The chronological order of my stories to read is:

Todd & Melina series, Interludes 1-5, Sperm Wars series 1-4, Russian Roulette series 1-2.

Case of the Murdered Lovers

So.... let's see if soap-opera-police-dramas with sex are of interest to Literotica readers...

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

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



Part 18 - ...Hellish Night

"Whaddya got, Perlman?" I asked the cute Detective. Her cheeks were not rosy and she was not smiling. Patrolman Pete Feeley was with her, taking notes.

"The EMTs took Bettina to the hospital 15 minutes ago." Perlman said. "Whoever did this really worked her over. They beat the living shit out of her."

"What time did it happen?" I asked.

"About eleven o'clock, give or take a few minutes." Tanya replied.

"Who called it in?"

"Her cameraman, Scott Turnbull. He'd been tied up, got free and called 9-1-1."

"They didn't take his cell phone?" I asked, surprised.

"Nope, didn't take anything from Wurtzburg or her purse, either. But he did say more." Tanya started, but was interrupted by an overeager Officer Feeley.

"Yeah, he said that--" Feeley started, but Perlman stopped him.

"Shut up and let me talk!" Perlman ordered. Feeley complied, a bit of a hurt look upon his young face as Tanya continued, "Don, I can give you what he said, or let you talk to him yourself to see if the stories line up."

Tanya had just given the young police officer a lesson. I wondered if Feeley had absorbed it; his face looked blank.

"Just give me the bare bones synopsis."

Cameraman Turnbull had said that he and Wurtzburg had come here to talk to an anonymous source, and they'd used this location several times in the past. Several masked men had been hiding among the pallets of goods and had jumped them. Turnbull had been seized, tied up, and thrown to the ground on his stomach with one man sitting on him; the others grabbed Wurtzburg and her source "who he wouldn't name, of course".

They began beating Wurtzburg, then they stripped her, put her on the floor, and took turns raping her. The attackers not raping her at the time would occasionally kick her in the side or legs while shouting at her. The source they were meeting was a man, and another group of masked men carried him several feet away and began raping him in the ass.

"What happened to the source?" I asked. "Oh, never mind, he went here." I was already going to the back door, where I saw the dust was messed up with light footprints. Going out the door, I saw that there was a paved sidewalk that led to the parking lot, and an examination of the area gave no good clues. Officer Feeley had come out with me, and I asked him to examine the sidewalk and parking lot for anything that might be a clue. That would keep him occupied while I conferred with Detective Perlman.

"There's not much in the way of clues." Tanya reported when I came back in. "Some blood where Bettina Wurtzburg was lying; I'm betting that it'll be hers. We'll be wrapping up here soon. We've got another forensics team at the hospital to collect rape evidence."


"Anyone handling that there?" I asked.



"Detective Gayle Tunnin." Tanya replied. "You know her?"

"Barely. She's decent enough?"


"Oh yeah, she's handled a number of rape cases; she's good with the victims. She was a nurse before becoming a cop." Perlman said by way of explanation.

"Well, nothing more to see here. Let's go to the hospital." I said.

-------------------------

We were in the secure ward of the hospital. It was now 3:00am Wednesday morning, about four hours after the attack.

I quietly entered Bettina Wurtzburg's room, where she had been moved to after being examined and evidence collected with the rape kit. It was a brutal sight.

Both of her eyes were blackened, one nearly shut, deep bruises that would only get worse in the next few hours. She had cuts on her face and head, her upper lip was busted and swollen, as was her nose. Her arms and legs and body had mottled deep bruises in many places, and of course her genitals had been damaged by the gang rape she had endured.

But she was lucky. She was alive, and the only bones broken were a couple of ribs. So far, the doctors had found no internal bleeding.

Detective Tunnin was in the room with her, and she looked exasperated. I did not need to be told why. I spoke to Bettina, telling her that I was sorry about this, then asked Detective Tunnin if I could speak to her in the hall.

"She won't say anything!" Tunnin almost shouted in the hallway once the door to the room closed. "She says she can't. She says she's protecting her source and that she can't say anything about anything!"

"Where's her cameraman?" I asked.

"He's in the waiting room, with one of your MCD detectives." Tunnin said, pointing down the hallway.

"First, take a breath." I said. Tunnin and I breathed a few deep breaths together until she was much calmer. "Okay, I'll speak to her and then leave her to you." I continued. "Don't ask about her source, get what you can about her attackers."

Back in Bettina's room, she looked up at me as I came in.

"Don't ask me anything." she said, her voice weak and broken. "I won't talk about my source."

"I'm not going to ask you about your source." I said, trying to keep my voice smooth and comforting. "But I hope you'll talk to Detective Tunnin about your attackers. You sure don't have any obligation to protect them, and talking about them won't oblige you to talk about your source, okay?"

