Detective
By Waldo
Chapter 1 Back into Action
Chapter 2 Searching for stolen items
Chapter 3 It begins to make sense
Chapter 4 Do you have a photograph?
Chapter 5 The funeral
All rights reserved by the Author. May be posted on any free site where Distribution of stories is free. Send comments to mellin6695@aol.com
Chapter 1 Back into Action
Pulling into the large main parking lot reserved at the main Police Department Headquarters for official police vehicles, Detective Sam Bronson grimaced at the sight of so many police officers in various stages of departing or arriving within the busy parking lot. Having been stationed at a very small, which meant relatively non-busy, police station for the last five years, he had almost forgotten how hectic it could be here at the main headquarters. He hadn't been back to his old office since that unforgettable day that the Police Review Board had grudgingly returned his police badge and rapidly re-assigned him to a new job "out in the sticks".
No matter how much he had tried since that reassignment, he hadn't been able to forget the miserable way that he had felt that day or since that verdict. For almost three months previous to that day, he had worked hard to prove his innocence in the accidental shooting death of a drug addict that he had been trying to arrest and the even more accidental death of his partner who stopped a bullet from Sam's pistol. Then on that faithful day, the Review Board determined that there wasn't enough evidence to indicate misconduct by him and had returned him to duty. Yeah, they said he wasn't guilty but they also said they weren't sure if he was innocent either; just that they didn't have enough evidence to take him to court. So he went back to his office expecting to return to his old normal life only to discover that he was being immediately transferred to a new position at a much smaller and peaceful station.
At the new station, he had to prove himself again to his new fellow employees that he was a good cop and to earn their trust that he wouldn't be involved in another deadly accident. He couldn't blame them because he had a tainted reputation and subsequently had worked very hard at his new job since then to put that incident behind him.
Then came the unexpected call that he had received that very morning to report to his old boss, who was now the Police Commissioner. That was the only reason that he drove back to the main headquarters.
******
"Sam, you're looking mighty good. For being an old fart that's only got two years left until you're old enough to retire, you're still in good shape. How come you haven't come by to see any of your friends?"
"Didn't think that I had any friends left here and we both know that you're lying about the way that I look now. I've turned into a bald, pudgy, middle-aged man that looks somewhat like Alfred Hitchcock. Look, I'm a busy man, why did you bring me all the way down here? I know that it wasn't so that we could talk about old times. You could have called me anytime over the past three years if you had wanted to talk to me."
Police Commissioner Harold Grayson tried to keep the smile on his face as he listened to the somewhat angry tone of his employee and former friend. Yes, Sam had lost a lot of hair in the last several years and had put on so much weight that he probably couldn't pass the standard police physical any more. The angry tone in his voice indicated that he still had a lot of hurt and pain inside him probably from that old shooting incident.
"Take a seat, Sam. You're right about why I brought you down here. I got a special case that I want you to personally assume responsibility for and I couldn't discuss the details over a phone line. I understand that you still frequent the Strip on your off- nights."
The Strip was a twenty-block long series of bars, nightclubs and honky-tonks that provided most of the downtown nightlife. The clientele was primarily young middle-class men and women but there were several places throughout the strip that catered to the older middle-aged men who had nowhere else to go drink. In his early police career as a young policeman, Patrolman Sam Bronson had been assigned to the Strip as his first beat. Then later as a Sergeant responsible for a district, the Strip was within his jurisdiction and he continued to expand his knowledge of the customers and workers at the different establishments. As a single man, Sam had also spent a lot of his off-duty hours on the strips being a customer in the bars as well so he knew the area quiet well from his personal and professional involvement in the area.
"Yea, most of the time, I've got nothing else to do with my money and it's a good place to blow off steam."
Opening the top folder of the several folders stacked on his corner of his desk, the Commissioner removed a photograph from the folder and offered the photograph to Sam. "Her street name's Trish. Real name is Mary Andrews from some little town in Maryland. She came here a couple years ago to find herself a rich husband and like most young girls who don't have any skills except for her youthful body, she wound up working the Strip as a prostitute. Did you ever see her before?"
The photograph was the typical strip mall glamour-type photograph showing the woman from the neck up. Staring at the woman's smiling face as he searched his memory, Sam knew that he didn't know her. If she had spent any time on the strip recently, he had probably seen her but because it wasn't his beat anymore, he didn't pay as much attention to the common street whores and junkies. She was an average looking woman, probably in her early twenties. Her bleached-blonde hair showed enough dark roots to prove that she wasn't a natural blonde, as if anyone could have been really been born with that whorish color. Looking at her average-looking facial features, he also tried recalling the more recent Missing Person photographs that crossed his desk all the time to see if he could remember her.
"No, she doesn't look familiar. What's the story? Missing person? Ripped-off boyfriend?"
Handing Sam another photograph, the senior officer continued describing some of the facts about the case.
"Nothing normal about her story. About three weeks ago, she called 911 and was very hysterical. She told the Investigating Officer that someone had stolen her face."
The new photograph was one that was obviously taken by a police photographer because of the background and serious sad look on the young woman's face. At first Sam thought that it was a photograph of a different woman with the same hairstyle but as he held both photographs side by side, he was startled to see that they were the same young woman in both photographs. Except that her face in the second photograph looked very different. As Sam examined the differences in the two photographs, the Police Commissioner continued describing the facts of this particular police case.
"We had a reconstructive surgeon examine the photographs as well as personally examine the woman's new face. Our expert's opinion is that the woman's facial structure changed overnight, from the lifelong oval shaped feminine look to a square-jawed masculine look. The woman's story is that she went out on the Strip, danced a little, looked for some customers and began to feel sick after someone bought her a drink. She didn't feel like working and felt sluggish so she went back home and fell asleep. When she awakened the next morning, she immediately noticed that her facial shape had changed, so she called the police. The surgeon examined the woman's face but he doesn't know how such a drastic change could occur. She claimed that her face had been stolen but we knew that wasn't possible so we didn't do anything about it. After all, how do you tell Beat Officers to be on the lookout for a stolen face, oval in shape, feminine, etc? So we were just going to let the case die and eventually be filed away along with all of those other unexplainable cases that we've got filed somewhere. Then two or three days later, an Officer was called to a doctor's office. One of his female patients was hysterical and claiming that her cheekbones, eyes and lips had been stolen. The second woman was the next piece of the puzzle."
Picking up the next folder on his desk, the Commissioner handed the entire folder to Sam. Opening the folder, the Detective saw photographs on both sides of the folder. The photograph on the left side was another standard glamour photograph showing a dark- haired pretty woman whose strong-featured face clearly showed her strong gypsy-looking ethnic heritage with full voluptuous smiling lips, rosy high cheekbones, and piercing Emerald Green eyes. The photograph on the right was the standard police evidence type of photograph but the woman looked very different. Her lips were now just a narrow slit that gave her a cold, cruel appearance. Her hypnotic green eyes were now very normal brown eyes and her cheeks were flat. Commissioner Grayson began explaining details about that particular case.
"Bernice Bishop is the woman's name. She's a waitress at one of the Bars on the Strip. She also felt strange after drinking the cup of coffee that she had at the waitress stand. She went home after work, threw up and then lay on the couch as she felt the room spinning as if she was drunk. Only she hadn't drunk anything except for the coffee. Next thing that she knew, it was morning and she still felt dizzy. Going into the bathroom to pee, she immediately noticed the change in her face. She rushed to her doctor who called us. A different officer investigated who didn't know about our other mysterious case. But the police photographer assigned to take the new photographs of her changed face was the same man who took photos of Trish's also changed face and he advised the investigating officer to compare the two cases. For three days, it lingered on that officer's desk, then we received another mysterious case."
