Bad Dream

by The Wanderer

Tags: Ma/Fa, Consensual, Romantic,

Desc: Mystery Story: Marty Sleeman is divorced from his wife, but he's still having dreams about her. Then one day he's woken early in the morning by a couple of policemen, who accuse him of trying to kill her. The trouble is this is the second time he's had that accusation made against him.

I thank my LadyCibelle and Techsan for their patience, proof reading, editing skills and of course encouragement. I'd also like to add that we don't always see eye to eye, they tell me off sometimes - well quite often really. Anyway I take full responsibility for the content and any cock-ups in this story.

"Are you ready, babe?" Sheila asked as she, without waiting for me to reply, she carefully lowered herself on my erect phallus. At first she moved herself up and down slowly. "God, I've missed this," she smiled down at me. But then just as she began to pick the pace up a little, in the back of my mind somewhere, I could hear a strange banging noise. Sheila's smile turned into a mocking laugh as the vision of her began to fade from my mind.

I was almost fully awake now; the dream or nightmare as it always turned into was gone. I realised the noise was someone banging on my front door. Struggling out of bed I grabbed my robe and made my way towards the door of my flat.

"Mr Sleeman, open up! It's the police!" I heard a voice demanding as I got closer to the door.

On opening the door I was confronted by four men, one of whom I recognised and two in police uniforms.

"Martin Sleeman, I'm Detective Sergeant Moon," The one in plain clothes that I didn't recognise said as he flashed his warrant card at me, "Can we come in? I'd like a word with you if I may."

I'd seen enough warrant cards in my life to know it was genuine at first glance, But having grown up on what some folks would consider the wrong side of town, I asked for a better look at his card just to piss him off a little. Look, I didn't know what the wankers wanted but I hadn't done anything that I needed to worry about.

"Okay, what is this all about?" I asked as I switched the kettle on after I had led them into the kitchen.

"If' you don't mind, I'll ask the questions," DS Moon replied.

"In that case, I won't answer any questions until my solicitor is present."

"Have you got something to hide, Mr Sleeman?" he demanded.

Alarm bells started really going off in my head. To be honest I'd known DC Douglas Collins, the other arsehole, for years; he knew my name was Marty to everyone. The Mr Sleeman bit spelt trouble, big time.

"No, but I feel slightly out-numbered here. If you want to ask me questions, I want to know in what context you're asking them. It's not often that I get woken up at..." I looked at the clock. "Shit, it's five o'clock. What the hell's so fucking important that you've got to wake me at this time of the bloody morning?"

"I'm making enquiries concerning your wife's accident."

"What fucking accident?"

"Your wife was involved in an accident last night and I would like to know where you were around eleven PM."

"I was here alone, as I am most evenings nowadays. Is my ex-wife badly hurt?"

"She's in intensive care, but the doctors tell me that the prognosis is reasonable. Now would you be so kind as to tell me where we can find your Range Rover."

"Do you suspect I had something to do with my ex-wife's accident?"

"Mrs Sleeman and a Mr Anthony Pride where walking down the Finchley Road at approximately eleven o'clock last evening. A Range Rover travelling quite fast mounted the pavement and drove straight at them. The car hit your ex-wife but missed Mr Pride. He claims that it was a deliberate attempt to kill both of them. The Range Rover drove off without stopping. Now I would like to take a close look at your Range Rover please."

"You'll have to wait a couple of hours yet. Bessy's in Rowland's garage having the gearbox replaced, again. She's been in there all bloody week!"

DS Moon looked at the two uniformed officers and they left, I assume to go and visit Rowland.

"Is there anyway you can prove that you were here last night, Mr Sleeman?"

"That's a good one. How the hell am I expected to prove that I was alone in my flat? The definition of being alone means that I had no one here to vouch for me, doesn't it?"

"Well, in that case I'm going to ask you to come down to the station and help me with my enquiries."

"Sure, but you won't mind if I call my brief first and then get dressed will you?"

I called my solicitor, who wasn't best pleased to be called at that time in the morning and then I got dressed. As we left the flat, I just happened to notice Mrs Cummings, our local Nosy Parker, watching as we passed her kitchen window. Since her husband passed away some years ago, Mrs Cummings had little else to do but watch the comings (pun intended) and goings of her neighbours.

