Chapter 8

Harvey Kapowski was eating a TV dinner and washing it down with a beer. His wife was at Bingo losing more of his hard earned money with her friends. Kapowski's day required a beer, several beers. Fucking computers. He didn't own one and knew little about them other than one led the Chief to him when he stuffed the pot in Margaret Horner's locker. What the fuck can I do now? The Chief fucking owns my ass.

The six o'clock news was starting. Harvey was hunting for the clicker to switch to a What About Raymond rerun when the announcer almost joyfully said; "In the news today, Margaret Horner, senior at Black Mountain high school was arrested on charges of drug possession and intention to distribute. Ms. Horner was arrested after a drug dog of the Black Mountain police department alerted her handler to a suspicious smell coming from Horner's locker."

Harvey dropped the clicker as he watched the outcome of his revenge today. A chill ran though his body at how close he had come to prison. Damn, I hope the Chief keeps his promise. I'll be some inmate's boy toy in the slammer.

A class picture of Margaret appeared along with a marijuana leaf on the screen. This changed to an image of her sitting in the back seat of a patrol car wearing handcuffs and sobbing.

"According to Chief Handy, police are in contact with a witness who saw Ms. Horner remove the three-ounce bag of marijuana from her car and transfer it to her backpack which she then carried into the school. The district attorney's office tells us that distribution of drugs in a school now carries a mandatory ten-year sentence in the state prison."

"Ms. Horner was bailed out of jail shortly after two o'clock by her father and prominent Black Mountain attorney, Alvin Johnson."

The video switched to Alvin Johnson with three microphones under his double chins. "The unfortunate girl is being set up in this crime. She had no knowledge of the drugs found in her locker. Person or persons unknown planted the drugs in her locker in some twisted form of revenge. We shall spare no expense in hunting down the perpetrators of this gross injustice of one of our city's finest students."

The announcer returned to the screen. "Ms. Horner's arraignment is tomorrow. Right now she is out on one hundred thousand dollars bail. Now on the national front..."

Harvey punched the mute button. He thought about his interview with the chief today. In Harvey's mind, he was as much a victim as Margaret Horner. The bitch made me do it; she was a rude cunt who deserved this, even if she didn't do it. His mind drifted to the jail where her bad-mannered little pussy could learn its lesson. I would have loved to see the little cunt strip searched, to see a big police officer, with long gloved fingers, sliding them into her pussy and ass as she was checked for drugs.

Harvey unzipped his pants and fished out his hard cock. He lay his head back in his recliner and jerked his cock thinking about Margaret Horner having to suck a lock black cock inserted through the bars into her cell before the Chief could make bail.

Chief Handy sat deep in thought after watching the lead story.

The Chief's wife, Annabelle, lay back in her recliner wearing a black mini-skirt and tube top. The Chief required her to wear sexy clothes at home. She didn't have a figure, she was skinny and no amount of eating would fatten her up. He bugged her to eat more, and she did, but it never added an ounce of fat on her. He liked a little meat on a girl's bones, maybe not as much as Bob Jamison's wife, Faye, now that was one fat bitch, but enough to soften the blows when he fucked her. Her bony ass was always making bruises on his hips as they slapped into her ass when he took her doggy style. He lusted after that secretary at the high school, Allison DeMarco. She had just the right amount of fat on her ass. The Chief lost interest in Horner and imagined Allison sitting on his lap facing away from him as she pumped his short dick in her ass. His fingers would press into the soft flesh wiggling but and...

His wife looked at the fat man sitting in his chair, "Josh, you know that little rich bitch sure fell into some shit now." Annabelle, his wife of fifteen-years, chuckled as she took a sip of her vodka and seven, "These little rich cunts don't think their shit smells."

When Josh didn't respond she looked over at her husband of thirty years and saw he was thinking about something. I sure ain't asking about the election. I got a black eye over that the last time I asked. The chief at that second was imagining he was filling Allison's ass with his nut.

"Something wrong with you arresting her?" She carefully watched for his reaction.

Fuck this gabby bitch interrupts everything. I should toss her over that recliner of hers and pull up that miniskirt and show her skinny ass who is the boss here. He said, "Something stinks about it." He was going to tell her something, knowing that she would be on the phone to her sister before the night was out passing on the gossip. Handy thought he might use her like he did the little reporter; a good rumor just might stir up something.

