81 comments/ 94831 views/ 38 favorites The Slut in Room 101 By: FrancisMacomber "I'm so mad at her I could kill her!" I snarled angrily, taking another swallow of my beer. "Hey, Johnny, don't even say things like that," Billy said, which was kind of funny because Billy had a hotter temper than me. Back in high school he was always getting into fights; the littlest thing could set him off. "But she's cheating on me," I whined. "Best I can tell she's been screwing her doctor friend for a couple of months now. How could she do that to me?" Billy ordered us another round, and after it got to our table he asked me to tell him what happened. I didn't really want to go into it, but in a strange way it felt good to talk about what happened. Sort of like talking about when you had surgery, I guess. So I started at the beginning. I always thought Doris and me had a pretty good marriage. Sure we had fights about things every now and then - what couple doesn't? But we always kissed and made up afterwards, and that's all that matters. Moneywise, we had a pretty good life together. I'd dropped out of college my sophomore year - that academic stuff wasn't for me. But I really didn't need a degree because I'm what you call a natural born salesman. I wound up with a job at one of the two biggest auto dealerships in town, and soon I was earning good money. So Doris and me got engaged in her junior year and married when she was a senior. The funny thing is that Doris also wound up in sales. After she graduated she went to work for one of the big pharmaceutical companies. Basically that meant she peddled prescription drugs to doctors. Anyway, between the two of us we weren't rich or anything but we were doing okay. No kids yet, but they would come, or so I had thought. The thing that initially attracted me to Doris was her figure: when I first met her she was lean and tight. Better yet, even after six years of marriage she'd kept herself that way. Part of that was good genes, I guess, but she also turned into a real work-out nut, going to the gym three, four, even five days a week. The good news is that her body was still tight and sexy, not in that pumped-up body-builder way that makes me sorta queasy, but more like that Jillian Michaels woman you see on TV all the time. I really liked that. But the bad news was that all that exercise really seemed to wear her out. Lately, whenever I wanted to enjoy that hot body in bed at night, all she'd want to do is go to sleep. But, as I'd just found out, there was another reason why she wasn't interested in doing the horizontal mambo with me. That reason was Morris Fisher, one of the doctors she called on regularly. I stumbled onto the affair between my wife and the good doctor by accident. Even though she's the smart one in our family, Doris is one of those types who's always forgetting things. I can't even count the number of times we've had to hunt for her lost cellphone or go back someplace to retrieve the purse she left behind. So it wasn't unusual to discover that she'd left her notebook computer at home when she went to work this morning. But what was a surprise was the email I spotted in her inbox titled "Yesterday was So Hot!!" You better believe I opened that one in a hurry. Long story short, it soon became obvious that she and Dr. Fisher had been using email to set up meetings at a motel for several months. Judging from the contents of the other emails I read, it was pretty obvious that they weren't meeting to compare the relative merits of different meds. When I dug into her Sent Mail file and saw some of the things she had said to him, it also became clear that this was a lot more than just a casual fling. The two of them were in the middle of a full-blown romance. "I never saw it coming," I moaned to Billy pitifully. "What am I gonna do, man?" "Well if it was my wife I'd give her a fist sandwich right before I kicked her to the curb," Billy said self-righteously. "Nah, I could never hit Doris," I said. "I'm just gonna have to divorce her ass and get on with my life. But I'd sure like to get back at Dr. Morris Fisher for screwing up my marriage." As I sat there drinking, an idea popped into my head. I leaned across the table and spoke to Billy in a quiet voice, "Hey, buddy, would you be willing to give me a hand in getting a little payback? I think I know how we could do something that wouldn't come back on us." Billy got a glint in his eyes. "Tell me what ya got," he said eagerly. My idea was simple: we'd use Doris's email to lure the good doctor to the motel again, only we'd be the ones waiting, not her. We'd tie him up, take his clothes and leave him there in his underwear. Then we'd phone in a tip to the TV news so they'd be waiting to film him when the police "rescued" him. If that didn't show the world his true colors, nothing would. "But he'll know we did it," Billy protested. "I got that covered," I reassured him. "We'll be wearing ski masks and we can use surgical gloves so we don't leave any fingerprints. It'll be perfect." "Okay, smart guy, but you're forgetting one thing," Billy said. "If he gets an email from your Doris's account, he's going to guess you were the one who sent it." "Maybe," I conceded, "but even if he does I don't think he'll say anything. If he does he'll have to admit to having an affair, and I'll bet his wife wouldn't be too pleased about that." Billy looked at me shrewdly. "You could be right," he said. "Besides, he might suspect you but he couldn't prove nothing." "Especially if I delete the email from Doris's computer after I send it," I said triumphantly. "Let's do it," Billy said. "I hate fucking cheaters. That damn doc owes you for screwing with your wife!" "Okay, here's how we do it," I told him. "Tonight I'll email him from Doris's computer and