Bang, You're Dead

"You need some help? Anything I can do?" Bob asked.

"I appreciate that. I'm not sure just yet. I have a few more people I want to talk to down there. I'm going to take off after breakfast so I won't be in the office at all."

"Okay, Troy. Be sure and let Angie know and if there's anything I can do, let me know."

"Will do," Troy gratefully acknowledged. "Did you hear that Jimmy finally got pictures of Bracken with his girlfriend? Do we have everything from Benedict yet? Mrs. Bracken is going to be one happy camper when we can tell her we found another six million bucks that we can tie to her hubby. I wonder how much of that she'll actually get though once the Feds get done with it?"

"I doubt she'll get any of it. I'm sure the Feds will impound it all. It should help her with her settlement of his legal assets though. With him in federal prison she just might get everything. Benedict is bringing all the paperwork over this afternoon. As soon as we have it I'll total everything up and give it to Angie so she can make up the report and Mrs. Bracken's bill. It should be whopper," Bob chuckled.

"Okay, good. Wish me luck for tomorrow. I'm going to need it. If I can't dig up something more for Andrea I'm afraid I'll be out of leads. I really hate to tell her we couldn't find her father for the second time."

"You found her mother," Bob reminded him.

"Yeah, but she's dead. I'd really like to find at least one of her relatives that're alive. Oh well," he said despondently, "I've got to go. I'll see you later."

About an hour after Troy left his office, Bob heard his cell phone ringing. He was reaching for his jacket pocket when he realized it was his burner phone. He opened the drawer and answered. "Hi."

"Hi, Robert. I was surprised to see your text but I wanted to talk to you anyway so I'm glad you said to call. I really didn't want to say what I have to say with a text."

"Morgan," he said, interrupting her, "I'm afraid I've got some bad news. Troy, my partner, knows about us."

"What," she screamed into the phone. "Oh my God..."

"Easy, easy, he's not going to say anything but he made me promise to stop seeing you."

Morgan's heart was in her throat. "Are you sure? Does he know who I am?"

"Yes, he knows who you are and yes, I'm sure he won't say anything as long as we call things off." He could hear her sigh in relief on the other end. "Listen, I have an idea. Let's do it right...one more time with three hours of no holds barred, wild monkey sex and I'll bring the Champaign. What do you say?"

"Robert, that sounds fantastic but no, I can't. The reason I wanted to talk to you was to say we couldn't see each other anymore. I just can't. I can't take any more chances."

"Morgan, look, this would be the last time. Troy is going out of town tomorrow. He'll be gone the whole day. It's our last chance. Hell, we've been successful at keeping our fun a secret for over two years; we can do it one more time. Come on, let's go out with a bang."

The little voice in her head kept saying, "just say no, just say no," but the tingling between her legs was saying, "Just once more...for old time sake."

"Okay, Robert, one last time-but that's it then, never again. I mean it, Robert."

"Agreed," he replied. "I'll get it all set up and text you the info in the morning. See you tomorrow, gorgeous."

And with that he hung up. Morgan sat with the phone in her hand for a while wondering why she'd agreed when she had already made up her mind to never see him again. She looked forward to the day when she would no longer have to put up with her conflicted feelings. It was terrible to be so weak. She knew it was wrong but couldn't stop herself. When this was all over she needed a way of strengthening her resolve. She needed to take some classes or something to make sure this never happened again; there could never be another Robert...NEVER!

Those conflicted feelings followed her through the night and right up until it was time to leave the next morning. She almost backed out at the last minute but Robert had already paid for the room; at least that was the excuse she told herself.

As guilty as she was feeling when she reached for the motel door, she had to smile when she entered. There was Robert standing in all his glory; strong, confident, handsome. He had a bottle of Champaign in his right hand and extended his left with a flute of the bubbly he'd just poured.

The drapes were tightly pulled shut to darken the room but the half-dozen flickering candles scattered around illuminated it with a warm, romantic glow.

"Wow, when you said we were going to do it up right you weren't kidding were you," Morgan said with a smile. She stepped closer and took the wine glass from his hand. "Thank you," she said in her sexiest Scarlett Johansson voice.

Robert said nothing as he picked up another glass from the table and poured some Champaign for himself. He lifted his glass and clinked it lightly against hers. "Here's to the last two years of the best sex I've ever had," he toasted. "I hate to see it end."

