Black and Blue

In my stories I use language appropriate to the scenarios and characters portrayed. Sometimes this is not language I myself would use or approve of being used in real life. If you have a problem with such derogatory terms then please take note.

My plan is to present this story in two or three large sections. So lets get started.

He was a big man. In this area he was also very identifiable. He HAD to be the one they'd been told about.

Claire looked at her temporary partner. Skeet had something of a reputation but that didn't alter the fact that he would be totally reliable if things went wrong.

Skeet sensed her eyes on him and gave her a crooked little smile. He nodded at her and then bellowed at the top of his voice.

"PO-LICE. Stay right there boy and show your hands slow."

The last words were spoken with cold menace but they hadn't been needed. The man had reacted instinctively to that first word - almost to that first syllable. His arms had started up with his hands obvious and his fingers spread to make it clear he was unarmed. There hadn't been a moment's hesitation or even a partial attempt to turn to face them.

That told them a lot. It wasn't this suspect's first time to the dance. He knew how to behave and how to minimise the likelihood of getting a bullet in the back. Chances were that he was a professional - just as Claire had suspected.

She moved carefully forward and patted the man down thoroughly. He was indeed unarmed. He didn't move as she searched him. He didn't speak either. He seemed even bigger close up and there wasn't much flab on him. He was a man who was in shape.

"ID?" That was Skeet, his voice clear despite a slight tremor caused by the adrenalin coursing through his system. Claire bit down the frustration. She knew what she was doing and didn't need reminding. The man had his license on him and she quickly checked the photograph against the man in front of her.

His face was calm and impassive. Deep brown eyes observed her with no hint of emotion or concern. That got to her. Out here you were mainly dealing with drunks, petty thefts and traffic violations. Every now and then they'd find some locals cooking up meth or distributing any of the array of illicit pharmaceuticals out there. Always the collar saw resentment, noise, protest and rage or despair. Often there were tears or some pleading. Sometimes some futile resistance that let Skeet and the boys use their batons.

"Right boy you'd best tell us what you're doing round here."

Skeet had moved up covering him as she put the cuffs on. When he didn't get an answer he moved in close and shouted his repeated question, spittle spraying the man's face.

"WHAT YOU DOIN' ROUND HERE NIGGER?"

Claire hated that word - though it was nothing new to hear it from Skeet and the boys. She knew Skeet was pushing the man into speaking, into opening a dialogue they could exploit.

Nothing. No answer, no reaction at all.

"Fuck it," muttered Skeet and they pushed the man into the back of the patrol car.

***

She'd first heard about it a month or so before. The Chief had asked her to sit in on the interview with Mr. Butler. It had not been pleasant. The man had been furious as he raged about the 'nigger' - that word again - who had stolen his wife away from him.

She didn't know Butler but in a way she did. He was just like thousands of men from around those parts. Careering into middle-age with a waistline expanding almost as fast as his hairline was receding. He might have been quite handsome once but the extra weight did him no favours and his face wasn't improved by being red with fury.

Claire had been married herself once but this job ate up marriages whole. Her husband had married her knowing what the future would be but knowing it and actually living it had turned out to be two very different propositions. So what had she done? She had devoted herself to her career first and then, well, the hours didn't exactly assist romance. She'd seen enough colleagues' marriages fall apart over the years. Unless, of course, you married a colleague. Claire had contemplated that once - for about half a second. Thanks but no thanks!

She'd sat through Mr. Butler's impotent ranting about the Blacks stealing his wife away. The Chief had gone through their routine and established the nature of his complaint. Maybe he couldn't read between the lines but Claire could. Some of Butler's answers and some questions he couldn't answer had been very revealing to her. Butler no doubt knew his job and his automobile inside out. His wife was maybe a different matter. Claire could sense that he had probably taken his wife for granted for a long time. This moment was probably the most he'd even thought about her in years.

"Damn but I feel a fool letting that whore go out to work. Should've kept her home looking after me and raising kids - ain't that a woman's job, ain't that all they's good for." Butler's eyes had flashed with rage before he had noticed Claire's eyes on him. Then he had gone silent.

The Chief tapped his pen on his desk. "This man - the man you say your wife has left with... I understand your position but unless an offence has been committed."

Butler reacted furiously. "You ain't been listening Sheriff - the man's a fucking nigger. Ain't no way my wife would be running off with him. So its kidnapping or he's drugged her or something. Anyway he needs to be... he needs to be..." The sentence ran into the sand as Mr. Butler cut himself short.

Claire knew what he was thinking and the Chief did too. The Chief, however, was nothing if he wasn't a politician.

"Assuming that to be the case Mr. Butler, where would we find the man or men concerned?"

Claire wanted to smile but didn't do so. The Chief knew how to handle folk like this. He also knew that the men concerned were highly unlikely to be living in his jurisdiction. They were supposed to be African-American weren't they and this place was the poster-location for 'white-flight.'

"I don't have a fucking address Sheriff but can't the Metro Police get you that?"

She almost sensed the Chief relaxing. He knew where this guy was coming from, he might even sympathise with him more than Claire might like, but he was extremely ready to have an excuse not to waste time on him.

"Detail your allegations to the Officer here," the Chief tilted his head at Claire, "but we need precision to get anything out of the Capital. You must know that - you know how it is over there."

Butler nodded. He knew - he'd seen it on the TV enough to know. The Capital wasn't as bad as H-Town but it was bad enough. What could you expect with all the fags, niggers and worse running about there and even sometimes running things. He understood what the Chief was laying down. Unless they came onto his territory there was little he could do.

Brilliant - at least for the Chief. She'd spent three hours interviewing Mr. Butler and getting a master-class in kvetching and whining. Fuck it - if she'd been married to the sack of shit she'd have dumped him a long time before nine years had passed! One thing ran true though. His wife didn't seem the sort to have run off to the big city to shack up with a Black man. She came from a similar background to Claire. There were some things you were brought up knowing never to do, things that didn't even figure on your radar. They had no children but Mrs. Butler had dumped a job at the local medical clinic and plenty of friends too. Claire saw the outline of the picture but knew that she was missing something - but they weren't likely to find out what that something was unless one of the guys came back over here and how likely was that?

Which brought us to now and Mr. Butler's call to report what he'd seen that morning. Or rather WHO he'd seen.

***

It was only after they'd brought the man in that Butler had admitted that it wasn't actually THE guy who had taken his wife but rather a man he'd seen with that guy. Fucking marvelous. In her old Department they'd have been written up for making an arrest on such flimsy pretexts. But this wasn't her old Department - out here things could be a little more 'relaxed', at least from their perspective.

Maybe from his too. They'd arrested him, read him his rights, brought him all the way in, questioned him and put him in the cells. Through it all he'd been like a block of wood. He'd said nothing, not one word. Shit - he hadn't even changed expression. That same neutral impassive message from face and eyes alike. You had to admit that it was impressive. Also very revealing. He was a professional for sure and now Claire's spidey-senses were seriously tingling. There was something going on and she itched to know what it was. That was how she was - that was why she'd wanted to join the Police since she'd been in pig-tails.

The man fascinated her. He didn't do so much for Skeet - her partner was seriously pissed off by the whole scenario. However, even when Skeet had shoved the guy backwoods of his chair the man had just got up and sat down again. Same non-expression, same sense that he knew he could just wait them out. The worst of it was that he was right.

Finally the Chief had given up and let them give him the phone. Lawyers were dog-shit but at least one might break the impasse. They were getting nowhere fast and really had nothing to lose...

***

"Oh shit - never thought that nigger-loving cunt would make it down here."

She hardly even noticed the language. Skeet was Skeet. Instead she looked out at the parking lot and instantly knew who he was talking about.

She had never met Jessica Lyons but she had seen her on the News often enough. The lawyer of choice for some of the more legally questionable elements over in the Capital. Claire knew Lyons had represented Cassius Green, who was supposedly a strip club owner but was really more a pimp than an entrepreneur. She was also supposed to be in a personal relationship with another club owner. Claire knew that guy had no record but old hands had hinted that fact might be down to luck and/or skill rather than to genuine innocence. What was that guy's name? Antwan something. Lyons herself was retained by one of the big Foundations. In the Capital courts you didn't want to be going up against her.

Now, however, they weren't in the Capital. Things operated differently out here. Claire was interested to see how the lawyer would play it but was immediately distracted by the arrival of another, much more familiar, vehicle.

"Oh fuck - that's all we need. Motherfucka."

Skeet did have a way with words.

***

"My client is a firm supporter of the principles of law and order. That is why we will not be dropping a very heavy law-suit on this Department from a very great height. That is why instead I asked the State Senator to join us and perhaps mediate a solution."

The large man with her laughed a low belly laugh. "Sure there ain't no need for such formalities. Mediation and the likes. Leave that to you lawyers. For me we just need to sit down and see what the situation is here. Maybe you can fill me in Todd?"

The Chief gave a glance at Jessica Lyons but the fat man just waved a hand at him. "Shit Todd, like I said I ain't a lawyer but if you ain't charged him even I know you gotta shit or get off the pot here."

"Well this client of hers has a pretty tasty little record for 'a firm supporter of law and order'. Care to deny that Ms Lyons?"

