Who Killed Bishop Mandrake By Bald Hairy Man
This is a story about gay men and gay sex. If you do not like that, DO NOT read it! You have been warned. It is intended for adults to read, and is not for minors. It is a fantasy, not a sex manual. I have made no effort to portray safe sex practices. If you have any comments send them to bldhrymn@yahoo.com or bldhrymn@aol.com
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I now had two approaches to the motive for the murder. It could be by a religiously obsessed person or it could be due to a real estate deal. The Real estate motive seemed more viable, but I knew from experience I should investigate all options. I talked with detective Roger D. Jones who was our expert on con men. I thought that Collin Best might have been on his radar. Roger D. was always named with his middle initial. Patrolman Roger F. Jones was an entirely different kettle of fish.
Roger D. hadn't heard of Collin, but he checked the conman data base. Sure enough, Collin Best was there with a number of complaints, but no arrests. It was clear that the Episcopal Diocese had not done their homework when they hired him. He had a mail order degree in theology. Collin had posed as a Baptist Minister before in Bath County, Virginia. The file said there was suspicion that he had taken money from several older members of the congregation, but they had died and the church had closed. There had been no one to press charges.
He had been involved in an assault, but again no charges. He was the victim and the man who attacked him was an enraged husband. He had been a Chaplin at a nursing home and been fired. His name had been showing up on will as a major beneficiary. In that case the nursing home didn't want anyone to find out about the problem. If the patients of their families found out the nursing home employed a con man, they would be in deep trouble.
Roger D. told me that was a fairly common approach for some conmen. They counted on the embarrassment and humiliation of being conned to keep their victims from pressing charges. I asked if that sort of man would resort to violence. He said no, that was very rare. "They get off on trickery and deceit. For some of them it proves they are smart men, better than most people," he explained.
Lance had re-read the letters. He found some that he thought were fake. The writer inserted grammatical errors and vulgar language, but they used fairly sophisticated grammar elsewhere. They used the phrase to whom or for whom. They also used the adverb form. They said "you'll be sorry quickly enough." They avoided "you'll be sorry quick enough." It was an educated person imitating a semi-literate.
I needed more information on real estate near the church. I went to the city assessor's office and met with Henry Thomas. He didn't run the department, but he was known as the "smart one." He was a short, thin, unimpressive man, bald with an ineffectual mustache. Once he started pulling information out of his computer, he became more impressive.
He had not spent any time on the neighborhood; the area was not on anyone radar. He noticed quite a few sales and transfers. The area was classified as a part of several districts, so the transaction had caused no interest in the department. Henry noticed that a number of the sales were to strawmen, entities who concealed the identities of the real owners.
Henry checked the strawmen corporations against the State Corporation Commission records. While some of that information was public domain, the assessor's office had special access. He checked the registered agents and found that most were either David Jones Esq. or Mary Billing. Davis Jones was the registered agent of Colony properties. Mary Billing was Frank Carter's wife. She hadn't changed her name.
Henry was also the assessor's office liaison to the City Planning Neighborhood improvement section and to the building inspector's office. He knew the Carter's well. He had been keeping those organizations up to date on Carter's properties. They were interested on building and health code violations. Anything owed by the Carter's was suspect.
Henry was one of these fussy little men who crossed every "T" and dotted every "i." If he was working on a case there were no loopholes or technical problems. When he advised on a case slumlords were usually helpless. Henry told me to talk with Jonathan Ellery in the planning office for more information on the Carters.
Jonathan worked two floors above in the city hall. He was free. I told him I wanted to know about the Carters. He closed the door to his office. Henry was the perfect man to work in a clerical office, Jonathan looked like he had missed his calling as a bouncer at a biker bar. He was huge, tall, beefy and muscular.
He was also smart. He handed long range planning for substandard housing. That was a strange euphemism for slum-lord hunter. He assembled cases to legally go after these men and women in courts. I told me privately, that he was looking for ways make their ownership of slum properties more difficult.