Handing the third folder to Sam, the Commissioner's voice dropped several octaves as if he found it difficult to talk about the mysteries that his officers were investigating.
"Case number three is Janice Browning, a lesbian who frequented the Strip looking for women to take back to her place. Like our first two women, Janice was out on the Strip, drank something that made her feel so woozy that she went back home. She awakened the next morning to discover that her normal slender chest was now much broader and noticeably wider. Overnight, she went from having a chest that was about thirty inches when measured at the armpits to having a bulky wide man's chest that was now a very broad forty-two inches around at the armpits. Needless to say, her size 34-B cup sized breast measurement is now a size 48-B cup size because of her new bulky chest. When this strange case came in, a desk sergeant recognized that there had to be something common to all of the three cases and he assembled a small task force to work on the three cases. Two days later, a fourth woman was added to the cases and the problem was moved up a couple of management layers within our headquarters group. Charlie Hanson was put in charge. You remember Charlie, don't you?"
Looking at the photographs in the third folder, Sam stared at the several before and after unexplainable chest expansion photographs in the third woman's case folder. There were several snapshots of her wearing bikinis at the beach showing that she once had narrow shoulders and looked very normal. The new police photographs showed that her chest was thicker, wider, and more muscular making her shoulders look very broad and masculine. In the police photographs, the woman was topless and the woman's small breasts looked very unreal on the woman's new wide chest. Her new chest looked like what Arnold Schwarniger's chest would look like if the strongman had orange-sized breast implants surgically added to his muscular chest.
Closing the folder and taking the next folder that the Commissioner was patiently holding, Sam stared at the police photograph of a nude woman with thick curly chest hair covering her chest, back, and buttocks. Her legs were also very hairy. The woman's face also had a fresh layer of beard stubble making her look like she hadn't shaved in a day or so.
"Connie Meinka. She is a recent divorcee who had just started hanging around the Strip at night and picking up men to help her forget her bad divorce. Although she came to us as the fourth case, she should have been our first case. Like the other girls, she thinks that she drank something and awakened the next morning to discover a major change in her body. But she didn't tell anyone about it for over two weeks as she stayed in her apartment and freaked out in private. When she finally got the courage to tell a good friend, the friend took her to a doctor who reported it to us. In addition to now having a hairy body more typical of a man, her skin's complexion also changed. She used to have the creamy soft youthful complexion of a nineteen-year-old girl but now she's got the hard craggy skin that is more typical of a man in his mid- forties. Also her body now has some scars on the legs that she doesn't know how she got them. Our medical expert who examined her said it was as if she exchanged skin with an older male who was very hairy and had been in a wreck several years earlier. In addition to the new masculine hair growth over most of her body, she also has a heavy beard growth now so that she has to shave at least once a day to look somewhat normal."
Glancing up from the photographs of the hairy woman who looked like she belonged in a freak show because of the thick coating of body hair covering her body, Sam noticed that there was only one more folder on the desk. Noticing Sam's eye movements, the Commissioner handed that folder to him also and began describing those facts.
"Case five is Monique VanDavis which is her stage name. Real name is Diane Herrington. She's a twenty-five-year-old topless dancer in one of the clubs. Think that I saw her one night when I was out with some of the guys. I've always been a legman. Only it looks like she's going to have to find another career. Would you pay to look at those legs?"
Opening the fifth and last folder, Sam saw several old photographs of an attractive woman who had obviously surgically enhanced her breasts to look more like cantaloupes mashed tightly under her skin. The series of recent police photographs showed that her lower body had greatly changed. Her long, lithe dancer's legs were now stubby very masculine looking hairy legs.
"Like the other women, she awakened one morning to discover that she was about three inches taller, her slender legs were very muscular as well as being hairy and her feet were much bigger. Her new large feet now fit a man's size twelve shoe. The new feet have calluses and have obviously never had a pedicure either but a pedicurist had just professionally done her real feet within the week before her legs and feet were changed. Like the other women, our medical expert who examined her, thinks that her lower extremities are totally masculine now and he doesn't have any explanation as to how it could have occurred to her. From the thighs down, she's now all man."
Closing the last folder, Sam already knew the answer to the question that he had to ask.
"What is my involvement in this?"
Leaning back in his executive chair, the commissioner made a teepee shape with his fingertips before giving his answer. Sam recognized the motion being one that the Commissioner usually made when he was uncomfortable with a situation. So obviously his longtime friend was getting ready to give him something that the Commissioner already suspected was unsolvable.
"Something is happening out there and we don't know what it is. Nor can we let it continue. Five young women have already had portions of their bodies mysteriously stolen somehow and replaced with masculine body parts. I need someone that knows the Strip to head up this investigation and to stop it. That someone is you."
"I'll need to interview each of the women again and maybe have some other experts examine them. Then....."
"You don't have time right now to go over the old cases. I called you to come here this morning to turn over these cases to you and to tell you that we've got a new woman downstairs as we speak. She's being photographed and I want you to interview her."
"Ok, I'll go check her out. What's different about her?"
"She awakened this morning to discover that her vagina had been replaced with a man's testicles and apparently functional penis. It appears that her pussy has been stolen."
Chapter 2 Searching for stolen items
It didn't make any sense. There's no way that you can replace the body parts that were being "stolen" overnight.
Staring through the two-way mirror at the young woman who was impatiently pacing the floor in the interviewing room, Sam tried to figure out the questions that he would need to ask her. There were standard questions that you asked someone about a stolen car, such as "Did you leave the keys in it?" or "what color was it?" But what did you ask a woman who claimed that her pussy had been stolen?
"Did you secure it before you went to bed?" "Are you sure that you didn't let a friend borrow it and maybe the friend hasn't returned it yet?" "Do you have any recent photographs of your pussy that we
can show on America's Most Wanted television show?" "What is the approximate value of your vagina?" "Did your vagina have any nicks, scratches or other blemishes that would make it easy to recognize in a police lineup?" "What color was it?" "Was it a big one or a little one?" And last but not least, the favorite question usually asked which was "How many miles did it have on it?"
The obviously distraught woman was wearing a robe so that she would be ready for the physical examination that would be mandatory as part of taking her initial deposition. The clothes that she had worn to the police station were piled on the table as if she had just undressed and put on the robe in the interview room.
Knowing that he had to get this initial interview over, he nodded to the nurse who was waiting patiently for him to start the interrogation then the still very confused Detective walked into the Interview Room closely followed by the nurse. Because Sam was going to have to personally examine the angry young woman's body, he needed to have a female witness present at all times to confirm that he didn't do anything improper in his physical examination or questioning of the victim.
"Good morning, Miss..."
"Hancher. Beth Hancher. I can't believe this happened to me. It's been a fucking nightmare."
Her answer was almost screamed at him as she took her anger out on him just because he happened to be in the room. The obviously distraught woman continued her rapid pacing back and forth across the room ignoring his silent hand wave signaling her to take a seat. Her pretty face was scrunched into a grotesque caricature of her normal appearance, with one of her eyebrows nervously twitching, her lips quivering, and her eyes unblinkingly flicking fretfully at everything in the room but not seeing anything.
"I'm Detective Sam Bronson. Please sit down and tell me your story. Because this is a very unusual case, I'm having this interview taped."
