it slip that the killer had been retained to take out Cynthia. Rumours were this was personal. I repeated the story to the girls and Sandra after Ardly rang off. "Hmm. You know I said that Dad had set me up with various men, well Ted Dacre was one of them. He thought if he was family he'd be more accommodating to Dad's plans. Well he spend thousands wining and dining me, over two, three weeks. Then a discreet hotel, champagne and he tried to seduce me. When that didn't work he tried force. He wanted me to give him a blowjob at least. I went down on him, but then chewed his cock. He bled like a stuck pig and I ran for it. I don't think he likes me." "Prick!" "Arsehole!" "Ladies, whatever, we're going to need another place. I don't want them going round and finding us at your place. We'll go to my place at St Katherine's Dock. It's in my real name, might take them longer to find us and give the cops more room to manouvre." "What isn't Johnny your real name?" "Yes, but not Lettuce, it's a nickname from years ago." "Dad! what is your real name?" "Jonathan Letwin, didn't Mum ever say?" "No, by the time I was able to do anything I was Michelle Barber." "You went back to your maiden name?" "Seemed easier." "Yeah, probably was, sorry." "No worries, we're fine, really." "OK, let's check out my Pussy Palace." "What?" "Oh when these places came on the market in the late Seventies, Eighties, they were much favoured by rich gentlemen who needed a London pied-a-terre for the purposes of somewhere to go for rumpy-pumpy. Hotels were either not playing or leaking guests names to the press. Pop out of the Grosvenor, Connaught etc, flash, bang, wallop look who we caught. Later the yuppies bought them so they could work and play all day and night." We pulled into the parking area and I found the number reserved for my flat. We had hired a car, in the name of Letwin (I have credit cards in both my names), it seemed sensible rather than leaving an easily followed trail, which my usual car would provide. The Lexus parked, we took the cases and located the entrance, shortly after that we entered my flat. Well apartment. The lounge was huge with an enormous floor to ceiling picture window overlooking the Marina. There were two bedrooms of reasonable size and a kitchen-diner. I had never been there before. The furnishings were simple modern, stark, but, somehow I liked it. "Dad, this is fabulous," Shelly shouted, spinning round arms outstretched. "Johnny, you sly old devil, this is a pussy palace par excellence." "Johnny, I love it, I really do, wow." "I hope so, it will be in Shelly's and your names, Sandra and Michelle Letwin, or Barber if you prefer. You own this my love, or at least you will do when I die. My solicitor has my will, you get everything after all debts are paid." "What, even after all these years, you're leaving everything to me and her?" "Yes, as an apology for being a shit husband and father." "Johnny,why, why didn't you find someone else?" "Did you?" "I wasn't looking." "Me neither! At first I was angry and stupid, using women and then I got sick of myself and just lost interest. I admire and admittedly lusted after women, but I don't pursue them anymore. There's no point, I'm still in love with you." "Dad! that's lovely." "No, it's just the truth, the best thing in life was underneath my nose and I never saw it until too late." "I loved being under your nose." "MUM!" "What? you want the truth, no one does it like your Dad, period. Never been beaten in the bedroom, how's that going to look on your next flyer?" "I think the local licensing authority might want to have that tested?" "I'd volunteer!" "Cynth!" "Only joking, I think it's lovely, you two ought to try again, really." "We are, and as soon as this is over, Johnny, you and I are going on holiday, somewhere remote and warm and quiet." "I'll drink to that." My phone rang, it was Robinson. Seems the word was out on the street to look for me and by extension Cynthia. I listened, I said yes, I 'Uh-Huhed' in all the right places, then rang off. I repeated the conversation from both sides. They looked gloomier and gloomier. Johnny Lettuce "Okay, firstly, Cynthia, you and Shelly need to umglam. We need to make you different. Clothes, hair, the works. No make up, no tanning, nothing but chain store clothing, dye your hair, wear glasses, not contacts if you have to." They nodded, then disappeared into their bedroom. They had already staked out the larger room. I looked at Sandra, she came and sat on my lap. Stroking my hair, she looked thoughtful. "You need to stop shaving, but shave your head. Do you need glasses, have you any jeans or baggy or bulky trousers. A pair of trainers and an old t-shirt. A baggy top. That should do it." I kissed her, she slid sideways onto the sofa, I followed on top of her. We kissed and felt each other up. It felt good, no it felt bloody amazing. An 'Ahem' stopped us, we looked up. Shelly and Cynth wore no makeup, baggy tops, tracky bottoms, unlaced basketball boots and their hair looked unkempt. Cynth pulled on a pair of ancient wire-framed specs. The effect was awesome, they were not the same girls who had entered the apartment. We giggled, laughed, guffawed, fell about. A few simple changes and no one would connect the two girls with the elegant, chic models of earlier. "Perfect, now pop out and pick up some supplies from the cheapest supermarket around. Pay cash and try not to talk to much." "Fanks Dahd," Shelly said in a passable East London accent. "Gotcha Pop," mimicked Cynth, picking at a non existant bra strap that was rubbing under her top. I could see a stage career here for both of them.They walked off, sloppily, Shelly pretended to pull her thong out of her crease and winked, "Laters pertaters," The door slammed, we sat back. "Now where were we?" I said, "Bedroom," she said pointing. The girls came back in an hour, we finished in fifty minutes. It was mind blowing. The years may have made us a little slower and less athletic but the sheer joy and release we gave each other was pretty phenomenal. I think the neighbours would have been impressed judging by the noises we made. I lay back completely knackered, spent, gone. Sandra lay there, red faced, puffing, blowing out her cheeks, grinning like a completely satisfied women. The girls swung in without knocking, we'd not managed to shut the door in our carnal haste. "Bloody Hell! Not again, can't