The Jerk-Off
by Jack Lynch
Chapter 25
He's Gay! He's Gay !
Interviews with the three Ledecker siblings answered a lot of questions, leaving a few unanswered ones, and adding a couple of new ones to the list.
The FBI waited patiently outside for the repast to conclude, corralling the Ledeckers as they left the church. After getting each of them ensconced into separate interview rooms at the Crosby Police Station, the interrogations that followed yielded a bevy of surprising revelations.
All three admitted giving up their properties on Ledecker Island.
Linnie Lee admitted to selling her place for $450,000. She wasn't sure but she thought the name on the sales agreement read Kansas City Partners.
Dickie Lee sold his to a company called Omaha Partners. In exchange, he received $750,000 and a 30% share in a club called Zoov's.
"Zoov's," Petty muttered, shaking his head. He immediately got on the phone with FBI headquarters in D.C.
Deck sheepishly admitted he'd sold his home and property for $800,000 while giving up a 25% stake in his business. The buyer—Eckankar Holdings Ltd. That prompted another call to HQ, this one to Ed Nugent, the head of Cults and Religions.
"We're pretty sure Eckankar is partnering with the Barzini gang," Nugent told them. "We're preparing to move in on The Outfit right now."
"Huh," Shamus murmured, one fist nudged the top of his cheek, his arm supported by the arm rest of the chair he was seated on. He was perusing the Eckankar web site. They had all retreated to the squad room at the Crosby PD. The Ledecker's had been released, at least for now.
Agent Satrom was behind him, bent over as he scanned the web page. At the same time, he was also on the phone to Washington.
"You know anything about these people?" He asked Valdespino.
"Oh yeah, we do. Lots," Valdespino replied. He had been conferenced into an earlier call with Nugent and his staff, briefed about The Living Eckmaster and his right hand man, Owen Palmer, aka Vlad Ustanko, a Moscow transplant. "It just so happens Eckankar holds the deed on Arthur Ledecker's parcel.
"No shit!" Satrom quickly relayed the information to Shamus and the others. Putting the phone back up to his ear he asked, "What's next?"
"I'm just waiting for a final update from Vegas," Valdespino replied.
The Ghost had just hit the outer ring suburbs of the Twin Cities when he glanced in his rear view mirror, only to find lights flashing from a Minnesota Highway Patrol squad car signaling him to pull over.
"Mr. Horowitz, we're going to have to ask you to come into the station to answer a few questions."
"About what?"
"I don't know. Perhaps the FBI will be able to fill you in."
Almost simultaneously, a similar conversation was taking place in the offices of Dinwiddie Partners. The Outfit's lawyers were just packing up various documents, clipping papers together, placing folders into a large suitcase, and flipping legal pads shut.
Clark's receptionist came into the conference room, the color totally drained out of her face.
"Mr. Berg, the police are here," Denise announced in a tight voice.
They all froze. But, too late, three Minneapolis Police Department officers walked in. Gopnik was irate, of course. It didn't help.
"It's your choice. Just come peacefully or we can do it the other way. You know, with handcuffs," the police sergeant said.
It was just the tiniest of slips, totally out of character for Dino. But, he had a good excuse. His dick was currently thrusting in and out of Claire's pussy. She straddled his lap, naked except for a pink wife beater. They were in the apartment's vast living room. Owen sat nearby, swirling a cigar around in his mouth, watching the action with great interest.
"Tell that fucker Stuart Churchill to…Oh God!" He gasped, as he orgasmed.
"What was the last thing?" Tony yelled. He could hardly hear him over the noise of the jet engines. He was just getting onto The Outfit's plane at Brainerd Airport.
"I said, tell Churchill to pull out. The final payment has been wired into his account," Dino gasped.
Claire stopped her movement, sat back on her hips, her hands firmly on Dino's shoulders. She looked at him with a hard stare, pulling him forward and then violently punching his shoulders back. She sat back further, pulling away from him, and stood up. With a look of disgust, she turned and walked away, entered the nearby bathroom, and slammed the door.
Ten minutes later, Dino and Owen were both handcuffed. His apartment was filled with almost a dozen agents. Computers, phones, and other equipment were being carried out. Dino smirked as he watched an agent climb a ladder and pull a tiny camera out of the seam between the wall and the ceiling.