"I don't care what the fuck you do as long as you find the bastard that did this to me."
Spinning to face him, she jerked open the bottom portion of her robe to reveal a very normal looking penis and testicles dangling from her shaved groin. That is, it would have been a normal looking cock and balls if the male sex organs were attached to a man. But because of her otherwise very normal-looking feminine appearance, the male genitalia seemed very out of place on her petite body
"Uh.....when...how..uh..."
"Look, I'm a woman. I enjoy being a woman and I don't appreciate the dirty trick that someone somehow played on me. Waking up this morning and discovering on my way to the bathroom to pee, that I had a cock between my legs was enough to make me pee on my bedroom carpet. I've played with a lot of cocks so I know one when I see it. And this is definitely a cock. I want you find whoever did this to me and to turn me back into being my usual self. I don't want a cock. This isn't me. I want my pussy back. I can't let any of my boyfriends see me looking like this."
The rest of the interview didn't reveal any new facts for resolving the other cases. Similar to the stories told by the other women, she had returned home from spending a few hours on the Strip and when she got home, she began feeling slightly nauseated from something that she either ate or drank while on the Strip. When she awakened from a drugged-feeling deep sleep, she immediately discovered the very obvious physical change in her body and instantly went to the police.
Sam had a doctor examine Beth's body and the doctor confirmed that the new sex organ between her legs was a fully functional penis. Laying on the table on her back with her legs spread wide so that the photographer could record the doctor's examination, the woman began cursing again when the doctor's rubber-glove covered hands examining her, started causing her new male appendage to become slightly aroused from the physical handling. With his own eyes, Sam was able to silently confirm that it appeared to be a totally functional male cock capable of obtaining an erection when simulated.
An hour later when the young woman's interview was finished, Sam added the sixth folder to his briefcase and returned to his car carrying all of the facts known so far. Sitting within the privacy of his police car to give himself the first opportunity to really think about the information learned this morning, he looked at each of the folders and thought about the cases for several minutes. Then muttering under his breath to himself, he whispered, as if he was talking to the still unknown perpetuator of the crimes.
"I don't know how you're doing it, but you're somehow exchanging a man's physical characteristics for the different women's female characteristics. You're obviously building a woman with the selected body parts that you're somehow removing from the women. The only things that you still need to build a complete woman are the tits, ass, and hair. Who are you, how are you doing this, when are you going to strike next and which poor soul is going to be your next victim?"
******
It was a long three days and nights. By night, Sam prowled the Strip, talking to people and being on the lookout for anything suspicious. During the day, he personally re-interviewed each of the previous victims and began talking to the best medical specialists that he could find. The medical people all told him the same thing; that what he was describing about the women was totally impossible.
Then while visiting the Strip, one of his contacts that he used to use to gather information, gave him a tip.
"Go to the Brown Bag Bar and ask for Cynthia."
The Brown Bag's bartender pointed out Cynthia who was quietly sitting in a dark area of the bar smoking a cigarette. She was wearing long sleeves and gloves although the weather was quiet warm. Sitting down beside her, he quickly flashed his badge before he began questioning her so that she knew that he wasn't trying to pick her up for personal reasons. Five minutes later after listening to her story, he escorted her out of the bar and into his unmarked police car so that he could take her down to police headquarters for the medical personnel to examine her. She was going to be folder number seven although time wise, she was probably victim number three or four. A couple of weeks earlier, she had awakened from a mysterious sleep to discover that her slender arms, willowy hands and long slender fingers had been replaced with thick muscular arms, fat hands and stubby fingers. After several hours of self-examination of her new arms, she also discovered that her neck had changed. Instead of a slender willowy neck, she now had a short stubby neck. She had been too scared at first to go to the police and then she decided that there wasn't anything that could be done for her so she was living with the changed arms and new neck.
Sam just hoped that the woman's fingerprints had changed also. That might give them a clue as to which man the male body parts were coming from.
After a couple of hour's examination, Sam opened folder number eight and began documenting her facts. By that time, Sam knew that the woman's fingerprints hadn't changed although her new stubby fat fingers were totally different from her former slender classical piano-player long fingers. He did have one more clue. On the woman's new forearm was a scared area where it looked like someone had removed a tattoo of someone's name. It was the type of tattoo that young sailors frequently got on their first liberty pass, the type of tattoo that said "Mother".
******
Sam had deduced a clue from the evidence gathered so far. Each of the women had spent the night prior to their transformation in a bar or nightclub within a two block radius of the other clubs. Gathering a good team of four handpicked police officers in civilian clothes to assist him in staking out the area, they concentrated on the clubs within that small area to see if they could find something suspicious.
Standing at the bar in a nightclub that he picked to personally monitor, Sam desperately wanted a real alcoholic drink to calm his frayed nerves but knew that he had to limit himself to nothing stronger than club soda while he was on-duty. Trying to look like he was just an average businessman with time to kill, Sam casually looked around the bar as he monitored his stakeout assignment. It was the typical chain-restaurant that attracted a mixed crowd of young people looking for happy-hour meals of free Buffalo Wings and someone to talk to.
"Could I have a glass of chardonnay, please?"
The soft melodic voice of the woman standing next to him startled him. He had been so busy looking around the restaurant from his barstool's perspective that he hadn't noticed that an attractive woman had claimed the empty seat next to him.
Hearing her voice, Sam added another item to his list of body parts that he could expect to be stolen. A woman's soft higher pitched voice would also be needed to build a total new woman from the female body parts taken so far.
The young woman glanced at Sam then without moving her eyes, looked through him by changing the focus of her eyes as she looked at the other men lined up behind him down the rest of the crowded bar. It was clear that she discarded Sam because of his age and portly grandfatherly appearance as possibly being anyone that she wanted to talk to in the smoky bar.
Trying to put himself into the villain's mind, Sam found himself looking at the young woman to see if there was something about her that might attract the unknown thief that Sam was chasing. Glancing once at the exposed upper portion of her cleavage displayed by her low-cut bodice, he decided that her heavy breasts were probably too large to be considered perfect breasts. Looking down at her hips, Sam also quickly discarded her hips as being choice material for his thief because her heavy hips would also be too big to be proportional sized with the rest of the body parts stolen so far. But her thick mass of heavily coiffured red hair clearly fitted the expected standards of the thief.
It was evident from her time-consuming hairstyle that she was proud of her mass of thick reddish hair. It was brushed into a bouffant "airy" hairstyle favored by models or singers to provide a thick frame of hair around a woman's face. Most working women wouldn't want to take the time everyday to tease and brush the thick mane of lush hair into that style.
A slight movement by the woman made it obvious that she was aware of Sam's heavy scrutinizing of her hair. She turned slightly as if she was offering Sam the opportunity to examine her hair from other perspectives, then she picked up her glass of wine and moved away from him.
Glancing around the room to see if anyone else was watching the pretty redhead as she moved slowly around the room to find someone to be her companion for the evening, Sam noticed that a couple in one of the booths was also watching her.
Some people stand out in any room. The attractive blonde sitting at the table had the leggy lithe type of seductive womanly body that men like to stare at and daydream about. Everything about her appeared perfect so Sam mentally made a note to himself to check her out later as possibly being a potential future victim. The middle-aged man sitting beside her looked like a rich sugar daddy that was able to purchase trophy women to accompany him to public places.
