After the Honeymoon

Prologue: A few years ago, chloeTzang introduced a theme for Mike Hammer inspired stories called, "

"Hammered: an Ode to Mickey Spillane"

." Last year, I very much enjoyed writing my entry, "Double, Double Cross," so when she announced a repeat this year, I was all in.

In last year's story, I introduced my main character as Blake McDaniels, Private Investigator. I received a number of comments suggesting I do more stories using the same character, so this story picks up where "Double, Double Cross" ends.

I do reference a few items and characters from that story but you don't have to read it to understand this one, "After the Honeymoon" stands on its own.

I would also like to thank blackrandl1958 and GeorgeAnderson for their editing and proof-reading skills.

I hope you enjoy the story and you know I always love those comments.

Thank you.

After the Honeymoon

I'd only been back from my honeymoon for a week and had just started looking for new office space. The temperature outside was still hot enough to fry eggs on the sidewalk, but I did manage to replace the small window air conditioner with one that worked.

The guy sitting across my desk from me looked like a typical corporate big shot, with thinning hair and a small pot belly from sitting at his desk too long. His name was Jason Enright, and I could tell at a glance his suit was tailored and the Rolex on his wrist was no knock-off.

"I think I've waited long enough," he said in anger. "It's been more than two weeks since my house was broken into, and as near as I can figure, the cops haven't done a damn thing."

The truth was, in a city the size of Chicago there were more than three hundred home burglaries every week, and they were hard as hell to investigate because your average fence was not about to incriminate himself. If the stolen property was worth real money, it had already changed hands in the first twenty-four hours and was out of the state by the time the cops had their morning coffee and donuts.

"Mr. Enright, I'm not going to take your money. After two weeks, the chances of me finding your property are slim to none."

"You won't even try? I read the story in the paper and figured any PI who could bring down the state's Lieutenant Governor can find my mother's pendant. That's all I really want back, they can keep the rest; it's insured, but I can't replace the pendant."

"How much is it worth?"

"Not much at all, it's just one of those cheapo cameo things. That's what's so strange. It was in the wife's jewelry box along with her everyday costume jewelry; the stuff looks real enough but it's just paste. Anyone who knows anything about jewelry would spot it was fake. None of that stuff was touched, they just took the pendant, that and about five hundred thousand dollars worth of real jewels that they got from the safe."

"All right, let me make sure I have this straight. The thieves took half a million bucks worth of jewelry from your safe and a worthless pendant that was in your wife's jewelry box."

"Exactly."

I had to admit, that did seem a little strange and piqued my curiosity. "You said it was your mother's pendant; is she still alive?"

"No, she died years ago of cancer. My dad is also dead. I have a brother and two sisters so I let them divvy up everything after my dad passed, but I always remembered mom with that pendant; I don't ever remember seeing her without it. Dad gave it to her on their first anniversary, so I took it for sentimental reasons. I'm pretty well off, more so than my siblings, so I let them take everything else. That pendant meant a lot to me, and I'd really like to get it back."

"Did your siblings give you any flack when you kept the pendant?"

"No, I don't think they have a sentimental bone between them. They wasted no time after my dad passed; they sold his house, his car, the furniture, his tools, even the yard equipment."

"How do you get along with them?"

He scrunched up his face and tilted his head to one side, "So--so, I guess. None of us are what you'd call close. If you're thinking one of them did it, though, I'm sure you're off base. None of them would have the guts or the know-how."

"Are you sure?"

"Oh yeah, my whole house is wired into a security company. When the alarm is set, any breach to get in or movement in the house alerts the guards and they come running. Whoever broke in must have hacked into the security company's computer system and bypassed it. The cops said they were real pros. They searched every room in the house until they found my wall safe."

"How was it opened?"

"How?"

"Yeah, did they blow it, chisel the dial off, how'd they get into it?

"It doesn't have a dial, it's a touchpad. They drilled two holes in the door. The cops said they had special tools. Once they had the holes drilled, I guess they reached in and unlocked the mechanism that way."

"Have you heard of any other homes in your area being broken into?"