"Harassment?" I asked.
"Code enforcement is the phrase we use," Jonathan replied. "We do try to promote public safety. Do you remember the Elwood Avenue fire?"
"The one that killed six people?" I asked.
He nodded. "The city administration took that as a call to arms. The building had been cited for fire safety short comings. We were instructed to take an aggressive role in correcting problems, not just sending notices. The City Attorney's daughter went to school with one of the children who died. We had regulations on the books, we were instructed to strictly enforce them."
"Where do the Carter's fit in the slumlord category?" I asked.
"They are blood sucking vampires feasting on the poor and unfortunate," he said. "Please don't quote me on that. They know what I think about them, but it might be a problem if it came out in court. I must be strictly impartial."
Jonathan gave me a good overview of the neighborhood. It was a respectable, working class area, with good families. It adjoined a black neighborhood where most of the residents owned their houses. Most of the houses were too small for gentrification, if you define gentrification as wealthy white families buying out black families. Some white artist types had been buying houses.
Jonathan gave me an overview of the Carter family and their landholdings. He said he would look things over and give me a call if he found anything.
Back at my office I had a call from Butch; he had found additional information tucked in the back of a file drawer. Bishop had been doing research on the local slum lords. He had several thick files on the subject. I looked to it and ran across the names of the dummy corporations. He had researched all the paper entities that disguised the full extent of the real estate activities in the area.
I faxed this information to Lance and Jonathan. It would mean more to them. Bishop had also documented all land sales in the area a cross reference it to muggings and robberies. There was a stunning correlation. I faxed this to the office too. There had been only one copy of the possibly incriminating evidence. Now there were three copies. That was safer for Butch. It was late and I had to get dinner and go home.
As I left, Butch whispered to me, "You remember that I said I was into no strings fun?" I nodded. He went on. "I think I wouldn't mind few strings with you. I had a great time with you the other day."
"Would you like to join me for dinner?" I asked. He was ready. After a good dinner, we went to my place. He was uneasy and tense.
"I enjoyed it here the last time," Butch said, "I tend to be a let it-all-hang-out kind of guy. I was a bit subdued the last time."
"It seems to me that subdued sex is an oxymoron," I observed. Butch laughed. We went to my place and then to the bedroom.
"I's love to fuck you," Butch said. "I like to shoot off deep in a guy."
"I like to top, but I make exceptions. Do you ever bottom?" I asked.
Burch nodded. "Once and a while, but it needs to be slow and easy," he said. "I was on the wrestling team so taking the cock meant I lost. I am not a good looser."
"Did you ever think of it as a reward for the winner, rather than a punishment for the looser?" I asked. Butch shook his head.
We showered and things fell into place. It helped that we were both erect when we entered the shower, so it was obvious we were both into it. He sucked me and worked a soapy finger into my ass. That was surprisingly good. His cock soon followed the finger.
After a short while I suggested that were dry off and go to the bed where I would get on my back he could get total penetration. That was fine with him. Butch was naturally aggressive, but not crazy aggressive. He loved it with my legs spread wide and his cock fully embedded. He had low hangers and liked to bounce them on my ball sack. It didn't take long for his cock to find the good spots.
I had the strange sensation that he wasn't fucking me; he was just filling a void in my body and mind. He liked to pull out all the way our and slip in with a single stroke. He was excited and with every stoke he transferred some of that excitement to me. The physical connection became emotional. Eventually my sphincter did not close entirely between penetrations. I was open. Butch liked that a lot.
When he shot off, he pulled out while still shooting his sperm into my hole. He then dropped to his knees and licked his sperm from my still open hole. His tongue was in me lapping up his cream. It was shocking and erotic. I tried to open wider, but I couldn't do it. I thought his tongue might reach my prostate. I began to shoot off. His finger replaced his tongue, rubbing my prostate as he ate every drop of my semen. We rested.
