Chapter 1

Deb and Bill Weaver walked out of the hotel room and stopped to share a long passionate kiss. They stroked breasts and pussy, cock and balls while they chased each other’s tongues, their actions were only broken by the sound of the cough, my cough a few doors down.

“Hello, Deb. Have a nice afternoon?” I asked.

“MICK!”

I looked at the two lovers and put my hand up before either could speak. I didn’t make any move towards either of them, so Bill had no reason to run.

“Yes, it’s me. Your loving husband. The man who has never cheated on you. The man who gave you three kids, I assume that they’re mine. The man who loves you more than anything. What does Bill Weaver have for you? A bigger dick? A thicker wallet? A more loving heart?”

“Um...” was all Deb could come up with. “I guess this means that you are going to divorce me.”

“No. I’m not going to divorce you. I’m not going to reward you by freeing you to fuck Bill or marry him. I’m not going to deny my children a full-time mother, and I’m not going to tell Bill Weaver’s wife. There is no reason for his wife to suffer, or for his children to have to live knowing their father is a cocksucking piece of shit.”

“You’re not going to divorce me?”

“Why would I?”

Deb looked at me and then at Bill. She began to think that things were going to work out.

“I mean it’s not like you are going to fuck Bill Weaver again.”

“I won’t, I promise,” Deb said.

“You promise is shit. No, you won’t fuck him again because he won’t be around,” I looked at Bill Weaver as I rubbed the bracelet on my right wrist, closed my eyes and smiled.

There was a loud pop and Bill Weaver’s head exploded violently, before his body dropped at Deb’s feet squirting bright red blood all over her legs.

“AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH” Deb screamed when the man next to her dropped and sprayed her with his blood.

“I’ll see you at home after work,” I said, turning to walk to my car, leaving Deb to clean up the mess while the sirens became louder, and the police arrived.

“Have a good lunch, Mick?” my boss asked.

“Yeah, it was very productive.”

I smiled and walked back into my office, closing the door behind me. I sat in the comfy chair behind my desk, I took a deep breath and removed the bracelet from my right wrist. I placed it in its spring-loaded velvet box and closed it. I put the box in the safe hidden in the side of my desk and slowly slid the hidden panel closed.

My work that afternoon was uninterrupted and fruitful. My PA intruded on my work only twice. Once for a pile of papers that required my signature and the second time to tell me my wife was on the phone.

“Thank you, Diana.”

I picked up the handset and pushed the button with the blinking light.

“Mick O’Dell.”

“Mick, it’s Deb.”

“I know your voice wife. What do you need?”

“The police want to talk to you.”

“Why?”

“Why?” she began to sound upset. “Because you were standing there when Bill died.”

“Right. I was standing there, just like you, only not as close. What do they want?”

“They said they wanted to talk to you.”

“Are you with them now?”

“Yes.”

“Let me talk to one of them, preferably someone in authority.”

“OK.”

There was the sound of speaking and a rough male voice came on the line.

“Mr. O’Dell?”

“Yes, to whom am I speaking?” I asked.

“This is Detective Rory Powell. I’m investigating the death of Mr. Bill Weaver. You wife has told me that you were on the scene when he died, and I’d like to hear your side of the story.”

“I would prefer to talk to you in person, Detective,” I said calmly. “May I stop in and see you after I’m done with work today?”

“What time would that be?” he asked.

“If you are downtown, then I can be there at 5:45PM,” I offered.

“That would be fine. Please don’t forget.”

“I have no reason to forget, Detective. I’ll see you at 5:45PM. Oh, Detective, are you holding my wife?”

“No. she is free to go.”

“Please tell her that I’ll see her at home after I talk to you.”

“OK.”

I hung up without saying goodbye and returned to my work.

“I’m here to see Detective Powell,” I said to the female officer at the reception desk.

“Just a moment please,” she said, picking up her phone.

After a few minutes, the policewoman hung up the phone and looked at me.

“Sir, Detective Powell will come and get you in a few minutes. Please have a seat.”

“Thank you,” I said, taking a seat.

I knew what the Detective was going to want to know and I knew what I wasn’t going to tell him. I sat there without a care in the world. A few minutes later, the detective came out into the lobby.

“Mr. O’Dell?”

“Yes. Detective Powell?”

“Yes,” he answered extending a hand. “Please come with me.”

I released his hand and followed him into the office area of the police department. We entered a small room with a table and four chairs. The room had no windows and there were two cameras mounted high on each of the opposite walls.

“Mr. O’Dell, please sit. This interview is going to be recorded.”

I nodded and took the offered seat.

“Please state your full name, birthdate, current address, phone number and e-mail address.”

I did so and waited.

“Very good. Do you know a Mr. Bill Weaver?”

“Yes.”

“How do you know him?”

“He was fucking my wife.”

“How do you know?”

“I saw them in my home, and in a hotel, through the closed curtains on several occasions.”

“How did you feel about that?”

“It made me angry.”

“Did you take action on your anger?”

“Yes.”

The detective raised an eyebrow at that response.

“What did you do?”

“I confronted them last night.”

“How did you confront them?”

“When they exited their hotel room, I stopped them and talked to them.”

“Only talked?”

“Yes.”

“What happened during the confrontation?”

“I was telling my wife that I loved her and that I wasn’t going to divorce her. I told her that I’m wasn’t going to reward her by freeing her to fuck Bill or marry him. I told them that I wasn’t going to deny my children a full-time mother, and I wouldn’t tell Bill Weaver’s wife because there was no reason for his wife to suffer, or for his children to have to live knowing their father is a cocksucking piece of shit.”

“Did you tell your wife that you knew that Bill Weaver wasn’t going to be sleeping with her again?”

“No.”

“No?”

“I told her that it’s not like she was going to fuck Bill Weaver again. I never implied that they were sleeping. Deb then promised that she wouldn’t fuck him again.”

“And what did you say to that?”

“I told her that her promise was shit.”

“At that point, did you say that Mr. Weaver would not be around to sleep with her?”

“No, I said that she wouldn’t be fucking him because he wouldn’t be round.”

“You threatened him?”

“No. I just told my wife that her lover wouldn’t be around.”