The Diapered Detective.

[willnotwill]

Came up with this idea while driving home yesterday.   Don't know where I'm going with this yet, but I always wanted to write a detective story.    Let me know what you think.

Sue Carroll was in her office, which comprised the first floor of her townhouse in what was now part of Charles Village.   It had been a depressed stretch of Calvert Street for years.    She had grown up in this section of Baltimore.   A few years ago, the local chamber of commerce had announced that they were extending Charles Village down to 22nd street to include the Lovely Lane church.    “There goes the neighborhood,” she had thought to herself at the time.   Charles Village had previously been that area of the city a few blocks from the Johns Hopkins Homewood Campus and the Baltimore Museum of Art.’

Her next-door neighbor and receptionist Holly Albright watched intently as Sue made her preparations.    Holly lived next door with her two toddlers, and while she would sit in the office with them from time to time, mostly she just answered the phones.    Sue had her office phone extended over to Holly’s rowhouse so she could pick up promptly even when attending to her housekeeping.
Sue checked the batteries on several electronic devices, her night vision scope and a Canon 6D digital camera.   She had always been a Canon fan.   The 6D sported a “film speed” of over 100,000.   The best film available back in her film days peaked out at under 1000.    Coupled to this was a 500mm lens.   She could supplement that with a 2x teleconverter if needed, though she’d lose some of the automatic features of the camera if she did.

She checked and made sure her cell phone and laptop were fully charged as well.    She had chargers for all this stuff in her truck, but best to make sure that all was set to go.   She went to the office fridge and pulled out a six pack of Red Bull from the refrigerator portion and an ice pack.    She put these both in a small lunchbox sized cooler.

“I don’t know how you can drink that stuff,” Holly interjected.

“It keeps me alert on these long stakeouts,” Sue replied.

“Yeah, but six of them?   I’d be running to the bathroom after the second.”

“That’s why I’m the field operative, and you’re in the office.”    This was a long joke.   Holly styled herself as a private investigator.    Sue had been instructing her, but she wasn’t suited for, nor did she have the time to go out in the field.    Holly mostly answered the phone, and occasionally met the rare walk-in customer.   At times, she head run basic computer checks for Sue, but Sue still could usually run them faster herself.

Holly did have a PI license.    Sue decided that it would look better to clients that everybody involved was a PI rather than just a receptionist.    Holly cherished that little piece of paper.   It meant more to her than actually doing PI stuff it would seem.

“Well, partner,” Holly said though she was not a principal in the firm.   “I’ve got to go cook dinner for the kids.”

“See ya tomorrow,” Sue said as Holly headed back home.

Sue finished packing the bag.    Tonight was mundane surveillance.   Her client was convinced her husband’s working late was a ruse for an extramarital affair.  Sue would watch him and either try to set her client’s mind at ease, or provide the dreaded proof that would almost certainly lead to a divorce filing.

It was tedious boring work, but it paid the bills until the odd interesting case came by.   Sue grabbed another Red Bull from the fridge and chugged it down.   She’d need all the energy she could get on these long boring surveillances.    She grabbed her black hoodie and threw that in the bag.   It could get chilly on this autumn evening, and she wasn’t going to be running the truck to keep the heat up.
She had one last item with which to deal.   Holly was right about one thing.    These continual slugs of Red Bull would lead to a need for relief.  Back when Sue was a cop, she’d had to deal with it.   Her male counterparts seemed always to be able to hold it, or could just pee in a bottle.   If she could get out of the car, she’d learned to squat down between the car and the open door.    But that was before the accident.

Six years ago, during a high-speed chase, her patrol car had been t-boned.    She was taken to Shock Trauma and spent a week there and then more weeks in the rehab center.    By the time she was ambulatory again, she’d been convinced to take a disability retirement from the police force.    She played the retiree game for about six months before she went stir crazy.    Another ex-cop had an investigation agency and Sue started doing computer work for him while she continued to heal.   She was determined now and spent countless days with the physical therapist and more time at the gym.    She was nearly as fit now as she was in her days on the force.

She headed into the small bathroom off the office.    Fit, except for this one thing, she mused.    She kicked off her shoes and dropped her cargo pants to the floor.    She slid off the protective underwear she wore most days in the office.   The accident had left her with lingering incontinence, but days at home or in the office when the toilet was close, she could deal with the light protection.   Tonight, she’d don the heavy armor, it might be hours before she got to a bathroom.    She reached under the sink and extracted a Megamax from the bag and taped it in place.    She pulled her pants back into place and got back into her shoes.   

She grabbed a second diaper, just in case.    If she had to, she could change in the seat of the truck, but it would be bigger distraction than worrying about charging devices.    The Megamax was extremely absorbent.   It wouldn’t leak, even though she’d feel like she had a ten-pound weight hanging from her hips at the end of the night.     She felt the bulk between her legs as she walked through the office and picked up her bags.    “The things a field operative must do,” she said to herself as she made her way to her truck and headed off to stalk her client’s husband.
 

 

[TheChronicler]

Will, I've followed you for years and I believe you may have struck gold with this one. Premise and execution is a 10/10. Looking forward to seeing this story take off otherwise I might have to steal the premise lol.

[willnotwill]

Sue pulled in to an industrial-commercial development.     Long rows of buildings sporting roll-up doors.   Everything from auto repair shops to gun ranges was tucked in here.   She pulled up by the two-story office building primarily occupied by SL Industries, a startup electronics firm.   The object of her surveillance was one Richard Latimer.    He was the L in the SL.   The firm was doing quite well at this point.   The Latimers lived in a nice house up the road a bit in Sparks.   She giggled.   Electronics company, Sparks.   How appropriate.

The wife had given her an employee list.   She had hand-written in a description of each of the two dozen employees' functions in the company.    Sue had run basic checks on them all:  addresses, phone numbers.    She had done social media searches that had noted relationship status and netted pictures.   There were three women employed there.   One office manager, one receptionist, and one labeled “inside sales,” whatever that meant.    Of course, these days, it was as likely the husband was getting it on the “down-low” from one of the young men in the firm.

Sue pulled her car into an autobody shop across the street.   The lot was packed with cars with various damage to them.   Her truck wouldn’t much be noticed there in the mess.   She had scoped this spot out earlier.   It gave a good view of SL’s parking lot and main entrance.

Between five and six PM, the employees were filing out of the building and driving off.    One of the last to leave was Kelly Moran, the receptionist.   Sue could tell without resorting to binoculars or the long camera lens from the shock of shoulder-length red hair.    Sue swung the camera to her eye.    The girl was wearing a grey pea coat, unbuttoned as the weather was not yet that cool over a green dress.   Silk brocade, Sue guessed.    Obviously, the best-dressed person in the office.    Most of the rest wore jeans and casual shirts.    Was she trying hard, or was she just lobby eye candy?

The lot emptied out.   Soon Richard’s car was the only one there.   Sue reached over to the cooler and pulled out another Red Bull.    This is where the tedium starts.    Her client had relayed that her husband had called and said he was working late.   In all likelihood, Sue would stare at the office until the husband decided to knock off and go home.   Not productive on her part.

Just after seven, Richard emerged from the building.   He used his keys to throw a deadbolt on the front door and got in his car.    She waited for him to round the corner at the end of the block before she fired up her car to follow.   When he got out to York Road, he turned north.  That was the direction home.   This might be an early night, Sue thought.

A half mile up the road, he pulled into a shopping center.    He first entered a liquor store and returned a few minutes later with a brown paper bag with a single bottle that he tossed into his car.   He then went into a florist shop.    A few minutes later, he came out with a wrapped bouquet.   He got into the car.    “Don’t be a Dick, Richard,” Sue said to herself.   “Take those home to your wife.”   He exited the lot and turned south on York Road.    He wasn’t going home.   He was being a dick.

Sue followed him at a distance as he headed down to Towson proper.   She hung back as he turned into an apartment development.    When he parked, she moved into position by another block of apartments on the far side of the lot.    She scanned her notes.   This was Kelly Moran’s complex.   “Bingo.”

The buildings were three-story affairs.   Four apartments to either side of an open stairway on each floor.   Sue backed into a space that gave her a view of the center stair near where Richard had parked.   She swung her camera up.    Richard got out and extracted the bottle and the flowers.    The bag had been left behind.   The long foil capsule on the bottle told Sue it was Champagne or some other sparkling wine.   She’d be able to read the label when she downloaded the photos.

She looked down at her notes.    Moran was apartment 1A.   Sure enough, Richard went to the first door on the right and knocked.    He must have known he was expected or Kelly called him to come in because he pushed through the door.     The living room curtains were open and Sue could see into living room.    Kelly appeared.   Different attire.   She was wearing a silver slip.   It might have been a short dress, but Sue suspected it was lingerie.    The two embraced and kissed.

Sue was holding the shutter button down.     She was capturing the passion.   A moment later, the two broke.   Moran disappeared into the kitchen with the flowers.    Richard struggled with opening the bottle.    Sue snapped a well-timed shot as the cork went flying.   “Amateur,” she thought.    Any true connoisseur would have opened it gently, never losing control of the cork.