set up a meeting at their regular motel right after lunch. Tomorrow morning, you go book a room. When he shows up, instead of Doris, we'll grab him." "And then we cut off his dick, right?" Billy asked eagerly. "No, no, no," I said hastily. "We want to take the high road on this thing. We'll gag him, strip him down, tie him to a chair and leave him. I'll make an anonymous call to the police about a disturbance in Room 101; then you call your buddy at the TV station and tell him you heard that the police are investigating something big at the motel. It'll be all over the news - he'll be the laughing stock of the town. If he keeps his mouth shut, it will still be pretty embarrassing for him 'cause everybody will know he wasn't making a house call. And if he tells them why he went to the motel in the first place, everybody will know about his affair with Doris, and then I'll kick her to the curb!" "Sounds perfect," Billy chimed in eagerly. "I can't wait!" "Just remember one thing, Billy," I added, "when you rent that room, don't use your credit card." "Why not?" Billy asked. I tried not to roll my eyes. "Because you don't really want the police to know you were the one who rented the room where the doc was grabbed," I said impatiently. "Oh, right," Billy said. Mentally I shook my head. Billy was a great guy but he wouldn't be winning the Nobel Prize any time soon. That evening when I got home I acted like nothing was wrong. I even hinted to Doris that I was interested in a little hanky-panky in bed after dinner, but she quickly nixed that idea, just like I'd expected. I didn't know whether Fisher was wearing her out or if she was so hung up on him that she didn't want me to touch her. Either way, I'd be dumping the cheating bitch as soon as I'd had my revenge on her lover. After she'd gone to bed, I found her rolling suitcase, the one she used to wheel around all her drug samples and shit for the doctors. Sure enough, her laptop was inside. When I fired it up I found that her email was password-protected, but I'd anticipated that. Because she was so forgetful, Doris kept her passwords written down on a sheet of paper tucked in her billfold. I pulled it out, keyed in her password and bingo - I was in. I quickly started typing up my little invite to Doctor Love, and I was pretty sure I knew how to word it so he wouldn't be able to resist. But I only got halfway through before I came to a screeching halt. We had a big problem: Billy was going to rent a motel room tomorrow, but I needed to know right now which room to tell the good doctor. "Way to go, dumbass!" I cursed myself. "No Nobel Prize for you either this year!" Quickly I called Billy. When he came on the line, I asked, "Can you talk?" "Sure I can," he replied. "Can't you hear me?" "No, no!" I almost shouted. "I mean, can you talk without Phyllis hearing you?" "Oh," he said. "She's not here; you can go ahead." When I explained my dilemma, Billy said, "That's no problem. Just make an anonymous call to the Doc tomorrow and tell him which room." "Yeah, that'll work," I said sarcastically. "Don't you think he might be a tad suspicious if some man calls to tell him where to meet my wife for a little fuck-and-suck?" "Oh, right," Billy said, and I stifled my groan. Then the answer hit me. "I got it!" I said eagerly. "When you go to the motel tomorrow, rent a room for two days. Then I'll email him tomorrow night and tell the Doc the meeting is set for the next day and which room to go to." "Okay," Billy said, "but what are we gonna do with the room tomorrow?" "We're not going to do anything with it," I said, trying to contain my impatience. "Well, that seems kind of a waste to me," Billy said. "Besides, I don't think my credit card can afford two days." "No credit cards, Billy!" I yelped, and then clapped my hand over my mouth because I didn't want to wake Doris. In a quieter voice I said, "Look, I'll spot you the money if you're short, Billy, but use cash, not your credit card. Don't forget: pay in cash." He agreed and we hung up, but I was beginning to get a bad feeling about the whole thing. Nevertheless, Billy did what I told him and called me back the next day with the room number. "It was no problem, Johnny. The desk clerk hardly even looked at me, and I paid in cash like we discussed. And get this: we got room 101. It's right on the end, so it should be extra quiet down there." "Sounds great, buddy," I told him. "You done good. I'll send out that email tonight, and you get that other stuff we discussed." "What other stuff, Johnny?" I heaved a deep sigh, but managed to keep my temper. "The duct tape and your camera," I reminded him. "I'll bring the surgical gloves and the ski masks for us to wear." "Oh, right," he said. As I hung up the phone, I swore under my breath. "If he says 'oh, right' one more time, I swear I'm gonna scream." Doris went to bed early again, so I was able to send my message to Doctor Fisher without a problem. In the email I promised the guy some hot sex like he'd never had before if he'd just show up at Room 101 at the motel tomorrow at 1:00 p.m. "I'm gonna knock your socks off," I wrote, and that line had me chuckling all night. When the big day arrived, things didn't seem quite so humorous to me. I began to wonder if I was about to do something really stupid. But when I remembered all those lovey-dovey emails between the two cheaters, my anger flared up again. Dr. Fisher deserved all the humiliation he was about to get, and so did Doris, for that matter. I was the faithful husband who'd been wronged; they'd earned what was coming to them. About mid-morning I gave Billy a call on his cellphone to make sure everything was set. He was supposed to come over to the dealership at 12:30 and pretend to be a customer so I could take him for a test