Date: Sun, 11 Apr 2021 02:24:12 -0400 From: Rick Heathen Subject: Millstone and Roche, Chapter 11 Millstone & Roche, Chapter Eleven I wrote this story for Nifty, a nifty site if there ever was one. Nifty needs your donations to host this work, and some works, no doubt, that are far better. If you enjoy Nifty, please, consider donating at donate.nifty.org/donate.html This work is the sole property of the author and may not be reprinted or reused without his written permission. All Rights Reserved © 2020, Rick Haydn Horst Formerly known as Rick Heathen This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. Thank you for delving into this work; I hope you enjoy it. Hanging the Chimney Hook: a Millstone & Roche Investigation, By Rick Haydn Horst Chapter Eleven When we reached the third floor of the precinct, we found a few uniformed officers at their desks writing reports and Detective Edgerton in the conference room getting chummy with James Malor as they both ate dinner. Before them, they had a mouthwatering medium grilled steak, a plain sweet potato, and grilled asparagus. "Having a date, are we?" asked Max. "Hardly," said Edgerton. Malor cleared his throat to gain Edgerton's attention. "Maybe once this is all over, we can have a proper one." Malor winked at the detective, and it made him laugh. I hovered over Edgerton's plate and sniffed repeatedly. "That smells delicious; is that Delmonico? What restaurant is that from?" With lowered brows and his mouth pressed into a thin line, he moved me away in irritation. "Yes, it is! Do you mind? I'm trying to eat, and you're sucking up all the smell."--he picked up his plastic utensils--"It's from Kovac's a couple of blocks from here. I highly recommend it, but unless you get takeaway, you need a reservation."--he resumed eating--"So, what do you have for us?" "You won't believe it," I said, "but Sister Foustina says the stone in that ring belongs to the Roman Catholic Church, and she claims to have brought documentation from the Vatican to prove it." "You're right, I don't believe it."--he continued to saw at his steak--"If the RCC wants that ring, they better have something definitive to prove it." "The condensed version is that, apparently, Tommy told her that Chadwell had the ring but was dragging his feet about reporting the find. She recognized it and believed that it belonged to the RCC, so she went to the Vatican to get proof. She called Tommy about having the documents the day before they left to return home. Tommy spoke to his boss about it that day, and she says that would have been Bo Pecker." "The sisters got back early last Thursday morning," said Max. Malor stopped chewing for a moment. "If she called the day before they left, that could be no later than Tuesday." Max checked the calendar on his phone. "So, he told Pecker on the 25th of June." Malor swallowed and shook his head. "No, that can't be. The Thornbrier job ended on Flag Day, Friday the 14th of June, and I heard Pecker say that day how he felt exhausted and couldn't wait to leave Monday to spend his two-week vacation in Greece." "So," said Max, "he would have gotten back last Monday on the 1st of July." "Who had he left in charge?" I asked. Malor began cutting his asparagus and shrugged. "There's many people it could have been. I only know my foreman when on specific jobs, so Tommy might have meant his foremen or whoever Pecker left in charge overall? Delilah, the office manager, could help you narrow that down." Max said, "So, Tommy must have quit Alliance on Tuesday when he told whoever it was about the ring." "Probably," said Malor. "I just know that on our date Tuesday night, Tommy said he had quit Alliance, and his roommate helped him get a job at the cab company." "Wouldn't he have given them notice?" asked Max. "Oh no," said Malor, "Tommy never had a specialized job, and Alliance never cares when peons quit without notice, they just plug another one into the assignment." "You did good, fellas," Edgerton said. "I'm pleased."