Kelly returned with two tumblers.    Gosh girl, get some proper champagne flutes.    Kelly only took a few sips before grabbing Richard’s necktie and starting to pull him along.    He tossed back the entire contents of the glass and they disappeared from the room.   Sue couldn’t see further in the apartment, but these were one-bedroom places.    They were either in the bathroom or the bedroom.   Sue’s money was on the latter.

Now she waited.   She cracked another Red Bull, never taking her eyes off the living room window.   An hour passed.   Sue yawned.   She was hungry, too.   She was just about ready to crack another Red Bull when she saw Richard return to the living room.    He was dressed, but disheveled.    Sue snapped a picture.

She got the telltale feeling that her bladder was full and knew that unless she got to a toilet immediately, she’d be wetting herself.   Can’t be helped, she thought.   This is why she was in the diaper.     She stared at Richard through the camera lens as she felt the warmth spreading in her crotch.    The Megamax soaked it up well, so she wasn’t concerned.   She knew it could handle an entire case of Red Bulls if it came to that.

Kelly appeared in the room.    She wasn’t wearing the silver slip anymore.   She was buck naked.   Jackpot.    Sue held the shutter down again.    Kelly spun Richard around and they embraced again.     Richard’s hands were down, gripping Moran’s bare buttocks.   After a few minutes of this activity, Richard broke from her.   He gave her one more peck and headed out the door.

Sue followed him with the camera.   He stopped to tuck his shirt in and then reached into a pocket for a comb.    Yeah, get yourself presentable for your wife, Sue thought.   She snapped a picture of this grooming.    He got in his car.   Kelly swung the camera back toward the living room.   Moran was gone.   No, she was sitting on the floor with her back to the now-closed door.   She was taking a large swig straight from the champagne bottle.   Classy girl, Sue thought.    She snapped a picture of that.

She followed him at a more considerable distance up York Road.    She downed another Red Bull while following him.   Not so much that she needed the caffeine at this point, but she needed the sugar.   She was starving.    Richard indeed drove home.    He pulled into his driveway.   He extracted a briefcase from the car.   No flowers or champagne for his wife and went inside.

Sue swung around and headed back to the city.    Another slug of processed Red Bull was delivered to the diaper.    She pulled into the alley behind her block of rowhouses and pulled into her garage.   In addition to having the storefront, this unit did have the benefit of a tight but adequate garage.   Off-street parking was a big bonus.

Sue spent a few minutes typing up a report of the surveillance.    She inserted the card from her camera into the slot on the computer.    She copied them all into a folder marked with the case name.    Scanning through the pictures, she found two exemplars and attached lower resolution copies to the report.   One was Richard showing up with the flowers and champagne.   The other was the post-coital naked embrace of Kelly Moran.    She sent the status off by email to her client.

She knew she needed to pee again, but she was hungry.    She went to the kitchen and through a sandwich together as more urine filled the diaper.     Having dealt with nutrition, Sue went into the bathroom and started the water running in the shower.    Following cheating spouses made her feel dirtier than using the diaper, she mused.    She unpeeled the tapes on the diaper and let it fall with a thud on the floor.     She picked it up and rolled it up in itself and dropped it into a lidded pail and then stepped under the water.

After twenty minutes, the temperature started to decline.   She had exhausted the capacity of her hot water heater.   She shut the water off and toweled off.    She grabbed another diaper from the cabinet.   Didn’t need to be a Megamax to sleep in.   It was the last of a bag of BetterDry briefs she had.   She taped it into place.    Once the Red Bulls wore off, she knew she’d fall into a deep sleep.   The diaper would be substantially wet by the time she regained consciousness.

[willnotwill]

Sue woke up to her phone, vibrating on the nightstand.    The time was 8:45.    She looked at the phone.   “LIVE ONE.  TAKING INFO” read Holly’s text.    There was a client in the office.   Holly had fortunately been there to intercept the person before they left assuming the office was empty.

“DOWN IN 5,” Sue pecked out in response.   Holly would keep the client busy while she dressed.   She padded across the floor, wearing just the diaper she had slept in.   She gave her crotch a feel.   Wet, but not overly.   She could hold off on the change.   She went to her closet and pulled on a blouse.   She wrapped a long skirt around her waist and then added a vest.    Hopefully, this said “professional woman” without being either too butch or too dainty.

She slipped into some ballet flats and did a quick check of her hair in the bathroom mirror and headed down the stairs.   She could move into her office from the back hallway without going through the outer office.    She touched her computer, and there were two incoming emails.   She scanned the first one.   It was a thank you from Richard’s wife thanking her and requesting the full report and ending the surveillance arrangement.    She’d get that and the invoice out today.    Hopefully, this new client would pick up the slack.

The second email was from Holly.     It was succinct to the point.    The client was Janice French.   Missing person search.   Her brother was James French.   He has been missing one week.   She looks loaded.   Sue smiled at Holly’s appraisal of the client’s net worth.  Hopefully, she was and could pay for a decent amount of investigation.

Sue purposefully used the intercom.   “You may send Ms. French in.”   She rose as a well-dressed woman walked through the office door.    “I’m Sue Garrett,” she said extending a hand.   Ms. French exuded an aroma that Sue suspected was Chanel No. 5.   She was hoping the aroma she was exuding wasn’t urine-soaked diaper.

They sat, and Sue began, “Now Ms. French.   What can I do for you?   I understand your brother is missing?”

“Janice, please.”  Sue nodded.   “As I told your partner,” there was that word again, Sue didn’t dispel the illusion.  Best that the client think that this agency had multiple operatives. “My brother is missing.   Yes, I contacted the police.   However, they say adults can disappear just because they want not.   They did a cursory investigation but didn’t see anything they say warrants foul play.”

“And you think otherwise, Janice?”

“I do.   It’s unlike my brother to not be in contact.    I went over to his apartment, I have a key.   He’s not on a trip.   His car is there.   Nothing is missing.   His wallet and cell phone were on the dresser like he had just emptied his pockets before turning in.    His passport is in the desk.   None of his suitcases are gone.    I can’t see he took any clothes.    It’s like he just vanished.   I called his secretary, and she said that she hasn’t heard from him either, and she’s concerned as well.”

This did seem odd to me.   There was a subtle chime that Sue had a new email.   She stole a glance at the screen.    It was another email from Holly.   “MORE INFO” it read.

“Has he ever gone away before?” Sue said.   Mostly she knew the answer was going to be no, but she wanted Janice talking while she was surreptitiously clicking on the incoming email.

“No, not like this.   He does a lot of travel, sometimes on short notice, which is why at first we weren’t concerned.   But he almost always lets his secretary know or me.   And he’s a slave to his iPhone.   He’d have not gone anywhere without that.”

While Janice  was talking, Sue scanned Holly’s message.    “James French.   Real Estate Developer.   Big money.    Penthouse at Carlisle.   Harvard/Harvard Business.    Single.  Never married.    Janice, divorced.    Some family money.   Some from the first husband.   Quoted 200+X.   Didn’t bat an eye.”

Holly was right.   They did appear to have a live one.    She listened to Jance a little longer.    “So, you want me to find your brother?”

She almost looked ready to roll her eyes at me like a teenage girl.    Sue felt that bladder fullness and then the relief.   Good thing she had a decently absorbent diaper on.   “Yes,” she finally said.

“Ok, let's go over the details.   I know my partner has asked you some of this already, but it would be best if I heard them direct from you.”   She nodded.   “When was the last time you heard from your brother?”

“We had dinner together a bit over a week ago.   Friday the 12^th.    We ate at Cinghiale-Osteria at about seven.”    Not too shabby a meal, Sue thought.  Janice had pronounced the restaurant correctly, Ching- ghee – al -ay.    Sue had heard it called Sing-jee-ale far too many times.    “We went our separate ways about a quarter to eight.   He left in his car, a Porsche Cayenne, presumably to go home.    I texted him the next day and got no response, but sometimes he does that.    I tried again Sunday and followed it up with a call.   All unanswered.    I called the office Monday and Tuesday and the secretary said she hadn’t heard from him either.”

“Wednesday, I went over and checked the apartment, and that’s when I got more concerned.   He just dropped off the face of the earth without even his phone or wallet.    That’s when I called the police.    They did send someone out to take a report.    I talked to a detective.”  She was shuffling through a wallet now and pulled out a card, “A detective Childress.”

“Ronald Childress?” Sue asked.

She looked at the card to confirm.  “Yes.   Do you know him?”

“Yes, I do.   I was formerly with the city police.   He’s a good officer.”

“I guess so.   He came out, and I showed him the apartment, but he concluded there was no sign of foul play, yet.   Absent a body or a ransom note or something, he said they’d have to wait.”

Sue’s email chimed again, and the notification said: “contracts ready.”

“OK, I can look into this.   I’ll talk to Detective Childress.   I’d also like to speak to your brother’s secretary and perhaps others in his office.”

“I’ll write down the number for you.   June Forrest is her name.   She can set you up with the contacts for Jim’s coworkers.”

“You said you have a key to his apartment.   I’d like to visit there.”

“Yes, would you like to go now?”

“No, I have some research here to do first.    Can I meet you at the Carlisle at one?”   Janice seemed surprised that Sue already knew where her brother lived.   It always helps to keep the clients in awe.   Then she realized that she had given the details to Holly.

“Fine.”