"Certainly not Sheriff. However, the last entry to that record was more than ten years ago. My client is a fine example of the Taylor Foundation's ex-con rehabilitation process in action. Now - putting such irrelevances aside - do you intend to charge my client or not?" The lawyer's smile was unchanging, her tone measured and calm.

Claire had been watching the suspect. He was still giving nothing away but had there been a momentary ghost of a smile at that last remark.

State Senator Lawson laughed again. "Now then - seems to me we don't want no such formalities. If I can suggest a way forward. First, you got nothing on this boy Todd. Miscegenation laws were repealed a long time ago and this boy ain't even the one involved in any case." He turned to the lawyer. "Now as to what your bo-, your client, was doing over here that's another matter. He got any reason to want to come back here?"

The suspect was unmoving as ever but Jessica shook her head.

The State Senator smiled. "So lets draw a line under this nonsense. Cut him loose under the understanding that if he ever comes back here it'll be the worse for him. Nothing formal or written down of course but with everyone knowing just where they stand." The genial mask slipped a little and the man's tone was clear and commanding.

"What about Mrs. Butler? This boy can tell us something about that." The Chief wasn't quite ready to give up and he glared at Jessica Lyons.

"My client will co-operate with you in clearing up that matter. I don't believe there is any evidence that any crime has been committed. If one of your officers would like to speak with him then my client will make himself available - at my office or a mutually agreed venue." The lawyer 's response was relaxed and cool. She held all the cards and everyone there knew it.

In other words not here and not now. Those spidey-senses were tingling again. But Claire knew two things - the Chief would certainly go for it and when it came to picking someone to waste their time going over there to talk to a human block of wood then the choice would be...

***

Life in Milvern County PD could be a frustration. Attitudes weren't exactly up-to-date out here. The Chief was OK but always being the one who got the coffee for Skeet and the boys got old real fast.

Law enforcement had been something of a ****** business for at least three generations. The Chief sometimes reminded her of her ***. They were alike in a lot of ways - but the Chief didn't have a 60-a-day habit. A major reason why he was still around. Her *** had worked in H-Town before things had really gone totally to shit over there. It had been high pressure enough even then but it was his coping mechanism that had finally killed him.

Claire wondered if any of her ***'s colleagues still worked on the force there. She doubted it. There'd been at least two serious scandals and resultant clear-outs in that Department since his time. First over corruption and second over race. Her *** had seen the first coming and watched it unfold from his sick-bed. He'd never have believed the second one. He was old-school. He knew who a lot of the criminals were and he knew who was most likely to end up in the cells. He called it a cop's instinct. Nowadays they called it racial profiling.

Anyway that tenuous link with a city probably did make Claire the best qualified of the Milvern County officers to undertake the interview. She thought about Skeet going over there and giggled to herself. That wouldn't have ended well. Besides, off his home turf, most of Skeet's interrogation techniques would be problematic to say the least

She wouldn't do the interview alone of course. The Capital Metro would be sending an officer to accompany her. It being their turf and all. They didn't need any arising problems to blind-side them and that was fair enough.

***

"And you would be Claire Doyle. I'm Joe Samson" He stepped forward with an open smile and an outstretched hand, which she shook. "Before I transferred I worked H-Town so I was real sorry to hear about your Pops. He was, er, old-school but he was fair you know. I always enjoyed working with him - which wasn't always the case for someone from my background back then. Things are a little different now - here and there."

Claire felt the little thrill she always felt at moments like this. Connections to her Pops were really precious and finding another one an unexpected pleasure. However, personal feelings weren't the reason for the trip. Her police mind went over every word Detective Samson said. First, he'd done his homework on her and her background. Second, he was telling her that this wasn't Milvern County. Third, he was showing he could make allowances. Claire was under no illusions about her father. His upbringing and his job had made him who he was, all that he was. She didn't doubt that he'd sometimes been less than sensitive in racial matters. She knew for a fact that was true. But she'd always believed he'd tried to be fair and it was good to hear an African-American colleague say he had been. Sansom was pointing out that it wouldn't fly now but for his day...

"You get anything out of Floyd over there?" Samson had let Claire drive them in her unmarked vehicle.

"Not so much," she admitted.

Samson laughed. "I bet you didn't. First time I pulled him his mouth was going like hell and all. Earned him six months in juvie. The only other time he didn't say one word. Quick learner was old Floyd. Smart enough to get out while he could too. Which is why I don't get what reason you might have to talk to him."

So she had to explain it - though she knew Samson would have heard it all before. Once from the Chief and quite probably, if all she suspected was true, another time from that lawyer Jessica Lyons. Samson might help her but there were no guarantees.

"Strikes me," said Samson, "we are wasting our time here. Your man over there didn't treat his wife right and she's found greener pastures. Happens the new fella is an African-American and your man doesn't like it one bit. No doubt his butt is aching hard but it ain't Police business. Besides, where does Floyd even come in He's a friend of this said African-American - well so what? No offence here Officer Doyle but this looks like some racist bullshit to me. Unless there's something else..."

Was he fishing for information? She doubted it. In fact she largely agreed with him - a fact not lessened by having heard Mr. Butler rant to her about 'the niggers' taking his wife for over two hours a few days ago. To be honest she wasn't even sure they could count on Butler's identification with any certainty. She had a suspicion all dark-skinned men might look alike to Butler. Maybe he couldn't even tell Floyd and Sansom apart if they were both in a line-up. Maybe he couldn't tell his ass from his elbow at the best of times.

"You can call me Claire Detective." She hoped that would help lessen suspicions a little. "I know what you are saying but everything about this just hasn't quite sat right with me. There's something I think we are all missing. Call it instinct."

Sansom frowned. "Back in the day instinct used to be called out a lot to cover up for just that sort of bullshit."

Claire felt her face redden under his scrutiny. It had been a bad choice of words.

Sansom gave a little grunt and then nodded. "But I know what you are meaning - I've felt it often enough and it generally hasn't led me wrong. Oh and forget about the Detective bullshit - I'm Joe while we're working together here."

Claire tried not to let her relief be too obvious. She knew she'd get nowhere without Joe's help.

***

"You ain't brought that cracka friend of yours then."

She realised with a start that in all this time they were the first words she'd heard the man named Floyd speak. She didn't quite know how to respond.

Floyd settled back in his comfortable chair in the clean well-appointed office at one out-station of the Taylor Foundation. "Suits me anyway - I'm much happier looking at you Officer Doyle. Especially now you off your jurisdiction. Man could look at you all day and feel no pain."

She couldn't help it - she felt the blood coming to her cheeks. She knew he'd said it to set her off-balance and she knew he had succeeded.

"You know better than that Floyd." Joe's voice was low but weighted with gravitas.

Floyd grinned and held out his big hands in a wide disarming gesture. "Shit man - can't a man even look at a beautiful woman any more. Tell me things ain't got that bad."

"Looking and saying are very different things." Claire knew Joe had glanced at her before speaking. "Looking is natural but saying is real out of bounds. We all know them rules right?"

The two men were playing a game - a game both had played many times before. Claire knew Skeet would have broken a Black man's nose for talking to her like that. Despite the fact he'd tried his hand with her herself - with no success - or perhaps because of it. It took a second to realise Joe hadn't knocked back Floyd's assessment of her. In fact he'd virtually endorsed it. The two men weren't only playing games between themselves. They were testing her too.

It was time to take some control here. "So, er, Mr. Abenethy..."

He jumped in on her pause as she checked her notes. "None of that - you got nothing on me or anyone else. It ain't like we don't all know that. So this is a friendly conversation between old and new friends. " He again held up his hands to symbolically take in all three of them. "You can call me Floyd and I'll call you..." His deep brown eyes were on hers.

"Officer Doyle. You can call me Officer Doyle." She said it as sternly as she could.

His eyes held hers for a couple of seconds and then he subtly tilted his hands up before dropping them to the desk. "Officer Doyle it is. Now what you want to talk about Officer Doyle."

It was a very different experience to back in Milvern County. There Floyd had been a block of wood, hard and uncommunicative. Here he was open, seemingly ready to answer any question. His eyes were twinkling. He felt on home ground and in control.

Claire thought about that. She thought about where they were, the comfortable chairs and the well-appointed office. She also thought about the lawyer and the State Senator coming over to help Floyd before. There was money and influence here. Floyd's newly relaxed attitude seemed to frank that form. It might just be innocence but Floyd had been around long enough not to necessarily rely on innocence to protect him. He was like a card player holding a royal flush. He knew he was safe and that knowledge wasn't down to his innocence. It was down to his friends.

"Is this your office Mr. Abenethy?"

Floyd gave her a sly little smile. "Not calling me Floyd yet eh? Well maybe as we go along..." He made a hand gesture to take in the room. "Got the loan of this place so's we could speak on neutral ground. I used to work for the Foundation before I got my own thing going."

Neutral ground? Hardly.

"What is your current occupation Mr. Abernethy?"

That little smile was back. "This and that. Officially a commission agent - that's what the IRS calls me anyways. Joe there will tell you I been clean for over ten years now. No convictions and no arrests before this BS. That right Joe?"

"That would be right." Joe's gruff voice echoed him. He said no more - apparently happy to let this be Claire's show.

"I've heard of the Taylor Foundation of course, but what exactly did you do for them?"

"Maintenance and occasional security. General duties." Again there was that little smile ghosting on Floyd's lips.