--he turned to his dining companion--"And we could not have gotten this far without your invaluable assistance, Mr. Malor." "You're welcome, detective," he said, "and you're also welcome to call me James." "Once the case is closed, we'll see." Malor's brows rose with the tip of his head. "I do like a man who plays hard to get." Edgerton turned to us. "Go home, fellas. The killer's not going anywhere. They want the ring. And by the way, starting tomorrow, you'll have some assistance." "Oh? Who's that?" "Your neighbor," he said. I leaned over the table to look him in the face. "You didn't...," I said. "Yes, I did," he said with satisfaction. "I won't steal his thunder. He'll be ecstatic to give you the details himself. So, get going, guys. Mr. Malor and I have a conversation to finish." "One last thing," I said, "will you stakeout the Chadwell home for the next few nights?" "Oh, so you think the killer will continue to look for the ring, do you?" he asked. "There's a possibility." He laughed. "I already have that covered. Good-Bye," he said, urging us to leave. The sun wouldn't set until just after 8:30 that evening, so we still had plenty of light outside, and the air felt cooler than earlier. Once we settled into the roadster, I texted Winter to set up a time to update her on the case, and she promptly replied that we should come by at nine o'clock the next morning at her apartment. We invited Albert to dinner, but he invited us to join him and a couple from the club to a gay venue called Gymnosity on Cable Street, so we agreed and changed course. Max searched the net for Gymnosity. He learned that it opened at five in the afternoon, and it functioned as a restaurant until ten at night; afterward, it became a nightclub that stayed open until five in the morning. Max downloaded their app, and once they verified our age, they would allow us entry. You could order from their waiters or over their app, and they charged things to your account automatically by scanning your QR-code. Unlike any restaurant I had experienced, the instant you enter Gymnosity--gymnos meaning naked, all clothing must come off. Naturally, Max loved any excuse to strip down, and I was growing accustomed to others seeing me. Gymnosity had valet parking for those who wanted it, but we self-parked and walked inside. We checked-in by the QR-code on Max's phone, and once we showed them our IDs to verify our age, they gave us two complimentary towels with a secure bag for our clothing in the disrobing room. They hoped we would enjoy ourselves and asked that we never remove our footwear. The relatively dark environment, with its rich, deep colors, had a far quieter atmosphere than I figured it would; we heard only high-energy techno played at an elevator-music volume. We informed the staff that we were meeting Albert Sawyer, and they told us his party had taken room 23. Upon reaching the main room, we discovered an enormous dance floor that they had surrounded by lounge booths, and along the outside wall, we saw rooms enclosed by heavy merlot-colored draperies. Beyond the curtain of room 23, Albert sat at an oversized square table for eight, with a handsome, massive-looking, 30-year-old man, who wore his black hair in a fade style that blended into his thick stubble beard and had a hairy muscular body. The space was empty besides the table, and we noticed they had draped their towels over their parsons chairs. "Cousin!" Albert greeted us with a hug. "May I introduce friends of mine; they live at the club too on the first floor. This is Freddy Owens, known at the club as Huge because he's 7 foot 2, and well, as you can see, he's huge." Freddy reached out his hand to us, and we shook it. "Sorry for not standing," he said, pointing down at the tabletop. "Joey wouldn't want me to interrupt." Max and I both glanced under the table to see a shadowy figure there with his head between Freddy's legs. "Don't worry about him," said Albert. "That's Joey Dvorak; he'll come up for air after Freddy cums again." Max laughed. "Again? How many times have you cum, Freddy?" Clearly, he was enjoying his blowjob; his breathing sounded erratic, he couldn't keep his head still, and he would grunt on occasion. "Just once, here," he said, "but when Joey wants it, I give it to him." "And Joey wants it a lot," Albert said. "But speaking of getting off, guess what! I have news. Not only has Edgerton gotten me off suspension, but he said that they will still offer me the test to make detective." "Congratulations!" said Max. "That's great! So, how did he do it?" "He spoke to the inspector and said that if I hadn't done what I did, it could have caused trouble with the investigation of Chadwell's death. Tommy's body was set for cremation; that's a free service by the City of Franklin for those without specific requests. When the autopsy results came back, it hadn't told us much, but what it hadn't said is just as important. If they had cremated him without it, we could have lacked critical information. So, he convinced them that not only should the inspector lift the suspension, but I should be commended for taking the initiative. And in doing that, they won't pass me over for the test." "When will they give the test?" asked Max. "The last Monday of the month," he said. "When he talked to me, he caught me up on the case, so I'm good on that end." I knew it couldn't have gone as simply as that. Nothing is that