Chapter 10

Dotty looked surprisingly well rested and happy despite the early hour and Zach's not returning home by the time she left her house. We didn't dwell much on his absence. She told me with a shrug she'd be welcomed by Zach with open arms or not at all.

As promised, she inundated me with questions about the process of becoming a PI during our travel to Ogden. All I could give her was my experience, suggesting she contact Chief Tall Trees for a possible mentor. I made it clear that every state had its own requirements and to research it.

"Have you worked on computers before?" I asked. When she shook her head, I suggested a couple sessions with Kenneth to familiarize her with what was becoming an important tool of the trade. "And if the information is on the internet, you could save some phone calls to get the knowledge you need to become licensed. Maybe the forms would be on there."

The conversation was both encouraging and discouraging. The fact that I had accomplished the licensing fairly quickly excited her. But the fact that many states required field time as a trainee rubbed her innate impatience the wrong way.

"How long did it take your band to find international success," I reminded her when I caught her look of disappointment.

"We always had success except maybe at the very beginning back in high school," she explained. "And then we were excited about learning. We were learning how to play and learning new songs and learning what it felt like to play live, to fuck up and to have perfect shows. The last of those experiences was what made me want to perform forever."

"So what makes you want to pursue this new career?" I asked.

"Maybe nothing comes along that fulfills me like 'to molt'," she said. "And even then it wasn't as fulfilling as it once was. Except for helping create new songs, I was basically bashing out the same songs night after night. I didn't feel in control of my life. It felt like a job I fell into and was too lazy to leave. I was working for Vy and for Paula. It wasn't as creative and adventurous and fun as it was for so many years. And that's the point. Eight years is a long gig for anyone, let alone me. I'll probably still keep drumming, maybe put together my own band, but it will probably be more of a hobby. That would keep it fun. Who knows? Maybe we'll get big. But it takes a lot of energy to get big, and I don't know if I want what the energy would bring me. After our one off with Joan, I'm going to concentrate on becoming a bloodhound. Why a bloodhound? Just like you said, and just like why I'm a drummer, I think I'll be good at it."

"So 'molted' is going to continue?"

"Yeah. Didn't anyone tell you? We're meeting with her in LA. We're going to rehearse for awhile to tighten things up. Then we're going to tour for a couple months and record a live record. Paula found some lyrics of Vy's, so we'll be creating a couple new songs. Joan's writing one for the band, and we're going to work up one of mine to see if it flies."

"I always liked your songs on the albums," I said. Dotty would have one song on each side of each album, always personal. Most of them rocked, but they had a lot of depth of feeling. She even sang one of them in her charming unskilled voice, sort of like Ringo with the Beatles. Vy wanted her to sing more of them, but even that one was released without Dotty's knowledge and embarrassed her for awhile. Her songs softened the blow, tempered the anger of Vy's songs and helped increase the pleasure of listening to their albums immeasurably.

"Thanks," said Dotty with an unusually shy smile. With all her confidence as a beautiful woman and a brilliant drummer, her songwriting was her most insecure attribute.

When we finally arrived in Ogden and drove to Porter Wiggins' house, the ex-con jail cell neighbor of Utley's, we were surprised to find Eileen waiting for us. The blush on her face when we shook hands was obvious. She cleared her throat and tightened her body and said, "I thought it best for me to be here." Her partner was absent. "He's in charge of the stakeouts around Boise," she explained.

It was quickly apparent that con was not just short for convict. Mr. Wiggins was a confidence operator. He was caught defrauding some middle aged housewives, especially of the Mormon persuasion, with an insurance scam. He had a mellifluous voice and was on the handsome side of common. He looked like my vision of a Mormon: blue eyes, blond hair and easy smile. The only thing counter to my imagination was his short stature. He wasn't much taller than Dotty. His body was on the thin side, but there was thickness in his shoulders and strength in his handshake.

Like most men, when Dotty entered his sight trailing behind Eileen and myself, he reacted. He had been immediately talkative when we greeted him, but was tongue tied when he saw her. Eyes widened and nostrils flared. Unlike most men, he didn't hide his interest, but spent most of the next couple hours staring at her and addressing her and turning on his charm for her, though he may have been always as charming as he was with us. Dotty did nothing to discourage his stare, and in fact seemed to encourage it.

