Death At The Happy Ending

Karla was was a devoted cop from a long line of family members in the force. She had plenty of experience on the beat, having held several municipal appointments in cities across the mid west. Karla still worked in uniform, but she might as well have held the rank of detective. Every case she was assigned, she managed to solve. And when she came across a new crime scene, she knew just what to do, who to talk to, what to look out for.

But there was something strange about this case. It didn't quite add up and Karla was about to experience the mystery first hand.

Karla had been cruising with her partner Officer Jones when the call came in. The man drove, even though Karla was the senior of the partnership. Young, dumb and full of cum - that's how Karla characterised her offsider. He was dark skinned and good looking with an attractive body, but he had plenty of ego and he was too impulsive.

Mind you, Karla could hold her own. She had retained an athletic form through life, and it complemented her intense hazel eyes and straight brunette hair. She could dress to the nines, but at work she dressed purely for business with hair in a tight ponytail beneath a police-issued cap and no hint of makeup.

The police car pulled up to the front gate, and the two officers looked ahead to the facility. A large sign spanned the entryway, and Jones read it aloud, turning to Karla for a response. "Happy Ending Retirement Village. Do they really know what that means?"

"It's a strange one, Admiral," replied Karla. "Maybe its an Asian thing." It was true that there had been an influx of Chinese capital into projects like this throughout the town. Whether they were perpetratorss or victims, the Asians always seemed to have a funny way of using the English language. "You know - how they sometimes say things."

Jones nodded in reply, but whispered, "Can you just call me Ad?"

"Sure thing, Admiral!" Karla ribbed using his full name, and then wiped the smirk from her face, apologising. "Sorry Jones."

Jones shook his head and proceeded to park the cruiser in the circular driveway. A tall middle aged gentleman in a suit met them at the doorway to reception and began to explain the situation in a flustered way.

"Hi, I'm Trevor Brownlow, the manager here. We don't know what's happened. He was found this morning. But everyone else is accounted for. The schedule - the workers - we haven't looked everywhere but we think -," he fumbled his words.

"Thanks Mr Brownlow," explained Karla. "I'm Officer McDaw and this is Officer Jones. Please lead us to the scene and we'll take over the investigation from there."

"Yes, yes, of course," replied Brownlow, leading the officers through reception, along hallways and into a large open recreation room. Lying on the floor near the middle of the room was the contorted form of a naked man.

Karla looked down to inspect the body. He was a handsome young man. Twenty, maybe twenty five. Well he

used

to be handsome, but now his form was disfigured and his body bent in unnatural directions.

Brownlow stammered, "He was the attendant. We don't know what time, but it must have been, well it could have been -."

Karla faced Browlow and interrupted, "Thanks Mr Brownlow. Could you just wait in reception? We will follow up with you, and the other suspects shortly."

"Am I a suspect?"

"Everyone is a suspect at the moment Mr Brownlow. We are just commencing the investigation. And please don't let anyone into this room. It's officially a crime scene now."

Brownlow backed out of the room, muttering nervously. Karla noticed the faces of some white-haired residents peering around the doorway, but Brownlow shooed them away as he left.

Karla turned back to the corpse which Jones had been studying diligently. "He's fucked to death," he announced.

"What do you mean fucked to death?" said Karla. "He's fucked. And he's dead. You don't say he's fucked to death. Like you don't say someone's been murdered to death, do you?"

"No, I mean, literally fucked to death," informed Jones seriously. "Look here, on his face. What do you see?"

"A big smile?" responded Karla.

"Yes. And look here - tell me what you see."

"A cock? So what?"

"Look," prompted Jones. "It's red. Red raw. That cock has seen a lot of action. And look how it's still erect. But it's got kinks like it's been bent and broken recently. The balls. Do you see them?"

"No."

"Look here at the pubis. At these lumps. Those are the balls. This cock has been pumped so many times that the balls have been emptied. And after that it looks like the pumping has continued and tried to suck the balls right out of the end his cock."

"How do you know this?" quizzed Karla.

"I'm a guy. We know these things."

"I'm impressed, Jones."

"There's more. See this thick sticky goo over his body?" Karla nodded and swiped some with her index finger, rubbing it between her finger and thumb.