drive. That was our cover story and I wanted to make sure everything was still okay. "Where are you, Billy? Are you at home?" I asked him. "Naw, I spent the night in the motel room," he said blithely. "What!" I shouted. "Why did you do that?" "Well, it seemed like a shame to let it sit idle. Besides, Phyllis and me had a fight and I needed to get out of the house." Once again, all I could do was shake my head. Billy's wife was a pretty little nurse who worked at the hospital. Doris knew her because they both worked out at the same gym. From what I could tell, Phyllis seemed like a good woman, but she and Billy always seemed to be fighting about something. Still, I didn't like the idea of him leaving all kinds of evidence around that motel room. I watched CSI and I knew what those investigators could find. "Billy," I said sternly, "I thought we agreed we didn't want to leave any traces in the room." "Oh, right," Billy said, and I bit my tongue so I wouldn't scream. "Listen, Billy, clean up your mess in there, wipe off every surface you touched and then head on over to the dealership. Remember, you need to get here at 12:30 sharp." Despite my misgivings, Billy arrived at the showroom at 12:30 on the dot. I signed out for a demonstrator and we high-tailed it to the motel. When we got there, I handed Billy a pair of surgical gloves and pulled on my own. Then we went into the room. It was a mess like I'd expected. At first I worried that Fisher might show up early, but when did a doctor ever keep an appointment on time? Anyway, with the two of us working together we got things cleaned up as best we could before the Doc showed. Billy and I closed all the blinds and curtains in the room, and then I turned off every light. The last thing I did was to fix the little flip security latch so the door stayed propped open a little. Then we pulled on our ski masks and stepped back around the corner. It was real dark except for the light leaking under the door. As we waited in silence, Billy startled me when he leaned up to whisper in my ear, "It sure is spooky in here." It took all my strength not to strangle him. "Be quiet, Billy" I hissed. "He could be outside right now." "Oh, right." Before I could respond, we heard footsteps coming down the hallway. I shushed Billy and then pointed at the camera in his hand. He nodded, and I hoped that meant he remembered what he was supposed to do. I peeked around the corner. Just then the door swung open and a man walked into the room. "Hey, Doris, where are you, sexy lady?" he called playfully. I nudged Billy to get ready. "Here I am," I said in a whispery voice, and when he turned in our direction, Billy fired off his camera. The flash caught the doctor full in the face, and he yelped as the intense light blinded him. I waited till he stopped rubbing his eyes, and when he lowered his hands I decked him. I'm a pretty good-sized guy and I've been in a few fights so I knew how to handle myself. I guess I put a little extra into that sucker punch because the Doc dropped to the carpet like a stone. I started dancing around, waving my aching fist. "Damn that hurt," I moaned. Fortunately, Billy was all business. He made sure the motel room door was closed and locked, then came back and checked on lover boy. He whistled. "You really caught him, Johnny," he said admiringly. "He's out like a light." "Keep it down," I hissed, "and don't use my name!" "Sorry, Johnny," Billy said. "Come on," I commanded, "help me get his clothes off." We took off our ski masks and then started trying to strip the doctor. You'd be amazed how difficult it is to undress a limp body, but after a lot of tugging and pulling we got the Doc down to his blue-striped boxers. Neither of us wanted to touch his privates so we stopped there. Then we manhandled him into the desk chair and duct-taped him to it. Even though he seemed to be out cold, I wasn't taking any chances on him waking up and yelling, so I taped his mouth as well. "Okay," I said, "we're done here. Let's drop his clothes in the dumpster in the parking lot and then get back to the dealership." "Sure you don't want to cut off the bastard's pecker?" Billy asked, pulling a wicked-looking folding knife out of his pocket. "Put that away, Billy," I said hastily. "We talked about that. All we want to do is humiliate him, not maim him." "Gotcha," Billy said, and put his knife away, to my relief. We gathered up the rest of the doctor's clothes and headed for the door. As we were leaving, I used the metal safety latch to keep the door from closing. "Why'd you do that?" Billy asked. "So the police and the news crew can get into the room easily," I told him. "Oh, right," Billy said. I sighed and we headed out the rear door of the motel. On the way back to the dealership, I tossed the doc's clothes, the gloves and the ski masks in a dumpster. When we got back, Billy climbed in his pick-up truck to leave. I leaned in his window to make sure he remembered what to do next. "I'm going to make an anonymous call to 9-1-1 and report a disturbance at the motel. As soon as you get home, call your buddy at the station. Tell him you just saw the police pull into the motel and it looked like something big was going down." He nodded, and I could only hope he'd get it right. The "test drive" I'd taken with Billy ran only slightly longer than usual, and nobody said anything about it. I heaved a mental sigh of relief. It looked like we'd gotten away with it. The rest of the afternoon seemed to drag on forever, but finally the day ended and I jumped in my car to head to the bar to meet up with Billy. I was so keyed up I felt almost high. The thought of seeing the good doc being marched out of a sleazy motel in his boxers on the ten o'clock news had me almost salivating. The only thing better would be seeing Doris's face while she watched with me! Billy, of course, was already at a table and he had a beer waiting for me. "Well," I demanded eagerly, "did you call your buddy at the station like we discussed?" 