simple, especially when it comes to such situations. If the view changed to Albert having done the right thing, worthy of commending, it meant that Edgerton must take the rap for not having requested the autopsy from the start. He hadn't seemed too concerned about it at the station, so perhaps he merely got a slap on the hand. Whatever the case, he took a chance; he must care about Albert enormously. Suddenly, Freddy began to huff and convulse, and his eyes closed during his orgasm. It must have been a good one and watching him brought a smile to my face. A few moments later, he moved his seat back and stood. The guy looked like he had a professional basketball player's height, and he had an uncut cock that looked about nine inches, but of average thickness, it arched out and downward, the perfect size and shape for blowing, so I understood why Joey wanted it a lot. Once he had backed away, Joey emerged from beneath the table. The guy had dirty blonde hair and almost the build of a fireplug, short and a bit thick. Standing beside Freddy, who squatted to kiss him, the effect of appearing short looked even more exaggerated. Joey turned to us. "Not what you expected, right?"--in boldness, he came forward to shake our hands, and we introduced ourselves--"Just to head-off the common questions," he said, "no, I don't have dwarfism; everyone in my family just has an extraordinary vertical challenge. I'm 4 feet 7 inches tall, and while I may look like a teenager, I'm actually 26." "Joey and I have a lot of fun," said Freddy with a mischievous smile and looked down upon him from his incredible height. Once Joey sat, Freddy politely pushed him up to the table and took his own chair beside him. "Trouble tells us you're both private dicks," said Joey, "that sounds intriguing." "Trouble likes that phrase a lot," I said. Albert glanced at me and smiled. "What, you don't like the phrase `private dicks?'" I laughed. "You're a naughty man, Al." I turned to Joey and Freddy. "So, what do you guys do?" "We run a phenomenally successful website, called Jack and the Giant, where people all over the world pay to watch us have sex. We have a studio, and everything on camera is made in proportion to my size, so I appear of average height, and that gives the illusion that Freddy is even bigger. We have sex on camera, and people seem to love it, especially those with a size-difference fetish. You might be surprised at how many of those people there are. I figured, since Freddy and I have so much sex, we should cash in on what we do best. It more than pays the bills, and we live comfortably." "Joey is really smart," said Freddy. "I'm not really smart, sweetheart, just enterprising." He reached up to put his hand on Freddy's chin. "Come here..." Freddy bent to kiss him. "I love you, Joey." "And I love you, my handsome hunk of beefcake." Freddy smiled broadly and laughed a little, his face turning red. Joey said to us, "Before we started the website two years ago, Freddy drove a forklift at the dock here in Franklin for like seven years--a terrible way to squander his amazing talents, and I worked in the I.T. department for the City of Franklin. Why don't we order some food? Blowing Fred gives me an appetite." During dinner, I discovered that not only does Joey know Winter, but she partnered with them on their website project. He said that Winter thought the idea too scrumptious--her word--not to invest. She heard about their project and wanted to give him the money outright, but he insisted that she receive something for her investment. I had little doubt that she might try the same ploy with us, and if she did, I found it nice to know that an alternative existed. I asked him if he were willing to say what percentage she received, and he hadn't minded telling me that she got 5% of the profits quarterly. He wanted her to recoup some of her investment, so she could help someone else with it, and with that understanding, she agreed to it. Between the two of them, Joey seemed the dominant one, especially in conversation. I have a hard time describing Freddy, except to say that he had a mild intellectual disability because anyone who could run a forklift couldn't have too much of one. Perhaps, he was just a bit slow to learn. One thing for sure, though, he seemed incredibly kind and friendly; you couldn't help but like him, and he had an endearing charm. I had no doubt that he and Joey loved one another, they needed each other, and in their own way, they protected one another. I asked Joey if we ever needed an I.T. person if he were willing to assist, and he said he would love to help and that it sounded like fun. He offered to help with a website too, but I told him I would