Glancing around the rest of the room, Sam noticed that a couple of men were looking at the redhead as she sashayed around the room toward an empty chair between two handsome young men. But he quickly decided that those observing men were watching her simply because they probably watched every woman. Some men lived for nothing more than to stare at every woman.
Glancing back at the blonde, Sam unobtrusively turned so that it wasn't obvious that he was watching them talk catty about the redhead woman. The blonde was wearing a high-neck blouse so that there wasn't any exposed cleavage and it looked like she was wearing an expensive blonde wig. But from what Sam could see, this woman would have been a good choice for any of the other body parts already stolen. Her voluptuous lips, high cheekbones, and long slender body made her look almost exactly like Claudia Schieffer, the very beautiful European model.
Feeling a vibration on his hip from his silent cell phone, Sam glanced at his phone to see that one of the other detectives was calling him. Answering the phone, Sam learned that the other detective was following a suspicious man and was requesting backup.
Throwing a couple of dollars on the bar to pay for his club soda, Sam glanced once more at the redhead who was now sitting on the bar stool and was happily talking to the two men surrounding her. Walking fast out of the bar, Sam made a mental note that he was probably going to have to somehow justify more men to help in his search.
******
The shrill sound of his telephone ringing awakened Sam from a nice dream where he was dreaming about the leggy blonde that he had seen in the bar earlier in the evening. Shaking his head to clear the confusion from his thoughts, he picked up the phone.
"Sam speaking."
"This is Officer Brown. You gave orders to immediately notify you if anything strange happened. We've got a woman who is claiming that her hair and voice were stolen during the night."
"I'll be right there."
******
Glancing through the two-way mirror at the crying woman who was sitting at the table, Sam immediately recognized her as the slightly pudgy redhead that he had last seen talking to the two men in the bar last night. Although her face and body hadn't changed, Sam probably wouldn't have instantly recognized her except that she was wearing the same dress from the previous evening. That was because her thick mane of long luxurious red hair was gone and she now had close-cropped brown hair with a heavily receded Widow's peak. Her new hair reminded Sam of Gene Hackman's heavily receded hairline.
Glancing at the rest of the staff patiently watching the woman while they waited for Sam's arrival, Sam verified that he had a photographer, a doctor and a female detective present for the interview.
Opening the door, he moved into the small room followed by his supporting entourage. Sitting down at the table across from the sobbing woman, he tried to calm her frayed nerves.
"Look miss, I know it's difficult for you to talk but I need to ask you some questions so I can find the person who did this to you."
Jerking up her head to stare at him through her tear-red eyes, she gasped a husky cry for assistance.
"Please help me."
Her sweet melodic voice was gone. Her new husky baritone male voice was raspy and harsh from her sobbing.
An hour later, Sam didn't have any more information than what he already knew or suspected. The woman's name was Lola Jennings and she was a hairstylist out for a night on the town. She had talked to the two men for a few minutes before accepting one of the men's offer to go elsewhere to dance. At the dance club, she had teased her man about "maybe going a little further" and then abandoned him to return home early because she had an early morning trip planned with her sister. She was feeling woozy when she got home and she lay down on her couch to rest her eyes for a few minutes. When she awakened and casually tried to fluff her hair with her hand, she discovered the much shorter hair and at first thought that someone had shaved her baldheaded as a nasty joke. She rushed to the bathroom to look at the damage and began screaming, which is when she discovered that her voice had also greatly changed. She called the police and when they came to investigate the strange phone call, they discovered that she was a potential victim that Sam needed to personally interrogate. Luckily for the police, she had the man's telephone number that she spent the evening with.
Using that phone number, Sam gathered his small team and went to visit the man. Awakening him from a sound sleep, they interrogated him for an hour before turning him loose. His story was the same as her story except after she left him; he drank a few more beers and danced with a couple of other women before returning to his home. While he didn't appear to be anything more than an innocent party, he was currently their main suspect.
Going back to the police headquarters, Sam requested two of the best police artists to work for him the rest of the day. He gave one of them the assignment to look at the different body parts that had been stolen from the women and to create a composite image of what that new woman would probably look like. He gave the other artist the exact opposite assignment, which was to examine the women's new male body parts and to create a composite image of what the man would have looked like if all of the male body parts were coming from the same person.
Then Detective Sam Bronson went to church.
Chapter 3 It begins to make sense
"Bless me, Father. For I............ have sinned."
When the Priest asked how long it had been since his last confession, Sam told him the truth. The last time had been the day after the shooting incident and he hadn't been back to church since then.
A few minutes later, Sam walked out of the church feeling much better. He had used the confession to discuss some of the personal problems that he had kept bottled up within him for most of his life. While the confession hadn't resolved his problems, it made Sam feel better to discuss his "sins" even though it was a quick gloss-over without getting into any real facts.
Returning to his car, he discovered that both police artists had completed their assignments and had sketches ready for him to review.
******
The artist's conception of what the man would probably have looked like showed a middle-aged man that looked very similar to Bruce Willis with plenty of body hair. The other artist's conception of the new woman was that of a beautiful woman who looked like a red-head version of Claudia Schieffer. Staring at the drawing showing the composite female body parts, Sam instantly remembered the rich old man with the young attractive blonde- hair woman that he had seen in the bar at the same time that the pudgy hairdresser had been there. The young blonde was an exact match to the drawing of the proposed female.
Shutting his eyes, Sam recalled from his memory all of the details as to how the young blonde had looked the previous night. First, she was wearing an expensive high quality blonde wig so he didn't know what her real hair had looked like. Her facial features and complexion had been absolutely perfect. Every face has a minor flaw and some faces have very major imperfections; but that young woman had an absolutely perfect attractive feminine face. Her voluptuous lips, high cheekbones, and piercing Emerald Green eyes perfectly complemented her oval-shaped face and perfect complexion. Sam had seen just enough of her body to remember that she also had eye-catching shapely long legs that were similar to the topless dancer's stolen legs. Sam concentrated on recalling what the rest of her body looked like but he could only remember that she had been wearing a high-neck blouse so that there wasn't any exposed cleavage and that her clothes didn't reveal too many details of her actual body shape.
Recognizing that the sun was going down and that the Strip would be crowded with people soon, Sam knew that he had to get his team back out on the Strip looking for potential victims or anyone acting suspicious. Calling his stakeout team together, Sam passed out copies of the artist's drawings to them then dispatched them to the assigned bars with explicit instructions for them to call him if they saw anyone that resembled the drawing of the woman.
******
"Detective Bronson."
Holding the cell phone to his ear, Sam listened to one of his team give a quick report. The patrolman had seen a young woman who matched the drawing enter one of the clubs. An older man who was obviously her escort accompanied her.
Leaving the bar that he had picked to monitor, Sam rushed the two blocks to the other bar. Pausing outside for a few seconds to catch his breath before he went in, he had a few moments to think about how his middle-aged pudgy body was deteriorating and that he obviously needed to do something to get back into a more decent physical shape.
Entering the bar, Sam easily found his fellow undercover officer sitting at the bar where he could observe most of the customers within the restaurant. The other officer just nodded in a general direction toward the booths as a signal where Sam should look.
It was easy to find the couple. After all, she was the beautiful type of woman who stood out in any crowd. It was the same woman that he had seen the previous night except that she now wasn't wearing a blonde wig. She had a thick mass of reddish hair that was brushed into a bouffant "airy" hairstyle favored by models or singers to provide a thick frame of hair around a woman's face. Her hair was the same rich red color and attractive hairstyle that had been stolen from the hairstylist that Sam had questioned earlier that morning.