'Yup," he said, and took a long pull from his bottle. "Did the news crew get the Doc on tape coming out of the motel?" "Sure did." "Well, what did your friend say? How did Fisher look?" Billy just shook his head. "You couldn't really tell because of the body bag." "Body bag! What body bag?" "The body bag the Doc was in." I stared at him in dismay. "He was dead, Johnny," Billy said. "They had to carry him out in a bag." "How is that possible, Billy? He was fine when we left him, except maybe for that lump on his jaw." "Someone musta come in the room after we left and done him, Johnny. When my buddy called me back to thank me for the tip, he said a maid found the Doc with his throat cut clean as a whistle - there was blood everywhere. It'll be the lead story on the news tonight." Up till now, the only time in my life I'd ever felt woozy was when I took a real hard lick playing football back in high school. But I felt like I might faint now. This had to be the worst thing that could possibly have happened. I took a big swallow of my beer to try to calm myself and stared at Billy. "Do the police know who did it?" I asked. "Nah," Billy said calmly. "My buddy said nobody seen or heard nothing." "Listen, Billy, this is bad, real bad. If this comes back on us, we're in real trouble." "Why?" he asked. "We didn't kill him." "You know that and I know that, but the police don't know it," I said in exasperation. "If they find out we were the ones who tied him up, it's for damn sure they're gonna try to pin the murder on us." "Oh, right." I wanted to reach across the table and strangle him, but I knew this was no time to lose control. "Listen, Billy, we've got to keep absolutely quiet about this. You can't talk to anyone, not Phyllis, not your buddy at the TV news, not anybody. If you do, we could wind up going to prison, understand?" "Sure, Johnny, sure." "Our best hope is that the police find whoever killed him right away. Once they make an arrest, the heat will be off us." "Don't worry, Johnny, I'll keep my lip zipped," he said, making that stupid hand and mouth gesture we learned in the fifth grade. The Slut in Room 101 I thought I might be sick at my stomach. As I left to head home, I could only pray that Billy would keep quiet, but I had my doubts that he could do that for very long. I was sure that if the cops ever took him in for questioning, we were doomed. Why in the hell did I have to try to get payback on that rat-bastard doctor? Why hadn't I just filed for divorce from Doris and let it go? Doris! Omigosh, I had been planning to confront her about her cheating tonight. Well, that was out the window now. I'd just have to go home and act fat, dumb and happy around her. What a pain that was going to be! I hoped I could pretend well enough to fool her. When I got home it was worse than I expected. No sooner had I walked in the door than Doris came running up to me and proceeded to burst into tears. "What is it, honey?" I asked. "What's wrong?" "Oh, Johnny," she sobbed, "it's so horrible! That nice Dr. Fisher, the one I call on all the time, he's been murdered! It's all over the news." "I can't believe it," I said, trying to sound shocked and sympathetic. "What happened?" "They found his body in a motel room," she wailed. "His throat had been cut!" I know I shouldn't have done it, but I couldn't help saying, "They found him in a motel room? Sounds like he must have been meeting someone for a little afternoon delight." "You don't know that!" she snapped at me. "Anyway, you need to get your mind out of the gutter at a time like this." "I'm sorry, honey. I didn't mean to make light of such a terrible tragedy," I said contritely. It really galled me to have to speak nice about the bastard. I didn't want to see him murdered, but I wasn't exactly torn up about the fact. And it really poured salt on my wounds to know the true reason Doris was so upset. The whole evening went on like that. Every time she came into the room Doris was all teary-eyed; when we watched the news she kept her face buried in her handkerchief. It was enough to make me sick, especially when the TV reporter began talking about what a terrible loss his death was to the community. "It wasn't supposed to be this way," I thought. "They should be talking about what a low-down cheating scum he was, not praising him to the skies. It just isn't fair!" Doris went to bed without even eating dinner so I had to make myself a sandwich to avoid starvation. But the truth is I wasn't all that hungry myself. In addition to the strain of having to pretend to be a concerned husband around Doris, I was worried sick about what might happen next. Billy and me had tried to be careful, but what if we'd left some evidence behind? What would I say to the police if they came for me? Who would ever believe that we'd tied Fisher up but hadn't harmed him, except for that little tap on the jaw? After a sleepless night I went to work the next day but there was no relief there. Doctor Fisher had bought cars from us before and his murder was the number one topic of conversation. Everyone had a theory about who had done it and why. I thought about trying to offer some alternate theory in hopes of throwing people off the track, but for the life of me I couldn't come up with anything. Finally I settled for keeping quiet and hoping the whole thing would blow over quickly. When I met up with Billy at the bar that evening, it was obvious that he was eager to see me. "You'll never guess what I learned about the Doc's murder," he greeted me loudly as I walked to his table. "Be quiet, Billy," I