"I have to second that, Robert. It's been fun that's for sure."

They looked into each other's eyes as they each took a sip of the expensive wine. Robert laid his glass on the table and reached up to start unbuttoning Morgan's blouse. Slowly he exposed the softness of her breasts. He slipped the fabric over her shoulders and let it fall to the floor as he took her in his arms for a kiss.

Moments later they both fell naked on the bed. She let out a gasp as her lover immediately moved to moist pussy. He was a master tongue manipulator and had his beautiful paramour screaming in ecstasy in minutes.

Waiting not quite long enough for her to recover, Robert grabbed her under the knees and pulled her into position for his steel-like appendage to enter her.

"Oh, God," she yelled as she felt the force with which he took her. She felt so dirty, so slutty, so fulfilled.

Robert continued to pound her until she grabbed the sheets and held on through her second major orgasm and then another, finally blowing his own load at the same time.

For the first time since starting their little fling, Robert put his arm around Morgan as she cuddled into his body while taking a rest. It was usually a time for pillow talk but this time they simply enjoyed the feeling of each other, knowing it would be the last time.

Knowing Robert's recuperative powers, Morgan slid down to his awaiting love tool and began bringing it back to life for their second go-around. They would have a third after that and not give up until they both had nothing left to give.

One more look, he couldn't help it. Bob turned from the door and walked back into the room. He leaned against a door jam and let out a doleful sigh.

Morgan sat in front of the mirror dressed only in her panties. Her beautiful breasts bounced as she brushed her hair. She looked up at him. "This is really it, isn't it."

"Yep."

She laid her brush on motel's small dressing table. Her eyes glistened with a hint of sadness. "I'm going to miss this."

"Me too," he confirmed. "Well," he said with another small sigh, "I guess I'd better go. I told my secretary I'd be at the library all morning and believe it or not I do have to get down there before I go back into the office."

"Really? With everything on the internet these days you still go to the library?"

"Believe or not, not everything is always on the net," he said with a chuckle. "When you get back to the mall just drop the car keys and everything else, including your phone, in the trunk of my car and lock it up. I'll take care of getting rid of it."

"Okay."

They looked at each other, neither one wanting to break the stare. It was finally Morgan who ended it. "You'd better go, Robert."

"Yeah," he said, pushing himself from the door jam. "You take care of yourself, Morgan."

"You too, Robert." She watched him until he left the room and closed the door behind him, ending their two year affair. How long would it take her to truly get over him, she wondered; worse yet, how long to get over the guilt. One thing was for sure, she still had those conflicted emotions. Both sadness and relief shared her state of mind.

***

It was a little after two o'clock in the afternoon by the time Bob got back. From the hallway as he neared his office he thought he heard some commotion coming from inside. He hurried in to find two men in suits consoling Angie as she sat at her desk heavily crying.

They all froze when Bob rushed in. His first thought was that something had happened to Tom, her husband. "Angie, what is it? What happened?"

"Oh, Bob," he voice was so strained she was hard to understand, "Troy is dead. They...they say he shot himself."

"What? No, that's not right." He looked at the two men in suits. "Who are you guys?"

"I'm detective Mosinski with the Chicago police department...and you are..."

"Bob Sanders, I'm Troy's business partner." He looked at the other man who introduced himself with an outstretched hand.

"I'm Sergeant Lafferty, Mr. Sanders."

"I'm pleased to meet you, gentlemen, but I think you've made a mistake. Troy's in Indiana today and he'd never shoot himself. What's your victim's last name?"

"Englander," volunteered the detective.

"Well that's Troy's last name but I'm sure there's more than one. Angie, did you try to call him?"

Angie was still crying so hard she could barely answer. She shook her head with a weak, "No."

He looked at her. She was in no condition to do anything. "Here," he said, taking his own phone out of his suit coat. "Let me give him a call." Bob hit the speed dial but no one answered. "Well, he's not answering but that doesn't mean he's dead."

"Mr. Sanders, we found this in his wallet." Sergeant Lafferty showed Bob, Troy's private detective license.

Bob suddenly felt weak and had to sit down. He looked up at the plain clothes man and shook his in disbelief. "It...it can't be. He's supposed to be in Indiana. Where did this happen...when?"

"He was found in his car in an alley not far from his apartment," explained the detective. "We found someone who said they heard what they thought was a backfire a little after nine-thirty this morning. We'll know more after the coroner's report but we think that was the time of death."