“My partner,” Sue paused slightly at her own use of that title, “has our representation agreements ready.   Before we do that.    Do you know if your brother had any enemies?”

She drew a deep breath.    “I don’t know of any specific, but I won’t sugar coat it.   My brother could be a ruthless dealer when it came to getting what he wants.   He often left some irate people in his wake when he was pursuing what he was after.”   Sue nodded.

We stood, and Sue escorted Janice to the outer office, where Holly had the contracts ready on her desk with tape flags to mark where the signature was required.   She also had the receipt book out.   Sue knew Holly would extract a retainer fee from Ms. French before she left.   What Holly lacked in investigatory skills, she made up in business acumen.

Sue bid Ms. French, good day, stating she was going to get a jump on her research.    What she wanted was a diaper change.   She strode up the stairs to her bedroom and peeled off the skirt.    She pulled off the sopping diaper.   Sue pulled out a couple of wipes and cleaned herself up.    She then looked at the stash of diapers.   She pulled out a Supreme lite.    She had too much to do to be tethered to the toilet.   She taped that in place and put the skirt back on.

Sue retrurned downstairs.   Holly was there.   “I’ve prepared in-depth dossiers on both Frenches,” she said.  

“Thanks, Holly.    I’ll read it right away.   Can you find me a number for Detective Ronald Childress?   Should be the Northern District, BPD.”

“Sure thing, Sue.”

Sue sat down and read the first dossier.    Richard French was 41 and indeed single.   He had been in the company of women, even some that claimed girlfriend status, but never married or engaged.    Currently, it seemed he was never with the same girl twice at public events, hinting at no longer-term relationship in play.     He graduated Harvard with a business degree with honors.   He’d gone on to Harvard Business to get an MBA.   He had worked for a number of development firms before striking out in a partnership with a former colleague Jonathon Fries.   From all signs, they were doing well.

No criminal records were found.   He owned a house in the Hamptons but lived in a double unit at the top of the Carlisle, a luxury building just north of the Hopkins campus.    There were newspaper clippings to follow.    Many of them were the usual business section, boy wonder stories.   Some were a bit more critical.   A few showed him at charity events.    The man got around.

The file on Janice had less meat.   She had gone to Bryn Mawr and majored in sociology, but never seemed to have held a job subsequently.   There was information on the French pedigree.  Their father had been a successful banker but had passed several years earlier.  Mom was still alive and living outside of DC.     The family traced their roots back to common ancestry with Daniel Chester French, the sculptor that did the statute of Lincoln in the memorial in Washington and the classic Minuteman in Boston.

Most of Janice’s articles were about social events.    Her involvement in charities.  There was news of her marriage to an investment banker six years ago and their subsequent divorce three years ago.   She had never taken his name.    A footnote showed a minor criminal disorderly persons charge from her college days.    The details were absent, but they didn’t really matter to the case at hand.

Sue’s computer chimed again.    It was detective Childress’s number.   She picked up her phone and dialed it.   Seconds later Sue heard “Northern, Childress,” in a familiar voice.

“Hey, Ronnie.   Sue Garrett.”

“Susie, how are you doing?”

“Not bad.    How are you?”

“Can’t complain.   Some of us have to work for a living, though.”

“I’m working, Ronny.    What can you tell me about James French.”

“Oh, you’re working that.    Not much I can say.   Guy disappeared, no notice to his sister, not surprising, they have a mixed relationship.   No word to his office, which is more surprising.    Seems to have just evaporated.”

“And that’s as far as you took it,” Sue said with a touch of sarcasm in her voice that she instantly regretted.

“Now, Susie, don’t get your panties in a bunch.”   He paused.  He’d also made a wrong choice of words and knew it.   Ronnie was one of the few people who knew about Sue’s disability and that She’d not worn “panties” in years.    “Sorry,” he apologized.  “But you know how it is.   I’ve got a stack of cases on my desk.   Murders, kidnappings, missing persons with more signs than this.   I admit it looks odd, but my hands are tied at this point.   Who you working for?  The sister?”

“Yeah, I apologize for my tone too.   I just hoped you’d have had something for me.”

“Nope, sorry about that.   Knock yourself out, investigating it.   If you find anything criminal, let me know.”

“Sure thing.   See ya, Ronnie.”

“Good luck, Susie.”

Sue’s next call was to French’s secretary, June.   “Hello, my name is Susan Garrett, a private investigator.”   She was about to explain why she was calling.

“Janice said you’d be in touch.    We’re getting concerned about James.   Anything we can do to help, we will.”

“I’d like to meet with you and perhaps some of Mr. French’s coworkers.    Would nine tomorrow be OK?”

“Yes, I can have Mr. Fries, Jim’s partner, available as well.   As I said, we’re all worried.”

“I’m hoping I can help that.    I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

Sue looked up at the clock.   It was pushing noon.   She had enough time to get up to University Parkway and get a sandwich at One World before meeting Janice at the Carlisle.    She checked her diaper.   Damp but not bad.     She reached under the desk and pulled out a small knapsack that served as a diaper bag.    The amusing thing, if you scrutinized it, was that it was a diaper bag.    It had small icons for diapers, bottles, pacifiers discretely sewn into the tags.    She verified it had sufficient supplies and grabbed her car keys.

She called out to Holly.   “I’m going up to check French’s apartment.   See what you can find about any recent business dealings that might lead to people holding a grudge.    And see if you can pull financials on his firm.   Let’s see if they are really doing as well as they appear.”

Holly said, “Can do,” and Sue headed out to the garage to get into the car.

 

[Eliah]

Great story so far! I’m curious how the holly sue relationship will turn out

[willnotwill]

One World was mostly a vegan place.   They did have some fish on the menu, but their mainstay was salads and things like tofu meatballs and their famous “fakin bacon BLT.”   Sue ordered a salad and the BLT.    They had good beer as well, but Sue decided to be sharp for the rest of the day’s investigation.     While she waited for her food, she excused herself and went to the ladies' room for a diaper change.

After lunch, she moved a few blocks up to the Carlisle.    Janice was waiting for her in the lobby.   They rode in the elevator to the top floor.   Janice pulled a set of keys from her purse and opened the door.   The apartment was stylishly furnished and neat as a pin.    “How do you want to do this?” Janice asked.

“Let me start from here, Sue said pointing at the door and work my way around.   You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to.”

“I’ll stay.   I can answer any questions you might have.”  

Sue moved along the living room looking at the bookcases.   There were pictures and momentos but nothing out of the ordinary.    She went into the kitchen.    She looked in the fridge.   There were some beers and not much else.   “Jim’s not much of a cook,” Janice offered.  There was a half-empty carton of milk.   A fancy coffee maker was on the counter.    Sue looked through the rest of the cabinets.    Not much, but it looked like he hadn’t been planning a departure.

She went into a bedroom that was an office.   There was a desk and a filing cabinet.    Nothing looked out of the ordinary.    James didn’t keep work open on the desk.   Everything was put away.   Sue knew she may have to go through the files at some point, but she left them for now.   A briefcase lay open on the desk.   Sue looked through it.  There was a contract for a property, forty acres in Howard County.    She placed it back.

They moved into the bathroom.    James certainly did seem to have a lot of high-end men’s cosmetics.   There was body wash in the shower and shampoo and conditioner.   The cabinet had shaving stuff and skin cream (SPF 30) and various other things including tins of hair cream.

She moved into the bedroom.   The bed was made.    She looked into the drawers.   Socks, ties, underwear, all impeccably arranged.    She went into the closet.    Suits were arranged on one side.   Casual slacks and shirts on the other.   James was quite a clothes horse. An extensive set of shelves contained countless pairs of neatly arranged pairs of shoes.    There was a suit jacket and carefully folded pants on a valet chair in the bedroom.

Sue returned to the dresser.   A small box had loose change, a wallet, a cellphone, and car keys.   Sue looked through the wallet.   Amex Platinum, various other credit cards, $200 or so in cash.   A couple of business cards of his own.   No scraps of paper or scribbled phone numbers.

She tried the phone but it demanded a passcode.    She held it up to Janice, who just shook her head.   She didn’t know it.   Sue knew there were ways around this.   She’d come back to it.   Best to do this when Janice was not around.     She picked up the car keys.  Porsche was stamped on the fob.

“That’s for his car.   The Cayenne is in the garage downstairs.”

They headed to the car.    Sue sat in the driver seat and powered it up.   She punched at the navigation system.   It didn’t have a bread crumb feature to show where he’d been.   She brought up the destination screen and punched “recent.”   She took her phone out and took a picture of the recent addresses.    Of course, if he used his phone to navigate or drove somewhere, he knew the route by heart. His last trips may not be there.

“OK,” Sue announced.   “I’m going to need to come back and spend some time going through the office, I think.    But for I think I’ve seen enough.     I’d like to go back upstairs and take some pictures.”  

“I can give you a key,” Janice said.    They returned to the apartment, and Janice went to the desk and retrieved a key.    Sue took out her phone and shot some wide shots of the house.   She spent more time in the office area, particularly the desk, opening some of the drawers and shot their contents.   