"Smell it," Jones prompted. Karla sniffed her finger.

"It smells like - like - I can't quite -," Karla's voice trailed off.

Jones completed the sentence triumphantly. "That's pussy juice."

"Ewww," complained Karla, wiping her finger clean on her trouser leg with disdain on her face.

"Right - let's get this investigation rolling," Karla announced and took charge of the situation. The officers met Brownlow in reception. Karla knew exactly the next steps to follow. It was clearly a homicide, or possibly an industrial accident, but there was no need to call for backup - they had the skills and resources to work through this case.

The receptionist, Rhonda, arrived while the officers were in discussions with Brownlow. Rhonda was an attractive young woman with blonde hair, high heels and a little too much makeup. She had not been informed of the incident and appeared shocked when Brownlow explained the situation.

"What!" she exclaimed. "Kyle! But he's only been here a month. He was so nice."

Between Rhonda and Brownlow, the officers learned the lay of the land, so to speak. Happy Endings housed around forty residents, although Rhonda did inadvertently call them inmates from time to time.

The residents were classified as moderate care, which meant that there was a nurse on duty at all times. The facility also employed cleaners, a groundsman and two kitchen staff. Of course, there was also the deceased Kyle who was an attendant charged with responding to the miscellaneous day to day needs of the elderly residents. Along with the manager and receptionist, that was the extent of persons who were regularly on the site.

There were visitors, and contractors from time to time, of course. But Rhonda consulted the reception books and discovered that no-one else had been at the site in the last 48 hours.

"We need to see everyone," Karla informed the manager.

"Everyone?"

"Yes, that's right," she confirmed. "We don't know what's happened here, so we'll have to interview everyone who has been at the complex over the last day. Is there a problem?"

"No, no," stammered Browning.

"It's just -," started Rhonda, pausing. "It's just that our residents can be a bit scatty. If you know what I mean. And they like to sleep."

"Well you better go wake them up!" ordered Jones completely lacking diplomacy.

Karla followed up. "We need a place to meet. And it can't be the recreation room. What's the best place?"

"The dining room," blurted Browning and Rhonda nodded. Karla noticed that Rhonda and Brownlow faced each other with a worried look that was immediately wiped clean with a nervous smile. She filed that information away.

"It will take a little time to rouse the residents," Brownlow informed. "Rhonda will show you to the kitchen and dining room. If you'd care to wait there, we will return with the residents soon."

Rhonda led the way along wide hallways and the officers followed. Rhonda provided a running commentary on the daily schedule of the residents while the officers peered down every door and alley running off the main hallway. Small clusters of residents could be seen here and there, dressed in long gowns, shuffling along with walking frames and drawn faces like the living dead.

Along one of the hallways, when Karla judged they had reached the middle of the building, Rhonda indicated an open door adorned with a red cross. "This is medical."

A youngish Asian woman dressed in nurse's whites came quickly to the doorway. "This is our nurse, Rose," introduced Rhonda. "But shes very busy - aren't you Rose?"

Rose took no notice of Rhonda and addressed the police directly. "Hello officers. Nice to meet you. Say I had an uncle in the force. Do you know him? Let me find you his picture. Rose scrolled on her phone, seemingly forever, and then held the screen up to Karla's face. It would be another anonymous Asian face, thought Karla, but when she focused there was a message written in an unsent text message.

"Meet me here at noon. Things are not what they seem."

Karla was taken aback but composed herself and managed to state, "No I don't think I know him. Maybe a different department."

Rhonda whisked the officers away and eventually they reached an expansive dining room, configured with a stainless steel kitchen at one end, and filled with white plastic tables and chairs in a regular array. Two female staff were in the kitchen, decked out in the traditional black-and-white attire of kitchenhands.

"These officers are here to do an investigation," Rhonda informed the kitchenhands. "Could you look after them while we gather the residents?"

Rhonda conducted the introductions. "This is Karen, the kitchen manager." Karen was a middle aged woman with a solid build and a weather-beaten face. She took a long drag on the final stub of a cigarette, and squashed the butt under her foot. Karen raised her chin to signify a greeting.