What did that smile mean? She wasn't sure but she did know Floyd felt himself to be bomb-proof, untouchable. If the Foundation was behind him then he might be just that. But what would such protection signify? What did the Foundation or Floyd really have to do with the Butler case?

"So what's your connection to the Butlers?" Joe's voice cut across her thoughts. It surprised her - she'd been sure he'd determined to take a back-seat for the meeting. He'd said just what she was thinking but she also strongly suspected he was acting to push the questioning away from the Foundation.

Why? Well the Foundation was a prominent Black-run organization in a Black-run city and Joe wasn't here to have such things fooled with by some white girl outsider. Claire could understand that but also knew that such natural local defensiveness could hide a whole ton of shit. Her spidey-senses were tingling again.

Floyd checked his watch. "You sure you don't want to talk about the Foundation? I know Mr. Taylor was meeting with the Tri-State Governors this morning and he's due to talk to the ex-President this afternoon but maybe he can fit in a few minutes to discuss your case. Should I ring him?"

"Not necessary." Joe's words were stern, final, and meant for her more than Floyd. Claire knew she was the visitor here, out of her jurisdiction. She had to let that go - for the moment. Floyd had flaunted the Foundation's power and influence from moment one. But why? What did it have to do with this - other than protecting Floyd?

"Do you know Mrs. Butler?" As she asked the question Claire could sense Joe relaxing back into his seat. This was safe ground.

"Met her once, no it would be twice. Didn't know her as Mrs. Butler till you showed me that picture over there."

"In what context did you meet her?"

"Purely social - just having a drink when her and her man came in."

"She was with Mr. Butler." Claire's surprise sounded in her voice.

Floyd just laughed. "Shit no - she was with her real man. Never met her white boy husband and don't plan on it in the future. Same as she don't from all I saw and know."

Claire knew the way forward now. "We need to speak to Mrs. Butler. Who is this man you are talking about?"

Floyd held his hands up again, palms showing. "Now, now, Officer Doyle. I'll tell you anything about myself but as for other people's business. Well, that's a little more delicate ain't it?"

"OK. So tell me what you were doing in Milvern County."


"Went to see Todd McDaid. You know him?"

Claire nodded. She knew two things about McDaid. He ran the biggest repair shop for counties around and there had been talk about his ********. Skeet and the boys never mentioned McDaid without repeating stories about his girl catching 'jungle fever' and running off to the city. That couldn't be a coincidence could it?

"Go on," she said.

"Had business with Todd. Me and him been doing good business together since a friend of mine pointed me his way."

"That friend wouldn't be his ******** would it?" Claire took a flyer on that one.

Her reward was a delighted broad smile from Floyd. "Not just a pretty face Officer Doyle. Quite right. I was on my way there when you and your cracka friends jumped me." His smile faded off his face as he remembered it.

Joe cleared his throat and Floyd raised a hand in acknowledgement.

Claire continued. "I understand his ******** ran away. Why would Todd want to do business with people like you?" The words were out before she realised it.

That smile of Floyd's was a long way away now. His voice was stern as he answered. "First, his ******** didn't run nowhere. She left that shithole over there and came here to make a new life. Her father knows where she is and knows she's happy and that's good enough for him. He comes over to see his grandkids but they don't go over your way - because I understand people like them ain't so welcome over there. Maybe I got more than a little proof of that myself." His dark eyes were on hers, commanding and fierce.

Claire tried to retrieve the situation. "I'm sorry about that Floyd. Your visit had nothing to do with the Butlers?"

"Since I'm apparently Floyd now just what was I supposed to be calling you..." The challenge was obvious and unavoidable. If Floyd clammed up now then she'd get nowhere.

"Claire - I'm Officer Claire Doyle."

"So off your jurisdiction you are just Claire or Mrs. Doyle." He looked at her hands on the table. My mistake - Claire or Miss Doyle. That right Claire. You happy for a nigger to call you that?"

She half expected Joe to cut in but he was leaning back in his chair and watching her closely. They were testing her again.

"You can call me Claire if it helps clean up the case."

"There ain't no fucking case Claire and I can tell you that. People are people. Each with their own needs and desires. Some folks act on that and some folks don't. Especially if there's barriers put up to stop them. You understanding this?"

Floyd very carefully and slowly put his hand palm-down on the table next to her own. Claire saw the deep contrast in skin tones between her own smaller pale hand and his big dark one.

She nodded and he went on.

"Takes courage to cross them boundaries. Some folk just live their life and never know what they could have had, what true fulfilment really is. They never get the opportunity or turn them chances down. Maybe they got tied into another situation - got a ****** or a background cuts off that way to them. Maybe then they can live that way, accept what they get rather than what they need. Maybe they can live like that."

It was as if his deep brown eyes were devouring her. He was speaking with obvious knowledge and intensity.

"The thing is Claire that can only apply so long as you don't get a taste of that forbidden fruit, so long as the chance to have what you really need is always way out of reach. If you once get that sweetness in your mouth, if you once feel that true fulfilment, then there ain't no way back for you. From that moment you know who you are and who you need to be. From then on you can't live any other way. Trying to live any other way is just a long slow way of dying. That's the gospel truth and I can tell you that."

Claire felt the heat in her face, felt the blood pulsing through her body. It had been an intense moment - certainly not a moment that she had expected today. She tried to move back onto more certain ground.

"So you are saying that Mrs. Butler..."

Floyd nodded. "Jean found her forbidden fruit and took a big old bite. She wouldn't go back to that white boy husband if you gave her a million dollars. She wouldn't go back if you put a gun to her head. She's never going back - even if the whole world told her to. She's found herself now."

It certainly didn't sound like the Jean Butler that Claire had been hearing about. It was hard to reconcile with the pictures she had seen of her or the description of her given by her husband.

"I still need to speak to her - if only to close the file. Can you give me the identity of the man she is with?"

Floyd considered for a moment and then stood up. "Wait here while I make a call." He stepped out of the office.

Claire looked at Joe but the African-American Policeman just raised his eyebrows. It was clear Floyd had no intention of letting them see who he called or what phone he called from.

A couple of minutes later Floyd was back. He handed Joe a piece of paper. "They are agreeable so that's the address - I'm guessing you'll be navigating." The two men shook hands and then Floyd held his hand out to Claire.

She took it - a sign that their business was concluded. She seemed to have got what she was there for but she still wasn't sure if she'd been played. She wasn't quite buying what Floyd had been selling. There was something more to this - she was more certain of that than ever.

***

From the Foundation office to their next destination wasn't so far as the crow flew. However, the differences were clear. Over there the city was being regenerated, the buildings and their environs were well-kept and clean. Here they parked up in front of a cracked sidewalk and a retail unit long derelict and covered with tags.

"Guess you ain't in Milvern County no more, eh!" Joe's deep chuckle sounded out in the car. "There's worse areas than this one but it still has its moments. Want me to take the lead here?"

She nodded. That made sense since Joe knew the lie of the land. "Just so long as I get to speak to Mrs. Butler."

The address was an ugly building of four stories lacking in any sort of architectural flair or embellishment. Just a box for people to live in.

Joe took the lead and pressed a buzzer. A woman answered and almost immediately there was a click as the main door opened. They went up the stairs to the top-floor passing strongly locked doors. No-one looked out at them so far as they could see but how many were watching from behind their doors?

At last they found the door indicated on the address. There was a strange rhythmic noise like a small piece of machinery.

Joe stepped up and knocked on the door with his night-stick. To his surprise the door seemed to slip a little as if it had only been latched. "Metro PD - can I have a word ma'am," he called through the crack.

"What the fuck!" The response was loud, male and definitely African-American. "Can't you tell we busy?"

"I need to know who's in the house sir."

"Come the fuck in then," growled the response. "Fucking five-oh got no idea of timing."

Joe turned to Claire and raised an eyebrow. Generally getting in the front door without a warrant was a major problem - most folk around here were well aware of their rights.

He pushed open the door cautiously and Claire saw the broken latch. Joe had spotted it too and drew his weapon. The noise was louder now and clearly just behind another door in front of them. It was slightly ajar and Joe put his boot to it.

The door flew open and revealed a tatty room. Grubby carpets with a battered sofa and a couple of chairs that looked about ready to collapse. Through a door across the room they saw a bedroom.

Joe grunted and put away his sidearm. They knew what was causing the noise now.

Seated on the sofa was a big bear of a man, dark skinned and with a shaven head. Gold glinted in his mouth and ears. A thick gold chain was round his neck and heavy gold rings on the fingers of his right hand. His shirt was undone and his pants were round his ankles.

Straddling him and vigorously fucking him was a woman. That was the noise - ancient springs protesting at the enthusiasm with which the woman was pushing herself up and down the man's cock.

"Fuck me daddy - give me it daddy. Give me what I need." The woman was almost chanting it as she worked. Her pale fingers on his strong broad chest, her hips driving up and down to take him as deep into her as she could.

Did she even know that they were there? Did she care? There would be time to settle such questions later. Meanwhile one question had been answered. The woman was about 5'5", 120lbs, with a fair complexion and dirty blonde hair. She was immediately recognisable from the pictures Claire had seen of her. She was Mrs. Jean Butler.

"We need to talk to the lady." Joe almost laughed. "Need to make sure there's no problem here."