Sam had thought that the woman had been extremely beautiful the night before when the wig had made her into a "blonde" but now looking at her with a thick mane of luxurious red hair, he easily decided that she was absolutely stunning. He noticed that the woman and her male friend were looking toward the bar and whispering to each other as if they were discussing someone standing at the bar. Turning to look where they were looking, Sam observed a tall, willowy dark-haired woman standing at the bar. The woman was wearing a very form-fitting dress so that her best asset was displayed her shapely curved hips and ass.
Trying to put himself into the same mindset as his suspected criminals, Sam stared at the woman's backside and found himself saying out loud "ass".
Startled by the sound of his own voice uttering that remark, he glanced around to see if anyone near him had heard him. Satisfied that no one had paid any attention to him, Sam glanced back at the table just in time to see the attractive female suspect say something to her older male accomplice. The woman was using her hands to emphasize whatever it was that she was saying to the man and she made the time-recognized moving hands symbol that men use to describe a woman's figure as being shapely.
A lot of police work is usually based upon hunches and a good cop has to know when to "play a hunch" and when to observe. Deciding that the couple was probably involved in the cases, Sam decided to let them know that they had just become his primary suspects in this series of mysterious cases.
After walking over to their table, he sat down in the booth opposite them without waiting to be invited to join them. Pulling his jacket back slightly so that the police badge and gun on his belt could be seen, he introduced himself.
"Detective Sam Bronson. May I ask you a few questions?"
The woman's piercing Emerald Green eyes darted a quick glance at the man's face then seemed to turn dark as she stared at Sam with an obvious look of mild disgust and surprise on her attractive face. The man casually answered Sam's official-sounding greeting.
"Jerome Atwater, attorney. Or rather I am a recently retired attorney. I inherited the majority of a deceased relative's very rich estate a few months ago and no longer have to work for a living. The attractive young woman sitting beside me is Lori Singer, my future wife. How may we assist you, officer?"
Pulling a copy of the composite female drawing out of his pocket, Sam laid the drawing on the table in front of the couple as he watched them look at the police drawing. The woman's obviously startled eyes quickly darted to look at Atwater's unblinking face after she recognized herself on the drawing. Without any change of expression on his politely smiling face, the retired attorney calmly answered Sam's unasked question.
"My, the woman in your drawing certainly looks a lot like Lori as does some of the other extremely attractive women that I've already seen tonight. Why are you looking for this particular woman?"
"I'm not at liberty to discuss that reason yet. Let's just say that I was on duty last night and saw an attractive redhead come into another club. I saw you and Miss Singer, who at that time was obviously wearing a blonde wig, closely monitoring the attractive redhead. Then this morning, that redhead reported a most amazing crime to the police where her thick luxurious mane of hair and female voice was replaced with a man's close-cropped hair and masculine voice. Can you explain why the two of you were looking at the attractive redhead last night and can you also explain why tonight Miss Singer has the almost exact same hairstyle and color as the other woman reported stolen?"
Glancing at Lori to emphasize his answer, the retired lawyer made a suggestion to the young pretty woman.
"Lori, why don't you go power your nose while I answer the officer's routine questions."
"But..."
Her brief remark was quickly cut off by an angry glance from her male date that strongly suggested that she should immediately shut up. But that brief word from the attractive woman was just enough to let Sam hear a soft melodic feminine voice very reminiscence of the hairstylist's stolen voice.
As Lori stood up, Sam glanced at her body. Long, shapely legs, narrow shoulders, slender arms, delicate hands with long fingernails, and an unremarkable butt. A moment later, the clicking of her high heels signaled her acceptance of her dismissal as she walked away.
Speaking to Sam as if they were discussing a business deal that Sam should consider investing in, the attorney tried to be "salesman friendly".
"Look, I don't know why you are questioning us. Yes, we were in a bar last night. We go out on the town a lot. I remember seeing the red head although I don't remember seeing you. The reason that I remember the redhead is because Lori pointed out that the woman had the hairstyle and color that she wanted for herself. This morning, Lori went out to a beauty salon somewhere and came back looking just as you see her now. So is it a crime to copy someone's appearance?"
"No, it's not. Sorry to have bothered you. Please offer my apology to the young lady for upsetting her."
Picking up the photograph, Sam left the table without looking back. He knew that his man at the bar had been covertly watching them and would continue to watch them after he left. Without glancing at the other cop to keep from tipping off the suspects that another cop was still watching them, Sam headed toward the door. Turning his head slightly as if he was looking at the clock over the bar, Sam looked at the dark-hair woman who was talking very intimately with a man at the bar. Muttering under his breath, Sam whispered to himself as he walked out of the bar.
"It's going to be ass and hips tonight."
******
It was a long night for Sam and his team. As soon as he was out the bar's door so that the attorney or his beautiful girlfriend couldn't see him, he called the other cop and told him to continue monitoring the couple that he expected were going to huddle closely together and furtively whisper to each other as soon as she came back from the bathroom. Then he called the rest of his team and gave them very explicit orders on how he wanted to follow this couple. Because the main suspects now knew Sam's face, he obviously couldn't follow them without risking a harassment charge. So he monitored from a distance while his team took turns watching the couple.
The monitoring policeman reported that when the woman returned from the bathroom, she was obviously agitated and took her frustration out on her future husband. He tried to keep her calm but the observing policeman reported that she was very angry and not listening to whatever it was that the retired attorney was trying to tell her. After a few minutes of trying to keep their arguing from bothering the other customers, they left with the man tightly holding onto the woman's arm as if she was going to try to run away from him. They went immediately to a parking garbage and left the Strip going to an expensive apartment building where they turned in for the night.
While Sam's team was watching the apartment building, Sam had other people investigating his new main suspects.
By the next morning, Sam knew everything that the law knew about his suspects. He knew that Jerome Atwater was a newly very rich citizen whose only brushes with the law was an occasional parking ticket. However Lori Singer was a total mystery. There weren't any records of her and she appeared for the first time only a few nights earlier. The few people around Atwater's apartment building, who his detectives had questioned, said that they knew nothing about her. One parking lot attendant said that he was trying to figure out "how to separate her from her old man for a few hours to get to know each other a little better" when he noticed how bitchy she was. The attendant didn't like aggressive self- centered women so he didn't try to get to meet her.
By ten a.m., Sam was ready to call it a night and to go home to get some rest. There hadn't been anyone coming to the police with any "stolen body parts" yet and his main suspects were staying in their apartment. Sam left a team investigating them and another team following them, then went home to get some sleep.
*****
It was a quiet three nights and days. Well, as quiet as can be expected for the cops that were still patrolling the Strip. The main suspects went out every night but they did little more than go to a different bar every night and to act as normal as any couple. They did look and whisper about a lot of other women as if they were picking a potential third party for a bedroom threesome but they never approached anyone. They did argue a lot and the officer's all reported that the woman appeared to be a "real bitch" who had a nasty attitude.
More importantly, there weren't any new cases of stolen body parts.
That gave Sam and the other policemen time to find out everything about Jerome Atwater and absolutely nothing about Lori Singer. It was as if she had suddenly appeared from nowhere. Some of the police theorized that she had simply changed her name and were trying to figure out how they could obtain her real name without revealing that they were still investigating her. Sam thought that he knew where she had really come from and why there wasn't any record of her. So he did some personal investigation into what he thought was her true history.