"No, I can't." Wurtzburg said. 



"Just think about it." I said, then took my leave of them. I headed to the breakroom, where Cameraman Turnbull was talking with Detective Hugh Hewitt.

"Dude, I can't talk about it." Turnbull was saying to Hugh as I came in. Scott Turnbull was short, a bit roly-poly in body and face, and sported a goatee, the stereotype of an artsy painter. He always wore a military-style beret, usually a light blue one. I knew that he was a good chess player.

But he was tough, also; he'd been a combat cameraman and had seen plenty of war action while with Hugh Hewitt's unit, and he and Hugh knew each other very well. I suspect Hugh might have leaked to Turnbull a few things here and there, but Hugh was not stupid enough to give away any really important stuff.

"Hello, Scott." I said as Hugh introduced me to the cameraman.

"He says he can't talk about it, he has to protect their source." Hugh informed me.


"I understand." I said. "Scott, I'll tell you this. I am not going to ask you about your source nor try to trick you into talking about the source. I just want to know about Ms. Wurtzburg's attackers, and there's no reason to protect them. From what you've seen tonight, and what condition she's in, I'm sure she and everyone will understand if you give us some help in getting the bastards that did this to her."

Turnbull hesitated, then agreed to talk to me. Under his questioning, I elicited the story:

They had arrived about 11:00pm to meet the source. Turnbull called the source "him" several times, giving away that it was a male. Turnbull said that he wasn't sure how many men total there were, but at least one man was sitting on him and four men were beating, kicking and raping Wurtzburg in front of him.

"Three of them were black, and one was white." Turnbull said, and said he could tell by the color of their asses and cocks as they fucked Bettina, though the wore masks. "The white guy was young, but seemed to be the leader of it. He raped her first. He was calling her all kinds of filthy names, and then while the other guys were raping her he was the one shouting in her ear and telling her to keep her fucking mouth shut and stop reporting on the Olivets."

"Oh, really?" I said. "Thanks for that clue. The white guy, he sounded young, you said?"

"Yes. He wasn't that big, either. I doubt he was more than 21-22 years old."

"Anything else about him?"



"Oh... yeah. He had a tattoo or birthmark on the small of his back. I don't know why, but I really noticed it. It looked like a big "X" with the center missing."

"That's huge." I said. I knew now that my nephew Ned was one of the attackers!

"So it looks like they were telling her to stop the investigation of the Arruzio-Burke murder case?"

Turnbull hesitated, then said "Yeah, that's what the white guy was saying."

"Okay, Scott, once again I am not asking you to name the source or anything, but I need to know: what happened to him?"

"Three other guys took him towards the back, about 15-20 feet away from us. I couldn't see much of it, but two of the guys raped him in the ass. One was black, fairly light skinned, the other white. The white guy had a lot of hair on his ass and legs and the hair was dark. The black guy was taunting him too, saying a lot of things and calling him a lot of homosexual slurs."


"They didn't do anything to you, though?"

"No. Just tied me up and held me down, but didn't do anything else. They pretty much ignored me and focused on the other two."

Once I had elicited all the information that I could get, and had a reasonably clear picture of the crime, it was time to confirm my suspicions with the last questions. I took out my cellphone and brought up a photograph.

"Is this the white guy with the birthmark?" I asked Turnbull, showing him the picture.

"Uh, looks a lot like him." Turnbull replied, surprise in his face. The picture was of my nephew Ned.

"And they didn't take your cellphone or hers, or anything else?"

"No... no, nothing of Bettina's or mine." Turnbull said, trying to conceal the features of his face that revealed he knew something.

"What about the source?"

"Well-- uh, I really can't say." Turnbull said, shakily. I looked quickly at Hugh, then back to Scott: it was time to hit Turnbull with the bombshell question for this case:

"Scott.... they took his gun, didn't they?"

Cameraman Turnbull's eyes widened like saucers as he stammered.

"You don't need to answer. I already know what I need to know. Thanks, Scott. The patrolman in the hallway will stay with you until you're released. Hewitt, come with me."

In the hallway, I filled in Hugh Hewitt. "The source was a cop and they took his gun. I think I know who it is, and this is our big chance to nail this source. But we've got to be careful about it, so don't say anything for now."

"Roger that, sir. How did you know, though? And whose picture did you show him?"

"Pure luck on the source." I replied. "As to the picture, it was my nephew Ned, who is already a very wanted criminal." I said no more about the source, but remembered how I knew: Teresa Croyle had mentioned to Cindy and then to me a piece of information about Bettina Wurtzburg talking guardedly with a certain police officer earlier that morning...

Going back to Bettina Wurtzburg's room, I showed her the picture of Ned. "Is this one of the perps?" Tears filled the redheaded woman's eyes but she said nothing else. She didn't need to.