"No problem here," the man relied, "except you interrupting my little bitch here getting her regular share of dark meat." Frankly it didn't seem much was going to stop her. Jean Butler was still working herself up and down on his cock, her eyes fixed on his and her face flushed with exertion. The two police officers might as well not have been there at all.

"Come into the kitchen with me so my colleague can talk to the lady here." Joe's voice was calm but insistent.

"Ah fuck it." Dark muscular arms took Jean by the waist and lifted her off him. He was somewhere between forty and fifty but he clearly kept himself in shape. The woman gave a mewl of protest and then dropped into the sofa beside him, her face shining with sweat.

The man stood up and Claire had little option but to notice the nine inches of thick Black cock standing out in front of him. Police training taught you to take most things in your stride but there were exceptions. She took a second to realise she was staring at him.

"Put your pants on man," growled Joe.

"You sure your friend wants me to," said the man with a sly glance at Claire. "Besides hardly worth it 'cos my bitch there is gonna be back on board soon as you are out of here. That right little bitch?"

She didn't answer but she didn't need to. Her eyes were locked on him as if he was all that mattered to her in the whole world.

Joe gave Claire a glance as if to say, 'Well we're wasting our time here.' However, he still took the man into the little kitchen and closed the door.

Claire dropped to her haunches so that her face was on the same level as Jean Butler's. The woman was breathing deeply and her eyes didn't meet Claire's

"I'm here from home," Claire tapped the Milvern County PD flashes on her jacket sleeves. "You're safe now. We can help you"

Now the woman's blue eyes were fully focused on her. "That isn't home any more and I don't need any help." Her voice was loaded with intent.

"I need to be convinced of that. I need you, Mrs. Butler, to confirm that you are here of your own free will."

Now the woman showed some frustration. "Of course I am. You think I want to go back there? Why the fuck would I want to do that!"

Claire looked at the woman and wondered if perhaps she was on something. She had seemed frantic when she had been fucking earlier. She still seemed almost on another planet - having to force herself to engage with Claire and the world outside of those shabby rooms.

"Can I ask whether you have taken anything, any sort of drugs. Has he given you anything to take?"

Jean Butler just waved the idea away. "You don't get it. It's nothing to do with that. It's all about what he can give me and what I can give him. He can give me everything and I can give him what he wants. Fuck it - you aren't ever going to understand."

Claire tried to sound as empathetic as possible. "I want to understand. Explain it to me."

Jean suddenly had a look of triumph on he face. "Oh no - you don't explain something like this. You are either in and living it or you are on the outside. I was on the outside for way too long. Now I'm my true self - living my true life."

Claire figured that for BS. Probably a line fed her by the man. Some sort of a Stockholm syndrome. She tried one last time. "Your husband is worried about you. Do you want me to tell him where you are?"

"Fuck no!" Jean seemed genuinely horrified. "He's a useless boring piece of shit and I wasted too long with him but I wouldn't want him to get hurt. That moron would come round here with his rifle and how long do you think he'd last round here? They'd see him coming from a mile off." She paused. "Just tell him to get a divorce - it won't be contested. Serve the papers to a lawyer I know."

Claire suddenly knew what was coming next - was as sure as ever she had been about anything that the lawyer's name would be Jessica Lyons. When it was she felt her spidey senses tingling once more, the idea that there was something much bigger happening here than just a wife running off with her Black lover. She could see some pieces, was seeing more pieces as time passed, but as yet she did not have any real idea what the picture they showed was.

However, for now there was nothing more she could do. She went and tapped on the kitchen door and stood back to let the two men emerge.

The man moved straight to the sofa and sat down. Jean was immediately in front of him and easing his jogging pants down. That big Black cock of his was out and her hand stroked him a couple of times to make sure he was hard. Then she straddled him again and dropped back into position on him. She gave a long grunt of contentment as that big cock re-entered her, claimed her afresh. The rhythmn and the noise from before started once again.

"Pull the door to on your way out." The man said it and then his mouth dropped onto Jean's neck, sucking and marking the pale skin there. Letting the world know that she was his.

The two police officers left. All the way down the stairs Claire seemed able to hear the repetitive noise of those sofa springs being tested to destruction.

So far as Joe was concerned that was the end of the matter. It was just like he had expected. A white wife got bored of her whitebread life and had found herself a new man. Not the first time and it damn sure wouldn't be the last.

Claire knew that her Chief would feel the same. It was a done deal. The woman had made her choice. There was nothing left to investigate except...

She could not accept that. She had sensed something behind all of this and every step forward seemed to confirm that fact in her mind. This wasn't just a marriage break-up. There was something more to this. She knew that because she had come from a similar background to Jean Butler. Women like herself and Jean, women from that background, didn't just up sticks and run off with a Black man. That was burning your bridges and cutting your ties with a vengeance. If your marriage didn't work out then that was one thing. This was another entirely.

Then there was the man involved. Claire knew most people's reaction to the Police turning up on their doorstep. This hadn't gone along those lines at all. That gave her the same instinctive reaction that she had when they had arrested Floyd. This man had played the game before. Police knocking on his door was nothing new to him. So on the way back to the precinct she asked Joe the obvious question.

"Did you know him?"

"I know of him - this is the first time I've met him in person."

"Who is he?"

"Oh he showed me ID like a good little citizen. Julius Moore. Except they don't call him that too much. Generally he gets called 'the Closer'."

"'The Closer'?"

"Hmmn - he's a man who makes and seals deals. Deals of all sorts and types. Grew up around there and he's stayed there. He knows the ground, knows the game and knows the hustle. He got his hands on money somehow - we can probably assume it wasn't legal but we never got a line on him back then. Drugs, fencing goods or running girls I expect. Anyway he was good enough at it or careful enough that he never got on the Metro radar. Used his money to buy a few buildings and rent them out. Probably that one back there was one of them. So now he's got a legitimate source of income and maybe that's all his income or maybe it just covers for other sources? Anyway he carries some weight in certain circles and like I say he's either legit now or he's very careful. You know what I'm saying?"

He hadn't looked that careful earlier on - when he'd been striding around with his big Black cock bouncing around in front of him. He'd looked like Floyd had earlier - totally confident and basically bomb-proof.

"Is he part of this Foundation?"

Joe looked at her sharply. "He may be but I never heard it. More likely he just knows people like Floyd. All from the same background and the same hood, all..." His voice trailed off as he turned into the precinct.

'All worked together,' completed Claire to herself. She knew the type of work he meant too. Some got caught and others didn't but it seemed they all kept in contact.

She made the decision almost immediately after she had left Joe behind. She wasn't going to just let this lie. Something about this whole case had grabbed hold of her. She needed to know what lay behind it.

She didn't rush anything. She found herself a diner and ate lunch. She ran over all she had heard and seen in her mind. In the end though she ended up back where she had started. The answer to all of this lay in that ramshackle top floor room. If she wanted to know what was going on then she would have to go back there.

Experience had taught her to keep a change of clothes in the trunk. She contemplated changing but decided not to. Joe had been relaxed in that neighborhood but without him, as a lone white woman, it could be much more difficult. The uniform, even an out-of-town one, might keep trouble at arm's length.

She remembered the address from earlier and entered it into her GPS. Soon she was back in familiar streets and noticed the same derelict store that they had parked in front of earlier.

A cold wind was starting to blow and the streets remained almost empty save for an occasional passing vehicle. Claire was only pleased that it was still early afternoon. In areas like this you wanted to be where the people were.

She hunkered down in her vehicle and waited - her attention on the ugly building opposite. Of course it was possible that there was no-one there. and that she was wasting her time. Two hours passed by and still there was nothing. She was starting to think about cutting her losses when finally the front door opened and the man, Julius Moore, emerged.

He was on his own and Claire sent up a grateful prayer. That was perfect. She wanted to speak to Jean Butler alone, without that man any place near. Even in the few moments in that upstairs room Claire had realised his presence. He was one of those people who stood out. She almost giggled to herself at the thought - he had certainly been standing out very prominently earlier on! Claire shook her head and restored her concentration. That might not be the only weapon Moore was carrying on him. His nickname, 'the Closer', could have more than one meaning.

She locked up her vehicle and then strode purposefully across to the ugly building. Once there she pressed a random buzzer.

"Who that?" crackled out a woman's voice.

"A delivery for the top floor." Claire lied.

"I ain't the top floor. You think I sound like a cracka bitch! Well what the hell."

The main door clicked open.

She started up the stairs. Only too late did she spy the open door on the third floor. As she turned the corner she found herself looking straight at an African-American woman of about sixty in a house-coat.

"Delivery my ass! Just another cracka bitch coming up these stairs. You think you special bitch. You know how many there been like you sneaking up these stairs?"

Claire felt the heat in her face. "I'm here on duty ma'am."


The woman laughed derisively. "Just like all crackas - you full o'shit. Where's yo partner and that ain't no Metro uniform. You some fucking stripper or something. Looking for a job maybe cos the Closer be putting lily-white asses like yours to work for real!" She laughed again, a malicious cackle of glee, and pushed the door shut before Claire could respond.

Claire made a mental note not to rely on the uniform again. It might draw more heat than it averted around here.

The last few steps completed she found herself again at the top floor doorway. This time it was closed and no sound came from within. Claire wondered if the woman had preceded Julius Moore out of the flat. She gave a tap on the door.

