Hot Wives Investment Club Ch. 04


The chronological order of my stories is as follows:

Todd & Melina series, Interludes 1-5, Sperm Wars series, Russian Roulette series, Case of the Murdered Lovers series, Case of the Murdered Chessplayer series, The Swap series, Interludes 6-10, The Murdered Football Player Series, Case of the Black Widow series, Teresa’s Christmas Story, The Case of the Black Badge series, A Case of Revenge series, Teresa’s Summer Race, The Trilogy series, Dark Side Of The Force series, Caught In The Act series, Case of the Murdered Bride series, The Credit Card Caper series.

The Hot Wives Investment Club, Ch. 1-4.

Feedback and constructive criticism is very much appreciated, and I encourage feedback for ideas.

This story contains graphic scenes, extreme language, and actions that might be extremely offensive to some people. These scenes, words and actions are used only for the literary purposes of this story. The author does not condone murder, racial or racist language, violence, rape or violence against women, and any depictions of any of these in this story should not be construed as acceptance of the above.


Part 12 – Good and Evil

Monday, November 3d. The alarm woke me up at 5:00am. My wife was lying by my side in our ‘exclusively marital’ bed. Molly was asleep in the guest room, having come over the evening before for dinner. Groggily, I headed to the shower.

After my shower and shave, I went downstairs and to the den to pick up my police notebook. I tripped and almost fell over Laura’s large ‘maternity bag’, which was full of diapers, and would also have formula and blankets and extra clothes for both babies. Fortunately, no damage was done to bag or Police Commander.

This morning is not starting off right, I thought to myself as I headed out to the door and got into my Police SUV. I’m tripping all over things- hmm, maybe that’s a sign, I realized as I thought about the case… maybe there’s a silver lining in this morning’s cloud…

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

At 6:00am I walked into the empty MCD room to find that the coffee was made already and the TVs were on. Someone was eager to get back to work, and I knew who it was.

I found Tanya in the back hallway, looking into the darkened space that was the office next to ADA Jenna Stiles’s.

“Welcome back, Lieutenant Perlman.” I said. “Ready to take charge of MCD?”

“Yes sir!” said Tanya, her face bright with happiness. “But I want to know why Cindy can’t have this office, and me her current office. This office is not meant for Jenna’s assistant Gor-don.” Tanya had a point: Jenna’s punk assistant had been working in that second office more and more, to the point he was practically making it his. I intended to stop that, and soon.

“Cindy’s staying where she is, in the Captain’s office.” I said. “And the office next to hers is going to be the next Captain of Uniformed Officers’s office after Captain Charles retires.”

“Oh, he’s leaving?” Tanya asked, surprised.

“He hasn’t said so yet.” I said. “But once Chief Griswold is gone, I predict he’s going to desire to retire, also. I’ll be surprised if he’s here after February 1st.”

“What about me and Teresa?” Tanya asked. “Our offices are so small, Teresa doesn’t even use hers; she just sits in Vice. I’m thinking of doing the same thing.”

“We’ll see what happens with that.” I said, not letting on that I had plans to take care of my Lieutenants, extracted from the Town & County Council in exchange for supporting precincts. Tanya peered at me, possibly observing the gleam in my eye, but she said nothing further about it.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

“This is Priya Ajmani, KSTD Channel Five-Alive Morning News!” said the beautiful Indian reporterette at 8:00am, November 3d. Bettina’s broadcast the hour before had had no new news, and concentrated on the Elections… still a dead heat in the State Senate race, which depressed me. But the sight of gorgeous Priya wasn’t too bad, I thought as I drank coffee in the MCD room and watched with everyone else. Cindy and Jenna were watching Priya with rapt attention… and it wasn’t because of her news content, if you know what I mean.

“Five-Alive News has learned that one Sean Bailey is being investigated by the Town & County Police in connection with the murder of Trish Donolan.” said Priya. “Bailey is the husband of Margo Bailey, who was a chronic drug abuser and who died of an overdose eighteen months ago. Sources tell Five-Alive News that Sean Bailey believed Trish Donolan was at least partially responsible for his wife Margo’s death, and that he may have acted in revenge. Calls to the Police Department for comment have not been returned.”

“What the fucking hell?” I asked, absolutely shocked. “Who the fuck did she call?”