Then on the fourth morning, they had a new case.
Dorothy Anderson awakened to discover that her curvy hips and willowy waist was now devoid of shape. When she awakened, she discovered that she now had a man's waist and flat butt.
Most of the cops who had tailed Atwater and Singer the previous night also recognized the Anderson woman as being in the same bar at the same time as their primary suspects. And they also reported that the suspect couple had obviously noticed the woman and appeared to have been intently talking about her.
A few hours later, the small police detail secretly monitoring the suspect couple noted that they had gone shopping that morning. Lori was buying some form-fitting dresses. Going through the several dozen photographs previously taken surreptitiously of the couple, Sam noticed that the beautiful but bitchy Lori never worn anything that was very form fitting in the previous photographs. Except for showing off her beautiful legs, she hadn't worn anything that could absolutely define the real shape of her butt or waist. Looking at the new series of photographs taken of Lori after she came out of the shops wearing her new dress, it was obvious that she had a shapely waist now, which she was very proud of displaying.
Sam wasn't telling his suspicions to his fellow officers nor was he confirming their suspicions. But from the photographs of her in her clothes, it was obvious that Lori was now very proud of her shapely waist and rounded buttocks.
Flipping through other photographs of Lori, Sam quietly said one word to himself.
"Tits. Why isn't she showing off her tits if she had any?"
Chapter 4 Do you have a photograph?
"SOMEBODY STOLE MY TITS!"
The new woman was extremely agitated as she paced the floor, a cigarette dangling her lips making her look like a steam train running amok. Because she was so upset, Sam didn't add to her anger by trying to enforce the building's No-Smoking policy.
"I'm getting married in five weeks and my husband won't love me once he sees this damn flat chest. How could anyone do this to me? How did they do it?"
It took several minutes to get her to calm down and then to convince her to show her now very mannish-looking chest to them. When Sam asked if she had any recent photographs of her real breasts, she tried to hit him as she took out her anger on him for insinuating that she would ever let anyone photograph her naked breasts. After she cooled off from her angry outburst, she did turn over some recent photographs taken of her breasts when she was wearing a very revealing Band-Aid-sized bikini at the beach. She did have some nice breasts in the photographs.
After two hours of questioning, Sam created a new folder for the woman and included the reports from the team that followed the suspect couple the previous night. Most of that team had previously seen this new victim in the bar and remembered her. After all, she was wearing a very revealing dress that left very little to the imagination as to the size, shape and naturalness of her perfect breasts. The now flat-chested woman did had the type of naturally curvy breasts that men liked to dream about and most women envied that their own breasts looked that good.
******
Sitting in the Police Commissioner's office, Sam waited quietly while his longtime friend and boss read Sam's report. Looking up from the report, the Commissioner had a quizzical expression on his face.
"Sam, why do you think that we won't have any more new cases and why should we shut down this investigation?"
"Because I suspect that the thief is finished now that a complete woman's body has been stolen. While each of our women victims has a stolen body part, which drastically changes the way that they look and most likely will also change their life, most of them can live a somewhat normal life. As for shutting the investigation down, I don't think that we'll ever prove anything on anyone and that continued manpower for this unexplainable project would result in public notoriety that we don't want. We don't want the newspapers advertising that there's someone out there who has the ability and has been stealing body parts from beautiful women. It'll really bring all of the nuts out of the woodwork as well as put so much publicity on this case that we won't be able to work on other cases. Because there isn't anything left for the thief to steal to complete his assembly of the perfect woman, I don't think that any more women will be filing strange police reports about physical changes to their bodies. I also don't think that we'll ever find the thief and if we do, we won't have any way to return the women's missing body parts to them. The best thing that we can do is to close the case and to pretend that it never happened."
"I'll consider your suggestion and will probably make that same recommendation to the District Attorney if we don't have any more new cases over the next several weeks. Go ahead and pull your men who have been tailing the attorney and his girlfriend. Did you ever find out who she really is?"
"Yeah, I finally got lucky and found some information about her real identity. I've got a folder downstairs on her with her complete history and it's been verified. The name Lori Singer is a phony name. She's harmless according to the information in my file. She's just a very pretty woman who has found herself a Sugar Daddy to take care of her expensive sweet ass until her beauty starts fading."
"Case closed then. Are you ready to go back to more normal work at your station?"
"Almost. I've got a few minor things to do to close this case once and for all. Then I'm going to take a day or two off before reporting back to work."
******
The sound of the doorbell ringing in the Atwater apartment startled the couple. The retired lawyer had been relaxing by practicing on the Baby Grand Piano in their large living room while Lori was in the bedroom trying on some of the new clothes that they had purchased for her earlier in the day.
Going to the door, the lawyer expected to find one of the neighbors who occasionally complained about the sound of the music penetrating into their apartment. Instead when he opened the door, he found himself staring into the deadly looking barrel of a pistol pointed at him. A very serious looking Detective Sam Bronson was holding the pistol.
Without waiting for an invitation to enter the apartment, the Detective pushed his way into the apartment using the barrel of the pistol to signal the lawyer to hold his hands up and to step back. Stepping into the apartment and shutting the door behind him, Sam whispered his questions as he glanced around for the whereabouts of Lori.
"Police records show that you've got permits for three pistols. Where are they?"
There are times to answer questions and times to consider answering questions. The pistol pointed at the lawyer convinced the man that this was the time to definitely answer questions.
"One's in the center desk drawer. One of them is in the bedroom nightstand on my side of the bed. The other one is in the kitchen cabinet next to the back door."
"Good. Now back up toward that couch and sit down. Where is she? I know that she's in here with you."
"Bedroom, trying on new clothes. Look, as a policeman, you know that you can't barge in here and threaten my family or me. I've got rights. Why don't you put your pistol away and I'll forget that this event ever occurred."
"Sit down. Tell her to come out here. If she comes out with a pistol, I'm going to shoot first and start asking questions later."
"Hon, please come here."
As the lawyer complied with the request to sit down, he chose to sit on the corner of the couch where he knew that an unlicensed fourth pistol was hidden in the couch. Having been a practicing attorney for several years that had to deal with a wide variety of clients with very lax perceptions of complying with laws, Jerome had several pistols hidden throughout his house to protect him. While the pistol was secured deep inside the couch where he was going to have to fumble for a couple of seconds in order to pull it out, he felt better knowing that he could get to it if the cop had a few seconds of distraction.
Sam moved around the couch so that Atwater and the couch were directly between him and the bedroom door. That way, he could watch the lawyer and the doorway at the same time without having to jerk his head from side to side.
When the door opened, Lori took two steps into the room before she saw Sam pointing the pistol at her. She was dressed in a body- hugging sundress with a low bodice that revealed the upper one- thirds of her nice firm breasts. Sam already knew from researching the secret photographs previously taken of this beautiful woman that in none of the photographs did she wear any clothing that revealed any natural cleavage or breasts; therefore it had been difficult to tell if she had real breasts or was just wearing realistic padding to simulate breasts. The low-cut dress revealed enough exposed cleavage and flesh so that it was obvious that she certainly wasn't wearing any padding at this moment. She instantly stopped and looked for help from the lawyer who was patiently sitting on the couch.
Recognizing that he had to do something to defuse the unexpected situation, the lawyer began negotiating.