"And this is Emma," Rhonda continued. Emma was tall, thin and ungainly. She looked like she had just graduated high school, and she moved with nervous energy. "Emma's the kitchenhand. She's been here since the start of this week." Emma greeted the officers with a meek hello and her eyes dropped to the ground as she continued her kitchen chores.

"Cuppa tea?" asked Karen roughly.

"Yes please. And for my partner too," replied Karla.

Karen served up two cups of tea from a giant urn, pouring them into ornate china teacups, which seemed at odds with the budget furniture that adorned the room.

The officers each took a sip of their bitter tea, and Jones impulsively began to question the kitchen staff. "Where have you been over the last day?" It was too late for Karla to intervene, so she let the interview roll.

"Here. And home," replied Karen.

"That's all?" followed up Jones.

"Yip."

"And you Emma. What are your movements?" continued Jones.

"Umm. I've been working the day shifts. Then at home. And on a date. And to the ice skating rink. And I've walked my dogs. I went for a run last night. I visited Gran on my way home because I had to milk her cow. I went shopping. And to the rubbish tip across town. And back here at work."

"Wow," said Jones.

"We might follow up with you later," interrupted Karla.

By this stage, the residents were beginning to file into the dining room like a procession of zombies. Karla felt a strange sensation deep within her. She wasn't sure of the source. Maybe the sight of the dead body? Maybe the strong smell of pussy juice? Maybe the sight of a bevvy of old people? Surely it wasn't nerves at leading the investigation. But with a little time the feeling evolved into a sensation of pleasure and warmth within her.

She put the tea down and constructed a battle plan with Jones. "We will interview everyone together - you and me. That way we've got two sets of reinforcing notes and we shouldn't have to do a second round of interviews." Jones nodded. "Times, places, actions, alibis - thats what we need from everyone." Then Karla turned to Rhonda. "Can you marshall everyone? We will take a table over there to the side. Then one by one can you bring the residents to us. it should take around five minutes each." Rhonda nodded.

The interviews with the residents proceeded with excruciating sluggishness. Questions were hard for the residents to understand and their responses were glacial. When asked about their movements during the last day, the residents always responded with a detailed timetable of their toilet visits and the texture of their stool.

But everyone had an alibi and everyone's story was consistent. Mrs Lambert and Mr Harris played scrabble all evening. Mrs Quincy, Mr Milton and others were engaged in a tournament of whist. Others were reading or watching TV. Everyone, it seems, was in the recreation room. Except Mrs Lacey.

The interviews took so long to conduct, and the residents remained seated in the dining room. Karla thought how bored they looked, but perhaps this was just a normal part of their routine. When Karen announced that morning tea was about to be served, the bodies seemed to wriggle in a more animated way.

Karen came over to visit the officers, with two fresh cups of tea. "Were having muffins for morning tea today. Want some?" The officers accepted.

"Listen up everyone!" shouted Karen. "Grub today is muffins. And we're out of tea. You'll have to go with coffee instead."

Strange, thought Karla as she took a sip from her cup to confirm it was actually tea. Jones took a sip of his too, oblivious to the anomaly. The residents murmured noises of dissatisfaction and Karla noticed them all wriggling more uncomfortably in their seats.

The interviews continued one by one and Karla allowed Jones to take the lead on the questioning. Rhonda would bring each resident to the interview table, one by one, introduce them, and then retreat to a nearby table, still within earshot. While Jones bounced his routine questions off a succession of residents, Karla noticed Brownlow sidle up to the kitchen manager, and whisper something discretely to her. Soon after, the pair disappeared from the dining hall in quick succession.

It did not take long for the residents to identify that the kitchen manager was absent and they gradually clustered around the large urn, serving themselves copious amounts of tea in the china cups. The residents shuffled from foot to foot in an impatient way, seeming desperate for their drink, coming back soon after for seconds and even thirds.

Rhonda consulted some of the residents and returned to the interviewing officers. "The residents would like to know if they can go back to their regular routine if they've had their interview already?"

"Yes, that's OK," advised Karla. She imagined that many of the residents would be making a bee-line for the bathrooms now. Rhonda retreated to liaise with the residents, who departed the room like a flock of sheep. Karla returned her attention to the current interview.

"Where were you yesterday evening until this morning?" Jones asked Mrs Lacey, who held the appearance of everyone's favourite granny.

"Who's asking?" she replied belligerently.