“Not me.” said Lt. Scott Peterson, coming into the room. “I just checked. She called the Duty Desk at 4:00am and asked for me, then asked them to leave me a message to call her back. Gaziantep Olgun Escort Of course I’m not here at that hour, and I only just now got the message to call her.”

“That’s dirty pool.” I said. “Don’t call her, Scott… call her boss and chew his ass out. Let them know there’s a competing network that just might start getting our exclusive interviews and have exclusive access to our Headquarters Press Room if she doesn’t watch her step.” Peterson nodded and left the room just as the Chief came in the other door.

“What the hell was that story about, Crowbar?” Chief Griswold growled.

“Some bullshit games being played, sir.” I said. “And two can play that particular game. Can we go to your office?” The Chief led the way. Once in his office, I told him what I thought was up, and what I wanted to do about it.

“I agree with your analysis, and you have my fucking permission to do it.” the Chief said. “Move out.”

I went to my office. Just as I sat down, my cellphone rang. I answered it:

“Why, hellooooooooo Bettina!” I said enthusiastically. “You’re not recording this, are you?”

“Hi yourself, handsome.” said Bettina. “No, I’m not. I sure don’t want this recorded: I just heard about Priya’s broadcast on the other station. I just wanted you to know that we were approached with that same story, but we didn’t run it.”

“Why not?” I asked.

“We hadn’t confirmed it with the Police yet, and we think it’s not kosher.” said Bettina. “Want to know who called us with the story?”

“Of course.” I said.

“It was the press relations officer of BigPharmaCorp, speaking on the grounds of anonymity.” Bettina said.

“I see.” I said. “Bettina, I was just about to call you when you called me. Obviously our minds are well connected.”

“I’d rather our bodies be connected.” Bettina said in a flat out invitation.

“Me too, and we’ll make that happen soon. Very soon.” I promised. “But for now, here’s a huge scoop for you, if you’d like KXTC to exclusively film a perp walk.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

“This is Bettina Wurtzburg, KXTC Channel Two News, bringing you exclusive coverage of the arrest of Donovan Donolan by the Town & County Police Department!” The image showed Donolan being led out of his home by Sergeant Thompson and now-Sergeant Rudistan, Donolan’s hands cuffed behind his back, the officers holding his arms in a way that made it hard for him to duck his head.

Bettina’s voice could be heard as the television showed the world the ‘perp walk’ by Donolan: “The Police have arrested Donolan, wealthy CEO of BigPharmaCorp, for suspicion of murder, and also for having police evidence in his personal possession without authorization. A statement from the Police says that Donolan and his wife had a fight the morning of the day she died, and that he is formally a ‘person of interest’ in their ongoing murder investigation. We have no further details at this time, but will bring you more news as soon as we get it…”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

“What the fuck is this about?” said Donolan’s lawyer in Interrogation-1. Donolan had been dragged through booking, his mug shot released to the Media for widespread distribution. BigPharmaCorp had offered no statement to the Press so far, stunned by the events.

“That Sean Bailey story.” said the Chief, who was sitting next to me. Teresa Croyle was sitting in a chair behind us, and Patrolman Morton was keeping watch. I had no clue how many people were behind the one way glass, but I suspected it was a standing-room-only audience.

“What?” said the lawyer. “That wasn’t us.”

“Bull shit.” I said quietly, my even voice belying my underlying anger.


“I said ‘bull shit’.” I replied a bit more loudly and with emphatic clarity, looking Donolan hard in the eyes, ignoring his legal beagle. “Your press department gave that story to the Media.”

“You’ll never prove that.” said Donolan.

“I don’t need to prove it, dipshit.” I said witheringly. “It’s enough that I know. And all this is an eye for an eye. You had your people smear Bailey’s reputation out of sheer, mean-spirited spite, asshole. You’re as mean as your dead wife; you two were perfect for each other.”

“All right, Crowbar,” said the Chief just as the lawyer was about to explode on me. “I think we get the point. But the Police Commander is right, gentlemen. And the charges are real. I suggest you think about explaining those photos.”

“You know damn well he can’t do that.” said the lawyer. “He’s invoked. He can’t say anything, and you know it. You’re trampling on his Constitutional rights with these threats.”

“We’re not trampling on anything.” I said. “Your client may continue to take the Fifth, and I don’t need his protestations of innocence to convince a jury of his peers, such as they are, to convict him of not only the smaller charge… but also the murder charge.”