"Look officer, you and I both know that everything that you've done so far is completely out of line. It wouldn't be hard to prove how you forced your way into my home and after a short trial, you could be sent away for life. After all, breaking into someone's home at armed gunpoint is a very serious criminal offense. Now why don't you put the gun away and we'll talk for a few minutes? Then you can go on your way and we'll forget this travesty of justice that you are committing."
Still pointing the pistol at the woman, Sam answered the lawyer's suggestion with a simple command to the girl.
"Strip. I want to see your tits."
Laughing and twisting in his seat as if he was turning to give his young girlfriend a little smile to reward her bravery so far, the lawyer was actually positioning himself so that he could get to the nearby hidden pistol easier.
"If that's all you want, then we can oblige. Surely your very close police retirement isn't worth the dangerous risk that you're taking by being here and holding us at armed gunpoint. After all, there are a lot of women on the Strip who would willingly show you their breasts for a couple of dollars."
"I spent a couple of hours this morning talking to a woman whose very perfect breasts mysteriously disappeared during the night so now that she is just as flat-chested as most men. While she didn't have any photographs of her breasts, she was able to accurately describe them. I want to see if Lori's nipples are a quarter inch long and look like thick nubbins centered on two firm perfect breasts. But most of all, I want to see if there is a small mole on the right breast about halfway below the nipple and slightly to the right."
Lori glanced at Jerome silently asking for guidance. He perceptibly barely shook his head as an answer before responding to the armed Detective's very unusual request.
"There are a lot of women who have breasts that match that description. If that's all that you want from us, then Lori and I will be very willing to go down to Police Headquarters so that trained medical personnel can examine her breasts in more professional surroundings. We will even consent to have her naked breasts photographed if it will make you put your gun away."
"No, I know the legal system too well. By the time that I could get through all the paperwork and legal hurdles that you could throw at me in the police headquarters, everything would be so aged that my victim wouldn't be able to recognize her own breasts anymore. We're going to look at the tits now."
Turning slightly on the couch so that he appeared to be looking at Lori, Jerome was actually positioning himself better so that he could remove the pistol. Nodding to Lori that it was ok to do as the gun-wielding detective was requesting, Jerome eased his hand deep into the couch's secret pocket. Glancing back at the detective, the retired lawyer happily observed that the detective's attention was totally centered on Lori who was unzipping her dress so that she could expose her boobs.
Sam kept his gun pointed at them but he moved in a half circle around them so that he was on the far side of Lori and still pointing his weapon at his two suspects. After a quick glance at the two breasts that were revealed when she pulled the front of her dress down, Sam's smile as he described his findings showed that he was pleased.
"Nice little mole right where I predicted. Now tell me how you stole the various body parts from all those women."
Looking up from the woman's exposed breasts, Sam glanced at Jerome only to discover that the now-smiling lawyer was pointing a pistol at him. There wasn't any trace of emotion on the middle- aged detective's face as he casually observed the end of the pistol pointed at him.
"Looks like we've got what they call a Texas Draw. Neither one of us has the upper hand and it's very easy for someone to get seriously hurt."
"Put your gun down, Detective Bronson. I know how to use this and I won't hesitate to shoot you if you don't do as I request. I could probably get away with it by claiming that you broke into my home and threatened our lives as you ranted and raved about some crazy theory that you couldn't prove. You see, I know as much about your history as you know about my history. I know that you've already been in front of one police board for conduct unbecoming a police officer and a shooting. The worst thing that could probably happen as a result of me shooting you is that I would probably get sentenced to forty-eight hours in jail for having his unlicensed pistol in my home. Don't make me shoot you. Drop your pistol."
"If I do drop my pistol, then I'm sure that you'll probably shoot me because I know your secrets. What if I shoot the girl?"
"I'll have to kill you and then find another girlfriend. If you are trying to frighten me, it won't work. While Lori is an extremely beautiful woman, she is also more of a bitch than I expected after all of my hard work."
"You created her, didn't you?"
"Yes. I played God and reshaped a useless man into the perfect creature that you see in front of you. I'll admit that I did it. In fact, I'm very proud of my creation."
"How did you do it?"
"To tell you the truth, I don't really know. When my rich Aunt died, she had a safe that I couldn't wait to get into. I thought it might be full of valuable jewels or old stock certificates but it contained a small book on witchcraft. I couldn't understand most of it because it was written in some forgotten old language but there was a newer section that told how to swap various body parts between individuals. I used that book to create her."
"I see. But you didn't really create her. She already existed as a man. You used the witchcraft to turn that man into her. Who did she used to be?"
"Just an unemployed golf professional friend of mine. Before my aunt died, Robert Henkel was my constant golfing buddy and he had frequently hinted to me while we were drinking that he really wanted to be a beautiful woman. I didn't think that it would work but we were both slightly drunk the first time that I tried it. We were so successful that I began feeling a little like playing the Creator. I started using the magic from the book and swapping one part of Rob's body after another with the various women that we would pick out. As soon as I swapped Rob's penis for that woman's vagina, he began living with me as Lori and being my lover. I thought that I was creating the perfect woman only I didn't realize that the grumbling personality qualities that made Rob a good golfing and beer buddy turned him into a real bitch when he finally became a beautiful woman."
"Why don't you swap his personality, the way that you swapped the tits?"
"Because I can't improve his personality without putting a totally different brain into that body. Putting someone else's brain into that body would create a totally new composite Lori that I probably couldn't trust the same way that I trust Rob. No, it looks like I'll have to learn to live with the Bitch."
"I don't think so. It's my duty to arrest the two of you for your crimes."
"I guess that's why I can't let you live. Looks like it's time to see who's got the best hand in this game. I don't bluff, so it looks like its showdown time. So long Detective."
Chapter 5 The funeral
The police car drove slowly down the deserted wharf toward the end of the pier where a Police Boat was tying up. The Police Commissioner exited the police car when it stopped at the boat. Two policemen were walking down the gangplank carrying a body on a stretcher. Stopping the men, the Commissioner pulled the blanket covering the body down far enough to reveal the dead man's face. Although the dead body had been in the water about a day when it had been discovered, the body hadn't decomposed yet. The Commissioner was able to recognize the very familiar middle- aged facial features of his long time friend, Detective Sam Bronson. There was a small bullet hole in his right temple, which the Commissioner assumed would be the cause of death.
The body had been found floating in a life jacket floating in the open water. When the police pulled it on board, they discovered the badge and identification within his inner pockets. That's when they notified Commissioner Grayson and he had rushed to the dock to verify the identity of the dead man. Staring at the familiar face, he groaned as he talked to his dead friend and fellow policeman.
"Sam, you were so close to retirement. What were you following up on that led to your death? I promise you that I'll find your killers."
*****
It's not often that the Police Commissioner personally led a squad of detectives on a raid. Glancing around at the small army of armed men standing behind him, the Commissioner removed the small piece of paper from his pocket. Less than an hour earlier, the judge had given the Police Department authority to search the residence of Jerome Atwater.
Knocking on the door, Commissioner Harold Grayson waited patiently for the door to open. As soon as the retired lawyer opened the door, the Commissioner handed him the search warrant paper and stepped into the apartment letting his handpicked squad of armed detectives rush into the apartment. Lori was sitting on the couch holding a half-full wine glass and there was an almost empty wine bottle on the coffee table. The Commissioner quickly assumed that the police had interrupted a small private party.
"Mister Atwater. The paper that I handed you is a Search Warrant. We're here investigating the death of Detective Sam Bronson. Do you desire to call your lawyer?"