"This doesn't make sense. Troy would never shoot himself. It's not possible. If it's really Troy then someone else shot him. I'm telling you, he'd never commit suicide."

"Well, suicide is only a guess based on what we found at the scene, Mr. Sanders. He was alone in the car with a Glock nine millimeter on the floor. He had one fatal wound to the right temple," stated the Sergeant.

"I don't care," Bob said, shaking his head. "I'm telling you, this was murder. Troy would never kill himself."

"Can you think of anyone who wanted him dead? Was he working on anything that might have gotten him killed?" asked the detective.

"Ah," Bob had to think, "I'm...I'm not...well, we've both been working on a case that involves some big bucks. It started out as simple divorce case but we found evidence that the husband was laundering money for someone. The guy's name is Bracken—Roger Bracken. That would be a good place to start."

"Okay, Mr. Sanders, but as of this minute we're ruling it a suicide unless we get evidence to the contrary. You will be available though in case we need to ask more questions?"

"Yes, Sergeant, I'm not going anywhere. Here," he said pulling out a business card. "Here's the office number. I'll put my cell on the back." I'm telling you though, you're wrong. He was helping out a young lady who was adopted and only recently found out. He was adamant about helping her find her real father and was doing it pro-bono. He would not have wanted to let her down, Sergeant, I know him."

"Well, we'll let you know if we come up with anything more, Mr. Sanders." Bob stood while they all shook hands. As they left he thought of something else—Jimmy. He had been working on Bracken's case as well. If it was Bracken he could be in danger as well. He pulled out his phone again and dialed him.

"Hi, Bob, what's up?"

"Hi, Jimmy, where are you?" he asked with a small sigh of relief.

"I'm at city hall. What do you need?"

"Ah, I need you to come into the office right away."

"Okay, as soon as I'm done here..."

"No, Jimmy, now; I need you in here right away."

Jimmy thought he heard fear in Bob's voice; something he'd never heard before. "Okay, Bob. I'm on my way."

Bob disconnected and walked around to the other side of Angie's desk. He put his arm around her. She was almost out of tears as she laid her head into her boss' chest and sobbed. "Oh, Bob, how could this happen?"

"I don't know, Ang, but I'm going to find out. Right now we need to get you home."

"But...but..."

"No buts, Angie. I want you to call Tom and see if he can get off work early and meet you at the house. You shouldn't be alone."

She nodded her head and made the call. As soon as her husband heard what happened he told his boss he had a family emergency and took off. Bob wouldn't let her drive in her condition and called for a taxi to take her home.

A little while after she left, Jimmy walked in. Bob said nothing about suicide; he told a shaken Jimmy that Troy had been murdered. He explained his suspicions about Bracken and told the young man to be very careful.

After Jimmy left, Bob's feelings caught up to him. He slumped into his chair. If their time estimate was correct, his partner was being murdered about the same time he was eating Morgan's pussy. Of course he had no way of knowing Troy was in trouble but just the thought made him sick to his stomach.

He thought about going to Plato's, his favorite bar, and getting drunk but he had no way of knowing if he was on someone's hit list as well. He needed to keep a clear head just in case.

He wasn't looking forward to going home. His whole family knew and loved Troy. They all stuck by him during his divorce. Many times he slept on their couch, played with the kids, and ate dinner with them during those difficult months.

Later that night, after dinner, he gathered everyone in the living room for a family meeting. He did everything he could to try and soften the blow but it didn't help. Everyone broke out in tears. It was a rough night.

By the following morning Sergeant Lafferty was in agreement with Bob, there was now no question that Troy Englander had been murdered.

Detective Mosinski smelled blood and was anxious to proceed. "We going to bring him in?"

"Yeah, but first I want to talk to the secretary," replied the sergeant. "Do we have her home address?"

"Yeah, right here."

Half an hour later the two Chicago plain clothes detectives knocked on the door of Angela and Tom Kennedy. After introducing themselves and explaining they had a few more questions, Tom let them in. He offered the two men coffee but they got right down to business.

"Mrs. Kennedy, we just have a few additional questions we're hoping you can help us with," the sergeant stated.

"Sure," Angie innocently agreed, "anything I can do to help."

"We noticed a gash on the side of Mr. Englander's face. Do you know how that happened?"