I told her to get well soon, took Detective Tunnin outside and told her to get an APB on Ned out, and to add this rape case to the considerable list of charges for which he was wanted by law enforcement authorities.

Part 19 - Finding The Source

7:00am, still Wednesday morning, still felt like a Monday. I had had no sleep since being awakened by the one a.m. phone call, but I was running off 5-Hour-Energy drinks and an excitement I had not felt in some time.

The morning newscasts did not have Bettina Wurtzburg as the reporterette, but a very pretty dark-skinned girl, Arabic or Indian, with long, flowing black hair. She and her colleagues reported that Reporter Wurtzburg had been beaten but omitted details that she'd been raped. The other news stations reported only the beating, as well.

Yep, I thought... the Media loves telling every little detail about the rapes of housewives and businesswomen, revealing their names whenever they can get away with it. But when it came to one of their own, they were all about protection and omission of details.

Did I mention that I am NOT a fan of the Press?

The Chief called the meeting to order. "Where's Ikea?" he growled at Malone.

"Called in sick. He sounded god-awful on the phone when I talked to him." Malone replied.

I'll bet, I thought to myself, but it was a day's respite from the Olivets getting hounded and more bad reporting that would accompany Ikea's antics.

"All right, what do we have?" the Chief asked. "Tunnin?"

"Ms. Wurtzburg finally gave a few details of her attackers, which I've put in the report I gave all of you." Gayle Tunnin replied. I had previously told Hugh Hewitt to give the report of Turnbull's eyewitness report.

"So this is related to the Arruzio-Burke murder?" the Chief asked me. "And your nephew is involved?"

"It appears a related but side issue." I said. "This was a hired hit. I suspect my nephew Ned was the one hired to organize the attack."

"Any leads on who ordered the attack?" the chief asked.

"That sure was an interesting reception that we attended last night, wasn't it Chief?" I asked pointedly. He visibly started as if smacked in the face.

"Then we gotta get moving." the Chief said, breathlessly. "What's our next step?"

"I've got to check with contacts to see if there's any progress, and I've got to talk to my MCD team. I'm hoping we can clean the whole thing up by this time tomorrow."

The chief broke up the meeting without answering Captain Malone's questions of what was being withheld from him and his team.

-------------------------------

I went down to my office in the I.T. Department. I first brought in Cindy Ross. This was going to be delicate.

"Cindy, I'm just going to come right out with this: we are looking for a police officer's stolen gun. I need you to reach your LGBT contacts and see if you can get a lead on who the guys who raped the male source last night were. The source was a cop."

Cindy shifted in her chair uncomfortably. This was the first time I'd openly let on that I knew what we all knew, that Cindy Ross was a lesbian. She wasn't even AC/DC, just plain ol' DC. I did not care who she slept with, but she had kept it very quiet around the "Clubhouse", the colloquialism for the Police Force.

"And yes, we'll keep this behind closed doors and most very private." I continued, reassuring her that I was doing what I could to keep this between just us.

"Okay, I'll check." she replied, not bothering to try to deny that I knew what I knew. "But not from inside this building. I may need to take a long lunch."

"Don't blame you a bit. Go now, take all the time you need. And a near-future lunch will be on me, no matter what you turn up. Thanks, Cindy." I said. She took that as a dismissal, but I stopped her.

"One more thing." I said, then quietened my voice. "Would you be willing to go on a, shall we say, 'extracurricular' mission tonight?" That brought out more of a smile.

"You bet." she said, then headed out.

I contacted Myron, Lt. Britt Maxwell, Dr. Laura Fredricson (for her State-level contacts), and even called FDA Agent Fred Dixon directly. None had any information on Johnny Arugula. The City Police had put out an APB for him at midnight, but so far with no results.

But Myron did report one good tidbit: Marie Arruzio's family had owned a cabin on a lake in "Nextdoor County", the county between ours and the City, and that his sources said she was going to have her lawyer put it in the divorce papers for her to retain it. He gave me the address of the cabin.

Later Lt. Maxwell called. "President Wellman just called me. Joe Arruzio left this morning. He said he had to go back to the City to take care of some business, and execute his wife's will and such matters. Wellman couldn't get him to stay."

"Ah shit." I said. "Oh well, nothing we can do about it. Britt, would you call Robin Ventura with the City Police and see if she can get them to keep tabs on Arruzio for us?" Britt said that she would and hung up.

It was just past 9:00am. I called Melina's house and asked if Todd was still there. She said yes, and I said I'd be over there within half an hour to talk to him.

At the house, Todd and Melina were composed. I suspected they had been naked and fucking hotly when I called, and the phone call simply was to give them time to get dressed and composed.