"No, I will act as my own lawyer for the time being because I know my rights. This looks like a duly executed warrant. So it looks like there's nothing that I can do but let your men proceed with their duties. Please request them to be gentle and to put everything back after they've looked for whatever it is that they are looking for."
Nodding at a team of male and female detectives waiting patiently in the hall, the Commissioner announced his next plans.
"While your apartment is being searched, I desire that Miss Singer and you accompany my detectives to headquarters where you will be interrogated in the matter of Detective Sam Bronson's death. Do you have anything to say?"
"Just have me back home by the time that Monday Night Football comes on."
Placing her wine glass on the table, Lori's confident-sounding voice indicated that the swarm of detectives rushing into her home had been expected and didn't bother her.
"Do I have time to change out of this old dress into something more appropriate for an interrogation, Commissioner?"
"That dress will be quite suitable, Miss Singer. I have a police woman who will search you first, then will accompany you to headquarters."
******
"The apartment was totally clean. Nothing, not even any recreation drugs."
The Police Commissioner looked around at his Investigation Leaders. One team had been assigned to search the apartment. Another team had been given the responsibility to search an old house on the outskirts of town that Atwater had recently inherited. Another team had been given the responsibility to interrogate Jerome Atwater and Lori Singer in separate rooms at police headquarters. Another team had been given the responsibility to determine everything that Detective Bronson had done on his last two days of life.
"What about the questioning?"
"Nothing. The man is a professional Lawyer and didn't fall for any of our tricks. So we started working on the woman only to discover that she was just as cool under pressure as the man. Neither of them cracked under the pressure of our teamed questioning and their stories match. They also have highly respected alibis who vouch for their every moment during the time that we think that Sam died."
"What about their backgrounds?"
"Sam had already thoroughly documented both people's background as part of his investigation into the other cases. We found his folder on Atwater in his car and in the police safe, we found a new folder where he had discovered and documented Singer's real identity. We used his previous work as the basis for our interrogation of them. Miss Singer's story exactly matched Sam's notes about her history and whereabouts for the last several weeks. We also found a lot of Sam's handwritten notes where he was giving up on them as being suspects in any of the cases anymore. The last couple of entries about Atwater and Singer indicates that Sam was going to present his recommendation to you to drop them as suspects but then he died before he could do that."
"What about Sam's last hours?"
"We found his car several miles from here with some of his notes, as well as notes found at police headquarters. Some of the last few things that he was doing can't be verified but we've got it detailed in his handwriting that he was many miles away during the only brief time that our suspects don't have an ironclad alibi. The last several entries in his hand-written notebook describe how he was giving up on our two suspects as being valid suspects in his case. Apparently he found something totally unrelated to Atwater that he didn't thoroughly document that gave him reason to suspect that the U.S. Government was doing some type of clandestine scientific testing and he was convinced that the small research center near where we found his car was involved in his cases. He was obviously out there investigating the research center when he disappeared. His notes prove that he gave up on the Atwaters as potential suspects and was concentrating upon this secret facility about the time that he died."
"Shit. If he was right and the government was involved, we'll never find the truth. They have ways to cover up their covert actions. Looks like Sam's death will remain an unsolved mystery. Turn our suspects loose and let's give Sam the burial that he deserves."
******
A policeman's violent death always resulted in a large funeral with police coming from everywhere to honor their dead comrade. Sam's funeral was composed of about six hundred police cars there to honor their fallen comrade. Because he had never married and had few friends outside the police department, there were very few civilians attending the funeral.
At the cemetery, the Police Commissioner was standing by the gravesite and waiting for the moment where he would be expected to say a few last words over Sam's casket. Glancing around at the many policemen who were patiently waiting, Commissioner Grayson was surprised to see a very attractive red-headed woman dressed totally in black standing near him. Easily recognizing the beautiful woman as being Lori Singer who had just been formally released a few hours earlier, he started to ignore her then decided that he had to know why she was there.
"Miss Singer, on behalf of Detective Bronson, I wish to thank you for attending his funeral. But your presence surprises me. Why are you here?"
Holding a single long-stemmed rose between her delicate fingers, she spoke softly in her tantalizing voice making sure that her words didn't reach anyone else's ears as she stared at the large group of policeman attending the service.
"I wanted to see who attended....the funeral."
******
The sound of a woman's high heels clicking as she walked slowly across the expensive hardwood floor in his living room awakened Jerome Atwater from his nap on the couch. Turning his head to look toward the sound of the recognizable sound, he smiled at the sight of his beautiful girlfriend as she carefully removed the small veil that she had worn to the funeral. By then she was standing in front of a mirror as she stared at her image while she used her fingertips to press a stray lock of her long luxurious red hair back into place.
She was an extremely beautiful woman and seemed even more beautiful to him simply because he had been the person who had created her. Using the witchcraft from the ancient book left to him by his dear departed aunt, he had pulled the desired body parts from many different bodies to create what he knew had to be the perfect woman.
Sensing that he was looking at her, she half turned and winked at him knowing that he would understand her conspirator winking. Then using the palms of her hands to cup the underside of her breasts through the thin material of her black funeral dress, she filled her face with an exaggerated expression of ecstasy momentarily acting as if she had just experienced a mild orgasm. For ten long seconds, she playfully squeezed her breasts as she stared into his eyes teasing him as she played with herself.
Just as quickly as she had started her erotic teasing, she also ended her playing acting. Laughing out loud as she turned back around to look at herself in the mirror again, she quickly transformed once again into a very proper lady. Using the tip of her long fingernail to slightly push that stray lock of hair back into place once again, her melodic voice sounded happy as she talked to him.
"Mmmmm, I love the sensuous feel and the beautiful look of my new breasts. They are so proportional to my new body and make me feel so womanly. I know that after we made love last night, I thanked you several times for getting them for me, but thank you again, dear."
"I love them too. You know, we passed up several other pairs of nice breasts while we were creating the final body for you but I think that the wait was worth it. The breasts that we finally selected for your body are about the best pair of tits that I've ever seen. How was the funeral?"
Looking at her beautiful face one last time in the mirror as she checked her lips trying to decide if she needed to freshen her lipstick again, she delayed answering his question. Turning around slowly to face him so that he could anticipate her next actions, she slowly walked across the room toward him. Recognizing what she was probably going to do, Jerome shifted from a reclining position on the couch to a sitting position. Easing onto his lap as she placed one slender arm around his neck, she gently ground her curvaceous butt against his groin as she sat on his lap. Taking her time answering his question, she lightly brushed her lips against his cheek as she momentarily changed the subject.
"When do you think that we can use that same book of ancient witchcraft on your body, Jerome? You know, to make your nice you-know-what just a little bigger and firmer to make it even more nice. I'm a big girl and I need a big man."
"We need to be very law-biding for the next several months. Although that Police Commissioner said that he was dropping us as being suspects in the various cases, I don't trust any policeman. So we'll behave ourselves for several weeks and then we'll start working on my body slowly. Instead of making great big changes like we did with your body, when we start modifying my body we'll make several small changes so that the typical man won't even notice the minor changes in his body as I swap my small piece of meat for one man's slightly larger cock and we'll keep repeating it until we finally get to the right size cock for me. Then we'll work the same slow method on eventually changing the rest of my body over the next year. That way no one will ever suspect anything happened to them and go running to the police about their body looking so different after I make my swap with them. Oh, that feels good, Lori."
She was gently nibbling on his neck. Moving her lips next to his ear, she flicked her tongue gently at his ear as she whispered to him.