"What is it?" The voice from within was female. Claire breathed out a sigh of relief.

"Mrs. Butler - I'm the Officer who was here earlier. I'd like to speak to you again."

"What - oh well why the hell not. Just it'll be on one condition right..."

"What's that?"

She heard a noise and then Jean opened the door. "Don't call me Mrs. Butler. I stopped being her the moment I broke free. I don't want to be associated with that old life and I especially don't want to be connected to that wet-fart of a husband. I wasted long enough on him and I won't waste a second longer you hear."

Claire nodded. "May I come in?"

Jean shrugged. "Sure - I have nothing to hide."

Materially that seemed to be true. The rooms were every bit as sparse and thread-bare as Claire had noted on her first visit.

"I understand that your marriage broke down. But why did you come to live here?"

Jean laughed. "I don't live here - this is just a convenient place at the moment. When I need to be close to my man." There was a glint in the woman's eye as she framed the words 'my man'. For a moment Claire assumed it was bravado - Jean was flaunting her new life before a representative of the old one. Then a smile came onto Jean's face and Claire recognised her attitude for what it really was. Pure triumph.

"The man who was here earlier, Julius Moore, that's your man now?"

"If you're going to ask stupid questions then I'd better sit down." Jean led the way into the main room and took a seat on the sofa. The message was clear. Given what they'd been doing on that sofa during Claire's previous visit it was pretty damn obvious that she was the Closer's woman now. "In case your detective senses are a little off today - Julius is my man and I'm his woman. That shock you - that upset you?" Her chin was raised a little now as she proudly stated the obvious facts.

Claire again felt a little heat in her face. This hadn't started as she had expected. She had assumed she could use their shared background to gain an insight into Jean's actions. In fact it seemed to be happening the other way around.

Marriages broke up and ex-spouses found new partners. Claire knew that well enough. There was nothing startling about what had happened here. Nothing to have made her so intent on getting to the truth of what had happened. Hadn't she been through a divorce herself? Hadn't her parents? There was only one factor that set this out of the ordinary. The man Jean had chosen to go away with was an African-American, a Black man. That was at the core of this and that was what had sparked Claire's interest.

Jean didn't come from here - she came from Milvern County. Just as Claire had herself grown up in Milvern after her father's ill-health had forced his retirement. You didn't see too many African-American faces over in Milvern. Strange African-American faces were most definitely regarded with suspicion if not hostility. The whole County's attitudes were pretty much summed up by Skeet and his friends at the bar. They knew a few Blacks who were OK because they knew their place but they didn't want any more of them in Milvern and they didn't want Milvern tax-dollars going to subsidise their lazy nigger butts in the city. The Chief was like her father. They had nothing against African-Americans, both had worked with them quite happily, but their main intersection with the Black community had been questioning them, arresting them and getting them convicted. Generally speaking if a Black wasn't in Blue then he was a suspect or trying to cover up for one.

Not that what Jean had done was totally unknown. Claire had known the McDaid girl of course. There were a few others who were talked about as well. Women that caught 'jungle fever' and became 'mudsharks', 'snowbunnies', 'nigger lovers'. The tales kept being told sometimes twenty years after the women had left. Their relatives had to suck it up, leave or - as usually happened - become the fiercest accusers of the runaway 'slut.' Eventually they were only talked about in the past tense - as if they were dead. Women who had found their own special way to damnation.

You didn't choose that - you didn't choose to disgrace yourself and your ****** that way. You got tricked or had a drink spiked or there was something wrong deep inside you that set you off on that path. That was what Milvern County thought, that was what Milvern County KNEW. White women didn't degrade themselves by going with 'those people'. Or if they did they were youngsters who got their heads turned or who got in with a Black dealer. Bad types who soon showed their true colors. They weren't women like Jean. Women with white husbands and a Milvern County lifestyle didn't suddenly up sticks to shack up with a Black man in the ghetto. So the question was obvious.

"Why?"

Jean just laughed. "You've met that sad sack of shit who used to be my husband? I see you don't have a ring. Maybe you don't know what it is to be taken for granted for years. To never have your needs and desires even considered. To be expected to just tag along with his pathetic ambitions and his constant whining failures. To be expected to accept third- or fourth- or even fifth-best. In life and in bed."

Claire now knew that she had been right to come. Jean wasn't hiding anything and in fact she seemed almost desperate to let out all of the short-comings and frustrations of her old life. If she kept talking then Claire was confident that she would understand.

"Do you know what it is to understand that you have wasted YEARS of your life. On a man who hasn't got what it takes. On a man that just couldn't cut it. On a man that just didn't understand how that was a problem! While the shades are in place you can live that way but once you just let a crack of light in, once you understand, then there is no way you can settle for that. No way that I could settle for that."

Again Jean had that light of fervour in her eyes, the eyes of a convert. She was preaching the good word because she wanted and needed to do it. She wasn't scared or nervous or ashamed. She was relishing her new being, celebrating both it and her freedom to state how she truely felt.

"You know I was offered a job here ten years ago. Can you imagine where I might have been now if I had taken it? Ten years! But I couldn't. My husband needed to stay over there." She waved a dismissive hand that took in all of milvern County and any other county like it. "So I stayed there too. Because that's what you do in return for having a man. A man!" She almost spat out the word. "As if he was ever any sort of a real man. Only when I found the real thing did I really understand."

"Julius Moore." Claire needed to get the talk back onto the current situation. Estrangement and divorce were hardly notable. What mattered for the case was why Jean had ended up here and now.

A smile again played on Jean's lips. "Yes - Julius Moore. You've seen him and my husband and so you know there was never any real comparison. You know that as soon as I met him I realised how much time I had wasted, how I had been played for a fool."

The two men were very different and it wasn't only a racial thing. Butler had virtually smelled of defeat and resentment. The whining edge to his voice, his pathetic attempts to appear tough and determined. He was a man who had been given every advantage and yet had no idea what use to make of them. Men like that weren't in short supply. They reminded Claire of her ex-husband. A man who had married her knowing who she was and yet who had wanted her to change almost everything about herself to fit in with his own ambitions and needs. Her job, her vocation, her personality - she had been expected to sacrifice them all. That had caused her to do what had to be done. She hadn't realised until now how lucky she had been. When she saw the effect of years of disappointment and frustration on Jean. Not that her own life hadn't had a share of that - not that she had wanted to be alone for years, fending off the clueless advances of the likes of Skeet.

"Why am I telling you any of this," Jean blurted out, "what do you know about it?" She gestured a hand so that her rings caught the light. The point was clear - Claire didn't wear any such jewelry.

"I've been married," Claire said. Again she understood that she needed to keep Jean talking now that the women was opening up.

"He ditch you?" Jean's voice was harsh.

Claire paused before shaking her head. "He couldn't live with the job..."

Now Jean's smile was cynical. "Let me guess - another little white momma's boy that wanted to pretend he was large and in charge." She gave a short bark of a laugh, the bitterness obvious.

Claire didn't respond. She knew that Jean would continue given the space to do so.

"You know how I can be so sure?" Jean nodded at the Police woman. "You got any idea? It's because a real man either wants you for who you are or he's worth giving everything up for. You know what I mean?"

Claire didn't, she really didn't. "Is any man worth that?"

Jean's eyes seemed huge in her face, locked onto Claire's own. A disciple preaching a discovered truth. "I didn't know either until I met a man like that. When I did meet him I knew - even before he held me, even before he made me his."

"An African-American man."

"Yes, a Black man. I guess there might be white men like him but I've never met any. Since I've been with him I've met lots of other Black men who have something near to his ... presence. Close - but not quite. Maybe that's because he was first. But even if a white boy had something about him he wouldn't have it where it really counts. He wouldn't have what a woman needs. Once she's had that she won't be settling for that whitebread garbage."

"You've always, er, had a thing for Black men?"

Jean shook her head in annoyance. "Of course not! You think I was even allowed to look at a Black man! You think the thought of going with one even entered my head! Sure I knew they could be fine-looking but its not just about the looks. It's that something, that power, that magnetism. It's all the white boys' fault."

"I don't understand."

"You understand how it was - Masters and Slaves. Then Bosses and share-croppers. Then Managers and factory hands. The white man in charge and the Black man sweating in the sun. The white man lying back enjoying his mint julep while the Black man worked hard. Over the years that did something you know. The Black man had to be something, to hard-scrabble to even survive. The white man, even if he worked hard, could always relax a little knowing that at least he wasn't a 'nigger'. At least he didn't get shit on from as high up as they did. So what happened. To survive the Black man had to be smarter, be stronger, be fitter than the white man. That's why we are where we are now. Most white boys are just whining cry-babies. Black men are the real thing. They run faster, jump higher, fuck better, oh they fuck so much better. Until you experience it you just don't know, you just can't realise how it's meant to be."

Half way through that little speech Claire had felt a change in the room and had seen Jean's eye-line momentarily move from hers to just behind her. Claire guessed that they were no longer alone just as she knew that Jean's speech was second-hand, repeated just as she had heard it from 'her man.'

Claire had heard enough. "That's a load of crap. You're too smart to fall for all of that bullshit. You forget - I'm a cop. I know what Black men are good for - the cuffs and the cells, because most of them can't make it in the outside world. As for that other stuff. Don't give me all that crap about the Black man having a magic dick. That's all a myth. They are no bigger and no better than anyone else. Everyone knows that."