"Todd, I need a favor." I asked. "Last night a reporter was raped and beaten."

"Yeah, I heard something about it on the radio. Raped, too?"

"Yes. What the Press is also not telling you is that the reporter was meeting a source, a male, and he was raped by a couple of guys, also. One of the reporter's attackers was your brother Ned." I reported.

"That slug..." Todd muttered.

"But more importantly: I think the source was a cop, and the perps took his gun. I'd like you to contact anyone at school you know who might have seen someone in the gay community with a gun or bragging about what happened last night."

"Sure, I can get that." Todd said. "I better get going, then." He kissed Melina on the mouth goodbye and was off in a flash.

"I think he is excited about playing detective." Melina said, a sly grin forming on her pretty face.

"By the way," she added, spreading her luscious legs, "you interrupted us when you called. Since I'm still unsatisfied and it's your fault... you got time to cool my fires?"

My wife's look of lust at me fueled my own fires and my cock became instantly iron hard. I got up, unbuckling my pants as I moved towards my wife. She sucked me long enough to orally unroll the condom fully onto my shaft, then lay back on the sofa. We were both clothed, but I hitched up her shirt and let my pants drop to my knees as I mounted her and drove my meat balls-deep into her scalding hot, sopping wet cunt.

I fucked Melina with long, hard thrusts, really concentrating on delivering the raw power of my manhood to the depths of her well-fucked vagina, and also taking special note of how it felt to have sex with this woman. Even after all those years of marriage and all that had gone on between us, it was still something special to copulate with Melina.

Our coupling was deep and wet, and very sensuous as we moved together like the longtime lovers we were. I saw Melina staring up at me as I fucked her, and I wondered if she was thinking and feeling the same things I was...

-------------------------------

By 4:00pm, I had two key pieces of information.

"Looks like Barry Bounel was part of it last night." Cindy reported in my office. Bounel was a campus drug-runner and big-time loser, and I was familiar with him. He was half-black, half-white, fitting the light-skinned black man that Cameraman Turnbull had described. He was often being talked to by the police for possible involvement with drug distribution, and he was known for having gay sex parties in various places around Town. Nothing ever stuck, though, and I wondered why...

Todd's story confirmed the reports. "There's a guy named Bounel, Barry Bounel." he said. "Some guys in the Tenderloin District saw him with a gun last night, and he was bragging that he'd taken it from a cop he'd worked over." The Tenderloin District was the area of town between the southwest bad areas and the southern tip of the University campus. It was the area where the strip clubs and prostitutes were, and I felt no surprise that my nephew Todd was familiar with it.
I immediately contacted Britt Maxwell, who sent two undercover plainclothes University detectives to find Bounel and keep tabs on him. At 8:00pm, we got word he was in his dorm room.

At 9:30pm one of the back rooms of the "Clubhouse" was full of MCD detectives putting on body armor. I had Hugh Hewitt, Cindy Ross and Pete Feeley with us. Patrolmen Morton and Rudistan were going with us to cover the hallway of the dorm. We were going in "sterile", no badges, no ranks. We were essentially invading the University, which was State property and jurisdiction. I had a University badge, but none of the other guys did.

I wore my Tilley hat with just the Airborne wings and my brown trenchcoat over a black jumpsuit, which was a one-piece outfit that allowed for freedom of movement. My "ninja" suit, I called it.

Hugh wore a black trenchcoat and a skull cap. Cindy was wearing her black jumpsuit with no police insignia and a black baseball cap. As we prepared, Teresa Croyle walked in.

"I want to go with you." she said. I led her into the small breakroom nearby.

"Have you said anything to Captain Malone or Ikea about this?"

"No." she said. "Ikea wasn't here all day. I don't trust Captain Malone very much anymore; it scares me when he has me lead drug busts."

"We can fix that later." I said, then leaned over the table, as if to speak confidentially, but also to make sure Teresa understood me clearly. "Teresa, do you understand what we are about to do? Do you understand the reason for this mission?"

"Yes, sir." Teresa said.

"And you're okay with it? Knowing that we are going to go recover a cop's gun, and what the consequences might be for him... and who that cop is?"

"I understand." Teresa said. "You can trust me, Don."

"I do trust you." I said. "And yes, I'm glad you're coming with us. Go get ready."

For the first time I saw the glimmer of a smile on Teresa Cunt's face. And she looked much lovelier for it.

Part 20 - Night of the Iron Crowbar

The police raid on the dorm was swift. After confirming from the University plainclothes that Bounel was still in his dorm room, we bounded up the side stairs to the sixth floor. It was a test of our shape and stamina, and I was pleased to see that everyone passed, even Morton, who was last to come up as our rear-guard, and so could lag behind a little bit.