“Oh Jesus Christ, you don’t have shit.” said the lawyer, his voice barely restraining his anger. “I’ve explained the photos on my client’s behalf. And he let you check the GPS on his vehicle.”

“That just shows where his limousine went, not where he went.” I said. “No proof he was in the limo at the time.”

“For crying out loud,” said the lawyer, “his limo driver will testify.”

“How well do you pay your limo drivers, Mr. Donolan?” I asked, the insinuation clear. “Pretty damn well, last I checked.”

“Can I have a moment to talk with my lawyer, please?” Donolan asked. He was smart enough to have understood where all this was going.

“Sure.” said the Chief. “Come on Crowbar, Croyle. Morton, just outside the other door, if you will.”

“Yes, Chief.” said Morton. He waited until we went into the anteroom, then went out the other door, guarding it.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

“Donovan, if you talk now, you can’t re-invoke.” said the lawyer.

“If I don’t tell them about those photos, I might as well be dead.” said Donolan.

“Donovan, what happened with that Sean Bailey story? Did you do that?” the lawyer asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I think my people took some of my words a little too literally.” said Donolan, not admitting the real truth. He’d been the one to plan the attack on Bailey and have his company’s media relations department give it to the Press.

“Okay,” said the lawyer. “My advice is to keep silent and let us fight them all the way, tooth and nail, to the last ditch. There is no way in hell they can make this stick. Any of it.”

“I hear you.” Donolan said. “But I’m going to waive and talk. That Crowbar bastard made it clear they’re going to lynch me if I don’t. I was warned by some people… some really big People… that if he got pissed off enough, things would go badly. Well, he’s pissed, and things are going badly.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

“Just you, Commander.” said the legal beagle. They’d asked for me to come back into the room alone, which was an affront to Chief Griswold, but he’d acquiesced. Regardless, Senior Patrolman Morton was in the room with me.

“Sorry, gentlemen,” I said, explaining Morton, “it’s Department policy to have at least two of us in the room. That’s for your protection, by the way, since one of our former officers, now an SBI agent, liked to beat the shit out of lawyers.” I was remembering Ikea’s assault on Jeanine Olivet.

“Whatever.” said Donolan. “Listen, I’m waiving my Fifth Amendment rights. I am telling you that those photos had been slipped under the front door the morning of the day Trish died. I confronted her about them, which was the argument we had, and then I put them in the safe and went to work. We had a huge Board meeting that day, so I didn’t have time to work it out further with Trish. And I never got a chance to, I never saw her again.”

I threw up my hands in mock helplessness. “Donolan, you’re not giving me a thing, here.”

“What can I give you?” Donolan said, nearly shouting. “I can’t prove a negative. Look, let me put it this way: this is embarrassing to you that your photos leaked. And how in the hell could I get them? Aren’t they secure?”

“You’re a wealthy man, Mr. Donolan.” I said, not pointing out Donolan’s contradiction in his last two attempts to make points. “One of the most powerful men in the State. You can easily buy things you want, things like those photos.”

“And how am I supposed to have known your Police Force even had those photos?” asked Donolan.

“Money talks.” I said.

“My client is bring up reasonable doubts, Commander.” said the lawyer, groping for something upon which to base a bluff. “Your story is not solid, and won’t be in a jury’s eyes.”

“Harrumph!” I grunted. “Counselor, I know all about ‘beyond a reasonable doubt’, but juries aren’t stupid either. We found the pics in his possession. That’s a hardcore fact, it’s rock solid, and the Chief of Police was there, for cryin’ out loud. You know you have to come up with something strong to counter that solid fact.”

I leaned forward a bit for emphasis as I said “And let me be sure you understand: the photos show your wife banging a black stud. You fought with her about it. That’s not only probable cause… juries have convicted for murder on less than that. Jealousy… oldest motive in the world.”

“Come on, Commander,” said Donolan. “You of all people should know that my wife and I loved each other, and that our marriage was strong enough that we had an open relationship, and you know such strong relationships don’t change on a dime. Think of your own marriage.”

“Oh, if my marriage changed on a dime, I’d be the one that would come over all dead.” I replied, very sure but not worried about it. “But that’s beside the point. Yes, Mr. Donolan, I personally might understand… but district attorneys and juries more than likely won’t.”

“Look, I was in my limo.” Donolan said. “People saw me get in, I’m sure there’s cameras everywhere that showed my route. I didn’t kill my wife, Commander. And the photos: I swear to God they just showed up under the door. Obviously someone wanted me to see them, maybe someone is trying to frame me. Sean Bailey wouldn’t be above that, Commander.”