"Not that I've heard," he replied.

No one likes losing a family heirloom, but I was still trying to decide if I'd take the case or not. The time-lapse would make it almost impossible to recover anything, and even though the guy had plenty of it, I wasn't about to take his money under false pretenses.

"Even if I did find your pendant, it would cost you a lot more than it's worth," I told him.

"I don't care, I can afford it; outside of a few pictures, it's the only thing I have left of my mother's."

I took a deep breath and let it out with a sigh. Even with the odds stacked so high against me, the little voice inside my head said there was more to the theft than meets the eye. "I'll make a few inquiries but I'm not making any promises. If I decide to take the case, I require a five-thousand-dollar retainer and a signed contract."

"That's no problem, Mr. McDaniels. I'll give you a check right now," he said while reaching into his inside pocket for his checkbook.

"Okay, go ahead and write the check, but I won't deposit it unless I think I can get results." I reached into the top right drawer of my desk. "Here's the contract; take as much time as you need to read it then sign on page three." He only skimmed parts of it before signing. I took out a legal pad of paper.

"Now, write down the names of anyone and everyone who's been inside your house in the last couple of months. Don't leave out anyone even if you think they're above suspicion or insignificant. If you don't know their names, write down who they work for."

"Ah... I... I'll need my wife to help with this. She's home most of the time, I'm usually in the office; I mean, I know we have a lawn service that comes out every week, and a woman comes on Mondays and Thursdays to clean the house, but I don't think they'd be responsible for something like this."

"Just the same, I need the name of anyone who might have had access to your house. For someone to bypass your alarm, they first had to know the system and the name of your service. For them to know how to break into your safe, they had to know the make and model. Leaving clues to indicate they searched the house was just for show. They knew exactly where it was and what tools they needed to open it. That means the thief was inside your house before the break-in; it could have been days, weeks, or months before."

"Does your wife go out during the day when workers are around?"

"Oh, I'm sure she does. Between her friends and all the charities she volunteers for, she's always on the go."

"Does she set the alarm when she leaves?"

"I... I have no idea."

"Okay, find out. Also, do you have an automatic door opener for your garage?"

"Ah, yeah, why?"

"It's an easy way for burglars to get into the house. Make sure you always set your alarm when you go out, even if you're only going to be gone a few minutes; that's all the time someone needs to get in and be waiting for you when you get back."

"Shit, okay. I'll get together with my wife and see if we can come up with a list."

"Good, in the meantime, I'll get started on my end." He signed the contract and left the five-thousand-dollar check before leaving. I put both in a manilla envelope and stuck it in the back of my file drawer.

When it came to burglaries, I had a couple snitches that usually had some good info to sell for a C-note. I caught up with Lefty in the alley next to the Biograph Theater where the Feds gunned down Dillinger. "I don't know much, Blake; I do know it was a one-man operation."

"Do you know if he's local?"

"Yeah, I think so, but he's not any of the usual suspects."

"You know anything about the pendant they took? It's not worth anything but sentimental value to my client. Any idea why they'd even bother with it?"

"From what I heard, that's what he was after. The rest of the stuff was just icing on the cake."

"Are you sure? That doesn't add up; according to the owner, it's worth practically nothing. The real ice he got away with was worth almost five hundred big ones."

"That's what I heard, Blake."

"Okay, Lefty," I said, holding a C-note out to him, "if you hear anything else get it to me on the double, will you."

"You know you can count on me, Blake."

After leaving Lefty, I went in search for Jimmy. I checked in his usual haunts but couldn't find him. No one seemed to know where he was, either. I finally gave up and headed for Plato's for a quick one before going home. I hadn't seen Stan, my favorite bartender, since my wedding.

"There he is, the newlywed," chuckled Stan as I walked in. "How's married life... again?" he asked with a smile.

"You missed out, my friend; you should have grabbed her when you had the chance."

"Shit, Blake, I never had a chance with Stacy, not with you around. You were always her main guy, even after the divorce. Somehow she always knew you guys would get back together," he said while setting a cold Michelob in front of me. "You going to make it work this time?"