Now fully dressed and wearing an FBI windbreaker, Claire walked right past the two men, eyes straight ahead, and out the front door.
Tony flopped down in the luxurious leather seat as Henny Russell set down a glass of bubbly onto the side table next to him. He had just sent a text to their guy— thank you for your service. Just then, the jet engines began to wind down.
"What's going on?" He yelled up to the pilot.
"Sir, it appears the control tower is telling us law enforcement wants to board the plane."
"Where are you guys goin'?" Concannon asked.
Satrom and Petty were packing up laptops, tucking papers into file folders, and loading up a briefcase.
"Well, I've got a golf tournament this weekend and Roy here has a date with his wife to put a fresh coat of paint on their garage," Satrom replied.
"Aren't you gonna help us anymore?"
"Well, murder, ya know, is under the purview of the state," Petty said, somewhat sarcastically. "We got what we wanted, the Barzini's that is."
"What about Louie Lee Ledecker? Isn't that case still Federal?"
"It is. But, a guy by the name of Garnie Schmelka walked into the Sheboygan PD a couple of hours ago and confessed. They're checkin' it out but he looks good for it."
"Hmmm," Shamus said to himself softly. He had just spied Vern crossing his path as he approached the intersection of two county roads, driving his weathered and rusted pickup truck. There was something about the way he was driving, hunched over the steering wheel, eyes straight ahead, determined.
Shamus was heading home to edit chapter 38 of his Gay coming-of-age novel but, in that instant, decided to alter his plans and see what Vern might be up to. Lagging far enough behind to avoid detection, Shamus followed him to The Bar and Gas. As he got out of his car, he watched as Vern talked to Ten Ethyl down on the docks for a minute, before jumping in a boat, and pulling away.
"Mr. Elwinde, I'm in need of a boat and driver," he called as he approached.
"Take that one," he directed with a point of his hand. "Romey!" He yelled. "Take care of Mr. Bueller."
In all his years as a law enforcement officer, Shamus had never uttered this kind of order. "Follow that boat!"
A few minutes later, they watched as Vern pulled into Arthur Ledecker's dock. He quickly exited his boat and walked directly to the cabin, seemingly unaware that Shamus and Rome weren't far behind.
"You have your phone, don't you?" Shamus asked Rome, who responded with a nod. "Anything untoward happens, and you call 911. Got it?" Rome nodded again, this time with his eyes wide open in surprise.
When Shamus peered through the partially open door of Arthur's cabin, his eyes also widened. Vern appeared to be headless. He was standing on a step ladder in the far corner of the cabin's great room. Having removed a ceiling panel, his head and arms were stuck through the opening. Shamus watched as Vern removed a flat aluminum document case from up in the rafters. He carefully began to lower himself, careful to keep the case flat, only turning just before his foot hit the bottom step of the ladder, to see Shamus standing in the doorway, his arms crossed.
"Oh, hi!" He said, a kind of sheepish smile on his face.
A minute later, they sat at the kitchen table, across from each other, the box sitting between them.
"I need to get money to pay for a lawyer. Ethel's in trouble."
"Yes, she is," Shamus nodded solemnly. "So, I guess you have a relationship with Ethel?"
"Well, yeah. She's, ah, my girl friend," Vern replied, immediately blushing.
"Do you have cash in that box?"
"No. It's just a piece of paper. But, I think I can turn it in for some money."
"Perhaps you'd like to tell me about it."
"It's a Causing Still."
Shamus frowned. "What's a Causing Still?"
"I'm not sure. That's just what Mr. Ledecker called it. He told me not to show it to anybody unless I needed to."
"Do you mind?" Shamus gestured at the box.
Vern pressed his lips together, unsure of what to do. Finally, he slowly pulled the cover off of the box and pulled a two-page document out. With a sigh, he handed it to Shamus.
"Oh!" Shamus chuckled. "It's not a Causing Still, it's a Codicil."
Eyes widening, he quickly scanned the document. "Do you know what this says?" He finally said, his mouth open in astonishment.
"Yes," Vern replied.
Dated the year after Arthur Ledecker's will, the Codicil clearly stated that the provision in the original will was to be replaced with a directive awarding Ledecker Island, in its entirety, to Vern Running. It was signed, dated, and notarized.
"Do you know what this means?"
Vern slowly nodded, a goofy smile slowly forming on his face.