She went back into the bedroom and made photos of the dresser and the closet.    There was something wrong here, but she couldn’t place her finger on it.    She’d mull this over later.   That was the reason for the photos.   Sometimes, things jumped out at her.    She thought about something.   She went over to the valet chair.   The one suit that wasn’t hanging was the one on the chair.    She fished through the jacket pockets.   Nothing.    She went through the pants.   Also nothing.    James was apparently meticulous, if nothing else.   The box on the dresser had everything he was presumably carrying.   She looked through that again and photographed it for good measure.

She told Janice that she was going to see James’s office the next morning and she would be in touch if she found anything.    They rode down in the elevator together.  Sue was inundated with the Chanel scent.   She felt herself wetting the diaper.    She again hoped that the urine wasn’t casting her own perfume.

[Bluebird67]

This has the makings of a good story. Hardly needs the diaper content, but I suppose we wouldn’t be reading it here without it...

[willnotwill]

She got back to the office and sat down at her computer.   She had to deal with Richard’s wife.   She completed the invoice and sent it to the printer.   She got a fresh memory key from her desk and plugged it into the computer.   She copied all the images and reports onto the key.   She went out to the outer office where Holly was waiting expectantly.

Sue grabbed the invoice from the printer and handed Holly it and the memory key.   FedEx this off to the client overnight.   Holly reached down to get an express envelope.   “Well?” she asked.

“Much as the client described it.    Not a sign that he had even gone out to dinner, let alone left town.    Everything is in its place, wallet, car, phone.   Did you find anything about the company.”

“Appears legit.   Very aggressive but shrewd in their strategy   You’d have to look at the partnership reports to know for sure, but they appear to be raking it in.”

“OK,” Sue said.    “Dig deeper on social media and the recent society pages.   See if there’s a new love interest.   Perhaps this was some spontaneous fling.”   Sue said it, but she didn’t believe it.   This French seemed to be meticulous.  He’d have planned even a spur of the moment fling better than this.

Sue went back to her desk and brought up the gallery of photos she had shot at French’s place.   She was missing something.    What was it?   She’d go back there tomorrow after her meeting with the secretary.     She wanted to go through French’s files and take a crack at his phone, which she didn’t want to do in front of Janice.   She came across the photo of the recent destinations on the Cayenne’s navigation system.   She started typing them in to google maps.   She should give this to Holly to research, but why involve a middle man.

Most of them resolved to what appeared to be either empty lots or abandoned properties.   Most likely, these were things they intended to acquire.    One was an office building.   She wrote down that address.    Sue yawned.    Time to call it quits.   She made an entry in her log of the hours spent on the case today.    This, coupled with Holly’s, would be billed at the rate Holly had quoted Ms. French.

Sue climbed the stairs.    She poked into the refrigerator and found some leftover Chinese takeout.   She dumped that onto a plate and put it in the microwave.    Her diaper was soaked.   She had been too enthralled in the investigation to worry about the bathroom or even changes.  She went into the path and peeled it off.    She reached for a pair of protective briefs but paused.    She was in for the night and probably would go to bed early.   She put on a BetterDry brief.   She took the skirt and tossed it in the general direction of her hamper.

Sue looked in the mirror.   Here she was standing in the blouse, vest, and a diaper.   That’s a real professional look, she thought.    She pulled off the vest, blouse, and then bra.   She chucked those in the same arc the skirt had traveled.    She removed her robe from the hook and wrapped it around her.

She grabbed a beer from the fridge and the plate of food from the microwave and sat down to eat.   It was nice talking to Ronnie today.   She hadn’t heard from him in a long time.    He had come to visit her in the hospital after her accident, and they had talked while she was in rehab and still had visions of returning to the department.    But when she took the disability exit, that all dried up.     She wasn’t his girl, just another cop, and then she wasn’t.
 

[littleTomás]

Very interesting. I like the way this is going.

[willnotwill]

The alarm blared the next morning.    Sue considered pounding the thing and going back to sleep but remembered that she had an appointment with French’s secretary at nine.   She rolled out of bed and headed to the bath.   She turned the tap on full hot in the shower and proceeded to strip out of the soggy diaper.

As the steam started to fill the bath, Sue adjusted the water to a more reasonable temperature, but still hot, and stepped inside.    She loved the hot steamy water.    It was the only way she had truly felt clean since the accident.    When the hot water ran out, she toweled off and put on a diaper.   Today would be another day of field work and set about getting dressed.   She restocked her diaper bag and headed down to the truck.

She got downtown with twenty minutes to spare and pulled into the parking garage adjacent to the offices of First Properties. Typically, she thought, she’d park on the street somewhere.   Actually, usually, she’d have taken the bus downtown not to have to even worry about parking.   But she was on an expense account, this would all be charged to Mrs. French.

She entered the office and identified herself to the receptionist.   A moment later, a tall woman, Sue guessed in her mid-thirties, appeared.   She was well dressed and identified herself as Mr. French’s assistant, June.    Sue was led back to an office which she presumed was French’s.   A desk in the outer area which she assumed was Junes was bypassed and they entered a large office.    June offered her a chair at a conference table at one end of the room.

“Coffee?”   June offered.

“Yes, please.   Black,” Sue replied.   June excused herself.    Sue didn’t really want the coffee.   Caffeine and the liquid would just rush to her diaper.   But, she wanted June to leave so she could survey French’s office alone.    The table was clear.    There was a credenza with a few file folders neatly placed on the surface.    The desk was also clear except for a telephone, computer monitor, and a photo frame.

Sue made a quick pass around the desk, primarily staring out the window as if she was admiring the view.    The folders were labeled with what appeared to be street addresses.   These were probably properties that French had bought or was working on.   She glanced at the photo frame.   Two pictures, one was definitely sister Janice.   The other was an attractive older lady.    Almost certainly French’s mother.

Sue made her way back to the seat at the conference table by the time June returned with two cups.   June placed one in front of Sue and took a seat opposite her.    “We’re so concerned about Mr. French’s disappearance.    What can I do to help your investigation?”

“When was the last time you saw or heard from Mr. French?”  Sue began the standard litany of questions.

“He left here at five-thirty Friday evening.   He said he had a dinner engagement.”

“A date?” Sue asked though she knew the answer already.

“I don’t think so.   If he was going to meet a woman, he would have told me he had a hot date or the like.   This sounded like business.”    Sue thought over that context.

“Did he date much?”

“Oh, from time to time.   He liked women, don’t get me wrong.    He just was so absorbed in his work that most didn’t have the patience to stick with him.   He has been seeing one of late, Cami.   I don’t know the last name.”

Sue made a mental note of that.   If there was a love interest, it could go both ways.   He could be with her, or if he met foul play, she could be a suspect.   “And is that the last you heard from him?”

“No, he sent an email later that evening asking him to call a business contact and set up a meeting for him as soon as possible.   He reminded me that he had a meeting with his personal lawyer Monday morning, but anytime after noon on Monday was open for him.    Of course, I also have access to his calendar, so I knew the latter.”

“Who was the contact?”

June hesitated.   “You should ask Mr. Fries that.   I’m not sure I have the authority to give out that information.    Same if you’re going to ask to see Mr. French’s schedule.    I could do it if it would help, but I’d need clearance from Mr. Fries.”

Sue asked some more questions about French’s habits and the like and the “do you know anybody who would want to harm him?” question near the end.    The results were not productive.    French was a methodical, intense man, but friendly.    Everybody supposedly liked him, and nobody would like to do so.

Sue was running out of answers when a man popped through the door.    He looked to be the same age as French would be, but a bit less tidy in his appearance.   He was wearing what appeared to be trousers from a suit, but no jacket.   The collar of his dress shirt was unbuttoned and no tie.   The sleeves were rolled up to just below his elbows.   He probably had worn a suit to the office but stripped off the jacket and tie as the day progressed.

“Mrs. Garret, this is Mr. French’s business partner, Mr. Fries.”

“Bob,” Fries interjected, holding out his hand. 

“Sue,” Sue said as she took it.

“We’re all real concerned about Jim’s disappearance.    We’d like to extend any resource you need.”

June excused herself while Fries sat down.   “How long have you known Mr. French?” Sue started.  

“We go back to our days at Harvard.    Jim came up with this idea on how to leverage real estate, and I have to say he was right.     First Properties took off from there.”

“So how big is First Properties?”

“The core is Jim and me.   I was actually a civil engineering major in undergrad.    Jim suggested that there was more money applying my interests to developing properties and we should go to business school together.  So we did.   On graduation, we went into business for ourselves.”

“And you’ve been together ever since?”

“Yes.   We both got a little seed money from our families which helped.   Our only bone of contention was what to name the company.    I suggested we put his name first on the firm name.”

Sue thought about it.   “French and Fries.   French Fries.”  She chuckled.

“Yeah, Jim said that if we did that, we’d be hearing ketchup jokes forever.   We then decided to come up with something generic.   We had just bought our first property and that gave us the idea of “First Properties.”

“When did you last see or hear from Mr. French?”

“Friday afternoon.   We’re trying to pin down a new property, and he wanted me to be ready to meet with the owner.    He said it could be as early as Monday afternoon.”

“Did you get an email or anything after that?”

“No, not that I recall.”

“Do you mind telling me who this owner was?”

Fries paused a second thinking.    “No, not at all.   Anything that will help.   I just would ask you to keep this in confidence.   Proprietary business information and all.”   Sue nodded.   “It’s a man named Frank Campbell.    Owns some land out in the county.     We think it would be prime for a mixed use development.    We’ve been courting him for a while.”