you give it a rest, there's rabbits embarrassed by the number of times you've done it." "Thanks Shelly, too kind." I managed before puffing out my cheeks and grinning. "Mum, do you want to cover up, it's a lovely body, but I'm getting a bit jealous. You're pretty fit for your age." "I'll say, nice firm tummy Sandra, you probably need a bit of a trim in the lady garden area." "Thanks girls I'm happy as I am." Sandra giggled. "Dad could you at least cover up your bits. Please." "No I like the way it lies there, like a little sleeping creature in a warm nest." "Not so much of the little please Cynth." Sandra giggled, then laughed a really dirty, naughty belly laugh. I'd forgotten that laugh, it brought back some perfect memories, when we first met. "Oh my God it's woken up again, there it goes, whoo hoo." "Cynth, that's my Dad, it's not right, mind you it's pretty interesting. Being gay you miss all this, not that I'd want to experience it close up, if you catch my drift?" "I did once, you know, try straight sex, it was... interesting." "Interesting?" "Yea, you know from a, 'So that's what they do' perspective." "And?" "What?" "How was it?" "Well okay I suppose, I never came, he did, it was pretty messy. He seemed quite pleased with himself. We met a few times afterwards, but I was never that keen to try again." "Wow!" "Well thank you for that, now could Mum and I have some time alone to reflect on our lovemaking and your wonderful story?" "OK come on Shelly," Cynth waved a goodbye, Shelly shrugged and left. I lay there like a lone yacht in the marina. That is till something warm, wet and delicious descended on me. I felt a kiss on my lips too. "You're not too tired are you?" Sandra, raised and lowered her hips over me. I grinned, "Not for you, never, come here gorgeous." And for the next eight weeks we stayed and made love at the apartment. The girls too, it was somehow infectious, we sometimes only saw each other for meals. Ardly and Robinson updated things as far as things go. They had traced back nearly all the money Tommy Barlow had salted away and sequestration orders flew about. The case had taken on a new dimension when they found links to Ted Dacre and he was now the subject of a separate, but conjoined operation. The whispers were he had offered half a million to find Cynthia, that was on top of the money he was paying the assassin. We were all seated at the counter to have lunch, when Reception buzzed to say there was a package for Cynthia. We were a little nonplussed, but Cynthia had ordered a few bits and pieces, so we assumed it was that. The courier can up, but as Sandra opened the door, he pushed her backwards and strode into the room. He was reaching into his shoulder bag, when Shelly flung the big heavy copper bottomed saucepan full of boiling water at him. He raised an arm but only succeeded in tipping the pan over his arm and gut. He screamed in pain, and staggered backward. Sandra had a cricket bat she'd stowed behind the door. She swung at the back of his head, a neat middle of the bat drive which sent him flying forward. My foot came up as his head came down. His jaw crunched and blood and teeth splattered on the tiles as he face planted them. He rolled over and gurgled, then his shoulder bag disgorged a Sig Saur with a professional handgrip and a silencer. He tried to get up, but Sandra prodded his groin with the bat. "I wouldn't if I were you," she growled menacingly, I felt my ball bag tighten, she meant business. The lioness with her cubs. I flipped my phone out and dialled nine,nine, nine. I asked for Police and mentioned the investigation. Ten minutes later Ardly and Robinson, the dynamic duo, showed up with the armed response unit. We were sat drinking tea, the killer trussed up like a present on Christmas Eve. The guy was bundled out, Scene of Crime Officers called by. They measured, noted and photoed. Ardly was on his second plate of biscuits and his third tea. Robinson, was taking Sandra's statement. I was nursing my bruised foot, Shelly and Cynthia were planning a Spa Day. Finally everyone had gone and we cleared the stains up. We decided to eat out. Taking time we cleaned up, I shaved, it felt great, clean at last. Sandra looked absolutely gorgeous and had to fight me around the bedroom, before she managed to get some clothes on. Likewise from the squeals next door, there was a lot of hanky panky going on. We assembled in the lounge everyone out of breath and grinning and I looked at three of the most fabulous women in the world. "Wow, you lot look sensational, I feel like a tramp at the ball." "You scrub up okay Dad, although the hairy face was nice, in a rugged backwoodsman way." "No! clean shaven every time." "Me too!" "Cynth, was there a double entendre there?" "You'll have to check that later, lover." "Ladies, behave, let's go eat. "I'm famished," "I want protein and lots of it." "Steaks," "Chicken," "Shall we." Needless to say it was a riotous drunken affair. But hey, we could afford it and we deserved it, but I can't see us going back there anytime soon. Certainly not if the current Management are still in charge. Two years later, Shelly and Cynth married at a beautiful Civil Ceremony, they now own and live in the apartment. I'm living with Sandra and we're almost at the 'Let's get Married' stage. Sandra and the girls have joined me in the business. I have a better office, two brilliant receptionists, although they are a bit hazy on what constitutes a lunch 'hour'. Sandra does the books, thank God. Me I still do the dirty stuff. I can always be found standing on a wet rainy corner or in draughty hotel stairwells. Either that or I'm poking my long lens into other peoples affairs. Safe to say though, at the end of the day there's definitely a warm welcome at home. The four of us usually meet up at weekends for a meal or the theatre, perhaps a trip to the continent, or similar. It's a far cry from the tin pot operation I'd had before. The joint operations into Barlow and Dacre yielded results. Ted Dacre going down for life, his empire ripped up, his operations quietly taken over by his rivals I suspect. The killer got thirty years for murder and attempted murder. Helping the stats he confessed to five other murders and an attempted abduction. The Dynamic Duo got commendations and promotions. So overall everything appears to be on the level. That is until Shelly showed this woman in...