We spent a lot of time getting to know each other. It was a ploy to relax him. We didn't want him holding back any information about his encounter with Utley. It was also a way to feel out his potential as a witness for the prosecution. The more we learned about the con, the more we wondered if he was still in it. He complained about his work. Being a dishwasher kept him from the public, and when he begged to be let loose on them as a waiter or even a cashier, the restaurant wouldn't let him. It seems Ogden businesses were not big on hiring convicts, and the restaurant he worked for was well known to the parole system as a way for a parolee to get paid and was able to insist he stay away from being seductive. It definitely cramped his style. The guy needed an outlet.

Getting the witness comfortable also got Eileen comfortable. When we first arrived, the beer in Wiggins' hand was either discouraging or welcoming. If he was too drunk, he'd be incoherent. He wasn't so the welcoming aspect kicked in. He would be that much more comfortable. But, perhaps unprofessionally, we joined him, drinking beers with him. Only a couple, but it softened Eileen's resistance and she was subtly touching me, pushing her leg against mine and letting her arm slide against me.

After the lengthy introduction, Eileen pulled out her tape recorder from her large shoulder bag to document his testimony. She also set a hundred dollar bill in front of him and promised more depending on if she deemed his testimony worthy. Putting the bill in his pocket, he said, "I'd rather have her," pointing at Dotty.

"What?" exclaimed Eileen, but Dotty laughed.

"We'll see," said Dotty, giving him a wink.

"Maybe I'm not such a good role model," I thought to myself.

The possible reward was successful if not so advisable because his testimony was detailed and thorough and essential to the case.

"We exchanged reasons for our incarceration when we first talked in our neighboring cells, and I thought I'd be holding the conversation from then on. The guy looked like a brainless goon. He told me he was caught stealing drugs from a pharmacy but it wouldn't stick. I chimed in with my crime, anticipating a long one sided conversation with him grunting as his part, but he laughed. When I asked him what was so funny, he explained in blood curdling detail. He told me I was wasting my talent. All those housewives and all I got out of them was money. When I explained I had a girlfriend, not knowing she was off cheating on me at the exact same time I was singing her praises (Wiggins early on had explained his cuckolding, probably to endear Dotty with his romantic nature), he laughed again. 'Who cares, ' says he. 'You got to keep her happy to keep her on her leash, but those women you could have anyway you want.' I asked how he would want them, and he said, 'Compliant.' A big word from a big man, and obviously a not so dumb man. And the way he said the word made me shiver. I wasn't sure I wanted to continue the conversation, but he went on."

"Was he describing something from experience?" asked Eileen.

"Eventually. At first he questioned me on my methods and changed them to fit his fantasy. When I responded negatively to it, he went into details. He described kidnapping a woman, although he referred to it as picking her up. Clearly it was a kidnapping. She was wandering aimlessly at night talking to herself..."

"Did he say what city?" asked Eileen.

"No."

"Did he describe her?" I asked.

"She was some kind of bum, dressed in layers of old smelly clothes. Layers of shirts to keep warm at night. He said she smelled bad, but when he made her more compliant, more comfortable, he used a chemical that helped disguise the stench. He took her to a motel and bathed her, clothes and all and dumped any soap he had into the tub. Then he kept her compliant with the perfect chemical cocktail."

"Did he say how he administered the chemicals?" asked Eileen.

"He brewed up his special concoction and injected it into her system. He claimed women never know what they want until they get it, and he was just enabling them to enjoy his ... um ... penis."

"What did he say exactly about his penis?" asked Eileen. "We can take it."

"He said all women want big cocks and he had the biggest they would ever have."

"Go on," said Eileen.

"He put her on the bed, clothes and all and cut them away, saying he wanted to rip away the man clothes to get to the woman inside."

"Man clothes?" I asked.

"Yeah. When he described first seeing her, he said she was in disguise, trying to pretend she was a man. But he could tell she was a woman. She had big breasts and hips and couldn't disguise her womanly walk. And she was pretty."

"Can you remember any details about the clothes or the face or the hair?" I asked.

"Let me think. Blue jeans. Blue jean jacket and pants. A chambrays shirt and a flannel shirt underneath. A thin face but a big mouth and big brown eyes."

"You remember all that?" asked Eileen.

"I have nightmares about it. I'll never forget."

"What happened in bed?" asked Eileen.

"He cut away her clothes and then fucked her. He strangled her but just enough for her to get the ultimate thrill as he called it."

"What happened to her then?" I asked.

"He kept her. Moved her from one motel room to another and enjoyed her. She was his toy to play with at his will, and according to him loved every minute of it. He said when he fucked her mouth it was too much for her. Too much of a good thing he said."

"Did he say where he left her?" asked Eileen, holding my hand for the first time.