At the door, I grabbed the handle. It was unlocked, so I didn't need my crowbar... for opening the door, anyway. Four of us, myself, Hugh, Cindy and Teresa, steeled ourselves, then sprang forward as I threw the door open.

"HANDS UP!" I yelled as we stormed the small dorm room. In the middle of the room, Barry Bounel was sitting on a chair, naked, his huge cock standing up hard and wet. Some skinny white boy with a beard was naked and kneeling on the floor in front of Bounel, and it was clear what they had just been doing. Teresa and Cindy had Skinny Beard cuffed and on the bed on the right, while Hugh and I aimed guns at Bounel's head.

"What the fuck is this?" Bounel angrily asked. His hair was cut very close to his head. He was tall and slender and well built and, as mentioned, had an impressively huge cock. I wondered if he'd been admitted to Todd's SEX fraternity.

"Sorry to interrupt your blowjob, Barry." I said. Turning to Cindy, I said, "Take that piece of shit into the hall and question him, then let him get dressed." Cindy and Teresa gathered Beard's clothes and took him naked out into the hall. After a few moments, Feeley took off his cuffs and let him get dressed, then ordered him to get the hell off the floor. A couple of kids looked out their door, and Feeley ordered them back inside.

With Cindy and Teresa back in the room, we handcuffed Bounel's hands behind the chair to immobilize him, having put the chair where he was facing his own side of the room, the left side. Cindy pointedly handed me a bathrobe, with which I covered Bounel from the frontside. I pulled up the other chair in the room and sat next to him.

"I won't waste your time or mine, Barry." I said. "I want the gun."

"I don't know what you're talking about." Bounel replied. "I want a lawyer."

"You're not under arrest, Barry." I admonished with a short laugh. "I have no desire to take you in. Give me what I want, and you're free to go."

Bounel said nothing.

"Listen, faggot," I said, intentionally using the derogatory language to assert authority over Bounel, "I know you raped that cop last night. We've got the semen samples." I said. Of course we didn't, but so what? I thought to myself. Bounel's eyes did not show surprise, but they hardened, as if he was realizing something.

"I got nothin' to say." Bounel said.

"Barry, Barry, Barry." I said, taking the crowbar out of my trenchcoat and lightly tapping Bounel on the knees with it.

"Oh shit." Bounel said, realizing who I was.

"That's right, Boy." I said, intentionally using that word which would be derogatory to a black man. "And I am not going to fool with you. But that's okay... you've already said all you need to, Barry." I added, having seen where his eyes looked when I mentioned the gun. It was under the mattress of his bed.

"Okay, search the drawers, and inside the mattress." I commanded my team. Hugh began searching the desk drawers. Cindy found a slit in the mattress. As she was putting her hand inside, I noticed a smile on Bounel's face. I cried out, but Teresa had noticed faster and was already moving.

"Don't!" we cried out together, with Teresa grabbing Cindy's wrist.

"Wha?" Cindy said, scowling a bit.

"Good job, Tango." I said, using the military radio call for the letter "T", which was Teresa's "name" on this mission. I was "Delta", Cindy was "Charlie", and Hugh was "Hotel". We wanted to give Bounel as little as possible about us.

I put on a heavy leather glove, and moved to the bed. Bounel was scowling this time. I carefully checked inside the mattress and felt an object. I gingerly pulled it out. It was four syringes in a plastic holder, the needles facing towards the opening in the mattress, a booby-trap. There were different colored drugs in the syringes.

"Gotta be careful with this fag." I said. I then explored further and sure enough, the Glock was right behind where the syringes had been. I brought out the gun and sealed it in an evidence bag. I sealed the syringes in another evidence bag.

Hugh found a big bag of cocaine and another set of four syringes in the drawers. Unfortunately he found nothing else, no contact names or anything. But time was growing short and we needed to move out.

"Okay, you bastard." I said. "I ought to to inject you with whatever's in these syringes, to find out what you intended for my associate here." Bounel looked frightened for a second before regaining his composure.

"Here's the deal, fag." I continued. We're going to leave you here. If you try to leave the room for ten minutes, we'll kill you. You know how much this crowbar would hurt if I cracked open your empty skull with it?

"And by the way, Barry: I suspect that word of this incident is going to get around. You're about to be missing a big bag of cocaine worth, I'd say, five-to-ten-thousand on the street. May I suggest that you leave town and never show your face here again. Your continued existence depends on it, because if I don't kill you, somebody else will."

Cindy unhandcuffed Bounel and hit him on the back of the head with the steel cuffs in retaliation for almost getting pricked with a syringe needle. We all quickly left the room, making our way down the hall and back down the stairs. We drove away quickly, stopping only to dump the bag of cocaine into a cistern that led to the river.

"Did we get what we needed?" Cindy asked. I was beaming as I held up the gun in the evidence bag.