She heard a deep bass chuckle behind her. She'd intended to spark a reaction but hadn't figured it would be that one. She couldn't help turning round and saw him leaning against the door-post with laughter in his eyes. She turned back to Jean and saw the same smile there.

"You see Police girl - now I KNOW you've never been fucked by a real man. Never been fucked by a Black man. Until you have then what the fuck do you know about anything." Jean's voice was strident and almost triumphant now.

"Talking of which..." Julius moved up past Claire and took Jean in his arms. His mouth met hers, their kiss hard and passionate. "You ready little bitch?"

"Always ready for you Daddy." Jean's attention was wholly on him now. Claire wondered if she even remembered that there was still a third person in the room.

She soon found out. Jean dropped to her knees in front of Julius and her nimble fingers swiftly undid his belt and lowered his pants. She knew what she wanted and swiftly found it, her pale hand caressing and holding his rapidly hardening Black cock. Now Jean turned to Claire and nodded. "You see police girl - you still want to tell me about myths. Any white boy you know able to measure up to this." She breathed the words onto the ebony cock, now hard in her hand. "Just watch - I don't need a ruler." She placed a hand at the base of her cock and then the other on top of the first. The message was clear - two full hand widths and the broad powerful head of his cock was still clearly visible. Jean dipped her head down and ran her tongue up the underside of his shaft.

Claire glanced up and saw Julius' eyes on her. She wanted to say something but didn't know what. Instead her eyes were irresistibly drawn back to the hard glistening length of Big Black Cock.

Jean's voice was clear and decisive. "Did white boys tell you Black men couldn't get their big cocks hard?" She tapped his length against her cheek meaningfully. "Another lie. Just like the idea any white boy knows how to fuck like my man. It ain't what you've got its how you can use it. That's what they say - but what if you have both, eh? Ask your next white boy about that."

Again the low bass chuckle from Julius Moore as he stood above Jean. "You finished showing off - we got a job to do."

Jean looked up at him. "I know Daddy but she came here to find out and so I'm telling her. Besides she needs to know - just like all white girls need to know."

Now Julius laughed freely. "Shit little bitch you trying to get me a little Police-bitch for my collection." His eyes moved back onto Claire and again she wanted to speak but found her mouth dry, her mind unable to find the words.

He paused and again the smile flickered at the edge of his mouth. Then his eyes moved down and his concentration was back on his woman, back on Jean. "What you here for little bitch?"

"I'm here to be bred Daddy - I'm here for your strong Black seed."

Julius snapped his fingers and Jean quickly got to her feet and stood holding the edge of the sofa. She moved her legs apart and Julius took a hold of the bottom of her medium-length skirt and flicked it up onto her back. Jean was naked underneath.

"Yeah," crooned Julius, "there we got it. What type of pussy this little bitch?"

Jean wiggled her rear end at him invitingly. "White girl pussy - primed white girl pussy - your pussy Daddy."

Julius just grunted his approval and stepped up. He moved the big broad head of his Black cock against the inviting lips of his woman's pussy. The dark flesh gleamed, lubricated by Jean's saliva and her wet pussy. Jean gave out a long shuddering sigh as he pushed his cock home.

Claire couldn't help watching, seeing the contrast in skin-tones, the dark flesh moving deeper and deeper into the pink pussy, claiming it.

"Yes Daddy," moaned Jean, "close the deal. Make me yours - give me what I need."

A dark hand descended onto the pale swell of her buttock - the smack leaving a pale mark as he moved his hands to grasp her hips. Then he was fucking her with heavy rolling strokes.

"YYyyyeeeeeeeeeeeesssssssss," growled Jean. She dropped her head and closed her eyes, savouring every moment, every distinct sensation of it.

"You still here Police-bitch - time you was gone." Julius hadn't bothered looking at her this time.

"I ... I still have questions." She found the words, her eyes still fixed on what was happening in front of her, the Big Black Cock easily moving in and out of Jean's small pale body, easily claiming its prize.

It was Jean that answered through gritted teeth. "White girls in this house follow Daddy's rules. Daddy says get gone so you get gone. Understood." Then her head was down again as she focused on what was happening, as her excitement grew with every movement.

"What rules - your rules?" She spoke to Julius now. "What are they?" Jean was gone into her own world of pleasure, eyes closed and cheeks flushed as her body shifted to the thrusts of the big Black cock.

"Only my bitches get to know - for now you just get to go. Close the door on yo' way out of here."

There was no more to be learned. Claire left and pulled the door to behind her. As she moved quickly down the stairs the noise of their lovemaking slowly faded behind her.

***

The Chief had been pleased. The case had been settled with no additional drain on the County's resources. Of course she hadn't quite told him everything. She hadn't told him about going back that second time. She hadn't told him that she didn't intend to let this lie.

There was still something happening here that she hadn't grasped. If Jean had run off with a Black guy then why wasn't she living with him. Why was she in that neglected and barely-furnished top-floor place? She also suspected there had been a sub-text between the two that she hadn't picked up on. She needed to talk to Jean again but first she needed to know about this Foundation.

She knew one thing - this would have to be her own enquiry. The Chief wouldn't approve Dollar one - shit, the Chief wouldn't approve full stop. As far as he was concerned Jean had chosen her own way and that was it. Claire didn't agree. There was something behind all of this and she was determined to find out what it was, even if it took up all of her free time for months.

***

Jean sat in her vehicle and glanced in the mirrors and round the car. It was quiet and all clear. In front of her stood three tall buildings with a scattering of low-rise around them. A subtle sign identified them as 'Taylor Foundation properties'. Google had been her friend - but not to the extent that she had expected. There were a few news items, a few standard Corporation records and a few pictures of a well-dressed and avuncular, if aging, African-American with various notables at various opening and awards ceremonies. She had looked long and hard at those photos. This Taylor was clearly a man of influence but she'd found no profiles of him on any press site. The Foundation got some passing mentions but the man himself had an enviably low profile.

There was sound and movement up ahead. A convoy of three yellow school buses pulled to a halt and a tidal wave of small humanity rushed off them and headed towards the buildings. There was the excited noise of youthful chatter, laughter and argument. A large African-American man had taken position on the road with a 'school crossing' sign in his hand. He laughed and joked with some of the children as they crossed in front of him. Claire kept observing, watching closely for any clues but there really wasn't much to be seen. It was just like at home - almost. At home of course nearly all the children and most certainly the crossing guard would have been white. That guy would never have got the job in milvern County. He looked more suited to be a bouncer. However, it was the city and maybe it was different here. Just like the youngsters were. Claire had only seen three or four that might have passed for white.

The road cleared and the crossing guard retreated to the sidewalk where he lit up a cigarette. Five minutes later three more school buses arrived and the procedure was repeated. Claire was still watching intently when there was a sudden knock on her window.

She cursed herself for not paying more attention to her surroundings. She looked out and saw a Metro PD officer, his other hand on his firearm. She opened the window.

"Excuse me ma'am. This road is open for access but it is private property. Can you give me a reason for your stopping here?"

"I'm sorry Officer - I had no idea. I was just taking a rest after a long drive. I'm actually law enforcement myself." She reached for her badge and showed it.

His blue eyes narrowed and he held out his hand to scrutinise her ID more carefully. "This ain't somewhere you'd reach when you are on your way somewhere. Care to try again?"

Two more men approached them, both African-Americans. One was slim and athletic and wearing a well-cut suit. The other was built like a brick outhouse.

The man in the suit approached the Officer and held out his hand. "Thanks for the call Todd. There a problem here?"

The Officer sniffed and offered him Claire' badge. "Not sure Antwan. The lady says she's legit and has this."

Antwan studied the badge, a half-smile formed on his lips. "A long way off the reservation Ms Doyle. Not sure a milvern badge cuts much ice here. That right Todd?"

The Officer shrugged. "You're the one married to a lawyer Antwan. Suggests she isn't a problem though."

Antwan gave a slight nod. "My apologies Ms Doyle but nowadays we have to be careful. Too many crazies with guns who think its a 'political act' to shoot at elementary school kids who don't look the way they like. You catch what I'm saying. We take precautions round here - with the help of our city's finest of course." He gestured at the Officer.

"I'm still not clear what she's doing here," the policeman persisted.

"Suspicion comes as part of you folks' jobs," smiled Antwan at Claire, "perhaps you can put our minds at rest - before you leave." His smile was warm but his words were not to be ignored.

"I'm, er, investigating a possible abduction. You can check my bona fides with Detective Sansom."

"Already talked to him," said the Officer drily, "after my partner called your plates in. He said that case was settled."

"It probably is," admitted Claire, "I'm just trying to tie up one or two loose ends. For the paper-work you know." She smiled a winning smile - if there was one thing that united all law enforcement it was their attitude to paper-work.

It didn't work. The Officer only grunted. "If you need any information then Detective Samson says to contact him. He says if you get caught hanging around Foundation premises again then I should take you in to see him. That count as a fair warning to a sister Officer?"

Claire nodded ruefully. She'd made a total mess of things.