need to think about it. A website would likely have our photos, and I thought Thomas Sawyer would frown at putting myself on the net that way. I still needed to keep a relatively low profile nationally speaking. After dinner, we made an early night of it; we had things to do the next morning. Since the three of them stopped off at a store, we made it home before Albert. When we arrived on the fifth level of the Minotaur, we found Edgerton, wearing a t-shirt and jeans, sitting on the floor with his back against our door. He stood when he saw us. "Good evening, fellas," he said. "Good evening, detective," said Max. "Is something wrong?" I asked. Max unlocked our door, and the three of us entered, greeted by a living area with nowhere comfortable for company to sit. "Jeez, you guys need furniture," he said. "That's on our ever-shortening list." I gestured to our dining table for him to sit. "What can we do for you?" "As James and I ate dinner, we chatted. I got to know him; he got to know me. Apparently, I'm the type of guy he's attracted to, which hadn't hurt any. During all that, he volunteered some information that he didn't feel comfortable mentioning before. He had answered our questions to the best of his ability and knowledge, but we didn't ask this one specific question. It's one thing to ask who might want to pin two murders on him, but it's quite another to ask him, of the people he works with, who he believes might have done it." "And...," I said. "He sounds like he's observant and a decent judge of character. That's why he requested to speak to the two of you. He says he trusts you both, and especially you, Max. He said that in the past, he had always dismissed this as something else, his imagination or interest perhaps, but there is one guy where he works, he knows nothing about him, but there have been occasions where he caught him staring at him. He admits that it's extremely loose evidence; that's the reason he hadn't mentioned it. It could mean nothing, but the guy is the only person he can think of that, in some manner, acts a little odd toward him. He gave us the name Robert Neuhouser." "That's the guy who wouldn't give us Chadwell's address," said Max. "I take it you have people digging as we speak," I said. "I have people digging deep into him and Daniel Newberry for a connection. I asked James how sure he felt about it based on his impressions. He said about 70% sure, and Neuhouser is on the list of people that Pecker might have left in charge." "Newberry...Neuhouser...coincidence?" asked Max. "We don't know. It could be," said Edgerton. "So, what are you thinking?" I asked. "James said he would do whatever we asked of him to catch the guy, not that he has much choice. If we don't catch him, he remains the target of a killer, and he can't live his life like that. Worst case scenario...we find nothing or not enough, and that could happen; we'll have to see. I wanted to let you know what's going on. I'll speak to Trouble about it."--he rose from his seat, and we followed--"This could take a while, but whether we're still searching tomorrow, or we got the guy, do all your friends a favor and go buy some furniture. Trouble can help you find a good place. Goodnight, fellas." We wished him goodnight, and Max hugged me. "Did you hear the detective call Malor, James?" I smiled. "Yeah, I noticed that. Sadist or not, I think he likes him." "Like I told you, I don't think he is a sadist, not a real one anyway. His nature caused him to feel he must be one, out of circumstantial necessity." "As many people like to point out, I have a horse cock, so why hadn't I become a sadist?" Max unbuttoned my shirt to remove it. "Nature doesn't comply with the human sentiment behind the blanket statement, `If I can do it, so can you,'" he said, "because that's not always the case." "Malor rides the outer fringes of morality," I said, "but I admit, he sounds like he's as ethical as possible with it; his sex partners know what they're getting into. I just hope he doesn't hurt Edgerton." Max unbuttoned his shirt. "The detective's a big boy; he can take care of himself." Max removed his shirt and kissed me. "I don't know about you, but watching Freddy cum made me really horny, and I want you." "I was hoping you would say that. How do you want it?" "Right here...on the table." My brows rose practically into my hairline. "Where we eat?" He began undoing my pants. "In this place, I guarantee you it's happened before." Max squatted as he pulled my pants and underwear down just far enough to take out my dong, and he began to blow me. It hadn't taken long for him to have to stand and bend a bit as my cock hardened. Once it had, he undid his pants, pulled them down