hissed at him. "I thought we weren't going to talk about that with anyone." "Sure," he said, "but you've gotta hear this. My buddy at the station learned something the police haven't told anyone yet." Despite my nervousness I couldn't help being curious. "Well, what is it?" He leaned over the table toward me. "When the police found his body, the killer had carved the word 'SLUT' into his chest! They figure it was a revenge killing." Wow, that was a shocker! I sat back and tried to consider the implications. "That's not all," Billy said. "The cops are pretty sure the killer was a man. They don't think a woman woulda been strong enough to knock him out, strip him and wrestle him into a chair. They figure it woulda taken a pretty big guy to do all that." At that last piece of news, my head started swimming. "Oh, Jeez, Billy, I'm in for it now. If they ever connect us with this, I'll probably wind up in the chair!" "But you didn't do it," Billy protested. "Yeah, but how am I gonna prove that? I had the motive, I fit the description and I sure had the opportunity. All they're missing is the murder weapon." "I've been watching those true crime shows on TV," Billy said. "You probably threw the murder weapon away." "Billy, you're not helping here. I didn't do it, remember?" "Oh, right." If I'd been apprehensive the night before, tonight was even worse. Hell, if I looked at all the evidence even I would think I was guilty. The only positive thing happening for me was that tomorrow was my off-day and I didn't have to go listen to all that endless speculation at the showroom about the murder. But that didn't help me sleep any easier. The next day Doris left the house to go to the gym, probably to try to sweat away her sorrow through exercise. I decided to try to block out my worries for a while by doing some yard work. It was a pretty day and the lawn definitely needed mowing, so I stripped down to an old pair of shorts and set to work in the front yard. While I was hacking away at my grass in ever-smaller rectangles, a car pulled up in front of our house and an attractive young woman got out. When she started walking in my direction, I quickly cut the engine on the mower. She seemed to be looking me over carefully as she approached. "Is your wife home?" she asked. "Damn, must be the Avon lady," I thought. "No, sorry," I said to her with a smile, "you just missed her. I'm her husband, Johnny. I'm the only one here." She reached into her bag and pulled out a card. "I'm Detective Monica Ferguson. Would you have her call me when she gets back? I'd like to ask her a few questions about Doctor Morris Fisher." A thrill of fear shot through me. "Why do you want to talk to her about him?" I asked a little too quickly. The detective smiled as she reached out and patted my hand. "Don't be alarmed," she said. "We're just trying to talk to everyone who had contact with Dr. Fisher. His office staff told us that your wife is one of the drug company reps who called on him regularly." "Oh, right," I said. "Shit," I thought, "that sounds just as stupid as when Billy says it." While I was berating myself mentally, she kept looking at me appraisingly, and I wondered if she was flirting with me or evaluating my criminal potential. Finally she asked, "What about you? Did you know Dr. Fisher?" "Sure, I knew him," I said, and then realized what I had said. "I mean, I knew of him through Doris, but I've never uh, actually been introduced to him." She looked at me a moment longer and then said, "Okay, thanks for your cooperation. Don't forget to ask your wife to call me." Then, as she started to leave she paused and added, "See you around." I stared at her as she walked away. "Why in the hell did I say I knew Fisher?" I asked myself. "I wonder if I sounded suspicious. And what did she mean by 'see you around?" Needless to say, any peace and tranquility I'd achieved working in the yard was long gone now. That night the local evening news had an interview with the police chief about the Fisher murder. "We've uncovered important new evidence in the case and hope to make an arrest in the near future," he intoned pompously. My blood pressure attempted to climb Mount Everest. I could hardly wait to get together with Billy and find out if his contact knew anything about this latest development. Even before we were seated at the bar table I began to pepper my friend with questions. "The chief is bluffing," Billy said flatly. "My buddy says they got nothing new, they're just hoping to flush somebody out of cover." "But the CSI guys have had time to go over that motel room with a fine-tooth comb. Maybe they turned up something." "My friend says so many guests stayed in that room and it's been cleaned so many times that there was nothing they could use," Billy said. Then his face got a concerned expression. "You don't look so good, Johnny. You gotta ease up a little - don't let this thing get to you." "That's easy for you to say," I snapped at him, "you didn't have a police detective come to your house yesterday." "Was it a woman named Monica?" he asked. When I nodded in surprise, he went on. "Yeah, the same one was at the hospital fishing around. She even talked to Phyllis. They've got nothing; they're just grasping at straws." When I left the bar I kept thinking about what Billy had said. How could he be so cool when I was going crazy with worry? How could he be so sure that his buddy at the TV station really knew the whole story? Eventually I came to the conclusion that Billy's optimism was in opposite proportion to his IQ. And since I'd sneaked a peek at Billy's IQ score in his file before he flunked out of high school, that thought scared the hell out of me. After another sleepless night and several handfuls of antacids, I knew I had to do something. There