I turned to John Collins. "If you have a word with the old witch in there, she will probably give you a detailed list of my movements all week. Nothing gets past her no matter what time of night."

DC Collins and DS Moon exchanged glances. Then Collins walked back and knocked on the old girl's door. DS Moon and I continued down to their car. After sitting there for some time, DC Collins appeared out of the block of flats and Moony went over to meet him. They had an animated conversation for a few moments then DC Collins came over to me.

To be fair Doug Collins wasn't really a bad bloke; at school we'd got on quite well together. But I'm afraid we'd had a couple of run-ins with each other since he'd taken up his chosen profession.

"The old girl says there is no way you left your flat between eight o'clock when you got home and two in the morning when she went to bed. Does the old girl stay up until all the neighbours are in bed?"

"Fucked if I know, but she likes her bit of gossip. I suppose you got the story of her in number 22. The old witch reckons she's on the game whilst her old man is at sea."

"Yeah, I got chapter and verse on that one. Anyway the Sarge reckons that what the old girl says puts you right out of the frame. Mind he's still going to take a bloody good look at your car."

"That's his prerogative but he'll find fuck all. Anyway what hospital is Sheila in? I'd like to check up on her."

"The Royal; I'm afraid she's in a bad way, Marty. She's in the ICU. They are not sure if she will pull through or not. You realise we have to treat it as murder until we know for sure which way the cookie crumbles, and what with that last little debacle between you and Sheila, we had little option but to investigate your whereabouts."

"Don't worry; I understand you've got a job to do. Right now I'm going back up to have a shave then I'm going down there."

"Marty, you're still hung up on that woman, aren't you?"

"What do you think, Doug? You've known us long enough."

"But she dumped you for that slimy prick Tony Pride, didn't she?"

"To be honest with you, Doug, I'm not sure what happened to start with. But you know me; once I got out of my pram, I wouldn't listen to any explanations and blew my top.

"I thought she divorced you."

"She did but she never had much choice, I was climbing the wall and threatening to kill her and Pridey. I suppose that's what sent your DS chasing around here so quickly."

"Not really. It was Pridey who pointed the finger at you. Look, I think we need to have a word off the books about all this later on, if you don't mind."

"I'll be in the Plough about six-ish, I tend to eat there as soon as the kitchen opens."

"I'll try and make it there tonight. I'd better go now. The Sarge is getting impatient. He hasn't had his breakfast yet."

"Oh, what was his plan? Let me sweat it out in a cell while he had his breakfast?"

"Not far off, but as you hadn't been charged he'd probably left you waiting in an interview room for an hour or so."

I watched the officers drive away and then went back up to my flat to call my brief and let him know he wouldn't be required at the nick and then prepare myself for my visit to the hospital.

Sheila and I had met in a bar about twelve years ago. The guy she'd been with was apparently one of those guys who, when they get a few pints down them, thought he was the king of the world and looked for a scrap. But he picked a fight with the wrong guy, someone quite small who, I suppose he thought, he could handle easily. He might have been half cut, but he wasn't that stupid. His trouble was, he picked on a guy whose brothers were in the other bar. It might have been very messy if the governor hadn't been quick off the mark in getting the police to turn up.

Anyway, after her date was hauled off to the nick by the local constabulary, I, being the gentleman that I am, and with an eye for the off chance, offered Sheila the benefit of my protection and a lift home. Well, we never actually went straight home. We stopped in another pub for a quiet drink, to calm Sheila's nerves down a bit. From there we dated steadily for several months until she went off to University.

It was four years later, and I was playing best man at a friend's wedding. Who should turn up as a bridesmaid but Sheila? Now everyone knows that the best man is supposed to look after the bridesmaid. So, the next thing you know Sheila and I wake up in the morning in the same bed. Damn that, I had been too pissed to remember our first night together.

Although I do remember rogering one of the other bridesmaids earlier in the evening, Sheila must have played hard to get to start with. I think she had expected me to wait for her whilst she had been in UNI. But as I'd heard she was playing the field up there, I had no intention of being played for a fool.

.... There is more of this story ...

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Story tagged with:
Ma/Fa / Consensual / Romantic /