"No shit!" Oh, she knew her sister was going to love hearing about this.

Handy may not have been Sherlock Holmes, but he knew what a rat smelled like, and this case smelled worse than a week old dead rat.

"Jack Gardner called me at around 8:30 in the morning and asked to have a drug dog brought in but he didn't ask for it until a quarter to one. Why wait so long?"

"Don't know. It does smell kind of fishy." Annabelle took another sip of her drink and memorized every word for her sister.

"I know. I mean the drugs could have been in Cleveland after four and a half hours."

She laughed at his joke. He grinned at her since she didn't laugh at his jokes often. He began to get horny looking at her long exposed legs. He caught a glimpse of hair just under the hem of the skirt.

The Chief leaned over in his chair toward her and continued, "Then when the dog stops at her locker, he is surprised, and just as we are arresting the students who, he says, he saw with the drugs, he wants us to keep looking. He wants us to run the dog further down the hall. So we do and, we don't find a thing."

"Did he look surprised that dog stopped at the Horner girl's locker?" Annabelle had drained her glass and walked over to the bar for another. The Chief watched her bony ass as she walked by.

"Yeah, he did. He looked a lot more surprised than he should have." The Chief drained his beer. "Get me another fucking beer." I doubt the bastard knows where the kitchen is.

"So what does it mean? You think the drugs ain't hers?"

"Right now, I would have to say that I don't. I think she was set up."

"By Gardner?"

"That I don't know. Gardner's a guy you don't want to cross. He would do this if he thought the gain for him would be enough." The Chief drained half is beer. Talking was thirsty work. "But, what kind of gain is there for setting up the richest girl in town on a drug bust."

"He is a damn cold-hearted fucker that's for sure. He fired my cousin when she got pregnant in the middle of the school year. He told her to come back when she had a husband."

"I wonder if he wasn't setting up someone else and his plan went wrong."

"Who?"

"That I don't know. I need to do some digging."

They lapsed into silence as Wheel of Fortune came on. At the first commercial he noticed the house seemed too quiet. "Where's Portia?"

"She went to Amy's. They wanted to discuss baby names. She's going to stay the night there."

The Chief wasn't happy, "On a school night?"

"I thought what with her being pregnant that she could use some extra time with Amy."

"I just wish she had a husband to spend some time with."

"Well, honey you know that McKinley boy isn't going to marry her."

"No, he's not."

"Josh, you just can't go and let that boy off after he messed up Portia."

"Don't worry, Annabelle, I know how to handle these things." I ain't gonna tell her that I traded her revenge for Margaret Horner's arrest, but then I might be able to trade what I know for a whole lot more. The Chief fell silent when he saw Vanna reappear. Annabelle disappeared into the kitchen for another drink. The Chief decided he needed another beer and slipped out during the next commercial and called her sister.

Wendy dashed into news office of the paper and sat down at her desk and pulled up the story she had dictated, and started to rework it.

Ernie stepped out of the bathroom to see her working. "So you made bail?"

"No, they dropped the charges."

"No, shit."

"Ernie, I really need to work in this. I need about twenty minutes and then we can rework the front page."

"Shouldn't we get in touch with Bob about this? I mean you've brought in the biggest story we've run in this paper in years." Ernie was growing more nervous as he read over Wendy's shoulder.

"Bob told you to run what I brought in so run it. If you want to call Bob, that's fine with me, but I'm not stopping or even slowing down. Now leave me alone and let me get this done."

He left her and ran back to the men's room and tried to call Bob on his cell phone again.

Wendy had the story reworked with about twenty minutes to spare for press time. She had killed the story of her arrest and her assault by the jailer as she had said she would to Chief Handy. She sent the story off to Ernie for a final edit. The copy editor didn't find much to change, the woman could write. He finished his editing and finalized the next day's edition.

He stood up after finishing and went to the men's room one more time to try to find Bob. Ernie wasn't a born leader and this leaderless evening was getting to him. Still, he had the sense to double the press run for tomorrow's paper.

Jack Gardner arrived at home late. It was almost seven as he walked into the kitchen from his three-car garage. He listened for his wife. The house was completely silent. Her car is in the garage, and there is a strange Mercedes parked out front. Interesting.