Antwan had been watching them carefully. "If Ms Doyle needs to know anything about us then I'm sure we can arrange a conversation with myself." He leaned forward and took another look at Claire and then seemed to make up his mind. "Perhaps with myself and Mr. Taylor. I'm sure he'd be happy to meet you Ms Doyle. We really have nothing to hide." He held his hands out with their palms open. Then he reached into a suit pocket and handed Claire his card.

Claire was surprised but chose to ride her luck. "What can you tell me about Julius Moore?"

Antwan looked slightly confused. He turned to the huge man behind him. "Tyrone - you know this Julius Moore?"

"Huh," said the colossus, "only his Momma and his bitches call him Julius. Thass the Closer - you know him Antwan."

Now Antwan's face broke into a ready smile of comprehension. "Ah, the Closer. Yes we know him or at least of him. I believe Mr. Taylor offered him a job once but the Closer prefers to go his own way. There's not much we can tell you about his current activities unless..." He glanced over his shoulder but Tyrone simply shook his head with a stern non-committal look on his face. Claire recognised it from when they'd arrested Floyd Abenethy over in milvern.

"Well," said Antwan pleasantly, "if we can help you on anything else you have my card. Do call us before you visit again won't you. Meanwhile you'd best be on your way if you want to miss the rush getting back home." His smile was warm and genuine but Claire got the message. Antwan was in charge and it was time for her to go.

***

She did indeed leave but not to go home. She soon found herself again parked outside of the shuttered up store. She had no idea who was in the ugly building over the road at the moment. She also didn't feel inclined to wait to see who came or went. She was in her civvies today and this didn't seem the best area for a white woman to be in alone as dusk was falling.

She pressed the buzzer for admittance without thinking too much about it. "Delivery for the top floor," she said.

There was a cackle of laughter through the grill. "Dumb five-oh cracka - you think I don't know its you. You sure you just for the cracka up top."

Claire said yes and felt the blood in her cheeks. She'd made a mistake pressing the same button but the click of the door opening made her feel a little better. Until she heard the laughter from up the stairs of course. She knew the old woman was waiting for her.

"Here she be," came the delighted cackle as she took a turn in the stairs. "Not in the uniform today eh, you don't scrub up too bad for a whitebread. Guessin' you'll soon be taking a few deliveries upstairs yourself." Her laugh echoed off the walls again.

Claire adopted her sternest manner. "Thanks for letting me in ma'am but I'm really only here to speak to Jean."

"Oh yeah," the old woman gave her a filthy leer, "listen whitebread there's only one reason cracka bitches come up these stairs. Always been the same." Then she turned back into her room and closed the door.

Claire continued up the stairs and knocked on the door at the top. There was no answer and she turned the handle. The door opened. She examined it and saw the lock hadn't been fixed in the two days since she had been there.

"JEAN - Mr. MOORE," she called each name once but something told her there was no-one there. She looked around and her earlier observations about the place were confirmed. No-one lived here. It was purely a place with a function, a place for people to meet. Presumably a place for Julius and his women to meet. The old woman's comments had taught her that Julius had more than one, or perhaps had a long succession of ones. Did Jean know that? Claire instantly corrected herself. She had see Jean with Julius, the expression on Jean's face, the - what should she call it - the ecstasy on the white woman's face as Julius had taken her. Jean had to know that Julius had a lot of women, a lot of 'bitches' as he called them. Why did Jean know that and why didn't she care?

Claire went into the kitchen. No stove but the makings for quick snacks. A coffee machine and a small fridge containing milk and beer.

The problem with doing these things on your own was that you had no partner watching your back. Claire was still in the kitchen when she heard the front door shut. She swore under her breath and decided to make the best of it. "PATROL OFFICER INSIDE. I'M COMING OUT," she called out in a nice clear voice. Meanwhile she pulled her personal protection sidearm - just in case.

"Come on out then," said a male voice. It showed neither surprise or concern.

She held her gun as she stepped back out of the kitchen. She expected to see him but he wasn't there. Suddenly she heard his voice behind her.

"No need for the weaponry. Besides, if I wanted to shoot you then you wouldn't have heard me come in. Point the gun at the floor and turn round slowly."

She obeyed. There was a calm authority to his voice that made it damn clear that she had no option. She expected to turn round into the muzzle of a gun but he was simply sat in a chair and looking at her. He pointed a finger up into the corner of the room's ceiling. She saw a muted red light and realised that there was a camera there.

His voice broke into her racing thoughts. "Just for your information I've told the local corner-boys to keep an eye on your ride - make sure nothing happens to it. That ain't the best place to park unless you're in right with them."

"Thanks," she said and put her gun back into her coat pocket. It seemed ridiculous to be waving it about. He'd proved that he was in charge of this situation and he wasn't in the least worried about her gun.

"Is Jean here?"

Julius laughed to himself. "I'll take that as a compliment but even I need to recharge sometimes. My little bitch is coming over for her regular in a few minutes." His eyes were challenging her to comment, but that challenge was amused rather than proud.

She chose to take the bait. "Why do you call her that - why not call her by her name?"

"Call her my little bitch 'cos she's a cute little piece and she's my bitch. Too confusing for you?" That smile was there again. "You see her complaining? She's loving being my little bitch, my beck and call girl. She's following the rules and reaping the rewards."

"Jean mentioned the rules last time. What are they?"

Julius paused and raised his eyebrows. "Rules like breaking and entering or searching without a warrant. Those sorts of rules?" He smiled again. "Don't worry about none of that. I've got nothing I'm inclined to hide."

"So those rules?"

"Rule One is that I'm a busy man and ain't got time to be fooled with by my bitches. When I say 'get gone' you bitches get gone."

"I'm not one of your bitches."

"Nah," again Julius raised an eyebrow and chuckled, "then you don't need to know my bitches' rules." He smiled and put his hands down on the table in front of him. "However, this is my place and so that rule still applies don't it? Especially for uninvited guests." Now his eyes were on hers. Deep brown pools that seemed to draw her into them. She recognized the charisma there, the presence. The way she knew he was near her even before she saw him. The way he could dominate a room without saying anything. The way she felt out of her league even in as gentle a contest of words as this had been.

She didn't respond. Instead she waited to be ordered out. That was absolutely his prerogative - she had absolutely no right or authority to be there.

Instead he just sat there and watched her - like a cat with a mouse. She had her gun in her pocket but it didn't give her any sense of security. What was it that man Antwan had said. That she was 'a long way off the reservation.' He had been another one like Julius Moore. That same presence, that same authority, that same assured status as ... as what? What was it that made them like very few people she had ever met. The confidence, the knowledge, the security of, of... Her mind flashed to those nature documentaries they were always showing on TV. They called their kind the alpha males. Yes, that was what they called them. The males who were in charge and possessed all they had because of their ability, their skill and their power.

The other males would moan and kvetch and hang about the outskirts hoping for scraps. Just like Mr. Butler or Skeet or her ex-husband. Always griping about what they couldn't have or couldn't hold onto. Alphas didn't need to complain. Alphas possessed what they had by right.

Which left the females. Had they no say in the matter? Well those with the alpha got the best - the best protection, the best food, the best and strongest offspring. So the female sought the attention of the alpha. That was just nature and nature was red in tooth and claw.

She suddenly realised where her thoughts had taken her - wondered how long she had been processing those thoughts. Probably only seconds but it could have been much longer. She felt the heat of blood come into her cheeks. "I'm sorry," she said.

He smiled at her. "No problem. I was enjoying the view. I like a cute redhead but I'd like to see your hair flame-red you know. You'd look even finer than you do now."

Now she felt the heat in her cheeks reinforced. She'd assumed his attention on her was caution or curiosity. He'd just told her that it was something more. She felt herself react to his interest, react in a way that hadn't been familiar to her. Getting hit on was nothing so unusual but getting a signal of interest from a man like this that was something else entirely. She felt the blood pumping through her veins, the rush of adrenaline, the power of the thoughts and images suddenly rushing through her brain.

He was still watching her, his deep brown eyes locked onto hers. She didn't quite know how to respond, her mouth felt dry as dust. "The rules?" Her voice reduced to a near croak.

"I told you that my rules are only for my bitches. I'll let you know Rule Two if you understand that once you know it then it applies to you too. Want to know it?"

"Yes." She still felt the blood in her cheeks and hoped it wasn't too obvious.

"Only my bitches get to come here. Understand?"

"Yes," she said.

There was a fresh rattle at the door. "What the fuck Julius - Desiree says you've got a fresh bitch up here. Who... OH!" Jean stopped and put her hand to her mouth as she noticed Claire.

Julius chucked. "You know you got all my attention at the moment little bitch. No need to be getting jealous." He stood and put his strong arms around her, his mouth meeting hers in a tender kiss.

"Who gave you your first Black fucking little bitch - who showed you what you'd been missing all that time."

"You did Black daddy," she looked small and pale in his dark powerful arms. Her eyes were locked on his and Claire now knew just how powerful this man's charisma, his sexual charge, could be.

"Yeah - so mine's the only big Black cock you've had right?"

She swallowed. "No Black Daddy - you know it isn't."

"Thass right - 'cos I don't do that jealousy bullshit. You ain't my wife - you're my little bitch and a fine as fuck little bitch like you gets a lot of attention from the brothas. Only right they should get to enjoy you just like you is getting to enjoy them. I'm right?"

"Yes Daddy. I'm sorry Daddy."