was no way I'd last until the police caught the killer, especially since the one they were most likely to catch was me. I figured my only hope to save my neck was to try to find the real killer by myself. The only problem with that plan was that I didn't have the first idea about how to conduct a murder investigation. Sure it looked easy on television but how would I do it in real life? "Think, think!" I urged myself. Okay, I had to assume that whoever killed the doc knew him. It seemed pretty unlikely that a total stranger would wander into a motel room and kill whoever he happened to find taped to a chair. And what about that "SLUT" gashed into Fisher's chest? If that was a random act, I'd eat my hat. So the question was who would want to kill Doctor Fisher besides me? No, wait, I didn't want to kill the Doc, I just wanted to humiliate him. It was somebody else who wanted him dead in a very unpleasant manner, but who? Since I didn't know Fisher, I'd have to talk to somebody who did to get the answer to that question. And the best source I could think of was his wife. Maybe she could suggest who might have had it in for her late husband. Okay, so now all I had to do was figure out a way to get her to talk to me, a complete stranger. I'll admit it: what I did next was really stupid. But I was growing increasingly desperate with every passing minute and I couldn't think of anything else to try. So on my next day off I went to a store and bought myself a toy detective's badge painted gold. It would never stand up to close inspection; all I could hope to do was bluff my way through with it. Besides, I'd seen somebody do something like that in a movie that was "based on actual events," so maybe it would work for me too. Accordingly, I put on a suit and tie and drove over to the late Dr. Fisher's house. It was every bit as impressive as you'd expect for a successful doctor. I sat in the circular driveway for a minute trying to get up the courage to go try to see the doctor's wife. I knew the chances of her talking with me were slim. I knew the chances of my learning anything significant were even slimmer, if I did get to talk with her. But I also knew for sure that I didn't want to go to prison and become Bubba's boyfriend, so finally I walked up and rang her doorbell. The woman who opened the door reminded me of cut flowers that had been in a vase too long. The beauty was still there, but I could see that it was fading fast. The other thing I could see was the highball glass she held in her hand. That wasn't helping her looks either. I held up the badge that I clipped inside my wallet and said, "Good afternoon, Mrs. Fisher, I'm Detective . . ." "Another one?" she interrupted me. "Well, I hope you're the good cop." "Um, what?" I asked. "Isn't that the way you people do this? The woman I talked to the other day was definitely the bad cop, so I hope you're the good cop." "Um, well . . ." I stuttered. "Never mind," she said, "come on in," and she motioned with her drink for me to enter. "Want to join me in a little scotch and soda?" she asked as she led me into her den. "No thanks," I said, "I'm on duty." "Well, there's no sense in it going to waste," she replied and proceeded to mix herself another. Judging from the lurch in her walk, this wasn't her first refill of the day. When she came back and sat down, I flipped open the little pad I'd bought to try to look official. I wished that it didn't have "Hello Kitty" on the cover. "First, Mrs. Fisher, let me extend my sympathies on the tragic loss of your husband . . ." "Yeah, yeah, he's dead. Let's get on with it," she said impatiently. I was so surprised by her attitude that I couldn't help myself. "If you don't mind my saying so, Mrs. Fisher, you don't seem to be mourning his passing very deeply," I ventured. "Mourning? Hell, I'm celebrating," she slurred, taking another swig of her scotch. "My late husband was cheating on me, Detective. As far as I'm concerned, he got what he deserved." I wondered if she knew about Doris, but I decided it wouldn't be very smart to ask. Still I was curious about her attitude. "Well if he cheated on you, why didn't you just divorce him?" I asked. "Couldn't afford to," she said blithely. "I signed a prenuptial agreement when we got married. If I divorced him I'd walk away with nothing more than what I brought into the marriage. No, the truth is, somebody offing the bastard was the best thing that could have happened to me." I blinked in surprise. Wow, if ever anybody wanted to incriminate herself for murder, she sure just did! But if she had done away with her hubby, why would she say something like that, especially to a cop? Maybe she'd had more to drink than I'd thought, or maybe she was innocent and extremely naive. But I didn't want to jump to conclusions so I decided to ask her about other suspects. "Mrs. Fisher, do you know of anyone who might have had a motive for killing your husband?" I inquired. "Oh, sure," she said blithely, "several of them." "Really?" I asked in surprise. "Sure, it could have been any one of the husbands of the wives he screwed," she said nonchalantly. "My late husband just couldn't keep his pants zipped; over the years he cheated on me numerous times. It wouldn't surprise me if a jealous husband decided to get revenge." She gave a bitter little shake of her head. "My Morris was a real slut," she said. I nearly gasped out loud when she said that. Her using the word "slut" didn't sound like a coincidence to me. But although it was suspicious as hell, it still wasn't a confession. Besides, she'd just given me several other possible suspects to check out. This detective game was getting complicated. "Do you know who his lovers were?" I asked somewhat nervously, wondering if she would name Doris. "Not a clue," she