"Let me try, Admiral," tried Karla.

"Oooo - Admiral? Are you from the Navy? You know, my husband was in the Navy. Back in the war," reminisced Mrs Lacey.

"Yes, I'm from the Navy," pretended Jones. "Can you tell us where you were last night?"

That was a good tactic, thought Karla. Maybe she'd underestimated Jones. Karla looked at his face, and saw him in a new light. He was clever. And she'd not noticed how handsome he really was. Or how strong. And fit. And virile. She began to feel a tingle in her pussy and she squirmed her legs together to squeeze some pleasure from her cunt. As Mrs Lacey replied, Karla didn't hear a word. All she could think about was her throbbing pussy and the desire to fill it with Admiral's cock.

Jones addressed Mrs Lacey again. "Mrs Lacey, did you know Kyle?"

"Yes of course I did. But now he's dead. I was there when it happened."

At last the investigation was getting somewhere.

"Mrs Lacey

how

did you know Kyle?"

"He was my husband. He used to be in the Navy. I've told you all this. Are you not listening or are you just stupid?"

A dead end. Jones carried on with his questioning regardless. Karla's mind wandered and she paid no attention to the interview.

She looked away, and her eyes landed on Rhonda, sitting at a nearby table. Again, she'd not really registered how exceptionally attractive Rhonda was. Karla's eyes dropped to Rhonda's feet, with pretty painted nails in open-toed heels. Her eyes travelled upwards, along smooth legs with shapely calves, up to her silky thighs, and then her gaze stopped at Rhonda's high-riding skirt. Rhonda's legs were crossed, obscuring Karla's view, but she imagined what lay within. The pretty receptionist was probably wearing frilly underwear - probably a thong, Karla thought. Her mind wandered to the exciting thought of lifting that skirt, pulling down the underwear and plunging her face into Rhonda's pussy. She imagined licking the slit, and twirling her tongue around Rhonda's cute little clitoris.

What the fuck, Karla questioned herself. She'd never really had lesbian fantasies like this, and her impulses were growing out of control. Karla came to her senses momentarily and excused herself. "Bathroom break," she stated abruptly and turned on her heels to find the restrooms.

Karla made her way down the hall and after a few wrong turns she found the ladies, seated herself in a cubicle and leaned back, wondering what the fuck was going on. She let her bladder empty naturally and felt the pleasurable relief of a long stream of piss running past her pussy lips. Karla tore a slip of toilet tissue and wiped herself. As her fingers trailed along her wet pussy lips, the touch felt like electricity, and her cunt demanded more attention. She complied, again and again. Before long, Karla's pussy was dripping wet and her fingers were plunging in and out of her sensitive hole. Her other hand joined the action and she placed her four fingers over her clit and made a rhythmic circular action.

A feint noise brought Karla back to reality, but she soon realised it was her own involuntary moaning. But before she could return to attending to her needy pussy, the phone in her pocket buzzed and she saw that her partner was phoning.

"Whatsup?" answered Karla.

"It's me. Something weird is going on here. I need to talk to you. Where are you?"

"Just in the bathroom."

"Still?" asked Jones incredulously.

"Look - I'm going to head to the medical center. Meet me there."

Karla pocketed the phone and pulled up her pants. She didn't want to - her cunt was still throbbing and she'd never felt this horny before in her life. But she knew she was on duty - in the middle of a murder investigation no less, and she felt a sense of embarrassment. She washed her hands and entered the labyrinth of hallways to find medical.

Karla usually had an excellent sense of direction and could always find her way. But here she felt lost and confused. She walked along hallways taking random turns looking for the medical center. She tried to focus and remember the way and she attempted to formulate a mental map of the facilities, but her mind kept returning to one thing - sex and how desperate she was to get some. Karla opened doors along the hallways looking for hints and clues. The first door led to and empty office. The second door was a janitor's cupboard. But at the third door, Karla encountered the surprise of her life.

Sprawled throughout the room, on the floor, across sofas and even up against the wall, were the naked forms of those very residents who Karla had been interviewing that morning. While they had all exhibited lethargy and a lack of mobility earlier, now they were energetic and spritely.

And they were all fucking in the most erotic orgy scene that Karla had ever seen.