"Reno," said Wiggins. "He told me he wanted to find a new lover, but the place was just too bright at night."

"Well, Porter, I think we got what we wanted," said Eileen, keeping her excitement out of her voice but not out of her hand which was sensuously fingering mine.

"Do I get my reward?" said Wiggins, leering at Dotty. Eileen drew out four more hundreds and placed them in front of him. "Thanks," he said. "But I'd like an additional reward."

"I'm starved," said Dotty. "How about we buy you dinner and we'll discuss it."

Eileen drove her car with me inside following Dotty and Wiggins in the rental to a steakhouse. Over decent steak and more beer we paired up. As Dotty and Wiggins got cozier, so did Eileen and me. Sitting on the soft bench their shoulders were touching by the end of the meal, and I suppose other parts were touching as well. Eileen and I were feeling each other's excitement, fingers caressing genitals through the clothes under the draping red and white checkerboard table cloth. We definitely weren't interested in desert.

Luckily the motel room Eileen had booked was only a couple miles away. The adjoining room was available, so I took it. It wasn't for me though. As soon as Eileen and I were in, she kissed me and rubbed herself against my hard on. Soon we separated and stripped and resumed the kiss. I guided her to the bed and sat her on the edge and began kissing my way down her body. She was a big lady, thick in the middle with fleshy ass cheeks and thighs. Her breasts were relatively small, but were the right size for my mouth. She wasn't fat, but there was a lot of woman there. All in all though, her face was her best feature, and I continued staring at its beauty as I performed foreplay on the rest of her. There was no need to spend a lot of time preparing her to be fucked, so my hands soon found there way to her pussy. It was definitely ready, steaming hot and full of slick liquid. My hands squished around inside, discovering a small opening for such a big woman. My lips left her taut nipples and journeyed down to join my hand. She smelled delicious and tasted the same. Her bush needed some work, reminding me briefly of the amusing moment in my mother's house with Vy. I shrugged away the thought, held her pubes with one hand and used the other hand's fingers and my tongue and lips to bring her close to cumming. Standing, my cock wavering in front of her, I crawled onto the bed on my side. She joined me and I pushed her on her back. Realizing the need for a condom, I bounced off the bed and grabbed one from my bag. "Let me," said Eileen.

Rolling it on with an unsteady hand, obviously not used to it, she finally had me covered. I crawled between her open thighs and waited. When she didn't guide it in, I guided her hand to it and let her direct it to her opening. As I suspected, she was tight. It took a few strokes to fill her. Once inside I felt her vaginal muscles play around in the tight space. It was a thrilling surprise. She propped her head on a couple pillows to watch the joining. Her lips made a circle creating a subtle whistle from her deep breaths. Beginning the in and out motions, long slow steady strokes, she continued to watch, getting more excited. With my elbows supporting me and my hands reaching and playing with her tits, I pumped faster. Soon I was bouncing off her with short hard strokes and she was writhing beneath me. When she started cursing like a truck driver, it really turned me on. Just the idea of this proud and somewhat uptight FBI agent spouting like that, completely abandoning herself to the moment was too much. Holding her broad hips, I pounded deep and pressed hard, shooting my cum, my balls throbbing intensely. It was quick for me, but she was there already. An elongated "fuck" and a tensing and releasing and a vibrating interior and a gush of liquid washing over my balls made it clear she was having an even better orgasm than I was.

When I settled on my side, resting my body along hers, she turned her head and kissed me gently, our lips sharing their heat. "I needed that," she said.

We talked for awhile almost exclusively about her. She told me she was married, but there was no sex. It made her feel ugly. I told her she was crazy. Probing her past, I had her relive her earlier time with her husband. It was difficult to get her talking about specifics, but when I illustrated physically each action he had taken when they did fuck, she loosened up. It was clear they could use more practice. Substituting my fingers for my lips and cock, I discovered he was a bit too quick. Not only was he quick on the trigger, but he was quick with the foreplay.

"Do you suck his cock?" I asked her.

"A little, but I don't enjoy it and he usually has me move on anyway."

"Would you suck my cock?" I asked.

"I guess," she said.