Sue made a note of this.   “His secretary said he had a meeting with a lawyer on Monday morning.   Do you know what that is about?”

“No, but let me check.”    Fries moved to French’s desk and sat down.   He pulled out the center drawer of the desk, exposing a keyboard and typed out something.  After a few seconds, he clicked an icon.

“Oh, I was thinking he was meeting with our company’s lawyers.   That’s Bonner Kiernan.   This is an appointment with his personal attorney.”

“Do you know what that might have been about?”

“No,   We both use Chelsea Burger for our personal stuff.   Any personal real estate transactions, we don’t want a conflict with the business stuff.    She also does wills and trusts and the like.”

“Was Mr. French acting any different recently.   Anything making him nervous or scared.   Financial problems?   Relationship stuff?”

“Certainly not financial.    First Properties is doing quite well.    We’re looking to raid Harvard Business for a few younger versions of ourselves and expand.   Can’t say he’s ever shown any personal issues.”

“His sister mentioned that there might be some professional rivalry.   People he stepped on while on his way up or those who might have come up on the short side of a business deal?”

“Absolutely not.    I mean some people don’t like us because we’re successful, I guess.   But they’re not going to do us in over that.   Some call us land rapers, but Jim has driven us of late to be very conscious of social and sustainability issues.     As for business deals, Jim always insists on fair practices.   He also has the personality that makes even people who are giving us a bargain price think they are being enriched for doing so.”

He paused and thought more.   “No, I can’t see that being a motive.    Someone kidnapping him because he has money would be more likely.   But I guess we’d have heard ransom demands by now.”

“Women?” Sue asked.

“He’s been seeing Cami now for about nine months.   Never heard any of his former girls complaining other than that he didn’t spend enough time not working.”

“Do you have Cami’s contact information or even last name?”

“I’m afraid not.   I’ve only met her once.”

“OK, thanks for your time.   I may wish to get access to Mr. French’s computer, emails, schedule, and the like.    I hope that will be possible if it comes to that.   I’ll sign any non-disclosure you’d like.”

Again Fries thought about this for a second and then just nodded.   “If that’s what it takes.”

[littleTomás]

The plot thickens...

[willnotwill]

Sue decided to go revisit French’s apartment.   Something still bothered her.   She had spent time looking at the photos she had taken, but she needed to see it again.    She also wanted to look through his desk.

She started by going into the garage in the Carlisle.   The Cayenne bearing the HBS 1999 plates was still there in the same place.    She had not noticed the significance of the plates when she was here the previous day.   She had just assumed they were serially issued.   But now realizing how key Harvard was to French and Fries, she realized that this was HBS for Harvard Business School.   She was almost certain 1999 would be his class year.

She reached up on the right rear tire and found a penny sitting on it.    This was an old trick she had learned.   She had left covertly left the penny there the previous day.   Had the car been moved, it would have fallen off.   Nobody much would give a penny in a parking garage any concern.   At most, they’d have picked it up for good luck.

She headed up to the top floor.   She knocked on French’s door.   No answer.    She knocked again.    She would soon have to resort to checking with neighbors and perhaps security cameras if she didn’t turn things.    She put the key Janice had given her in the door.   She carefully opened the door slightly, observing another penny fall six inches to the carpet.  Nobody had opened this door since she had left the other day.

She went inside, calling out “Mr. French” even though she knew it was unlikely he was there.   She made a quick scan of the apartment to make sure she was alone and then sat down at the desk.    As with everything in French’s life, things were neat and orderly.   She indeed found the passport as Janice stated.    Nothing else interesting was in the drawers.   She opened the file.

The first few folders bore street addresses like the ones on the office credenza.   She pulled one out and looked at it.   There were property tax records, plats, appraisals, and the like.  All these were things one might have if you were buying or selling the properties.  She placed it back.   She took her phone out and was able to take a picture of all the tabs together.   If necessary, she’d visit these properties, and also check on the owners.

The next folder was labeled simply, “Mom.”   She took that out.   The first few sheets were statements addressed to him from Horizon Estates, an assisted living facility down in Montgomery County.    There were bills for a suite for Margaret French in the “reminiscence neighborhood.”   Mr. French had been paying for his mother’s place in the old age home.

The next document was a report from a doctor on Margaret French.   Mrs. French was six years into an Alzheimer’s diagnosis.   Sue sighed.   “Reminiscence neighborhood” was a polite way of saying Alzheimer's ward.   She read on.   Mrs. French was not in good shape.   She probably wasn’t going to be worth interviewing.    However, if her son had gone to visit her recently, there likely would be a record.

Behind that in alphabetical order was “Tax.”    She pulled that out and found last year's income0 tax forms.   It had been professionally prepared and French’s copy bound into a book.   She opened to the bottom line.    Fries was right.   French was doing well.    He paid more tax last year than Sue had made in her entire career.

She flipped through the forms and found a K-1 statement for First Properties.    This appeared to show the income French received from that business.   The number, if Sue was reading it right, was staggering.    The firm was doing very well.   Sue snapped pictures of the main 1040 schedule and the K-1 for First Properties.

The next folder was labeled “Trust.”   Sue opened it and found a document describing James French’s revocable trust.    Sue had known from a previous case that many well off people used trusts to manage their estate to avoid probate.   If it was done right, they could also defray the amount of inheritance tax paid.

Behind that was what appeared to be a statement from an investment account.   It listed various stock and bond holdings.   This one had been annotated.   There were pink, green, and yellow highlighting through the items.   She started to puzzle what was the meaning of the colors when she noted that there was a key in the margin.    Green was keep, pink was sell.   Yellow as marked “Xfer to CRT.”

CRT didn’t mean anything to her.   Was it someone’s initials?   Could it be the elusive Cami?

The next document bore a cover letter.   It was from Chelsea Burger indicating the attached was the draft of the James French Charitable Remainder Trust.    All that it needed was him to come in and sign the copy and to fund it.     Sue read through the first pages of the trust document that was attached.    The beneficiary was the Responsible Land Use Institute.   It struck her.   CRT was Charitable Remainder Trust.

Sue snapped a picture of the first pages of the trust document.   She had a CPA friend who’d helped her in the past.    Follow the money was always a good strategy for cases.    She’d fill in the holes in Sue’s understanding of the financials.

Sue put everything neatly away as she had found it.   This was all good in depth material, but it wasn’t immediately useful.    She stood up and scanned the apartment again.   There was still something that bothered her.    She went into the bedroom and looked at the dresser.   As before, French’s wallet, key, and phone were there.   There was also a pen and some loose change.   It’s as if he’d just emptied his pockets at the end of the day.

She looked through the wallet.    Driver’s license, Amex Platimum card, a couple of other credit cards.    One pocket contained his First Properties Business cards.    She looked through the bill section.   There was some cash, about eighty dollars.   There were a few credit receipts there.   The most recent was the receipt from his dinner with Jance at Cinghiale.   The food ran close to $200 for the two of them and there was a $150 bottle of Brunello di Montalcino.    French was a good tipper, too.

She pulled open the dresser drawer again.   The top drawer had neat dividers with underwear rolled up and placed in the holes.   There was exactly one compartment without contents.    On the right side of the drawer was a tray containing wristwatches.   Again, there were indentation showing one was missing.   It was large.   Bigger than would be fashionable, on a man like French, she thought.

She pulled open the second drawer.   Socks here.   Again, arranged in a divider with holes for each pair.   It was arranged by color.   Darker shades on the left proceeding through hues to white athletic socks on the right.    Two holes were unoccupied.  One dark pair and one athletic pair.

Nothing else came to mind as she searched through the other drawers.    She made her way to the closet.    Suits hung on the left side, equally spaced except for one gap.   She looked over at the valet chair.   There was a suit hanging on it.   The back wall had shirts again sorted by shade.   One of the positions in the lighter shade was empty.

There was a hamper in the corner.   Sue opened it and found in order from top to bottom, a pair of powder blue boxer shorts, two black dress socks, and a cream dress shirt.   She began to form a picture.    French comes home from dinner with Janice.   He comes into the bedroom and empties his pockets on the dresser.   He strips down, placing the suit on the valet chair.   Perhaps, he’s going to wear it again or maybe it’s destined for the cleaners.    He removes his shirt, socks, and boxers and throws them in the hamper.

So now he’s naked.   Does he go to bed?    All the clothes have been accounted for, except for the pair of athletic socks.   Sue examines things closer.   There’s a rack of shoes on the right.    Gosh, he has more shoes than most women I know, Sue thought.   The top row was dress shoes of various sorts.    More casual shoes below, loafers and topsiders.   “Hello,” Sue said aloud as she realized there was a gap at this level.

She pulled out the shoes to the left of the gap.   The spikes on the bottom told her these were golf shoes.    She pulled out the shoes to the right.   They were nylon mesh and had a sizeable single cleat on the ball of each sole.   Sue knew these to be cycling shoes.   They would snap into special pedals on French’s bike, wherever that was.    So what would have been in the middle?   Maybe he’d gone for a bike ride, she hadn’t seen a bike, but that doesn’t mean it wasn’t stored somewhere.    French wouldn’t be the kind to keep a bike in the living room.