"We sure as fuck did."

"One more thing." Cindy said, quietly, her eyes boring into me. "The term 'faggot'?" I knew she was reprimanding me for using that terminology in front of her.

"Sorry 'bout that." I said. "I'll be more circumspect-- the next time we're in a similar situation." Her glare in reply was half disapproving, half understanding the underlying humor of my remark.

Part 21 - Revenge Served, Ice Cold

At 1:00am, I got word from the University plainclothes that Bounel had rapidly left town not long after we left. I told them to stand down and go home, thanking them for their work. I had coffee and chocolate and doughnuts in the MCD room for my team. I sent them home but stayed in my I.T. office all night, guarding my valuable evidence.

------------------------------------

7:00am the next morning, Thursday, brought the quietest news reporting in days. I gave the bagged syringes to Tanya and asked her to have the Crime Lab "unofficially" analyze them. They did so, finding within 24 hours that a couple of the syringes contained cyanide compounds that might have been lethal if injected in any small amount, one contained ricin, a deadly poison in small amounts, and the fourth contained heroin. Now why did a loser like Bounel need heavy stuff like that? I mused to myself as I told Perlman to contact the FBI about the syringes, and to contact me personally about them for more information.

At 8:00 am the Detectives gathered in the Chief's conference room. I also had asked Daniel Allgood of Internal Affairs to join our meeting. An hour before, when the Chief had walked in, I asked him to make sure Detective Steven Ikea attended the 8:00am meeting. Ikea had called in sick again, but the Chief had called and told him to be there if he had to crawl in, and said he'd send patrolmen out to fetch Ikea and haul him in, if necessary.

When Ikea had come in shortly before 8:00am, attempting to use the least-used entrance to the building, he was wearing sunglasses that did not hide the bruises on his face and eyes, and he was walking rather gingerly.

For some reason, there were an abnormal number of uniformed officers walking the hallways, and Ikea's attempts to come in quietly and unobtrusively failed as officer after officer looked at him and rhetorically asked what had happened. When he came in and sat down, he winced as if sitting was painful.

"Okay," said the Chief, pointing at me. "What've you got?"

"I have the source of at least some of the leaks to Bettina Wurtzburg." I said with alacrity. "The source who was there when she was attacked, and who was raped in the ass and his gun taken."

"What the fuck?" Captain Malone said. "What bullshit is this?"

"Oh by the way, Detective Ikea," I said. "How did you get those bruises?"

"I got into a fight in a bar." Ikea said. "And it's none of your business."

"You, Steven? You? Mr. Bible-toter going to a bar, drinking and fighting? Curious. And how--"

"If you have a problem with my Detective, shit head," Captain Malone roared at me, "you come to me with it!"

"Why, I am doing so right now, Captain. You're sitting right here, aren't you?" I said.

"Malone, shut the fuck up." Chief Griswold ordered. "Detective?" There is no way the Chief would've let me continue with this, but I knew his hatred of leaks and leakers far outweighed his desire for professional police decorum between his detectives.

"You seem to have a hard time sitting down, Detective Ikea." I observed. "How's your ass feeling?"

"I don't need to hear this shit." Ikea said, attempting bravado. "Detective Allgood--"

"Ikea, that gun is not your service weapon. Where is your service weapon, Detective?" I asked, interrupting him. The room went dead silent.

"It's at home." Ikea finally said, after a long pause. "I forgot to bring it when the Chief ordered me to come in."

"Then Mr. Ikea," I explained, hardly able to keep from smiling broadly, "if your service weapon is at home, would you please explain how your service weapon is in this evidence bag at the same time?" I said, bringing out the Glock from under the table where I'd been hiding it.

"You son of a bitch!" Malone screamed, getting to his feet and reaching for his own gun to draw it out. "Give me that right now!" He was about to lunge for the bagged gun, but both Hugh Hewitt and I were standing up, with Hugh reaching for his own weapon. I put my hand on his shoulder and brandished... my crowbar. And oh! how I wanted to use it!

"Enough!" the Chief said, his voice not that loud, but carrying the room and causing us all to stand down.

"Totally goddamned unprofessional behavior! Don, give that to Allgood." the Chief instructed, meaning Ikea's bagged gun. I did so. "Malone, you and your boy get the hell out of here. Go back to Vice. We will have a long, long conversation later. Meanwhile, you MCD guys go back to your room. And stay the hell away from each other, or I am going to use that damn crowbar on ALL of you. Get your shit together, people, we're all supposed to be on the same goddamned team!" Ikea and Malone left, their faces beet red with furious anger. This could get ugly fast, I thought.