"That's not up to me. It's up to her, but I think so. She was the one who wanted the divorce. She said she just couldn't handle worrying about me all the time. I loved her to death and always tried to convince her my work wasn't all that dangerous, but she knew better. She finally gave me an ultimatum, quit as an investigator or divorce. As much as loved her, I couldn't see myself selling shoes for a living."

"So, what makes you think it's going to work this time; you're still the worst PI in the city."

I laughed. "She says she can handle it this time. She has a friend whose husband is a fireman. I guess she gave Stacy some tips on how to handle the stress; besides, we've been divorced for several years and I still do what I do; she's probably used to it by now."

"Well, I wish you both the best of luck. I think she's going to need it." I laughed again, but there was some truth to what he said. The first time Stacy and I were married everything was great for the first two years, then I wound up in the hospital with a thirty-eight slug in my left shoulder. The jack-ass doctor told her a few inches lower she'd be a widow.

That started our downfall. Every time I got involved with another case she'd beg me to drop it. It got to the point where she demanded I quit and get a nice "sane" job, hence, her ultimatum and our divorce.

She tried to move on; she even dated Stan, my favorite bartender for a while, but neither of us could get over one another. We continued to see each other, and sometimes dated, for almost six years until she proposed.

The finder's fee from my last job gave me some wiggle room financially, so I could be more picky with the jobs I took; mostly I investigated corporate espionage or embezzlement. On the way home, I was debating whether I should tell her about the new case; I knew she'd ask. I've never lied to her and decided I wasn't going to start. I guessed it would be our first test case.

She had already started dinner when I walked in. I loosened my tie and tossed my fedora onto the hat rack in the corner before following my nose to the kitchen. Stacy, with a long meat fork still in her hand, reached around my neck and kissed me.

"I smell Michelob," she said after our lips parted, "how's Stan?"

"Jealous," I replied. "He's kicking himself for letting you slip through his fingers."

"Aww, poor Stanley, we'll have to find him a nice girl."

"What do you mean, we?" She smiled that beautiful smile of hers.

At dinner, she asked the inevitable, "So, what have you gotten yourself into this time?"

"What makes you think I'm into anything? I don't get a case dropped in my lap every day you know."

"Darling, you may THINK you have a poker face, but I can read you the minute you walk into the room."

Well, I thought, so much for keeping secrets. I told her about the case and why it interested me. I also told her I still wasn't sure if I was going to take it or not.

"My money's on the wife," she told me.

"The wife; why the wife?"

"He's probably stepping out on her. She took the pendant to teach him a lesson; you know what they say about a woman scorned." She took a sip of her wine, then continued. "She's probably thinking about divorcing him and took the jewels to supplement her settlement."

"There's only one fly in your ointment..."

"What's that?"

"She was on vacation with her hubby when the robbery took place."

She thought about that for only a few seconds, "Maybe she has a boyfriend."

I had to admit, it was a solid theory. She could have given her boyfriend the alarm code and he could have learned about drilling a safe from the Internet to throw off suspicions. "Hell, we've only been married for three weeks and you're already thinking like a detective."

"Maybe I should be your partner," she said with a grin.

"Sorry, Babe, I always work alone."

"You won't have to work alone tonight," she said, with an even bigger grin.

"Why wait until tonight; what's wrong with now?"

"Oh, you silver tongue devil, you talked me into it."

We had each other naked by the time we reached the bedroom. I'm well into my forties, but one look at my beautiful bride standing there in her birthday suit and I felt like I was twenty again.

In my work, I am always on guard, I try to stay invulnerable to the actions of others around me, but with Stacy, I stand raw to the world. I have no defenses, I am as vulnerable as a person can be.

Her moans as I gently felt and kissed my way down her body were like a concerto. Her cries of ecstasy as I circled her clit with my tongue made me feel like a king, and bringing her to climax made me feel like a God.