A long moment of silence. Shamus slowly chewed on the inside of his cheek. Finally, he asked, "Why?"
Vern shrugged. "I dunno. Mr. Ledecker said he want to kind of pay me back because he was sorry for under paying me all those years."
"Well, why didn't he just give you some kind of bonus?"
"I guess because I did a favor for him once in awhile," Vern replied in a low voice. He immediately began to blush.
"What kind of favor?"
"The sexual kind?" More of a question than a response.
Shamus couldn't help but smirk. "I'm almost afraid to ask." Again, a long silence. "So, Vern. What do you want to do with your island?"
"I just want everything to stay the same. At least, for now."
"Vern, a lot of money has been passed around, not to mention the murders and the arson."
"I know. I'm really very sorry about that. I didn't know what to do. But, I have to help Ethel! She's my one and only!"
"You're gonna need a good lawyer."
"I know," Vern nodded, a sad look on his face. "I was thinking about asking that Pendleton guy."
Shamus huffed. "I think you're going to need someone with a bit more skill."
"Who then?"
"Mind if I make a call for you?"
Vern shook his head.
Shamus took out his phone and dialed.
"Shamus! Two times in one week! What do I owe the pleasure to?" Broad Street asked.
"Broad," Shamus replied in a solemn tone. "I have a client for you."
Outside, Rome remained in the boat, softly bobbing next to the dock. When he happened to gaze in the distance, he noticed a small boat heading toward the far shore of Ledecker Island. It was occupied by two people.
He squinted, taking a sharp breath in, when he realized who they were. "Oh, fuck!" He groaned.
His head propped up by a couple of pillows, C.O. literally shivered in delight.
If he could have spoken, he would have said, "That's the fucking sexiest thing I have ever seen!" But, he didn't say that. He opened his mouth but no sound came out. He was literally speechless.
It had been a last second impulse. As Thayer was getting ready to meet up with C.O., he spied his sister's thigh highs in the corner of his sock drawer. With a low giggle, he pulled them on, followed by a pair of jeans, and a navy blue hoodie.
After boating over to C.O.'s house, they loaded up a tent and other supplies and headed over to the far end of Ledecker Island. A small cove appeared out of nowhere, giving them just enough room to slide the boat in and nudge it onto shore.
Everything was pretty normal while they set up the tent and built a fire. Just two guys camping out. But, things started to change rapidly when they started feeding each other pieces of the hot dogs they had grilled over an open fire.
"You've got some mustard on your face," C.O. said playfully. He reached over and licked Thayer's cheek, just a whisper away from the corner of his mouth.
From there, activity progressed at a steady pace. They kissed each other for so long and so hard that their mouths and lips were pink and swollen.
"C'mere!" C.O. growled with a smile as he stood up. He grabbed Thayer's hand and led him into the tent. Flopping down on the sleeping bag, he pulled the buttons open on his shirt, letting it fall to the sides. He clutched a breast and pinched the nipple, an expectant look on his face.
"Give me a minute," Thayer smiled, his eyes twinkling.
Just outside the tent, he quickly stripped off his clothes. He thought for a moment about keeping the hoodie on. He liked the way it looked on him, but this way, without anything on except for the thigh highs, was better. When he saw the look on C.O.'s face, Thayer giggled once, his already stiff cock seeming to get a measure harder.
"Stop doing that," Thayer ordered with a smile. C.O. was already working his own joint with his hand down his shorts.
Seconds later, C.O.'s clothes were off, too. Thayer's mouth alternately kissed around the large head and sucked the sides of C.O.'s seven inches, before plunging it down his throat, gagging over and over in delight. Minutes later, Thayer was on his back, his knees tucked up to his chest. C.O. had liberally lubricated his cock and Thayer's asshole, after he'd given it a thorough rimming.
Thayer looked into C.O.'s eyes, girding himself for what was to follow. C.O. guided his cock toward the hole, observing the head as it nudged against the brown starburst before it disappeared inside of Thayer. The pain was searing, so much so that Thayer clenched his eyes shut and let out a high pitched gasp. He grabbed onto C.O.'s arms, unsure of whether he should push him off or hold him there. It got a lot better soon after that. When it was over, C.O. collapsed on top of Thayer, totally spent.
