This is the story of love lost, love explored, and love found in a place least expected. It is also a mystery that involves power, money, greed, and lust. While not as graphic as most here at Literotica I hope you find it an entertaining read. I apologize for the state of the work. It still needs proofing. Please vote and comment. I just wanted to say thanks for making it this far.
JPMMURPHY
Chapter 21
CNN – Still no news from the Richards camp. Democratic hopeful, Arthur Wright's position continues to be 'no comment' as he continues stumping for votes. This Saturday, Wright will be attending a technology demonstration at the Waverly Hills Clinic in Los Angeles. Where he's visiting is not as important as who he's visiting. Rumors early in his campaign claimed Theodora Elizabeth Miller, reclusive heiress of the Thomas Lee Miller fortune, some of the oldest money in the world, had bloated Wright's campaign coffers through illegal campaign contributions. Mrs. Miller's lawyer, Rudolph Bartholomew, has always claimed his client's innocence and was finally vindicated when a Federal court in Los Angeles threw the case out citing lack of evidence.
*****
Pulling into the valet drop off at the Palace, Linda and Tammy both noted the large number of police cars. At the front desk, they were directed to suit 301 where they found the imperious manager standing in the hallway being humbled by an SFPD detective.
"So this guy, this Fred Johnston, asks for a recommendation for a tailor and you send one Allessandra Martinelli up to sorta take care of business."
The manager just nodded.
"Then she's in there," and he pointed at a room full of cops, technicians and the coroner, "for four days. You hear rumors of wild sexual romping that includes Miss Martinelli answering the door in the buff, and you didn't find that unusual?"
"At the time –
The detectives hand came up, "At that time, this time, any time! As the manager of one of the premier hotels in the world, you felt no need to check on the well being of Miss Martinelli?"
"You see, Detective –
"Don't give me that 'you see' bullshit! I do see! I would have seen long before Miss Martinelli disappeared and a virtual bloodbath was discovered in the room. You can go now." Detective Pete Bronson dismissed the flustered manager with a wave of his hand and made a bee line for Linda.
"Hey, Woo! What brings you to the party?"
"Oh, you know, Pete, slumming."
"Right, that'll be the day. You hang out with us guys cause we get to have all the fun," glancing at Tammy, "Who's the Lucille Ball impersonator?"
Pete Bronson was somewhat of an enigma to the California crowd. Born in Jersey, a stint in the Navy and he found himself discharged in San Diego. Wandering the coast with a few of his shipmates, he woke up one morning in an SFPD lockup after a rowdy night on the town, and was asked if he wanted coffee or cappuccino. Deciding that was just too weird, he decided to apply. Twenty years later his claim to fame was the highest solve rate in the state. Built like a balding fireplug, the guys called him asshole. All the ladies called him bull. He preferred the ladder.
Tammy turned red, Linda wasn't sure if it was from embarrassment or anger. "This is Tammy Spalding. She's helping me with a case. Tammy, this is Pete 'Knucklehead' Bronson. Don't take him seriously, no one else does."
Tammy stuck her hand out and said, "So does the Danny DeVitto impersonation go over big with fans?"
"Oh, a wise guy. I like that. Nice to meet you, Red."
"So what have we got, Pete?"
"A twenty six year old, black female. Body found by maid service after noon today because there was a 'Do Not Disturb' on the door and the phone."
"Where'd they find the body," they followed Pete into the suit stepping gingerly over blood stains.
"Well, that's the interesting part. They found her in the bathroom." Pete waited.
"What's so interesting about that?"
"It seems they also found her under the bed, in the closet, on the couch, on the balcony and in the trash can."
Tammy glanced around nervously and Linda became serious, "Dismembered?"
She noted that Tammy paled and brought her fingers to her mouth.
"Yes. Not sure what with yet but we found her mouth taped shut. And something new for me. We found strips of material tied real tight around the upper extremities of each of her limbs. Kind of like a tourniquet. We think whoever did this, may have kept her alive until her head came off."
With that Tammy lunged for the door, palm pressed against her mouth, gagging. Linda took note but continued talking with Pete.
"Who's your suspect?"
"One Mr. Fred Johnston. Checked in using a bag of cash. Literally. Paid a week in advance, enough to buy a couple of economy cars then spread the cash around hiring a string quartet one night and a French chef. His first day he hired the services of a tailor. Turns out the tailor was a female. But stranger still, the tailor, or seamstress, or whatever she'd be, was seen over the next three days, parading around stark naked here in the suit. The bellboys started fighting over who got to take their meals up. Shit like that. That would be one Allessandra Martinelli."
Tammy returned and took up post beside Linda.
"And no sign of Miss Martinelli among the body parts?"
Tammy wretched again and headed for the door. They both paused to watch her retreat.
"Not even a finger. And we did find a lot of fingers. Eight fingers, two thumbs and ten toes. They were in that wooden box over there. Looks like Miss Martinelli's work kit."
"Any idea who our Mr. Johnston might be?"
"Well, I can assure you he isn't Mr. Johnston."
Linda took a closer look at the room taking in the deep red circles of blood that could be found almost everywhere. Knowing that a dead body doesn't bleed much she cringed thinking about what the victim had gone through.
She noticed Tammy, jaw set, making her way back into the suit.
"Come on, Pete, that's not like you. No idea at all?"
"We got a couple of snaps from the lobby security cameras. He was seen by several hotel employee's and the parking booth girl confirmed that he drove the vic's car from the hotel that night. Said there was a striking woman in the passenger seat, dressed for a ball or something. Also said it looked like she'd been crying."
"You have those snaps, Pete?"
"Sure," he said handing three black and white photos to Linda.
Linda spread them like playing cards and held them up for Tammy. "Is that our man?"
Tammy looked, then looked distraught, then looked frightened. Her hand came to her mouth again and she managed to yell "Yes!" over her shoulder as she ran through the door for a third time.
"You found Robert Nunn Pete. He's wanted by the FBI. Some swindle or fraud deal."
Pete looked around the room and said, "I think our white collar guy has gone blue collar. This was a lotta damn work. Thanks, Woo. Is your friend gonna be okay?"
"Sure, Pete. She just needs something to eat."