below his ass, turned around, and leaned over completely with his head lying on the table. Max and I had not had sex like that. Normally, we were naked and took more time, but Max wanted it right then. He wanted it fast and rough like we fucked on the table of some restaurant and were afraid to get caught by the waiter returning with our change. The globes of his golden furry ass cheeks looked so inviting that I squatted behind him and jammed my tongue against his hairless hole, Frenching my pliable little friend whose depths I had often plundered that week. Max moaned and squirmed as I pleasured him, the prelude to the main attraction that stood as firm as ever. I spit on his hole one last time and onto the head of my cock, and once satisfied with their wetness, I stood, bent a bit to aim, and I felt the heat of Max's hole. I opened my mouth to ask him how he wanted it, but he told me to just fuck him hard and thoroughly. So, grasping his hips, I gave a mighty pull, entering him as smoothly and quickly as I dared. He arched his back and yelled, "Fuck!" When my pelvis lay against his cheeks, I waited. He put his forehead onto the table, his breathing shallow and uneven. "I love how full you make me feel." When he said that, I asked myself if Tommy had that goal with Malor, to fill a void inside him. Was that what my Golden Bear needed? I pulled back and held it there for a second and surged forward, refilling him, and Max grunted. Was I hurting him? Did he enjoy the pain? Did I enjoy that I pleased him if he did, or despite it? I pulled back and slammed into him again, and a rumble deep in Max's chest emerged like the sound of a bear. I pulled back and slammed into him again, and once again, he growled. So, I slammed him again...and again...and again...and again. As I continued to fuck my beautiful Golden Bear, I began to think he was right about Malor. Funny, the human capacity to rationalize our own behavior and motives. I held myself fully embedded inside my man, and I raised his torso off the table, holding him against me. I ground myself into his hole, and I whispered into his ear. "I've got you hooked...haven't I?" He nodded his head and rubbed it against mine. "Let's take a walk," I said, and when I turned, he turned with me. Wrapping my arms around him in a gentle hug, I began cock-walking him. With every step, Max made a little grunt, and about halfway around the room, without even touching himself, he stopped and began to convulse as he grunted and growled, shooting a load of jizz all over the floor in front of us. I turned us and continued walking. He had no choice but to walk, his body jerking and convulsing as he grunted with every step. We heard Albert in the hallway saying goodnight to Edgerton, and after making one more circuit around the room, Max had to stop again. "I'm gonna cum!" He quickly held my head against his as he grunted and groaned, his cock creaming the floor. Once it had stopped, I said, "I'm feeling sociable." I cock-walked Max out of our quarters, into the hallway, and he knocked on Albert's door. As we waited, I fucked a few inches of cock in and out of Max's hole. When Albert opened the door, he smiled, seeing Max's pants pulled down a bit and his stiff cock waving in the air. "Hi, fellas," he said. "Millstone says he's feeling sociable, and I'm-"--I pumped Max's ass a few times, causing him to grunt repeatedly--"And I'm full of cock." Albert's smile broadened. "Are you busy?" I asked him. "I'm never too busy for this." He ushered us inside, and as we passed him, he said, "My god, he's taking all of you, isn't he?" "Every time," I said, "may we borrow your table?" "Mi mesa es tu mesa," he said. "Thanks." I cock-walked Max to the table identical to our own, and I pushed him onto the end of it, exactly as this began in our quarters. I pulled back and slammed into Max a few times, and Albert squatted to watch me impale Max repeatedly with my weapon of ass destruction. As I slam-fucked Max, I said to my Golden Bear, thrusting with emphasis on the hard syllables, "You're likely to cum a third time Max, and we wouldn't want to dirty up Cousin's nice clean floor. Can Al have your load?" Between his grunting and groaning, he said, "Y...Y...Yes." I turned to Albert. "Do you want it?" "Hell yeah, I want it!" He crawled under the table and stuck Max's rock-solid cock into his mouth. With great haulage, I drew my piston back and laboriously slammed him again and again. Fucking Max often took great effort on my part but only because I wanted to give him the best ride I could. I felt his hole squeeze me, so I knew he was about to cum again. I released the muscle that prevented me from cumming too soon, and just as I knew he