"I hope it was good for you. It was mind blowing for me," he said.
"There is nothing left in me, you took it all," I said. "I feel empty."
"I've never done that," he said as he kissed me. I could still taste cum in his mouth. He rolled me on my side and eased his semi erect cock into my ass. "I can shoot off several times when I am inspired. Would you like that?" he asked. I scooted back, forcing his cock deeper into me. I almost fell asleep as he slow fucked me.
Burch had an early service the next morning, so he left around 11:00. I slept well and when I woke the next morning, I imagined a warm glow due to his cum in my ass.
I had meeting with Lance, Jonathan from planning and Henry the Assessor. The head assessor and the Director of City Planning came too. Bishop's information relating arson, muggings and property sales was a gold mine. There was a direct relationship; there was an increase in criminal activities and increased property sales.
Being a city assessor isn't the most exciting thing in the world so this was a change of pace for Henry. He discovered that arson incidents tended to be related to rental properties. Individual home owners had to deal with vandalism and muggings. He had identified the buyers. 70% were related the Carter family or Carter controlled shell companies.
Bishop Mandrake had it all on his home computer. Henry had access to the big mainframes and he could work statistical magic. Lance and Henry had linked the property sales information in the assessor's office to the crime statistics in our office. Henry had then plotted it on a planning office map of the neighborhood and created overlays that definitively indicated a massive crime fueled land deal.
We also had a good motive to kill Bishop Mandrake. He had stumbled onto the scheme and needed to be silenced.
By noon, I was on the way to Baltimore with Henry to talk with the Baltimore police. We know that the Carter's used Baltimore thugs as enforcers. We wanted to know more about them. Lance could have done it, but a ranking person was needed to impress the importance of the investigation on the Baltimore police. Henry was to handle the technical aspect of the case. I was able to talk with the Police Chief for a short while. He had another appointment and asked me to get back at nice the next morning. He did get the ball rolling with the man who handled lesser crimes. That man's name was Rollo Frankenthal. Handling assaults and muggings was way down on the status totem pole for the police.
Rollo immediately understood the possible ramifications of Bishop's discoveries. It turned muggings into a huge swindle. He was nearing retirement and wanted to go out in a blaze of glory with a big case. He looked like a bulldog who finally got the bone. Henry and I went to dinner with him. He was tech savvy, and understood what Henry told him.
Henry and I went to a motel after dinner. We were sharing a room since the city was economizing on travel expenses. It was late when we got there. I took a shower and went to a chair to read some files. Since we had left quickly, I hadn't packed anything. I was wearing only a towel. Henry took a shower and returned wearing a towel. Henry was uneasy.
"Are you worried about something?" I asked.
"No, everything is fine," he said. "It may sound odd, but I feel like the 100-pound weakling next to you."
I smiled. "Don't worry I won't kick any sand in your face," I said.
"Actually, I've never been a room before with a naked man," Henry added. "It seems odd. I went to Christian School and lived with my parents in college, night school."
"College and showers in the army barracks cured me of that worry," I said. "Does it bother you?"
"Not exactly. Would it bother you if I said I sort of excites me? Would you be shocked?" he asked.
"I wouldn't be shocked and I wouldn't be bothered either," I said. "I'm not sure we have much control over what excites or doesn't excite us. Life is a mystery sometimes." I stood up to go to bed and the towel fell off. It was accidental, but Henry obviously like the view.
"Oh shit, it is huge!" he said. He turned beet red. "I shouldn't have said that, he added.
"Don't worry, you aren't going to make any enemies by complimenting a man on his cock!" I said. "Don't worry." I bent over and picked up the towel. Henry was still looking. I had to walk near him to get to bed. Unconsciously he leaned forward to get a closer look.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to stare," he said.
"Look all you want; it's not a problem for me," I said. I stopped in front of him. "Do you want to touch it?"