It might be running shoes or the like.  That would fit with French’s organization.   She looked further.   On the shelves were less formal shirts.   Each one was in its own plastic tray.   She pulled on the tray and it held for a second and gave way.   She pushed it back and felt it snap to the rear.   She pulled it fully away from the cabinet and noted magnets on the rear edge of the tray.   There were metal strips on the back of the shelves that the magnets engaged.

She started flipping through the trays on the shelf.    She then realized what this was.    She pulled a tray containing a polo shirt from the middle of the stack.   It cleanly came out without disturbing its neighbors.   She thought about her own closet.   If you pulled a sweater out, most likely, it would pull or partially unfold the ones next to it.   This was an elegant idea.   Of course, French’s organizational style would mandate it.

The problem was that when you removed one, the others fell in place.   She couldn’t use a gap to identify what was missing.    She then noticed two empty trays placed vertically on the right side of one shelf.   She leafed through the trays on that shelf.    There were shirts.   They were made of a high-end synthetic fabric.   These were exercise clothes of some sort.   The synthetic wicked away the sweat.    The shelf also contained running shorts and some longer running tights.    This shelf definitely was exercise wear.   She thought of the socks.    Wherever French was, he likely was wearing workout clothes of some sort:  shirt, shorts, athletic socks, and running shoes.    She made a note to ask Janice if she could identify the missing items.

She got another idea.   She got the shirt from the hamper and the suit jacket.   She arranged the two together as if they were currently being worn and returned it to the valet chair.   She snapped a picture.   She’d ask June, Fries, and Janice if this was the outfit he had been wearing Friday.

June stood back and smiled.   She’d made some sort of progress, she thought.   She also realized she required a diaper change.   She’d brought her bag with her, but felt she’d due injustice to French’s place if she used it for a change.   She’d head back to her office and home to change.

[BabySofia]

I've always like mysteries, and you're writing a great one here! Looking forward to the next part!

[littleTomás]

You haven’t given me enough clues to solve the mystery yet! I feel like a little baby right now. *sucks pacie*

[willnotwill]

She got to her office and Holly was abuzz.  “What?” Sue said.   She doubted she could have gotten a lengthier question out.   Holly clearly had found something.

“I did the deep dive into social media.    Checking out his twitter followers and facebook friends and the like.   I found these on Instagram.”  She had stood so Sue could take the seat a the desk.   They were pictures that Sue instantly recognized as the apartment she’d spent the past few hours searching.   She clicked through them.   There was another couple there that Sue hadn’t yet encountered, and another woman.

“Is this Cami?” Sue said, pointing at the girl.

Holly seemed slightly taken aback.   “You knew about her?” she asked.

“Only by first name.    French’s coworkers mentioned he was seeing a Cami.   Did you find a last name?”

“Chenier.   Her name is Cameron Chenier.    Other old-money family.   Cute, isn’t she?”

“When were these taken?”

“Thursday before he went missing.   The other two are Colin and Eva Sweeney.    I’ve not fully worked up a profile but they seem to be big in a local environmental charity of some sort.”

“The Responsible Land Institute?” Sue asked.

“You knew?”

“Good guess.   I found some reference to them in French’s papers.”

“Oh, OK.   But here’s the really good one.”   Holly reached over and brought up another window.   “This site is called Strava.   Did you know that French was an active runner and biker.”

“I found evidence of that in the apartment.”

“Well of late, he’s been running pretty heavily.   Can’t tell if he’s training for something.   Several days a week he runs from his apartment down a trail in Wyman Park and then comes out on Remington and cuts over and runs through the Hopkins campus back to his place.”

Sue thought about this.    “I went through his apartment.   The man in neat as a pin.   As near as I can tell, he was wearing running clothes when he vanished.    Maybe we should search along this route.    Are you up for some fieldwork?”

“Me?” Holly said with a surprise.   Sue hadn’t let her out in the field much.

“It was your find.   Besides, I’ll need help.   This is still a lot of ground.”

“Well, we might be able to narrow it down.    All this data is downloaded from a GPS wristwatch called a Garmin Forerunner.   It tracks the course distance, heart rate, pace, and the like and uploads it to Strava when the workout is over.”

“But there’s a feature called Beacon.    If we had access to French’s account or someone he had ‘friended’ on Strava, we might see an indication of where he last was seen live by Strava.”

Sue thought about it for a second.   This Cami might be a Strava friend.    Janice might be, but probably not.    She thought about it more.   “Do you know what his username is?”

Holly brightened up, “It’s just his email address.”

Sue typed it in.   In the password, she took a wild guess.   “hbs1999” she typed.    User or password invalid was the response.   She needed to take a different strategy.   She went to the screen to create a new account.   She typed in her email address.   It asked for her to come up with a password.   She typed a few letters.   “Passwords must be at least eight characters,” was the answer.

She went back to the login screen and typed French’s email again.   This time she tried “hbs-1999” as the password.    The screen changed over to display Jim French’s profile page.   Holly took over and found the history of French’s runs.    True to his previous runs, he’d started at 7:13 AM on Saturday morning and headed down the trail in Wyman Park.    The last hit was right where the trail emerged at Remington Avenue.

“Well, that narrows it down,” Sue said.  “It still might take a while to find some clue as to where he might be.    I need to do a quick diaper change, and then we can go.”

“Let me call my sister to watch the kids.”   Then she got quiet.  “Sue,” Holly asked shyly.   Sue turned and nodded.   “Are we going to be out long.”

“You can never tell.”

“Can I borrow one of your diapers?”

“Sure thing.”

Holly got on the phone to arrange child care.   Sue went up and changed.   She decided this might be a MegaMax night.   She grabbed a spare and dropped it on Holly’s desk.   It was starting to get dark, so she went to the closet and grabbed several high powered battery-powered lights.   She also decided she’d better carry her gun.

The two got into Sue’s truck and drove the few blocks up to 29^th street and followed that  to Remington.    They drove up Remington.   The blocks leading up to the park were mostly row houses.   When they got to the few blocks of Remington that passed through the park they craned their necks trying to find something.    Sue swung around and parked on the first available space on the south side.

They got out.   Holly held out a print she had made from Google Maps.   “The trail comes out right here,” she said pointing at the paper and then pointing at a paved path that ran down from the street into the woods.

“Let’s see if we can retrace his steps,” Sue said and started down the path.   It was eerily dark and both clicked on their flashlights.    The track went sharply downhill and curved to meet the trail.   They turned north and walked for a few hundred yards.   “OK,” Sue said.   “You take that side.   I’ll take this side.    Let’s scan the brush on either side.   If he’s here, he’s not going to be in plain sight or someone would have found him.”

Holly picked up a stick and was literally beating the bushes with it.   Sue found a similar stick and used hers to part the brush on her side so she could shine her light into the obscured parts.  They slowly walked their way back down to where the intersecting path led back up to Remington.   They continued down the sidewalk on Remington leaning over the rail and shining their lights into the brush below.    They saw now that the trail paralleled a small stream.  Nothing.

They reached Wyman Park Drive and the townhouses started to line the street again.   There was no point in continuing.   They crossed over and started back on the north side of Remington.   They had just about made it all the way back to Sue’s truck when Sue noticed something.    Just about where the guardrail ended and the bridge over the trail started Sue pointed out that there was some damage to the guard rail.   On the ground was also plastic pieces, as from the lights on a car.

“I’ve got a bad feeling,” Sue said as she straddled the guardrail.   “Keep your light on where my feet are as I check this out.”   Holly sat down on the guardrail and swung her legs over.   She pointed her light as Sue requested.   Sue worked her way down the treacherous slope.    She slipped but caught herself on a tree trunk before she lost her balance completely.

All the time she was sweeping her light in a methodical pattern through the brush.   The she saw a reflection.    She shimmied over toward it.

“Find something?” Holly called from above.

“Something shiny.   Probably a beer can, but I’m going to check it out.”

She got to about where she had observed it.   She swung her lamp back and forth trying to find what had reflected her beam a minute ago.   She was about to give up when she saw it.    A hand was protruding from some vines.    On the wrist was a large wristwatch.   She approached it and played her light directly on it.   The crystal reflected her beam.    She neared it close enough that she could read the word Garmin on it.

She picked up a stick and used it to part some of the vines which she suspected were poison ivy.   The body was pretty bashed up and was starting to decompose but she could tell.    It was James French.    She dropped her stick and called to Holly, “I’m coming back up.”

She had to scamper up on all fours to get back up the slope.   Holly extended a hand as she neared the guard rail.   “Find something?” she asked.

“Yes, it’s him.”

She pulled out her phone and dialed the number.   She heard the phone ring.   Please be in the office.   It would be so much easier if you were.   “Northern, Childress,” she heard with relief.   “Ronnie, it’s Susie.    I’ve just found French’s body.”

“Where are you?”

“Remmington Avenue where it crosses Wyman Park.   The body is about thirty feet down the embankment here.”

“OK, stay put.   I’ll have a uniform car there ASAP.   I’ll call out the mobile unit and the ME and be right there.”

Sue put her phone back into her pocket.   “Now what?” Holly asked.