said. "After the first time I caught him cheating, I quit caring." Damn, there went that lead. "But didn't you worry that he might fall in love with one of them and dump you?" "Like I said, Morris just couldn't be faithful - to me or anyone else. But I always knew he'd stay with me because he liked the image he projected in the community of a happily married man." I couldn't help feeling a little sorry for her: what a lousy marriage! "What about disease? Weren't you worried about him infecting you or something?" I asked her. She smirked at me. "He was a doctor. Even if he did get something he knew how to cure it. Besides, once I realized what was going on, I quit sleeping with him. I haven't been with a man in a long time." She put her drink down and gave me a long, calculating look. "You know, you're a pretty nice looking guy. How'd you like to end a girl's long drought?" With that she quickly slid off the couch onto her knees, scooted over in front of me and, to my astonishment, began fumbling with my zipper. "No, wait, Mrs. Fisher! I mean, I'd really like to, but I'm a happily married . . ." And then I stopped short. I wasn't a happily married man anymore; in fact I planned not to be married at all very soon. The idea of getting a little revenge on my wife and some post mortem payback on her husband seemed pretty damned appealing. And since I hadn't been laid in quite some time either, suddenly I was horny as hell. I quit resisting. The instant she had my zipper down she reached in my fly and yanked out my cock. Quicker than a robin on a worm she bobbed down and slurped me into her mouth. Wow, that woman knew how to give head! In no time she had me fully erect and she had no hesitation about taking me deep down her throat. Between the action of her tongue and the pressure from her throat, I began groaning and thrusting my hips, heading towards a huge climax. But she slipped me out of her mouth and waggled her finger at me. "No, no, no," she said with a dirty smile on her lips, "I want to get mine too." She yanked at my belt buckle and when it yielded she tugged my pants down my thighs. Then she stood and hiked her skirt up around her waist. The little minx wasn't wearing any panties! As I stared at her legs and hips, I realized that although her bloom might have faded a little, those long stems were still in great shape. And the fragrance coming from her petals had me more than ready to pluck her. "Come on, baby," she cooed at me, "I want that big thing in me now." With that she clambered up on my lap and straddled me. I reached between her legs to caress her, but I only had time to discover she was dripping wet before she pushed my hand out of her way. Almost desperately she grabbed my cock with her fingers to line me up and, once she had me where she needed me, she slid all the way down in a single shove. As she did so, she groaned out loud. "Oh, God, I need this!" she exclaimed, and then began to bounce up and down on me, her fingers digging into my back as she pulled me to her. I felt exactly the same way. It had been a long time for me, way too long, I realized. And this woman knew what she was doing: she rotated her hips, rocked them back and forth, and then resumed her bouncing up and down. For an older gal she sure had plenty of energy. I was in heaven and I knew that I wouldn't be able to hold out very long. Normally I pride myself on my staying power: I like to get my partner off before I let myself go. But it had been so long that I wasn't sure I could hold off. So I reached my hand under her bottom and tickled her other hole with my forefinger. She really seemed to like that because she began to squirm and moan. "Alright," I thought, "if she likes that, let's see what this does." I pushed my finger up inside her and twisted. Instantly she howled like a she-wolf in heat and fiercely pulled my head into her breasts. I kept working my finger and suddenly an exquisite sensation shot through my cock as I felt her pussy clamp down on me. Now I was the one who was howling right along with her, and together the two of us rocketed to a climax that must have rattled the windows. As I slumped against the back of the couch, I hoped that her neighbors hadn't heard us; otherwise, they might be calling the cops to report another murder. After a couple of minutes, Mrs. Fisher leaned back to look at me with grateful eyes. "Oh, baby, that was so good. I didn't realize how much I'd missed it." I looked at her with a mix of curiosity and admiration. "How in the world did you learn to do that thing you did to me inside, you know, with your pussy? That was incredible." The Slut in Room 101 She grinned and winked at me. "I may be a little older than you, sugar, but I haven't forgotten all the tricks I've learned over the years." She reached over and grabbed a couple of cocktail napkins which she handed to me to clean myself up. After she did the same to herself, she got up and mixed herself another drink. "Want one now?" she asked me. "No," I said, "I need to get back ho . . . um, to the station." She looked at me lazily as I pulled up my pants and zipped myself. "That was a lot of fun," she said. "We oughta do that again, uh . . . Hey, what did you say your name was?" I was getting nervous now. "I didn't say," I said as I started for the door. "Oh," she said unconcernedly. "Well, anyway, call me." With that I slipped out the door and hurried to my car. As I drove away, I felt satisfied by the unexpected interlude I'd enjoyed, but my mood quickly darkened as I thought about everything she'd told me before she jumped my bones. If Dr. Fisher really was such a cheater, he very well could have been the victim of a jealous husband other than me. That seemed like a promising avenue to investigate: there might be several guys