"I couldn't do that," he said, but he didn't move away. Just then, his cock poked out of his towel. He was fully erect. I saw it and he tried to cover it up. "I'm really sorry," he whispered. I bent over and stroked it. He moaned.
"You've got a nice one too," I said. It was thin, but nice and long.
"I've seen videos of men doing stuff, but I'm not sure I could do what they did," Henry said.
"I'm pretty sure you could do that stuff and I am positive you would like it," I replied.
He leaned closer and his mouth was inches from my cock. He closed his eyes and opened his mouth. He finally sucked it. A few minutes later, I got on my knees and sucked him. That was a complete success. Henry must have had a hollow leg with respect to sperm. When my lips touched his cock he began to shoot. He shot and shot and shot.
"Oh God, I'm sorry!" he exclaimed.
"You can't fool Mother Nature," I replied after I swallowed his load.
"Am I supposed to take your semen?" he asked rather sheepishly.
"If you want to, that is fine," I said. "It is better if you want it. You will enjoy it more."
"Did you enjoy it?" he asked. I told him that I did.
"It is okay if it's too much for you, relax and lie down," I suggested. "Was that your first blow job?"
Henry nodded. "I'm 46 years old. I guess that makes me pretty pathetic. It is embarrassing to be a virgin at my age," he said, then he added, "It was so good it almost hurt. I liked sucking you. I mean I really liked that. I don't know if I could take your . . ."
"I used to be uncomfortable when a guy shot off. It both excited me and scared me," I said. "It still excites me." We talked a little longer and went to bed.
I am an early riser and was up at 5:30. We were due at the Baltimore Police headquarters at 9:00. Henry woke up and his interest in cock sucking woke with him. He both sucked and deep throated me.
"Do you want me to warn you when I am close?" I asked.
"It would be better if you surprise me," he replied. We shifted to the 69 position. From this position I could deep throat too. He was pumping out precum, but didn't immediately ejaculate. He held back for five minutes or so, then gave up the fight. His first spurt pulled my trigger and we had a nice mutual exchange of sperm.
After we calmed down, Henry said, "I was so excited I hardly noticed you were shooting off. I was great."
"You shoot on hell of a load," I said. "You would be a cum hounds dream date."
Henry looked at me in the eye. "Do you know any cum hounds?"
"I know some me who would suck you dry, and then wait for a refill" I said. We dressed and went to find breakfast. We then went to the meet with the chief. He had his right hand officers with him and someone from planning and assessment. I explained our suspicions. Henry described the correlation between crime and property sales. He had written a computer program to coordinate crimes and property sales. Once the Baltimore police knew of the scheme, they knew of neighborhoods that were potentially victimized.
The Planning director called in his computer guys. It was like Christmas for them. Henry was an unimpressive man, but he was star here. The street crime man knew most of the local street scum and their usually approaches. Two hours later, we had found finger prints that matched. The planning guys had found a similar crime-property correlation in two Baltimore neighborhoods.
The scheme was dependent of keeping a low profile. Muggings and break-ins are classified as minor crimes. The neighborhoods were not high profile, although they sat next to good or improving neighborhoods. By trading enforcers between cities, the clearance rate on crimes was small. No one expected a petty thief to be hundreds of miles away later on the same day. Bishop Mandrake's murder was an exception. We returned home feeling good.
When we were home to told Henry I would give his name to a few men, if he was interested. He was. Back at the office the city announced a massive code enforcement effort. This focused on the area around St. Peter and Paul Church. This was to keep the landlord off balance. The first inspection uncovered extensive health and safety violations and triggered inspections on all the Carter family properties. It became more expensive to be a slum lord. It took a day for the city computers to find links between or city and Baltimore.
Interstate crime triggered a response for the State Police and the FBI. Interstate racketeering reared its head. Butch was doing his bit. He talked to a neighborhood organization about a neighborhood watch.