Dave Weston cautiously approached Mary’s house. He thought maybe it was Samantha prowling around in there. She might have come back. Of course Dave couldn’t be sure about that. He decided to play it very safe. Dave slipped down the driveway and around to the back door. Yes, someone had forced the lock. Dave carefully pushed the door open and quietly stepped into the little kitchen. He heard the low murmuring sound of voices coming from the bedroom. It sounded like two people were in there; a guy and girl. The voices weren’t very distinct, but Dave was sure the female wasn’t Samantha. Dave’s heart sank again. He thought it’s probably just some kids from the neighborhood. He was about to go into the bedroom and confront them. Then he got cold feet. Why take the risk? Today some of these young punks could be dangerous. Maybe a drug deal was going down. He had his cell phone in the car. Why not just call the police?
Dave slipped back outside and went to his car. He contacted his buddy, Detective Phil Philips, at the Bentlyville PD. Phil said, “Look Dave, here’s what I want you to do. Drive away. Get the hell out of there. At best, you’ll spook them and they’ll get away. At worst, you could get your ass shot off. I’m on my way over. I’ll handle this. Got it?”
Dave said, “Yeah Phil, I got it. Let me know what happens.”
After Detective Philips got off the phone with Dave, he thought that poor bastard should get over losing his fat girlfriend. It didn’t matter how good her pussy was or that she’d let him fuck her in the ass once in a while, she was dead meat now and you couldn’t fuck a ghost.
Detective Philips was a heavy-set man in his mid-forties. He was promoted to detective about five years ago. Back then, his body was still solid and muscular. But five years of sitting on his ass in front of a computer screen during the day and drinking beer every night, had begun the process of turning that muscle tone into flab.
Phil had been married and divorced twi... Læs hele novellen