"Just now though you got all my attention and I got you exclusive. So even a fly little hood-rat like her," he gestured at Claire, "ain't getting too far in my thoughts. I know this little bitch," he held her gently by the chin, "needs all my loving and all my seed right now. You getting this."

Jean nodded as Claire watched on.

"Soon this time will be up. Then you and me will be moving on. Lot of brothas out there for you and lots of white girls needing me to educate them just like I educated you. You getting that? Not like you don't know Rule Six. You remember it don't you.

His hands were unbuttoning her top now. Her breasts were bare between the thin material and once exposed his big dark hands were on them. Jean gasped and his mouth took possession of hers, their tongues duelling in the dance of passion.

Finally the kiss broke and Jean was left breathing hard with her eyes wide and her cheeks flushed, her attention totally on the man in front of her. Claire knew in that instant that Jean was lost, had given herself totally to her new life. She wouldn't be gong back. She saw it in that moment, in Jean's face. She also knew that Jean was feeling something that she, Claire, herself had never felt. She had felt something of it just before Jean had got here. It had been intoxicating, thrilling and powerful. Somehow she knew that Jean was now feeling something of magnitudes greater strength. For a moment she tried to imagine how that would feel but her logical mind immediately suppressed the very idea. She knew that such pleasure, such ecstasy, could only be wrong, could only be dangerous. A woman had to have herself tightly under control around men like Julius - she had to know what she was doing. Otherwise she would be lost. Just as lost as Jean was.

Julius turned his woman so that her bared left arm was visible to Claire. On the inside of that arm there was script, the tattoo's ink dark and plainly visible on the pale skin. Julius ran his dark finger over that skin and Jean seemed to shiver, but again Claire instinctively knew that the cause was desire, not fear.

"What this say little bitch?" His voice was smooth as silk now, dark chocolate running between them, matching the finger gently tracing the skin under that script.

"I pledge to obey the ten rules of a Black man's woman." Jean's voice was breathy, excited. Claire knew there was no coercion there. The other woman was savouring every moment, every aspect, of what was happening.

"Police girl don't need to know - but you know the rules. You know Rule Six in particular. You gonna be a good little bitch and make yo' Daddy proud? You gonna be obeying Rule Six from now on?" He moved behind her and his fingers moved to her nipples, teasing and gently squeezing the erect flesh.

"Yes Daddy," she gasped. That gasp became a moan as Julius's mouth dropped to the exposed pale flesh of her neck.

His kiss was hard and sharp, deliberately marking her. A mark as meaningful if not as permanent as the one on her arm. "You your Black Daddy's little beck and call bitch?"

"Yes," Jean was breathing hard now, "I'm your beck-and-call bitch Daddy. Please fuck me, please fuck me now."

Julius was smiling and for one moment, one long moment, his eyes again met Claire's. She felt her stomach seem to give a little leap, the breath catch in her throat. Then his eyes had left her and he was leading Jean into the little bedroom and laying her down.

Claire followed and only just remembered to glance up into the corner of the room, to see the small red light that indicated another camera. Julius had joined Jean on the bed, pushing up her skirt and his hand was now at her pussy. His long dark fingers exploring and testing her. He withdrew them, gleaming in the light with moisture, and then sucked them clean, savouring his little bitch's juices.

"Thass good," he crooned, "but I need that sweetness from the source." He moved forward and pushed his head to her pussy, his tongue exploring and savouring her readiness for him. Jean's hands came to his head, holding him there as she gasped and writhed. She was looking forward in Claire's direction but the latter knew that Jean wasn't seeing her. Jean was caught up in the dance of passion, for her there was only her needy pussy and Julius' skilled tongue. Nothing else mattered, for the moment nothing else would ever matter. She was truely lost - lost to her pleasure and desire. Lost to her ability to please her man and his ability to satisfy her, to take her to places undreamt of over all those years before.

Julius finally moved back and began to undo his clothes. His eyes were intent now - fixed on Jean. As he removed his shirt he gave one glance over to Claire. "So Police - you either take a seat and keep quiet or you get gone. Your choice."

Claire moved to the single chair in the room and sat down, her eyes never leaving what was happening on the bed. Julius undid his belt and stepped out of his pants and shorts. His big cock was hard, standing up against the tight muscles of his flat dark belly. Claire again felt the rush of energy through her body as she considered Jean's position. Claire had seen the look in Julius' eyes. That hard cock confirmed it - he was going to fuck Jean, to make her his, to possess her and to claim her. He was going to show just what an alpha male could do for his little bitch. Claire knew all that, knew it instinctively. Knew it from that one look that Julius had given her - knew that given the chance he would do it for her too. She felt her body react to the realisation - felt a desire to undo her own pants, to allow her own fingers to relieve the tension that was growing so rapidly within her. However , she knew that she couldn't. She was here to investigate and to observe - nothing more, it couldn't be anything more.

"That's how I like my pussy - tell me again whose pussy this is little bitch."

"It's yours Daddy, always yours. Whenever you want it."

Julius thumb was at her clit now, teasing her. Enjoying the warm wetness that just confirmed that she was his. "Thass good - 'cos this is what a Black man likes. Warm wet white pussy - and what else?"

"Primed pussy Daddy, primed just for you. Ready for you and needing you."

Julius moved forward, his movements smooth. Jean's hand reached for and found his cock.

"Yes," she whispered, "I need this. It's perfect."

"Show me."

Jean pushed her knees up and back as her hands grasped her ankles. Her sex was exposed now, looking achingly vulnerable. Once again Claire saw the broad head of his dark penis presented to Jean's pussy lips. This time there was no need for further teasing. Jean was ready for him and Julius knew it. His big thick cock seemed to be drawn into her body, to move smoothly into her and claim her. On the first withdrawal his shaft gleamed with her wetness, with the juices that had prepared her body to receive him.

There was no more talk, no more diversions. Now there were only two bodies, two bodies meeting and fulfilling each other as they had done since the first man and the first woman. Two bodies meeting the most primal and the most perfect desire engrained in all of life. Jean's legs were released and came up to clamp around his thrusting Black form, seeking to hold him deep inside her. His thrusts continued, powerful and unflagging. Their desire was the same, their desire was mutual and their desire was achieved. The building cries of the woman punctuated and fulfilled by the grunt of her man as he emptied his seed deep within her.

It was visceral and it was undeniable. Claire could not tear her eyes away. She watched as Julius finally withdrew, his Big Black Cock still semi-hard, Jean lay back on the bed. She was flushed and panting, her eyes wide with excitement.

"You gonna be ready for another round?" Julius asked.

"Fuck yeah - more than ready," came Jean's reply.

Once more Julius allowed his eyes to move across and meet those of Claire. He half-raised an eyebrow. He didn't have to say anything. There was no doubt that Jean was a totally willing participant.

"I..." Claire finally blurted out.

"You remember Rule One - from now on tonight's a special time for me and my little bitch only." Julius pointed a finger to the door.

Claire's mouth opened to say something and then she stood up and headed for the door.

"You working Thursday?" His voice sounded behind her.

Her mind raced. "A double-shift" she replied.

"Call in sick," was his only response.

This time she heard Jean's laughter as she started down the stairs.

***

They were a quiet few days for the Department, even quieter than usual Just the routine minor neighborhood disputes and setting speed-traps. It was just as well.

"Claire - what the fuck!" Skeet was waving his fingers in front of her face. "What's wrong with you - didn't you hear me? Are you falling asleep?"

It was a serious matter. If you were on patrol you needed your partner to have your back. If you couldn't rely on him or her then that was a serious issue. Life-and-death situations were real uncommon in milvern County but you never did know. You had to be ready, you had to be prepared. That was what her father had always taught her.


Skeet was watching her - she knew he was trying to judge if she would be a problem. That shamed her - she had always prided herself on her professionalism. Nothing had ever broken her concentration as it was broken now. She just couldn't keep her mind on the job, on the here and now, she just couldn't stop it going back there, the images that ran through her mind, the feelings that surged through her every time that she thought about it.


"Claire!" Skeet's hand was on her shoulder now - gently shaking it. "This ain't like you. Is something wrong?"

It came so naturally, it seemed inevitably. She gave her temporary partner a tired smile and the words came real easy. "I think I'm going down with something Skeet. Can you warn the Chief I'll probably have to call in sick tomorrow."

She saw the surprise on Skeet's face - that was so unlike the Claire Doyle that he knew, that everyone in the Department knew.

She didn't care. She knew where she had to be tomorrow.

***

Julius Moore was out by the derelict store when she arrived. He was standing with two other men. All three carefully watched her park and get out of her vehicle. One of the men blew a plume of smoke from his cigarette into the early-evening air. Claire felt all of their eyes on her but once out of her vehicle kept her eyes on Julius. He was the man she had come to see, the man who had the answers she was seeking.

Julius pointed. "Jean is waiting upstairs - I'll be back there later." He turned back to his two friends. Claire wasn't sure what to do. She had expected him to greet her, perhaps even to express surprise that she had come. Instead he took it as a matter of course, as if he had never doubted that she would be there. She suddenly realised the truth. He had read her correctly - he HAD known that she would be there. She turned and headed for he door of the now familiarly ugly building.

Behind her, unseen, Julius held up one hand. Even as Claire reached the building's door she heard the buzz of its door being released. She stepped inside - aware of the men's eyes on her - and started up the stairs.