“Now, we wait.   This will be the beginning of a long night of hurry up and wait.   We’ll have to give statements, probably to multiple people.   Just answer their questions.   There’s no point in holding anything back.   It will just come to bite you in the long run.  It may be well into the morning before they turn us loose.    You OK with that?”

“My sister’s prepared to stay the night,” Holly responded.  She sat there quiet for a minute and then giggled.

“What?” Sue asked.

“It’s a good thing I put on the diaper.”

“These Megamaxes are the most absorbent.  You may have to wet it a few times, but don’t worry.”   She paused and smiled.  “Welcome to field work.   You’re a true private investigator now.”

They heard a car approaching fast.   It was a police car with the blue light spinning.     Sue stood and waived her harms as the car passed.    They got to the end of the block and realized they’d overshot and backed up until they were abreast of Sue and Holly.

“You Garrett?” the officer in the passenger seat called out through the open window.

“Yep,” Sue replied.    The officers left the car parked in the street and got out and walked over.

“You have a dead body?”

Sue played her flashlight beam down to the approximate location of the body.  “Just about there.”

“Detective Childress wants you to stay put,” the officer said.

“He told me that on the phone.   We’re put.”

A second marked car arrived and the new arrivals got the details from the first officers.   Then an unmarked car pulled up, its blue light spinning on the dashboard.    Ronnie Childress stepped out.   He scanned the scene until he saw Sue.   He walked over to her.

“Give me the thirty second rundown.”

“We tracked him via his GPS watch.   It’s a special one for runners.   It uploads to a social media site that let us find his last known location.     We came here about ninety minutes ago and started retracing his last steps.   I found this damage to the guard rail, she was pointing with her flashlight at the guard rail and then at the broken plastic.    I decided to poke around down the embankment and found his arm sticking out of some vines.    I’m pretty sure it’s him.   By the way, tell your guys that it looks like he’s lying in a patch of poison ivy.”

“Thanks, I’ll let them know.”   A large van rolled up with BPD logos and the words “Crime Scene Services.”  This is what old-timers in the department still referred to as the “mobile unit.”  They’d collect the physical evidence.    The medical examiner, a statewide office not part of the police department, would take the body itself.

Ronnie was giving the men the nickel summary and they started unloading equipment.    Ronnie went over and gave instructions to the uniform officer.   No doubt some were going to be crowd control as people were already starting to appear from the rowhouses to see what was going on.    Others would go door to door asking if anybody heard or saw anything.

Another unmarked car showed up.    A man stumbled out hanging a badge around his neck in the process.    Ronnie walked up to him.    “Childress, Northern District Detectives,” he introduced himself.

“Murphy, Homicide Unit.”    Homicide was a long-time elite unit.   They handle this as it might be a murder.   The division detectives like Childress handled anything that there wasn’t a special unit for.   Over the years, the department added more specialized units, first Roberry, then Arson, then Sex Crimes, and then Domestic Violence and Child Abuse.     Childress was explaining the scene to a rather disinterested homicide man.

James French, real estate developer, has been missing a bit over a week.   His sister contracted with Ms. Garrett here to track down her brother.    She managed to locate him in this ravine earlier this evening.

Murphy sneered.  “Private Dickless,” he said and laughed like it was the funniest thing one could come up with.

“Ms. Garrett was on the force up until the time she disabled out after being injured in the line of duty.   You might cut her some slack.”

Murphy got serious.   “Sorry, ma’am.   Didn’t mean anything by it.”  He looked over to Holly.   “Who’s this?”

“Holly Albright,” Sue said.   “She’s also a licensed PI.   She’s my partner in the agency.   She was instrumental in tracking down Mr. French’s location and as here to help in the search.”

Murphy mentioned something on checking out the scene.    He called down to the mobile unit technicians and then decided to take a look for himself.

“What a dick,” Holly said to Sue.    Ronnie heard.

“Yeah, he is.   But he’s a good detective.”

“I hope he gets poison ivy,” Sue said with a smile.

[littleTomás]

So there was a murder, but who did it? We have yet to find out...

[Infernum]

I'm sitting on the edge of my seat! I need more! This is so exciting and it's so refreshing to see a new take on ABDL stories! And incontinent PI, that's something you don't see every day. 

[willnotwill]

Holly and Sue stood on the periphery as everything played out on the scene.   A truck that looked like an ambulance arrived, but it was really the medical examiner.    It was nearly midnight before the body was placed on a wooden board and lifted up out of the ravine and placed in the back of the ME van.

Sue looked at her watch.  It was nearly midnight.

Ronnie came up.   “Sorry, Sue.  You know how it is.   You and Holly need to come in and make a statement.   Can I give you a ride?”

“My truck’s right there,” Sue gestured.   “Can we meet you there?”

“You remember the way?”

“Like it was just yesterday.”

Holly and Sue got into the truck.   Holly swung around and went up Keswick to University Parkway and took that to Cold Spring Lane.    A half-mile down the road on the left was the Northern District Station.   She hung a left and then turned into the parking lot.    Holly and Sue got out and headed into the building.    The desk was staffed by an older sergeant.

 

“Hey, Mick,” Sue called out to him.

“Susie!” Mick said with a smile.   “Long time, no see.   What are you doing here at this time of night?”

“Gotta give a statement on a body we found.”

“Are you part of the Wyman Park thing?”

“Yeah, just left Ronnie at the scene and some Homicide dick named  Murphy.”

“Dick Is right.   But he’s a good detective.”

“So people keep telling me.”

“Well, yo remember where the detective bureau is, right?”

“I do.”

Mick reached under the desk and pushed a button.   The door to the right buzzed, and Sue pushed her way through it, followed by Holly.    Now on the other side of the desk, Sue turned to a set of small lockers on the wall.   She opened one and put her gun into it.    She locked it and removed the key.

“I used to work in this station,” she said as she started down the hall.    She got to a room full of cubicles.   She wandered down it until she found one marked R. Childress.   They took a seat in it.  “This will likely be a while.    The bathroom is right by where I locked my gun up.   If you want to change that diaper, I have additional ones in the truck.”

“I’m OK for now,” Holly said.    This was a new experience for her.   While the bulkiness was odd.  Wetting the diaper was nowhere near as bad as she thought it was going to be.

They fidgeted for a while until Ronnie came back.   He motioned them to follow him, and they headed into a small conference room.  “There will be more room in here.    Murph will be here in a minute.”    Twenty minutes later, Detective Murphy entered the room.    He was a little more composed now.

“I’m Senior Detected Conan Murphy.   Everybody just calls me Murph.    I understand you two have been working this case on behalf of the deceased’s sister.   I’ve got a recorder going.  Can you run it down for me?”

Sue started from the beginning.  About the sister coming in and hiring her.   How she had followed up with Ronnie after finding out he was nominally on the case.   She explained her visits to the apartment and her interviews with all involved.   She told how Holly had found the social media contacts for both the girlfriend Cami and the Garmin GPS data.   She then detailed their search that led to the body.

He asked some questions, and Holly filled in details on how she had conducted the social media search.   To his credit, Murph didn’t regale her with the “We’ll take it from here,” speech that many officers did when she laid cases in their laps.

Murph instead told Sue what she already knew, but she was sure Holly was enlightened by it.   The ME would let them know about the cause of death and those sordid details.   Murph said from the look of the body, it had been hit pretty hard by a car.   The legs were crushed, and there were severe blows to the head.

There was paint on the guardrail, and along with the plastic bits, that evidence would go to the FBI.   They have a pretty extensive paint file on paint and auto body parts.    They would probably be able to give them the model car within a year or two.   Obviously, they’d know the color, but finding a hit and run might be a needle in a haystack.

Murph asked about next of kin.   “Just the sister that hired us.   There’s a mother, but she’s apparently pretty far gone with Alzheimer’s.    She’s down in a home in Rockville,” Sue explained.

“Can you handle the notifications, and see about a release?   I assume you’d want a release before you turned over your files?” The first question was directed to Ronnie.  The second to Sue.

Ronnie and Sue both indicated the affirmative.   “I’ll get the tape transcribed.   Can you both stop by tomorrow and sign it.”   Sue and Holly nodded.

“OK, I’ll let you go.”

Ronnie agreed to meet at Sue’s office and they’d go meet Janice French.    Sue and Holly left the building after Sue retrieved her gun from the locker.   It was almost three AM.   “What is it I have to sign?”

“They’ll have made a written transcript of the interview.   We just have to attest to its accuracy.   You can go over at your convenience.   It doesn’t even need to be tomorrow and read it and sign.   Sleep in as long as you want tomorrow.   You’ve had a rough day.”

“Thanks.”

Sue got home and decided to take a shower.   She repeated the same procedure that had started her day.   Hot water for as long as it lasted and then a fresh diaper and off to bed.

[Shotgun Diplomat]

Well, you sir have me hooked. This is an excellent premise for a story, and you have executed it well. I am very much looking forward to your continuation. Thank-you for posting this. Have a gooder there bud!

[willnotwill]

The next morning Sue filled out a release document for Janice French to sign.   Ronnie was due any minute.     Sue was back in the light-duty underwear today as she figured that this would probably be the end of this investigation.   SHe’d be back waiting for a new client.   She had some accumulated paperwork in the office to go through, so she'd probably be there for the rest of the day.

Ronnie arrived at nine.   Sue dialed Janice.   It answered on the third ring.