was feeding his load to Albert, I leaned on top of him just as I came. I punch-fucked a few inches inside Max, filling his body so deeply that my thick load wouldn't come out anytime soon. I heard Albert noisily sucking Max, who obviously enjoyed it. I laid my weight on his back, trying to catch my breath. Max kept moaning and grunting; apparently, Albert hadn't stopped sucking him after he came. Once Albert had a cock in his mouth, he was reluctant to let it go. I licked and sucked on Max's ear and whispered to him, "Is my beautiful Golden Bear having fun?" He nodded, began to shudder, and his forehead tapped the table a couple of times as he came. When it ended, Al climbed from beneath the table, licking his lips, and I stood my bear up again, my cock still fully planted inside him. "You are delicious, Max," said Albert. "What a shame I didn't get those first two loads." "We'll have to clean them off the floor when we get back to our quarters." "Aww man...I really hate to hear that your cum has gone to waste," said Albert, "next time, just call me over, and I'll take it." Max reached out and grabbed Albert, kissed him, and said, "Thank you, you were great." He then hugged him, and I wrapped my arms around them both as far as I could reach. When Albert took a seat at his table, he asked, "Are you two permanently attached at the hip now or what?" "We've slept like this," said Max. "Really? Wow. And you fuck with such intensity; do you two always fuck like that?" "Most of the time, yeah," I said. "Jeez, if you guys had a similar website to Joey and Freddy, you'd be rolling in dough. You know, Joey had understated it when he said it more than paid their bills. They make a lot of money just by Freddy fucking the hell out of Joey on camera. I've had a subscription to their site, it's surprisingly entertaining, and their production values are really high." "Yeah, I always notice the production values when I watch porn," said Max, smirking. Generally, my Golden Bear had the deciding factor on if or when my cock left his ass. If he told me he wanted it inside him all night or most of the day, I had no problem with it. Just then, though, he told me he needed me to pull out, and Albert watched as inch after inch of my nearly flaccid appendage emerged from Max's slippery hole. Not surprisingly, all the cum stayed inside him once the head popped out. Albert offered the use of his modified bathroom sink, so I could wash my cock. His words had Max and me curious, so we had a look. Both his sink and industrial cabinet looked just like ours, but attached to the side was a smaller sink, slightly lower than cock height with a strange faucet without a spout. Instead, it had a sprayer with a hose, like those on a kitchen sink, but more specialized looking. I asked him as I began washing my cock. "Where the hell did you get this bit of brilliance?" "One of Franklin's own citizens invented it. It just came onto the market, so I rushed out to get one and installed it the day I rain-checked breakfast with you guys. It's called a Gentlemen's Lave, the height is adjustable for the user, and it's specifically intended for men to wash their cock. Washing your dick in a bathroom sink is a bit gross and too difficult with many sinks because they're too high or have too much of a lip. Not every man has a huge cock, but every man should wash their penis more than the once a day they're in the shower, especially if they have foreskin like me." He had us convinced that we needed one, but once Henry saw Al's, he ordered them for the entire club. After a long, exhausting day, Max and I slept, waking at five o'clock the next morning as usual. As we worked out on the ground floor, Edgerton brought me the newest edition of The Daily Herald, and inside it, the Naked Reporter had written something for the gossip column... [Franklin's New Studly Detective: Not quite on the receding wheels of the disgraced and kneecapped gambling addict, our fair city of Franklin has once again received a new private detective to add to its stable. Howard Ellis Millstone and Max Roche have opened Millstone & Roche Investigations LLC. Having met this rugged sinewy stallion and his pulchritudinous partner, I can state without equivocation that I believe the citizens of Franklin are not only in excellent hands, but, from my observations and several reputable sources, extraordinarily large hands. You'll find the details forthcoming in future editions.] "I knew you'd want to see it," said Edgerton. "You better arrest me now," I said, "because I'm going to wring his fucking neck." ------------ Please send questions, comments, or complaints to Rick.Heathen@gmail.com. I would enjoy reading what you have to say.