"Oh yeah but it had nothing to do with his death. It was an accident. Bob and Troy got into an argument the other night. Bob was waving his hands in the air and accidently hit Troy with his ring."

"I see," acknowledged the sergeant. "Did they fight often?"

"No; hardly ever. Why are you asking questions about Bob and Troy? What does this have to do with Troy's death?"

"Just routine, ma'am."

"The hell it is. I've been working for a private detective agency for ten years. I'm not stupid. Are you looking at Bob for this? Because if you are you're way off base," she emphatically declared.

"Honest, Mrs. Kennedy, we're not looking at anyone yet. We're just trying to clean up some ends. Do you know of Mr. Sander's whereabouts between nine and eleven yesterday morning?"

"Yes," she angrily answered. "He was at the library. Now if you'll excuse me I'm not in the mood to answer any more questions."

"Of course; we appreciate you taking the time to talk with us," said sergeant Lafferty as they rose from their chairs and were shown to the door.

"Call Sander's cell number and tell him to meet us at the station in an hour," Lafferty told his partner on the way to their car.

Bob was already there waiting for them when they walked in. "Did you find out it wasn't suicide?"

"Yes, Mr. Sanders; no doubt about it, your partner was murdered. Let's talk in here," said detective Mosinski as he led Bob into another room.

It didn't take Bob's experience on the force to recognize an interrogation room. They all sat across a wooden table from each other. The sergeant took the lead.

"Mr. Sanders, you were right, there was no GSR on your partner's hand so he couldn't have fired the gun."

Bob remained emotionless. They weren't telling him anything he didn't know already. He knew damn well it wasn't suicide.

"We also found some things that have us a little puzzled. Maybe you can help us out."

"Sure, if I can."

"Can you tell us how your fingerprints happened to be the gun that killed him?"

"My fingerprints!" He thought for a moment before it hit him. "Yeah, we went to the range a few days ago. I've never shot a Glock so I asked him to switch. He went through a clip with my Beretta and I shot his Glock. I can't believe he didn't clean it after that but knowing Troy I guess I shouldn't be surprised. He probably reloaded, stuck it back in his holster and that's where it stayed."

"I see. Mr. Sander's did you have a fight with Mr. Englander a few nights ago?"

"No," answered Bob.

"So if we held you here long enough to get a warrant to test that ring for Englander's DNA we would be wasting our time?"

That caught Bob by surprise. He had no idea how they knew he hit Troy with his ring. "It wasn't a fight. We had an argument and I accidently hit Troy with the back of my hand. I can't believe you're looking at me for this? That's ridiculous."

"Where were you yesterday morning between nine and eleven, Mr. Sanders?"

He had to quickly think. "Ah...I was at the library doing some research for a couple cases."

"The main library down town or a branch?"

"The north town branch on California."

"That's a pretty big place, Mr. Sanders. Do you know if anyone saw you?"

"I don't know. There were a couple women behind the counter but I doubt they'll remember me."

"Ah-huh. We found something else in the victim's coat pocket, a CF card from his camera." Sergeant Lafferty took some photos from a file folder and slid them across the table to their unsuspecting suspect. "I'm going to go out on a limb here and guess that's NOT Mrs. Sanders," he said.

Bob couldn't believe it. He was staring at the pictures Troy took of him and Morgan. "These have nothing to do with Troy's death."

"Really? Because I think these are what the fight was about. Was he blackmailing you?"

"What? No!"

"Maybe he was going to tell your wife..." interjected detective Mosinski.

"Am I under arrest because if I'm not I'm leaving. If you have any more questions you can ask my attorney," Bob angrily announced.

"You're not under arrest at this time, Mr. Sanders, but don't leave town. We may have some more questions if we can't confirm your alibi."

Bob was visibly shaken as he left the station. Jesus, he thought, what a fucked up mess. They were trying to build a case against him and they were doing a pretty good job. He knew damn well his alibi wasn't going to hold up; his prints on the gun, the fight, the pictures...shit, they had a pretty good circumstantial case.

Absentmindedly, Bob drove back to his empty office. He needed to think. They really surprised him by knowing about the fight. He wondered what else they knew and might not have divulged. Did they have Morgan's name and address? He looked at his watch. It was only a little after eleven. He was on the fence as to whether he should call her or not. He didn't want to worry her but he thought he should forewarn her just in case. Then he had a terrible thought.