“Hello, Janice.   This is Susan Garrett.   I’ve got officer Childress here.   We would like to come see you, are you available now?”

“Yes,” she said with a slight waiver to her voice.

“We’ll be there in ten minutes.”

Sue knew Janice lived in an apartment building up Charles Street.    They were there in five minutes.   The two took Ronnie’s police car as he could park it anywhere.  They went upstairs and Sue rang the doorbell.  Janice opened it and invited them in.

Ronnie seemed content to let Sue take the lead.   “Janice, you remember Detective Childress.   You talked to him when you first reported James missing.”   Janice just nodded.   “I’m afraid I have some bad news for you.   I found James’s body last night.”

Janice broke down a bit.   Her hand went to her mouth and she turned away.   After a few minutes, she regained her composure.   “Where?   How?”

“Over in Wyman Park.   It looks like he was struck by a car, apparent hit and run, while he was out jogging.”

Janice’s eyes grew wide as she looked out the window.   She pointed.   Sue followed her gaze.   “Last night?  There?”   Sue looked and could just make out the end of Remington Avenue.

“Near there.   Up near where the trail in the park crosses Remington Avenue.”

“I saw all the police cars and everything going up there last night.   I was afraid it was Jim.   I hoped it was something else.”

“I’ve met with the homicide detective.   He’s an excellent officer.   I have no doubt that he will find out how this happened and who is responsible in short order.”   Sue was lying.   She didn’t know if Murph would find out or not.   It wasn’t helping that over a week had passed.

“One thing that would help their investigation,” Sue continued.  “It would be faster for them if I could hand over all the results of my investigation.   I’d need your permission.”   Sue had suggested to Ronnie on the way over that they not pull the “We could get a court order” tactic at this stage.   It worked.

“Yes, of course.    Do you have something for me to sign?”

Sue handed over the document.   Janice scanned it quickly and scrawled a signature on it.

“Thank you,” Ronnie said.

“Can you keep me informed of the investigation,” Janice said to Childress.

“Of course, but please understand, these things take time.   We’ve sent some evidence off to the FBI for analysis, and the coroner may take several days to finish their end of the investigation.    I’ll let you know.”

She thought for a second.   “Do you think he suffered much?   I mean, was it quick?”

Sue and Ronnie looked at each other.   Sue turned to answer.   “I think it was.    I have to say that it wasn’t a pretty sight, but the injuries were massive enough that I don’t think he was conscious long.”

Janice nodded.   “Thank you.   Thank you, Sue, for all you’ve done.    I don’t know how long this would have remained a mystery if you hadn’t worked on the case.”

“You’re welcome.   If there’s anything, I can do.   You have my number.”

They excused themselves.   “Drop me back at the office.   I’ll put together a package for you and drop it by the station.   I’ve got to come in and review the transcripts anyhow,” Sue stated.

Ronnie pulled up in front of Sue’s rowhouse.   As she started to get out of the car, he placed a hand on her.   “It has been nice seeing you again, Susie.”

“You, too.  Ronnie.”   She got out and went inside.   Ronnie paused a second and then drove off.

[Shotgun Diplomat]

2 hours ago, willnotwill said:

The next morning Sue filled out a release document for Janice French to sign.   Ronnie was due any minute.     Sue was back in the light-duty underwear today as she figured that this would probably be the end of this investigation.   I’d be back waiting for a new client.   I had some accumulated paperwork in the office to go through, so I’d probably be there for the rest of the day.

Good addition, the sudden tense swap kinda threw me a bit. Can't wait until you post another offering. 

[willnotwill]

16 hours ago, Shotgun Diplomat said:

Good addition, the sudden tense swap kinda threw me a bit. Can't wait until you post another offering. 

Good catch.   I've fixed that POV shift.    It's a combination of the fact that I often write my stories in the first person and that sometimes I forget when shifting from dialog back to the narration.

 

[Shotgun Diplomat]

1 hour ago, willnotwill said:

Good catch.   I've fixed that POV shift.    It's a combination of the fact that I often write my stories in the first person and that sometimes I forget when shifting from dialog back to the narration.

 

Thanks! This is a fantastic story and I am very eager to read the next installment.  

[vvp39]

This is a good read! Keep coming....

[willnotwill]

Sue sat down at her desk and updated the log on the French matter.   This was probably the end of it, so best to get the billable time in.   She’d make sure Holly got her hours logged as well.

The phone rang.   Holly was probably sound asleep, so Sue picked it up.   “Hi, Sue.   This is Janice French.”

“Oh, hello,” Sue replied.

“I just wanted to thank you again for helping find out what happened to Jim.    I know you’ll write a report and someday I’d like to read it, but for now, send me an invoice, and I’ll make sure you get paid.”

“Very well.   I’ll have it sent over.   I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Yes, well, thank you for your concern.”

Sue put the report together as best she could.    She’d ask Holly to fill out her part on the social media search that turned the case.    In fact, Holly did come in around noon.

“How are the kids?”

Fine.   They like their aunt.    My only mistake was that in my exhaustion last night, I left the diaper on the floor in the bathroom.   I had to explain that to my oldest this morning.

“Oops,” Sue said.   Sue explained to her the need to finish out the French report and invoice and Holly told her she’d get right to it.    “I don’t want to seem callous, but Janice did ask for the invoice.    Besides, we’re back to hunting for clients.”

Sue went back to her desk and decided to go through the “to be filed” mound on her desk.   Maybe she could learn something from James French.   His life was so orderly.    She took each item and, if necessary, started folders for each client as required.    She then opened up my file drawer and sorted the files alphabetically.   She then ran off to the bathroom before she leaked into her underwear.

When she returned, Holly called out, “Robert Fries on the phone.”

Sue picked up.   “Sue Garrett.”

“Hello, Sue.   This is Bob Fries.   I just heard the news about Jim.”

“Yes, I’m sorry it worked out that way.”

“I was wondering if you could stop by and see me.   I’d like to ask some questions about all this.”

“Sure,  I could be over there around two.”

“That would be fine.”

Sue went upstairs and dug through the fridge and found some leftover food for lunch.   She popped it in the microwave and went to the bathroom.   After sitting on the toilet, she decided that she’d better diaper up.    After lunch, she told Holly, she was off to see Fries.    This time, not on an expense account, Sue popped over to St. Paul Street and caught the bus downtown.

She was ushered into a matching office to French’s this time.   June and Bob Fries were waiting there.   This office had piles, and blueprints spread all over the place.   Obviously, Fries didn’t share meticulous neatness.

“We understand you were the one to find Jim’s body,” Fries started.

“I was.   My associate and I tracked him based on his fitness watch to the site,” Sue explained.

“It’s just terrible,” June added.

“Do you know if the police have anything?” Fries asked.

“Too early to tell.   I spoke briefly with the detective handling the case.    I don’t know him, but people tell me he’s good.    Right now, it seems obvious that a vehicle is involved.   Hit and run at least.    Whether there is more remains to be seen.”

“Do you think there is more?”

“Hard to say.   My gut tells me that a simple car accident would be too easy of a solution.”

“I feel the same way.  Jim’s death is devastating to us both as a coworker and a friend.   We’d like to see those responsible come to justice.”

“I understand your feelings.”

“How much would it cost for you to continue to look into this?”

There it was.   “Well, I was charging Mrs. French $200 an hour plus expenses.    The problem here is a lot of police detectives don’t like private detectives nosing around their criminal investigations.   I used to be a cop, I know.”

“So, $250?” June asked.

“I wasn’t trying to drive the price up.   I just wanted to give an expectation about what I would be able to provide.”

Jim thought about it.  “Still, we’d like you to keep tabs on this.   Make good use of your time at $200.    Keep us in the loop as to what you find and what the police have found.     If you uncover the solution, I’ll give you a bonus of bumping the rate up to $250.”

Sue felt she could hardly turn this down.   Not only did she need the money, but she was genuinely interested in seeing this case solved.   She thought about the site of French’s body in the poison ivy and shuddered.

“If you don’t mind, what are you going to do first?”  June asked.

“I’ve still got a friend in the BPD.   I am due a visit to him anyhow.   I’ll find out what he knows about the investigation.     I’ll have my partner do a further dig on all the people we know about.   It was her digging that found the GPS watch link, to begin with.”

“Good.   Well, let us know from time to time how it is going.   If you find something significant, call me at any time.   Here’s my cell.”   Fries passed over a card.   This one didn’t bear the name of First Properties.   It just had the name Robert W. Fries and an email and phone number on it.

Sue tucked the card in her pocket.   “Fine.  I’ll have my partner send you our usual client arrangement.”   She shook hands with both of them and headed out.

She got back to the office with a bounce in her step.   “Holly, get a standard contract over to First Properties, to the attention of Robert Fries.   $200.    Then start doing the deep dig.    Let’s go over everybody we know connected with this case:   Janice, Fries, June, Cami, those people from the land use folks you found, also anybody else you can think might be involved.    Do the elder Mrs. French, too.    And see if there were any not-so-distant past girlfriends.”

“I’m on it.   What are you going to do?”

“I’ve got to go sign that transcript.   I’ll do some fishing with Ronnie.”

The hunt was on.   Sue grabbed the diaper bag and headed out to her truck.