I knew every erogenous zone on her body and lightly pinched, nibbled, and tweaked them all before inserting myself. "Oh, Oh, OH," she cried as I easily slid inside. I pumped in and out until she clawed at the sheets, arched her back and silently screamed out in amatory grandeur. At the same time, her pussy muscles squeezed so hard I came an instant later and collapsed on top of her. I tried to lift myself up so I wouldn't squash her, but she put her arms around my neck and held me in place.

"No, you don't," she gasped between breaths, "you're not going anywhere." We lay like that while trying to catch our breaths. Finally, I felt her relax and I rolled off of her.

I heard her quietly chuckle. "What?" I asked.

She was still breathing a little heavy, "Th... that was intense."

A wide smile stretched across my face, "Yeah," I sighed. We were both spent and huddled together in well-deserved slumber.

The next day, I opened the office, made a pot of coffee, and thought about what Lefty told me regarding the pendant being the real target. If it wasn't worth anything, then the heist had to be pulled by someone who knew how important it was to Enright. Stacy's premise about the wife was looking more feasible all the time, enough so that I decided to shadow the broad for a few days and just see what she might be up to.

I knew he lived in a mansion from the address. I couldn't see much of the place from the road, which also meant they couldn't see my car from the house. I picked a nice cozy spot and settled back in the seat. It was still early, so I was hoping she hadn't left yet.

I had been there about an hour and just about to go around the block so I wasn't too conspicuous when I saw a dark blue Beemer coming down the drive. I slumped a little further down in the seat and waited till she was on the move.

I followed her to the rear parking lot of a church. She went inside through an unlocked back door. A couple minutes later a couple of young men came out. One of them had her car keys and opened the trunk. I watched as they made three trips carrying what looked like twelve large paper bags inside. I drove around to the front of the church and saw a hand-painted sign declaring the food pantry was in the back. This was obviously one of those charities her hubby was talking about.

She was in there for almost an hour, but I thought it highly doubtful that she was up to any hanky-panky. More likely, she was helping to organize the food and store it away.

From there she went to a gym for a little over an hour; after that, she met a couple of female friends for lunch. I was getting hungry myself, so I wandered in behind her and sat a couple of tables away. Unfortunately, the place was pretty crowded and I couldn't hear much of their conversation, but they were doing a lot of laughing.

I was just pulling out of the restaurant's parking lot behind her when my phone rang. I hit the connect button on my dash, "Blake McDaniels, Investigations."

"Blake, it's me, Jason Enright, I have that list you wanted. Sue and I did it together last night. Are you in your office? I can have somebody run it by."

"I'm not in the office right now, Jason; can you scan it to my email address?"

"Ah, yeah, sure; are you working on my case?"

"Jason, I said I'd look into it. I'm still not making any promises, but I do have a possible lead. I need two or three days to see if it pans out. If it does, I may have something for you, if not I'll probably return your check. Right now, I have nothing to report."

I could tell by the tone in his voice that Enright was not happy with my reply. He asked about my lead, but I told him I wouldn't discuss it unless I knew it had some validity. He didn't like that either. He was obviously used to getting his own way.

"Did you ask your wife if she always sets the alarm before going out?"

"Yeah, you're not going to like the answer; she said she hardly ever sets it when she goes out during the day."

"Great, so anyone with a basic knowledge of burglary can come and go as they please."

"Oh, come on now, it can't be that easy."

"Did you tell her what I said about the garage door opener?"

"Yeah, but she thinks you're being a little melodramatic. I made her promise to set the alarm anyway when she goes out."

Somehow, I doubted her promise. Most of the time people who live in bubbles usually need to be shown the importance of things like that.

I continued to follow Mrs. Enright until she returned home about four in the afternoon. During the day, she certainly did nothing that caused any concerns. I told myself I would shadow her for three days, so I borrowed my wife's car the second day so as not to raise the suspicions of nosey neighbors. Again, after tracking her every move, there was nothing; in fact, I was beginning to believe Jason was married to Mother Teresa.

On the third day, I was back in my own car. By early afternoon, I was about to give Mrs. Enright a good Samaritan medal when she changed her routine and started heading out of town. Okay, I thought, this is different; she was headed for the burbs, when for the previous two days she hadn't driven more than a few miles from her house.