As their breathing started to return to normal, C.O. fell off of him. He lay on his side, propped up by his elbow, watching Thayer who lay still with his eyes closed. OMG! Those eyelashes! With a chuckle, he grabbed a bungee cord and took hold of Thayer's arms, boosting them over his head. He quickly wound the bungee around Thayer's wrists, clipping it closed around one of the tent posts.
"Is this okay?"
"Mmmm," Thayer purred.
Scooting down, C.O. took Thayer's still engorged cock into his mouth and gave him a ravishing blow job.
It wasn't long after that they were both fast asleep. They never heard the footsteps outside or the flap of the tent being quietly pulled aside. Cutie gasped at the sight of the two boys snuggled together in one sleeping bag.
She had been taking a last long walk around Ledecker Island, maybe forever. First, she stopped at Linnie Lee's place to say goodbye.
"Oh, honey! It's not forever! I'm just moving into Brainerd," Linnie Lee said. She was busy throwing miscellaneous junk into a cardboard packing box. They held each other and cried.
There was a similar scene at Dickie Lee's. Cutie watched her uncle alternately stuff things in a plastic bag and other items into a large trash barrel.
"Where are you going to live, Uncle Dinkie?" That had been her name for him ever since she was little.
"I'm moving in with a friend, first. Then we'll see." Unsaid—he was moving in with Zoov. In spite of the fact that plans for The Oasis had been shelved, Dickie Lee had all kinds of ideas about how they could expand the club in its present location. And now, he had the bucks to help make that happen.
Using her phone as a flashlight, she trudged along a well worn path, noting special play spaces and hiding spots she'd used over the years. She stopped once, wrinkling her nose, as she took in the fragrance of a distant campfire.
After discovering Thayer and C.O. wrapped up together in romantic slumber, Cutie walked quickly back toward her own house, heaving great sobs every few steps. He's Gay! He's Gay! He's Gay! Her life plan was now trashed. Nothing was turning out the way it was supposed to. Nearing her dad's cabin, she stopped at the tree—that tree. The one that she had pushed Thayer up against while she had her way with him. She leaned against it, taking stock.
Romey. Where did that thought even come from? She smirked to herself. What a dork! Then, all of a sudden, she carefully reconsidered. He always had some kind of goofy look on his face. Okay, his personality was kind of fun. He cracked jokes all the time and he was a really good gamer. But, those boney shoulders— yuck! On the other hand, he did have kind of a cute butt. And, he was a year closer to her age. With a sigh, she shrugged her shoulders, and headed toward the cabin. Maybe, she thought.
"Have a seat young man."
Shamus gestured to a chair across from his desk. He sat down and grabbed a notepad and pen. It was later that same night.
He had corralled Ozzie after being questioned earlier in the day. O, Pendleton, and Satrom were still arguing just outside the interview room. As briefly as he could, Shamus described his avocation, that being a prolific Gay fiction author. He was always looking for new story ideas, he said. Perhaps Ozzie would like to come 'round to share some more of his experiences. Ozzie nodded with a smile, his eyes twinkling.
"So, did you have a chance to peruse the piece of fiction I sent you?" Shamus had sent him one of his favorite short stories several hours ago.
"Yeah, sort of," Ozzie replied. Reading that kind of stuff didn't really juice him. On the other hand, what did juice him…
They stared at each other for a few moments. Ozzie swept the hair out of his right eye and smiled.
"Well, where shall I begin?"
As Ozzie began a long soliloquy of erotic, brazen, and mostly obscene accounts of his life to this point, Shamus took notes furiously. He could feel the sweat dripping down his armpits.
After a bit, Ozzie stopped talking for a moment. "You know, for me, the telling is easier if I'm, ah, a little more comfortable."
"Go on," Shamus responded, in a low voice.
With a, "Tsk," Ozzie pulled his shirt off. In moments, he was naked. He returned to his seat, drew one foot up on the chair, and lazily chewed on his fingernail, all the while staring Shamus down, his eyes twinkling, fully aware that his thick one-eyed member was directly facing the Inspector.
Pad in one hand, his pen in the other, Shamus leaned forward in his chair, elbows on his knees, his eyes glued to Ozzie's swollen cock.
"You were saying," he said, his voice thickening.
"Oh, I was saying," Ozzie continued, twirling one hand over head, "My RA at school last year, had um," the words trailed off. "Can I ask you something?"