As MCD left, I saw Allgood hand Ikea's gun to the chief. I suspected that Ikea would get his gun back and this incident "forgotten", at least officially. The Chief was a good man, but he had a lot of political chainsaws to juggle, and I had just exposed and outed a detective with some serious political connections amongst the wealthy churchgoers of the Town. But I was not yet finished.

"One more thing. Come with me!" I said to the guys in MCD, waving for them to follow me. I stepped into the doorway of the Vice room, where Ikea, Malone and Geiger were talking angrily. A large contingent of the Town & County Police Force was in the hallway by now. When the Vice room occupants saw me, they stared. The look in Malone and Ikea's eyes were of unappeasable hatred for me.

"Oh Ikeeeea," I said, remembering that day Ikea had humiliated me in the MCD room. Karma is a bitch, payback is hell, and revenge is a dish best served cold, I remember Melina once saying. "I'm sure you're aware of that Bible verse?"

"What, fuckhead?" Ikea mumbled.

"Oh, what does it say," I said loudly, so that everyone could hear, "I think it goes: A man defiled by another man is forever unclean in the sight of God. Something like that. Yeah, even when your ass stops being sore, Steven, you will forever be unclean in the sight of God!" I turned to walk out. "Have a nice day."

I walked out into the hall to much laughter, leading the way back into the MCD next door. Cindy was walking with me, laughing. I put my arm around her, "How's that for revenge, my friend?" I asked.

"Damn good." she replied. "Damn good." I could tell how relieved she was at my vindication and retaliation against Ikea. Meanwhile, the MCD room filled up quickly, wanting to know details, but I had to clear them.

"All you uniformed guys had better get back to duty before Captain Charles catches you here!" Captain Leslie Charles was the Captain of the Uniformed Officers.

"Too late!" the man himself said, his deep voice booming as he came in the back door to MCD, the door near my desk. "Officers, get back to work." The room cleared quickly, officers chortling and telling the story as they went back to their stations and jobs.

Captain Charles looked at me balefully for a second, but as he turned to leave he gave me a huge smile. It was the first smile I'd ever seen from him, and it was shocking in the merriment it showed. The taciturn Captain Charles had loved the spectacle.

"Is there really a Bible verse like that?" Cindy asked after the room had cleared.

"No, not that I know of." I said, grinning, then leaned forward. "But I'll bet that fucker will be up all night looking for it." Everyone started laughing again.

Part 22 - The Saga Continues

If I thought that Ikea would lay low and keep out of the way, I was mistaken. I had hardly had time to digest lunch, which I had treated my MCD team to, when word came out that Timothy and Jeanine Olivet had been arrested upon returning to their home. Unfortunately the arresting patrolmen were loyal to Ikea, and he was waiting for them. The Olivets were separated and brought into separate interrogation rooms.

"We know that you are Jack Burke's brother, Timmy." Steven Ikea thundered as he interrogated Tim Olivet. It appeared that he had been doing some homework. In truth, Lainie Evans in I.T. had found out and told him before Myron had had a chance to tell me. "We know you're Michael and Eleanor Burke's son. We know you've been living under another name and hiding for years. Why have you been hiding, creep?"

"So what, asshole?" Olivet said firing back at Ikea.

"I'll tell you so what, moron." Ikea growled. "I think your brother came to town and began having an affair with your wife. I think you killed your brother when you had the chance. It's only a matter of time before we get the proof and put you away for life. Maybe even the syringe, mo-ron." Ikea threatened, meaning the death penalty.

"I didn't even know he was in town until I heard about his death on TV." Olivet said hotly.

"Yeah right. Your brother was fucking your wife, your brother recorded himself fucking your wife, and you killed your brother in revenge and to silence him!" Ikea shouted.

"Prove it, asshole."

Ikea began berating Tim Olivet, basically continuing to accuse him of the murder of Jack Burke and Marie Arruzio. Finally, Teresa Cunt stepped in.

"Steven, take a break. I'll talk to the guy." Ikea glared at her, but left the room.

"Okay, Tim." Teresa said. "He's off the handle. Why don't you tell me what happened?"

"I told you... I didn't even know Jack was in town until I heard he'd been murdered." Tim replied.

"So why did you leave town when you heard the news?" Teresa asked. "And why did you change your name and stay hidden all these years? Even if you're innocent, we need to know why."

"We were hiding from my brother and my parents." Tim said. "We didn't want them, especially my father, finding us." Tim then began telling his story of his past family life and problems with his family.

Author's note: For the many exciting sexual details of this story, please read "Big Brother In Every Way" when it is published, if it hasn't already been.

As he finished, Olivet said, "When we heard that Jack had been murdered here in Town, Jeanine and I decided to leave town in case someone would connect us to Jack, and then my parents would know who and where we were. But like I said, I didn't know Jack was here, I didn't know he was recently having sex with my wife."