with a motive. But how in the hell was I going to investigate them when I didn't know who the doc's other lovers were? For that matter, the more potential suspects there were, the harder it was going to be for me to narrow them down. Then I thought about Mrs. Fisher. Although I had found her to be a skilled and enthusiastic lover, I couldn't help wondering if she might also be a cold-blooded killer. If she'd seen the email invitation to her husband to come to the motel, she could have waited until Billy and me left, then sneaked in and gotten her revenge. Doing it that way would have set the two of us up to take the fall while she inherited her husband's property. I had to admit: that would have been pretty slick - if she was indeed the killer. But if she had killed her husband, why would she blurt out her motive to a "detective"? That seemed like a really dumb thing to do. "But what if she's more devious than she seems? What if she deliberately revealed the information about the prenup to throw me off the track?" For that matter, was she really just a horny widow or had she screwed me to distract me? The more I thought about everything, the more my head started to hurt. Thank goodness it was time to meet up with Billy. I needed someone to talk to about all this. Over a cold one I told Billy what I'd learned from Mrs. Fisher. "My problem," I told him, "is that now I have more potential suspects than I know what to do with. How am I ever going to find the real killer?" "Well," Billy opined, "if you did know who it was, I bet you could make a bunch of money." I looked at him in confusion. "What are you talking about, Billy?" "It's simple," he said, "I bet the real killer would pay you almost anything to keep you from telling the police." "That's blackmail, Billy. We've got enough problems on our hands without a blackmail charge." "Oh, right." But instead of getting exasperated with Billy, I started thinking about his suggestion. "Wait a minute," I said, "maybe that's not such a bad idea after all." "Hunh?" "I saw it on a TV show once. All we have to do is get the word out that we know who did the dirty deed and we want some money to keep quiet about it. Then when somebody shows up to make a deal, we've got the real killer!" "Wow!" Billy said, "that's real smart, Johnny." Then his grin faded. "But how are you going to get the word out to the killer when you don't even know who he is?" "I think I know a way," I said smugly. "How did the killer know we were gonna meet up with Dr. Fisher at the motel in the first place? The way I figure it, he - or she," I said, thinking of Mrs. Fisher, "must have seen the fake email I sent from Doris's account. So we just send out another one the same way and see who takes the bait!" "But how's Dr. Fisher gonna get the email, Johnny? He's dead!" I sighed. "I know Dr. Fisher's dead, Billy, but his murderer isn't, and he's the one we want. He'll see the new email the same way he got the old one, and when he shows up, we'll nab him." "You're a genius," Billy complimented me, and this time I had to agree with him. I decided to put my plan in motion right away. On the way home from the bar I stopped by the ATM to pick up some cash. Then I drove to the motel and booked a room for two days. The desk clerk was a bored teenager who was so intent on watching TV he hardly looked at me. On a whim I decided to ask for room 101 again. "That'll put a shiver through the killer when he sees that," I chuckled to myself. The next morning I got up extra early so I could send out my message from Doris's machine before she woke up. I'd spent quite a while composing it the night before, and I was pretty proud of the job I'd done. The Slut in Room 101 Monica smiled at me. "We've had access to the late doctor's email account ever since he was killed. I just happened to glance at his mailbox this morning and noticed that he'd gotten a new email. I wasn't sure what to think when I saw the message, but I definitely wanted to be here to see what was going to happen." I turned to Doris. "Well, I guess my little plan wasn't so dumb after all," I taunted her. She gave me an angry stare but there was nothing she could say. The uniform cop lifted Doris to her feet and began to walk her out to the police car. Monica and I followed along behind, and as we walked, something she said hit me. "If you had access to Dr. Fisher's email account, why didn't you find out about his affair with Doris?" Monica shook her head. "We didn't find out because Dr. Fisher was pretty secretive. Apparently he was in the habit of deleting everything in his mailbox as soon as he read it. Maybe he was worried about his wife finding out." "As if she cared!" I thought to myself, remembering our little encounter. But I kept that to myself - no use muddying the waters, I figured. While the cop was securing Doris in the back seat I started thinking about the future. "So what happens to me now?" I asked Monica. She patted my arm reassuringly and gave me a lopsided grin. "Well, it's up to the District Attorney, of course, but I'd bet he won't even bring charges against you. Dr. Fisher is dead and we know now who really killed him. Under the circumstances, I doubt we could get a conviction on an assault charge against an irate husband." "Well, no matter what," I said, "if it wasn't for you I'd be dead by now back in that motel room. If there's ever a way I can repay you, just let me know." She gave me a long slow look up and down, and then flashed me a big smile. "Once all this is over, maybe I'll have to stop by the dealership where you work and see you. I've been looking for something new, something to inject a little excitement into my life. Maybe you can help me with that." Then she gave me a wink, and I didn't need a Nobel Prize to get what that meant.