After dropping off the limo at Chuck's place, I finally made it home around 3:30. Remember, that's am. It brought back memories of being back on the job as a cop. My body remembered what it was like too, being too wound up to be tired.
I pulled into my driveway with every expectation of seeing a red Corvette sitting there. Luckily, I was wrong. I just had a feeling Holly was going to be there. Not being totally convinced she wasn't, I turned off my lights and sat for a minute watching the street. "Nope. No sign of her." Maybe I was getting a little paranoid in my old age.
I went inside, took off my suit, slipped into a pair of sweats, and a nice, big bourbon on the rocks. "Ahhh!" Gulp! There were no messages on my answering machine. "Good!" I turned on the TV to see if anything good was on. I went through about 99 of the 100 or so channels. Even the adult channels sucked, no pun intended. Finally, I found an old detective movie I have seen around a thousand times. It's a good one, and one is never too experienced to learn from a master. Even though I knew who the murderer was, and it wasn't the butler, I still enjoyed watching it. I find it amazing that the talent of Hollywood is so poor these days. Back in the 30's, 40's, and 50's there was so much talent. Directors could direct, producers could produce, and actors and actresses (which don't even exist any more, they are all actors now) could act. Today, it seems like the only ones that know what they're doing are the special effects and computer graphics weenies.
I guess police work has gotten that way too. I'm glad I experienced it when I did, but today they leave it up to computers to tell them what to do. There are so few true investigators these days. So few take the time to develop the so called "sixth sense".
Maybe mine was a little rusty, but my sixth sense was definitely working. Just like when I was a cop, I would be working a case, I'd get home, have a drink, relax a little, and all of the answers would pop into my head. Just like figuring out that Benjamin Armacost and Stacy Schmidt were fucking around. I knew that's what was going on, but I didn't know why. I still did't.
The one theory was that Teresa wasn't giving him something he wanted. Either Stacy was, or he just didn't want to have sex with someone that didn't want to give it to him the way he wanted. Bondage? Maybe! A little domination? That may be a little more like it. Men in high positions seem to sway in that direction.
Gee! All of the sudden I was feeling pretty good. I may have found the answer, or at least part of it.
I finished watching the movie. It was almost 6 o'clock in the morning and I was still wide awake. I was wondering how Armacost was enjoying being treated like one of his clients. I called up to the police station where he was taken, hoping someone I knew would answer. Luckily, it was one of the guys I helped train.
"Mick Pheury, the private dick?"
"Yes sir, that's me."
"It's Phil Johnson."
"Did you say Sergeant Johnson??? Wait a minute, when did you go to the county?"
"About 8 years ago. I got tired of the bullshit in the city. Besides, the county pays better."
"That's for sure."
"Mick, you old son of a gun. How the fuck are you? Where the fuck have you been? Chrisake, I haven't seen you in years, I thought you died."
"I did. I just haven't laid down yet." Another one that has to remind me I'm old.
"So, what has you calling this time of the night, or morning?"
"An "older" buddy of mine, ha ha, got himself locked up last night, and I was just trying to find out how he's making out."
"Not Benny?"
"Yeah! How 'bout that."
"Is this official or personal?"
"Personal, really. His wife is a client, and I was there last night when he got locked up."
"Was he really nude?"
"Yes he was, completely."
"Fucking David Schmidt's wife?"
"That's what I heard."
"Damn! That must have been good."
"Her or the incident?"
"Both, for that matter."
"So, Sarge, what can you tell me?"
"Completely off the record, he went for his bail hearing at around 2 and he was denied bail."
"DENIED BAIL??? You're kidding me?"
"Nope! The court officer was not impressed with someone of his position in the community assaulting a police officer."
"No shit! That's cool."
"Yeah, Mick, we all thought so. I think it was also to give his wife a chance to take care of a few things before he gets a bail review on Monday morning."
"Yeah, you're probably right there. They probably realized it would end up in a domestic mess."
"That too. Supposedly, Mrs. Armacost's lawyer made a call to someone who made a call."
"I love it when the system works. Speaking of domestics, how did Mrs. Schmidt make out?
"Oh, she's still in jail too. Because off all of this emphasis on domestic violence, they put enough bail on her to keep her here until Monday. Her husband didn't bail her out, so..."
"That's good. Speaking of systems, when did you make Sergeant?"
"About 5 years ago."
"Wow, that long, huh? I guess I have been away for a while. How come you didn't make Lieutenant yet?"
"And become an asshole? I still remember what my old training officer told me about anybody higher than a Sergeant..."
I couldn't help but laugh. I guess I trained him well.
"You were right Mick. They're all assholes above Sergeant. Even here."
We talked for a few more minutes and then he had to do some work before getting off. I'm glad to know some people never forget you.
So, Armacost is sitting in a real jail cell. Hopefully that will give Teresa enough time to decide on what to do. I'll bet Holly is really livid now. I just wish she'd understand that her father caused this, and he did it to her as much as anybody.
I finally started to feel a little tired. The adrenaline was wearing off. I slipped out of my sweats and crawled into my bed and stretched out. It wasn't long before I fell off to sleep.
I was awakened by the phone ringing. I rolled over and looked at my clock. It was noon. The caller ID showed it was Holly, so I answered it. I wanted to emphasize the fact that she woke me up so I did it with a tired voice. "Hel-low!"
"Wake up sleepyhead. I'm on my way over to fix you breakfast."
"Huh! I'm sleeping."
"No your not. You're awake. I'm talking to you."
"No you're not, this is my answering machine. "At the tone, leave a message. Beep!""
"Wake up Pheury. I'm almost there."
"Holly. I didn't get to bed until almost 7."
"What were you doing up all night? Never mind, I don't want to know."
"Call me back in around 4 hours." Oh, shit! I almost forgot. Carla! "No! Holly! Don't call me back. I'm awake."
"I know you're awake. I'll be there in about 10 minutes. Do you have eggs?"
"I always have eggs."
"And bacon or sausage?"
"I have bacon and sausage."
"Okay. See you in a couple of minutes." She hung-up.
Damn it! I have to call Carla and let her know we're still on for tonight.
Quickly, I called her number. There wasn't an answer, so I tried her cell phone. She answered. "Hi Schweetheart."
"Sweetheart? Who is this?"
"Okay, play games."