-----------------------------

Steven Ikea was boiling. His body was still in pain from the attack he'd endured less than 48 hours before, that bastard Detective Don had humiliated him in front of virtually the entire Police Force and also had somehow recovered his gun, and he now had the Olivets in custody and they were clamming up.

He went into Jeanine Olivet's interrogation room. "All right, Mrs. Olivet. Why did you and your husband run away after finding out your lover Jack Burke had been murdered?"

"I want to see my husband." Jeanine Olivet replied. She was a beautiful woman, with very dark brown, almost black hair that she wore straight down almost to her waist. Her dress clung to and showed off her slender, perfectly shaped body, and her legs were dynamite. To say Tim Olivet had "outpunted his coverage" was an understatement.

"Not until I decide you can see him." Ikea said. "Now answer the question... why did you run away? And why were you hiding under assumed names for all these years?"

"I want a lawyer." Jeanine Olivet replied. "I will answer no questions without a lawyer present."

"You'll get a lawyer when I say you can have one." Ikea said menacingly. He began to browbeat the beautiful woman. "We know that you were having a sexual affair with Jack Burke, your husband's brother. How long were you fucking your brother in law, Mrs. Olivet?"
"I want a lawyer." Jeanine Olivet replied, her beautiful eyes blazing with hatred for Ikea.

"You killed Jack Burke, didn't you. Why? To keep your husband from finding out you were screwing his brother behind his back?"

"You're full of shit." Mrs. Olivet replied.

"Answer my questions, bitch!" Ikea roared, his face red with furious anger. "We know you were sleeping with your brother in law. Did you kill him, or your husband? Why did you kill Jack Burke, Mrs. Olivet? Tell me why you murdered your lover!"

"You go straight to hell! I want a lawyer, NOW!" Jeanine Olivet fired back, worn to anger herself.

"Listen, you bitch, I'm going to get the evidence and you and your husband are going to prison. For life. For LIFE, bitch!" Ikea leaned over her menacingly

Jeanine Olivet spat in Ikea's face, hitting him in the eye. I moved quickly, but only got there as Ikea hit Jeanine with a hard backhanded slap, knocking her to the floor.




"You fucking bitch." Ikea growled, moving in on her. "That's an assault on a police officer, and I'm taking off the gloves. You better confess or I'm going to beat the shit out of you, and I'll get away with it, too."

But he didn't get the chance. Like lightning I was in the room. I grabbed Ikea by the collar and pulled him out into the anteroom. Slamming Ikea against the wall, I punched my fist hard into his already-bruised face, then drove my knee as hard as I could into his balls. I moved in on Ikea as he collapsed, but just then the Chief walked in, followed by the young blonde officer, Patrolman Inga.

"That's enough, Crowbar." the Chief said to me, stopping me from doing what I really wanted to do, which was to finish off Ikea-- permanently.

Chief Griswold sent Patrolman Inga into the interrogation room to help Jeanine Olivet. He then turned to Croyle and Ross, who were standing behind me. "What happened here." Ross told him what had happened, that Ikea had hit Mrs. Olivet and threatened her, and I'd stepped in. Teresa just nodded when the Chief looked at her.

"This bastard assaulted me." Ikea said, getting slowly to his feet. "Arrest him! Tell them, Croyle!" But Teresa would not lie for him.

"Shut the fuck up, Ikea. You assaulted a witness." the Chief said, his face nearly purple. All this was killing him, I realized, and I had contributed to it with this morning's humiliation of Ikea.

The Chief continued, loudly, "Besides, I don't see any marks. Your face is already fucked up, so there's no evidence. And nobody saw anything. Why is anyone even in this area?" Officers took the hint; the hallway was clear within seconds.

"I'm getting tired of your shit, Ikea. You're on notice. You," the chief said, pointing at me, "come with me now."

"Detective," the Chief said, following me as I exited the anteroom, "you better get this case solved quickly. I can't cover for you, not after today." I gasped in surprise, looking at the Chief, but he continued, "Look, I know you were right to defend Mrs. Olivet, but it's starting to get ugly. Captain Malone outranks you and he has friends-- shit, we'll discuss all that later, but for now get the case solved, pronto!"

"You're right, we can't wait." I said. "We can't let Ikea arrest or harass anyone else. We've got to arrest the killer now, no matter what."

"Who? Who is it?" the Chief asked.

"Joe Arruzio, of course."

"WHAT? Doesn't he have an alibi?"

"I'll explain on the phone on the way!" I replied as I rushed down the hallway to MCD to gather the team.

Just then Lt. Britt Maxwell of the University Police rushed down the hall to meet us. Her words totally shocked me.

"I've just heard from the City Police. Joe Arruzio is dead!"

To be continued...

Dear Readers, you have now seen all the clues. Can you deduce who the killer is, and what really happened?