With one finger he pushed up the brim of his fedora and eyed the blond bombshell before him. Long blond hair fell across her shoulder and down over her ample breasts. Her chest rose and fell and he couldn't help but notice. She couldn't help but notice either, which seemed to be the reason why more and more cleavage seemed to be showing itself as their conversation continued. Being a hard boiled detective wasn't glamourous but when dames like this came through his door. He tried to concentrate on what she was saying but his hard cock was listening to other things with much more attention. Then she......
"Hey, idiot, wake up. Get that digital camcorder, no the one with the night scope on it. C'mon hurry, I think they're about to do it." Grant sighed as he rummaged around in a black duffel bag at his feet and took out the cam corder and handed it to Roland. Being a Private Investigator, was not the quite the life he had envisioned, but he had wanted to be one for as long as he could remember. As a kid he would watch all the old hard-boiled detectives on tv and movies, and that was what he wanted. So far it was all cheating spouses and finding out who skipped out with Aunt May's will. "Ahh here we go, show time." Roland wheezed and leaned out of the car window some more.
Across the street in the middle class residential area they had been sitting in since dark, was a brown unassuming house with only one light burning in a back window. Grant picked up the binoculars and focused in on it. He could make out a shape then the shape split into two people, one was a certain Mrs. Garner. She was the reason they were here. The gentleman she was wrapped around was an Anthony Taylor. Obviously not her husband. They embraced again, kissing passionately slowly taking off each others clothes. Grant could hear Roland's breathing getting heavier. This wasn't his first cheating wife he had sat on with him, out of the fifteen or so cases that he worked with the corpulent P.I. over half of them involved watching, and filming, cheating spouses. And every time Roland ran the camera as if he was filming porno. Despite the fact he was creepy, Grant was learning a lot from him. He figured another year and he could hang out his own shingle, as they say.
Resuming his watch on the window, both parties were naked. Mrs. Garner wasn't bad for her age, early fifties and still fit. Her tits were too perky to be real, but when your husband owns as much shit as hers did why succumb to gravity. The light went off.
"C'mon kid, were going in." Grant grabbed the night scope and a digital camera and followed the hulking shadow into the bushes underneath the bedroom window. As much as he hated to admit it, he got a real voyeuristic thrill out of this part. Sneaking around to basically watch people have sex. The thing he didn't understand was how arrogant they his prey was by leaving the curtains open. She knew what was at stake if she was caught, it was almost like she was inviting it. But he remembered what Roland had told him when he first started, and that was never to question the sloppiness of the guilty, just be glad they were. He attached the small green tinted night scope to a small periscope and aimed it at the corner of the window. Then he attached a small digital camera to the other end and turned it on. Roland was already filming.
It took a moment but he found them on the bed, her young stud kneeling on the bed,
Mrs. Garner with her ass in the air and bobbing her head. Grant had to wait before taking pictures because all he would get at the moment was a picture of ass. Though it wasn't a bad ass, he need a good face shot. They shifted a couple of times and finally he could see her head, Anthony's thick cock firmly in her mouth. His cock slid in and out her cheeks puffing out each time as he leaned over and played with her pussy. After a moment she began wiggling her ass and breathing hard. She disengaged from him and pushed him to the bed. Clicking away with the camera Grant had to say even he was impressed with the size of his member, but then again how many women takes lovers because they have tiny wieners. Not that he had anything to be ashamed of, not that he had done much with it lately. The closest he got to any action was usually taking pictures of others doing it outside bedroom windows or dark parks.
Back inside Mrs. Garner had impaled herself and was riding him up and down, slowly and carefully. His hips began to buck but she placed a hand on his stomach, and he slowed down. They did this a few times before he couldn't take it anymore and grabbed her ass, a cheek in each large hand, and slammed her down and began fucking her in earnest. They could hear her laugh and squeal while he thrust hard in fast inside her. He flipped her over and Grant got some good face shots and wondered just how their client would take seeing the pure joy on his wife's face as she was screwing the hell out of some guy fifteen years his junior. That wasn't his concern he supposed. Adjusting his position and his erection he waited as Anthony lay on top of her with her legs in the air bouncing to the rhythm of his pounding pelvis. Her moans and screams became louder and higher in pitch when suddenly the entire bed shook as she crashed into a shuddering orgasm. Almost on cue her man grunted and pulled out. Grant didn't worry about taking pictures, he wasn't so concerned about ‘money shots', though guy did have one hell of a load. She would definitely need a large towel. Roland would have done a close up on that for sure, so he left him too it.
Roland looked over at Grant and jerked his head. It was time to go. They quietly jogged to the car and slid in. Just before Roland turned the key in the ignition, two shots split the quiet street. Grant actually saw the muzzle flashes in the bedroom window. Roland was out of the car, moving his bulk quicker than Grant had ever seen. "Call the police." he barked back at his apprentice. Grant already had his phone out and was following close behind. Roland rounded on him, "Cover the front." Pulling a .45 from under his shoulder with one hand and cell phone in the other he went in the inky darkness of a large tree near the front step. He was nervous, he had a gun and was a straight shot at the gun range, but his hands shook as he pointed it at the front door. He prayed that he wouldn't have to use it. It seemed like an eternity of inactivity before he heard the sound of cars coming up from behind. He was so focused (and scared if he was asked to admit it) that it took him a minute before he registered the hand on his. Detective Halloran's hand gently urged his gun down as police officers and homicide detectives surrounded the house. Grant stayed put but kept his gun ready as he watched the female detective station herself in front of the door and nod to the other officers.
The rest seemed like a blur, when no answer came to their summons they broke down the door. Grant did the best to just stay out of the way, it wasn't until they brought Roland out from the backyard, holding his head, that he seemed to be able to act. After a few minutes the house was called clear, corded off, and the social center of the neighborhood as the whole block was out in housecoats and slippers. The weird part didn't start until just after a medic had declared the bump on Roland's head okay.
"I tell you, my head is fine." he grumbled. The paramedic, tired of being barked at just tossed an ice pack at him.
"One more time, they never left the bedroom." Detective Halloran asked again.
"No, she had just been hosed down. We went straight for the car. Then heard the shots." Roland said in his usual testy manner.
"Then once you got to the car, you heard the shots?" She looked at Grant, who was doing his best not to stare at her pale green eyes.
"Yes, yes, yes. Why are you asking so goddamn much. What's so damned important?" Roland interrupted. Without hesitation she pushed Grant towards the house.
"C'mon, I'll show you." They followed her brisk walk, Grant stumbling on the curb because he was paying more attention to her rear than his feet. She led them back into the house through the backyard. They backdoor was nearest the bedroom. They waded through police and criminologists into a very crowded room. In the middle was the bed with a decent size bloodstain, another one was at the foot of the bed. After seeing so much blood on tv and movies it was almost too easy to believe it wasn't real.
"So. Okay. The scene of the crime." Roland plopped the ice pack back on his head.
"Shut up and pay attention. Did you see us take any bodies out?" She fired back at him.
"I was busy getting my head looked at, I wasn't paying attention."
"No," Grant said slowly, the realization dawning on him, "You haven't. Where are the bodies?"