“Funny how you keep bringing up Mr. Bailey, Donovan.” I said. “Now why is that?” After a pause pregnant with tension, I said “It’s time to come correct with that story, Donolan.”

“What can I say?” said Donolan. “After the man’s wife died, he blamed my wife for her death. His wife was a fucking crack whore, she really was. She went and had sex with other men, died of an overdose, and he wants to blame my wife. He made some ugly accusations, then resigned before I could have him fired. I couldn’t stop him from being hired by Crown, but I sure have stopped him from being hired by anyone else that’s of any quality, including Lightsource Industries.”

“Why?” I asked, just curious. “The man’s wife is dead, he’s distraught and grieving. And here you are, absolutely hell-bent on destroying him, to the point of playing dirty tricks in the Media to attack him. Why?”

“It’s how you get to my position, Commander.” Donolan said. “When someone fucks with you, you don’t just take an eye for an eye; you take out both his eyes and cut off his arms and legs, too. Look at what you’ve just done to me in retaliation for what you think is my press report about Sean Bailey. You know the deal, Commander, that’s why you are where you are.”

I tried hard to keep hold of my temper as I replied. “No, I don’t beat a man down when his wife is dead and he’s near-mad from grief, just for the perverse pleasure of doing it.” I said. “And I’ll tell you something else, Donolan: your wife did deliver Margo Bailey to those pimps when Margo was desperately trying to stay clean. Your wife took her to the clubs where the black drug dealers were, your wife’s buddies, maybe your wife’s black lovers…” I saw Donolan’s eyes grow jet with anger… “and they got Margo jacked up on drugs, then raped before she died of the overdose.”

I continued, whipped to anger, my eyes boring into the furious CEO’s eyes: “Sean Bailey was right about you and your wife, Donolan. He didn’t fuck with you, just the opposite. You keep going after him because you know he was right when he called you out for being the mean, hateful, dirty little man that you are, Donovan. What you’re really trying to destroy… is the exposure of your own evil.”

I stood up. “I’ll tell you this, Donolan… no, I’m not like you… and you’re damned fortunate that I’m not like you. If I was, I’d let you stand trial for your wife’s murder, not worrying about your guilt or innocence. But, lucky for you, I’m more interested in Justice than in destroying someone for the sake of pure menace.”

I walked out of the room and into the anteroom, almost unable to get through the crush of people. I felt pats on my back and whispered ‘way to tell him!’ comments as the crowd moved like a living organism before finally dispersing down the various hallways. It took some time for the cold feeling in my soul, a feeling of being dead to all but Justice, to die down and for me to relax…

Part 13 – The Pursuit of Evidence

Though delayed by the arrest of Donovan Donolan, the Promotions and Medal Ceremonies were conducted in the large auditorium. I had more fun pinning ranks on the promoted individuals than having to stand there as the Chief pinned the Police Star of Gallantry upon my own uniform.

Then, in a surprise, the Mayor walked into the proceedings and presented the Chief with the Police Department Distinguished Service Award, which was only superseded by the Medal of Valor and Police and Fire Crosses. The Chief’s award was something of a lifetime achievement award, and I knew that upon his actual retirement he would also be getting the Public Safety Department’s Distinguished Service Award. That was like the Defense Department’s DSM vs. the Army’s DSM. The Council does indeed like to give awards out like candy, I thought to myself, though happy for the Chief’s well-deserved accolades.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

As the ceremony was ending and people chatting and dispersing, J.R. Barnes came up to me with one of his young technicians. “Commander, can we talk to you for a moment?”

“Sure.” I said. “Let’s go to my office.”

In my office, J.R. introduced his technician, who was a rookie Police Academy graduate named Bobby Patrick. Patrick’s best quality is that he had a degree in Chemistry from the local University.

“Commander,” said Patrick, “Technician Barnes and I were talking about our search of the facility the night of the murder. I examined that janitor closet, and I did take the mop out of the bucket and looked in there. There was no bag in the bucket, sir.”

“I know.” I said. “And I apologize for having to say that you’d missed it. I needed that wrong information poured into the right ears, so that culprits would not try to flee the jurisdiction.” I told them what had likely really happened, and they understood my subterfuge. I swore them to secrecy on it, also.

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