He took off his shoes and made a quick search of downstairs. He started upstairs when he stopped and returned to his office under the stairs. He found his camera, the latest digital model with a 10x zoom. He turned it on and checked that the batteries were good. You never know when you might need to take a good picture.

He tiptoed upstairs softly taking each step to avoid any noise. Their bedroom door was open. He crept up the hall and peeked into the room. Oh, shit she's naked in bed with another woman. Wait, that's Anna Freeburg. She's only a sophomore; she can't be more than sixteen. After the day I've had I deserve this. Jack turned on the camera and leaned around the doorway. The ladies where intertwined on the bed obviously after making love. Anna was on her back her breasts flattened on her chest with her nipples dark and exposed. His wife's arm was over the girl; her hand just at the top of the teenager's exposed pussy. His wife's legs were spread and he could see the familiar lips spread from their orgasm.

The camera's light meter said there was enough light for a natural light picture. He snapped off three quick ones. Not trusting the camera with such important pictures, he turned on the flash and got a beautiful brightly colored picture of the naked women. He took one more for insurance and backed slowly away from the door.

He silently made his way down to his car turning on the front security lights before driving around the corner. He wanted plenty of light. Pulling his cell phone from his coat he dialed his house. It rang six times before his very flustered wife answered the phone.

"Clarisse, I'm sorry I'm just leaving work."

Clarisse was positively stuttering as she came back weakly with, "That's all right dear." He heard whispering in the background.

"Do you have company dear?" This is so fucking good.

"Uh, yes, yes, I do. One of the girls in the society club is here. We're trying to find her dress... I mean a dress... for the cotillion."

"Dear, I don't know if I've told you lately what a good job you do with these girls." God, I crack myself up sometimes.

"Well... thank you dear... no, over there..."

"What as that dear?" He was tossing the camera in the air.

"Oh, this silly girl can't find anything." Anna was bent over and Clarisse was distracted by the girl's perfect peach on display.

"I should be home in about ten minutes."

"Good dear. I'll see what I can whip up for you to eat."

"That would be so good of you, dear. See you in a bit. Bye."

"Bye." That was a short good-bye for a loving husband, he chuckled.

He took the camera and got out of the car. Jack hid behind a shrub in the corner of the front yard. He set the camera on maximum zoom and focused on the front door. Anna Freeburg came out and turned to kiss his wife. He got a perfect shot of their tongues dueling. For a day that was so shitty, this really is a perfect ending. The young girl ran down the sidewalk to her Mercedes carrying three bags, got in, and drove away.

Jack had to sit in his car and step through the shots in the camera. He couldn't decide if the shot of the two in bed with his wife's hand almost touching Anna's pussy was his favorite or the one at the front door with his wife French kissing a six-teen-year old girl. It's just so hard to decide when such fine art is before you.

Jack sat in the car dreaming of the day when his wife decided she wanted a divorce and half of his money. He will enjoy pulling out the 16x20 prints of his wife having lesbian sex with a minor. That might just reduce her demands a little.

He started his car and drove around the corner to his house. He was whistling as he entered the house. He scooped up his wife in his arms and kissed her deeply. So that's what Anna Freeburg tastes like.

Margaret and Brett sat in the gazebo her father had built out in the garden behind the main house. Brett and Margaret had a date for tonight, but Margaret suggested they sit quietly in the garden rather than go out. She was terrified of seeing someone she knew and have to talk about her arrest. When her face appeared on the evening news she had fled the room after only thirty seconds of the story. Her story had led the broadcast, and she shivered to think of the morning newspaper with her picture on the cover.

"Brett, what am I going to do? Everyone thinks I'm a drug pusher." She was leaning on him with her head resting on his shoulder sniffling back the tears. Brett had never seen her cry before. It surprised him, normally; she was a strong unemotional girl. He had watched her verbally slice up people who had only slightly offended her. This disturbed him greatly. He was sure there was a softer girl underneath, so he hadn't given up and found a less emotionally complex girl.

"I don't babe. First thing tomorrow I'm going to start asking around if anyone saw your locker being messed with."

She hugged him. "Oh, Brett, thank you. I am innocent, but a lot of people are going to think the worst."

He wrapped his arm tighter about her. "I'll set every one straight that my girl friend is being set up, and I'll find out who did this."