"Yes." Shamus was now leaning forward so far that he was just inches from Ozzie's crotch. He breathed his smell in, a combination of some designer body wash and a whiff of balls. Speaking of balls, Shamus's gaze zeroed in on Ozzie's delightful ballsack. Amazingly full and tight, a delightful shade of pink, a few light brown hairs here and there.
"I was just wondering. Is it Agent Bueller or Inspector Bueller?" He nudged forward, his legs opening further, his butthole now clearly visible.
"Oh, whatever." He put his glasses on, leaning even further in for a closer look at Ozzie's anus. "You can call me Inspector, if you want," Shamus responded hoarsely.
Kat yawned as she flipped through her mail. Buried in the middle of all of the catalogues and mailers pushing gutter cleaning and roll-in docks was a plain envelope with nothing more than a P.O. box number in Houston, Texas, for a return address. With a smirk, she grabbed a letter opener and ripped it open. Elegant, thick paper with an embossed letterhead—Ottumwa Partners.
"Dear Shareholder," it began. "We are pleased to inform you of our acquisition of a breathtaking property in the middle of one of Minnesota's most picturesque lakes. Through our affiliated companies we were able to make some strategic purchases to gain ownership of an entire island in the middle of Bay Lake. Rich in unspoiled beauty Ledecker Island, soon to be returned to its original name, Oak Island, will be developed into a world class collection of thirty-five distinctive residential properties set along its more than three miles of shoreline.
"In partnership with the world-renowned Relais and Chateaux properties, we will also construct and operate an exclusive private club offering luxury amenities. A world class restaurant, open to the public, will offer epicurean delights in an elegant setting. In honor of Arthur Ledecker, a prominent local businessman who owned the island for many years, the restaurant will be called Arthur's.
"Once realized, we estimate that the benefits to each one of you, our dedicated shareholders, will be in the mid-to-high seven figures. We're thankful for your continued support and participation in our projects which have, to date, earned an annual return in excess of twenty-five percent."
Kat smiled as she creased and recreased the letter. A chance meeting a few years ago. An incredibly good-looking guy, sharp as hell, and a fabulous fuck. Too bad he was happily married. He had told her about some buddies who were assembling some money to start a new company. A limited number of shares were available. She could have one, if she wanted it. At the time, she just shrugged, gave him a sexy smile followed by a blow job, and poured all of her money into their little scheme. The pay-off had been nothing short of spectacular. She'd lost touch with him, or rather, he'd lost touch with her. She knew where he was because he was on the news and in the papers all the time. He was a big muckety-muck in the current administration in Washington.
Just then, a light knock at the door of her apartment.
"Hello, gorgeous!" She rasped.
Kara jumped into her arms, their mouths jammed together.
Ty slumped into the deep cushion of the seat and let out a long breath to release all of his pent up tension. The bus held a strong smell of upholstery, diesel fuel, and some kind of industrial cleaner, making his nose twitch. The door closed with a hiss and the engine growled as the bus pulled away.
He took out his phone to review his itinerary. A short trip to Minneapolis, Uber over to the Amtrak station in St. Paul where he would hang around for a few hours before catching the Empire Builder to Chicago. Another train, this time out to Chicago O'Hare where he would be able to get some shut-eye after his first class dinner on a United Airlines flight to L.A.
Tomorrow, he would be reporting to the Los Angeles office of the FBI to get his next assignment. They hadn't told him what it was yet but it was easy to guess. His talented lips and the generously endowed unit between his legs had already been deployed for almost a dozen different cases.
He closed his eyes, smiling to himself at the way things had turned out. Mingo and Tookie were sure to burn in Hell for their activities. At the very least, some well deserved hard time. Zoov's island fantasy was down the tubes. Ty had no doubt Dickie Lee would piss away a fortune in a failed effort to make their raunchy little club into something more than a pervert's outpost.
Ty frowned slightly, opening his eyes to glance at the forested landscape rushing by. C.O.—he'd left some regrets on the table with that boy. A vision of his handsome face made him smile, especially his expression when he looked down and observed him lapping away at his cock. Ty never had the chance to return the favor. It wasn't just the sex, though. There was some kind of electricity between them. He had every intention of following C.O.'s basketball career online. And, maybe, just maybe, there would be a way to reconnect some day.
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