Chapter 202

word count 1114

Buzz drove himself and Trudy home in silence. He kept an eye on her forlorn figure huddled in the passenger seat, a distraught victim of his latest outburst. He hadn't meant to become so angry. But she had mouthed off in front of the Commish. As if he wasn't in enough trouble already.

Laying a hand on her thigh, he murmured a trite, “Penny for your thoughts.”

“Oh, ya don't wanna know what I'm thinking,” she retorted. She cuddled up within herself and shut him out.

“Trudy, hon! I'm sorry. I didn't mean to mouth off at you. But that was my boss and you were about to insult him. It could cost me my job.” His hand worked its way between your legs, drifting along the fabric of her slacks toward her nether regions. The car swerved as he groped her while driving with only one hand on the wheel.

Predictably, she groaned. And his own reaction growled inside his sizable body like rolling thunder. His busy hand slid up and grabbed at the waist band tugging to pull her pants down. The car swerved into the other lane, but he righted it quickly.

“You men! You always think sex is the answer to everything,” she murmured. “And you're right,” she added, groping his private area in like fashion. The car swerved. He gulped as primal urges danced in groin area.

Luckily, they arrived on his street and he pulled into the drive with welcome relief. Needless to say, the sooner he got Trudy to his bedroom, the better. Heck, he might spill his beans right there in the car. A strange auto was parked on the street in front of the Miller residence, but in his hurry he paid it little mind. Mrs. Dunn no doubt had company. He couldn't concentrate. His thoughts churned at fever pitch to devise a plan to get Trudy past the scrutiny of his housekeeper and upstairs to his room.

The worry wasn't necessary. When they entered the house, Mrs. Dunn and her company were nowhere to be seen. He scooped up Trudy and planted a kiss straight on her mouth not only to enjoy the pleasure but to keep the unpredictable woman quiet. He rushed her to his room and shut the door.

* * *
At the precinct, Algernon sat in the waiting area for no particular reason and nursed his wounds. To have returned to the station empty handed, with no Diana diamond to take home to Her Majesty, left him in a state of utter despair. His whole life, a world of experience, had appeared to be culminating in this one act of honor and bravery, retrieving the precious gem and taking it home to royalty...his one magnificent act to end a lifetime of service to the Queen. At that point he could have retired with glory.

But these damned Americans had scooped up the prize and taken it in as so-called evidence. All he could do was merely relate with weakened words to the Royal Family about his good work. No gleam from the jewel, no beauty to behold. There could be no display and ceremony, that timeless moment when he knelt before his Queen and presented the prize. Instead, it was all relegated to mundane paper reports, signed receipts, and promises to send it by an anonymous courier when the U.S. Government was done routing it through their processes. He sighed. No respect was being given to the stature of the jewel, worn by Princess Diana herself on many royal occasions. Damned Americans.

He might as well go home. Sitting here in the police station and brooding wasn't going to help. At home, Winnie could commiserate with him, hold his hand and comfort. She would make him a spot of tea and assuage his worries. Yes, home is where he should go. Home to Winnie.

It came as no surprise, the driveway being dominated by Buzz's car. And street parking was impossible because still another vehicle was in his own spot. But in his somber mood, he parked behind it without thinking and headed toward the Miller house on foot.

An empty living room greeted him. Checking the kitchen and dining room, he found no one home at all.

“How very odd,” he pondered. Buzz was at home, wasn't he? Remembering Buzz's car out front, he ran to the window to check again. The Crown Vic was parked there just as he thought. And on the street out front a Lincoln Town Car, black and subdued, dominated his usual spot. The pink Edsel was just behind it, looking like a cartoon next to the gravitas emanating in waves from the other dark and dignified vehicle.

Algie pulled back into himself to think. Buzz should be in the house, and whose was that other vehicle? At that moment a pounding on the floor upstairs rattled him. It came suddenly and by surprise. He listened, puzzled. The rhythm and thump, thump, thump, accompanied by the hiss and squeak of a noisy mattress were undeniable. Someone was doing the dirty upstairs. It was Buzz's room.

“Oh dear. He must have crazy Trudy up there...” he mused. “I hope she contains her martial arts skills during their love-making.”

And then, another sound. Walking around on the first floor, he discovered its source. The other upstairs bedroom. The same thing. Thumping with the squeak of a mattress. But that was Winnie's room!

Algernon's heart fell, slamming down like a meteorite free falling, pounding to earth with a thunderous roar and dust flying. His head swirled. Pulse raced. Heart cried out in agony. He had always thought Winnie had a soft spot for him. They'd worked together for years, enjoyed the flirtatious give and take when they were younger. Eventually, they found each other sexually and, oh my, in their day they screwed like minks. But in their older years, they'd grown apart. Frankly, he didn't think Winnie was interested anymore. But now this...

His body shuddered with the question. Who was she up there with? He settled in the living room, erect and worried while ensconced in Buzz's chair, wringing his hands. It didn't take long. Buzz and Trudy emerged first. They came floating down the stairs, disheveled and wearing satisfied grins. The other bedroom door opened as Buzz and Trudy spied Algernon at the same time. Before they had a chance to react to his presence, heavy steps pounded the stairs behind them. All eyes turned in that direction and Buzz stumbled, coming close to falling down the remaining stairs.

“Commish?” he croaked. “What are you doing in my house?”