"It's just if you love him and want him, giving him a really good blow job could do wonders. Think of it this way. When I was going down on you, I really liked it. I mean I liked the smell and the taste and everything, but mostly I liked the way it turned you on. Maybe I should have stayed longer. I usually do. But I sensed you needed me inside, you know, fucking you. Imagine this scenario. You are the young bride, naïve perhaps if not virginal. You dress up in a negligee like you did on your wedding night. Or if you didn't, pretend that you did. You slip into bed with him, and suddenly you're not so naïve. You kiss your way down his body, taking hold of his cock and stroking it. Your mouth reaches it and you give him the best blow job ever. When he cums, you introduce him to your pussy. You get in a sixty nine position so you can work him back up to hardness while he pleasures you. Once he's hard enough, you straddle him and shove it in and ride him until he satisfies you. If he hasn't cum, you stick your ass up and have him take you like a dog. Or you just lay back and have him fuck you missionary style until he cums a second time. Would you suck my cock, Eileen?"

"I'd love to."

As I suspected, she wasn't very good at it. Thankfully she asked me for help. We spent a half hour learning the ways to a man's libido. She continued the sucking while I sucked her pussy. It wasn't long before she wanted to be filled. She revealed her desire by taking the doggy style position. I would have preferred her on top just so I could stare at her beautiful face, but I was beginning to appreciate her big strong rump. After covering my cock with a fresh condom and knee walking behind her, I guided my cock in. My hips were slapping loudly against the flesh until she arched her head and spouted her nasty words. This time I wasn't quite ready to join her, so I fucked through her rippling innards a couple more minutes until I felt the rising pressure and the final release.

"You know I don't really love the asshole anyway," said Eileen once we had lain side by side. "I just hope I find a man I can have as much fun with as I've had with you."

"Believe me Eileen they're out there. And as beautiful and sexy as you are, you'll have no problem choosing."

"Thanks," she said, smiling beautifully at me and kissing my nose. "Goodnight."

I was dreaming about Vy fondling me back to life when I heard a voice saying my name. It was Vy first, and then it was Dotty. I opened my eyes to see the gorgeous blonde smiling at me, her hand caressing my barely risen cock. "I need you Joe," she whispered, glancing at a sleeping Eileen. "Get up."

Keeping hold of my penis, she led me through the door adjoining our rooms and into her bed. "He was too full of himself. He just tickled me and he was done. Even a second time was not good. I'm so horny for your cock, Joe. No one else's." Her mouth began working its magic, but not as effectively as either of us wanted.

"Why did you fuck him?" I asked.

"I wanted to get to know an ex-con intimately. It was informative if not very satisfying."

Getting into a sixty-nine position, I lapped at her cunt until she was breathing deep. My cock was brought back to enough hardness for her to guide it while on top. I let her ride herself to orgasm and then collapse on top. "You didn't cum yet," she said when I moved down to slip out of her.

"You weren't protected anyway," I said.

"I don't care whose baby it is," said Dotty.

"Zach might." Dotty shrugged, gave me a quick kiss and nestled against me. "I should get back in bed with Eileen," I suggested. It was too late for that.

Eileen walked into the adjacent room still naked. She didn't seem upset I had traded beds. She was smiling. "They got him," she said.

Everything was done to trap him. Plenty of manpower was used. Every cheap motel worker from Olympia to Wyoming was approached with pictures of the suspect and his car. The only hits were East of Boise and weren't current enough However, when unoccupied rooms were checked, another room was found with blood on the sheets and traces of blood in the bathroom. Located just east of Spokane on the Idaho border, his direction was found. And the scene was relatively fresh.

What got him was a relentless all night watch of every pharmacy in a thirty mile radius around Boise and the largest towns in Idaho. Using either policemen or neighborhood watch citizens, it was a huge effort. At one am, a drug store was hit on the western edge of Pocatello Idaho. The window was smashed, alerting a patrolling citizen who alerted the police. An unmarked car raced to the location and carefully followed the suspects as they drove away in Utley's station wagon. After dropping the other man off, there were only two of them, one of the two police got out of the pursuing car and arrested the second man just as he was entering his car. Utley led the remaining cop thirty miles north to a cheap motel. Once inside the room, the policeman reported Utley's final destination and waited for back-up. Less than five minutes later the cops surrounded the room. Silently unlocking the door, once the door was free, three cops rushed in. Utley was busy injecting his victim laying spread eagle on the bed. Her clothes were ripped open at the front just enough for her vagina and breasts to be exposed. Lengths of fabric were tied to her wrists and ankles over her clothing and to the bedposts. An improvised cloth harness strapped around her shoulders held a large knife against her throat so if she lifted her head, it would pierce her. With the knife occupied at her throat and the gun sitting on a table near the door, Utley was unprotected. He was told if he didn't drop the syringe he would be shot. He dropped it.