Ch23 - Detective Thomas O'Reilly

Retired detective-turned-investigator, Thomas O'Reilly, sat behind his large mahogany desk, listening to his new client's tale of woe with an amused expression on his face.

The detective took in the man's perfectly manicured nails, neatly coiffed hair and lean physique. He observed the expensive, tailored suit he wore and the articulate way he spoke. He also noticed the almost elegant manner in which he carried himself.

What a flake! O'Reilly snorted discreetly, removing the cheap cigar from his mouth. He covered his laughter with a cough and ran a hand over his balding head. This guy is - no doubt about it - an over-privileged snob who believes the world owes him a favor. He had seen it hundreds of  times before.

Mr. I'm-Too-Good-For-Everyone is a little different though, he admitted to himself, inspecting his own bitten-to-the-quick nails. His story is almost entertaining! It's as if he believes his own bullshit.

He'd had to bite the inside of his cheek on several occasions during their meeting to keep himself from laughing out loud. Finally, he'd just stopped listening all together. He had no choice! He didn't want to anger this new client with such an uncouth reaction to this pathetic sob story. Admittedly, it was sometimes difficult keeping his opinions to himself - especially when it came to the upper crust of society. He had a knack for spotting them.

This pompous man before him continued to babble on and on about some allegedly untrustworthy young housewife and a residential fire with a missing body. Her body, of course. The fire investigation, so far, had come up with literally nothing - other than a blaze that had been started under "suspicious" circumstances.

The sad truth was, if Mr. My-Shit-Don't-Stink's wife was missing without a trace, it was probably because she wanted to be missing. And it really wasn't very difficult to see why she would choose to disappear, judging from the looks of her highfalutin' husband. But try telling Mr. Important that.

I'd bet my left nut he's a sneaky, controlling son-of-a-bitch!

O'Reilly stared at the picture the client had presented. Boy, was this girl a beauty!

Typical, he thought with a knowing huff. She'd probably gotten sick of Mr. Hot-Shot here, and found herself some hard-bodied boyfriend. Betcha he's a young stud, too - and just as delicious as she is. Latino, no doubt. All women want a macho Latino lover, hovering above them in bed with their brown skin, slicked back hair, whispering words they don't understand.

O'Reilly knew how the women favored beefcake's with sexy, mysterious accents. Those men could sing 'Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star' in their native tongue and the ladies would probably still cream their panties!

Women - nothin' but  a bunch of hussies! he thought, shaking his head in disgust. It really was no surprise to anyone, except to the good detective, why there was no Mrs. O'Reilly.

Honestly, he didn't care who he worked for, or what kind of stupid case he took on. Money talked. And this dude had plenty of it, he could tell. He had a nose for sniffing out the green stuff. Yep, O'Reilly could spot a richie a mile away, and he was never wrong.

The detective cleared his throat when he realized that Mr. Overly-Confident was finished speaking. He hoped he hadn't been lost in thought for too long. It wouldn't do to have the client think he wasn't paying attention to him, even if it were the truth.

"So, your house went up in flames - a complete loss - and your pretty, young wife is missing?" O'Reilly questioned, fiddling with a gnawed on pencil, lying on his disheveled desk.

The wealthy man nodded his head in confirmation.

"And now you wonder if she staged the whole thing because the body has yet to be found?"

The client nodded again.

"Let me ask you something," O'Reilly continued, opening a notebook that was lying on his desk. "What was your relationship like with your wife? Did the two of you get along?"

The man suddenly appeared slightly unnerved and refused to make eye contact, but he recovered quickly. O'Reilly almost wondered if he had imagined it. Almost.

Mental note: There was trouble in paradise.

"Well, we were just like any other normal, married couple. We'd had some rough patches from time to time, but Sarah would be just as culpable as I am for any disagreements we might have had. For the most part we were happy. Very happy.  I can promise you, I was her world."

Lying, delusional bastard.

"And have you noticed any peculiar behavior from her in the weeks and months before the incident? Any thing at all out of the ordinary?"

The client cleared his throat. "Sarah did not have a capricious nature. She was always home and always available to me." But then he paused. "However, I recently discovered some...new information about my wife. Something she had been keeping from me."

"And what is that?" O'Reilly asked in a soothing voice. It was pathetic how he had to coerce information out of some of his clients - coddle them like small children! They all came to him with accounts of being mistreated in some way, yet he knew that there were two sides to every story. This moron sitting before him was no saint - he knew that for sure. More like a wolf in sheep's clothing. He could feel it.

But whatever... He's the one forkin' over the cash here...

The client loosened his tie, in obvious discomfort. "She had been taking self defense classes while I was away at work. Her instructor approached me at the funeral."

Very interesting...

"I see," the detective said, making notes in the composition book. "I imagine that took you by surprise?"

"Very much so."

"Did the two of you ever fight? That is - did you ever get physical with one another?" the detective asked, picking a sesame seed from his teeth with the lead point of his #2.

Sweat beaded on the client's forehead, "Never."

Sure you didn't. And do you think I was born yesterday, Mr. High-and-Mighty? Why else would the poor girl feel the need to learn self defense? he sighed. How is it that people always assume they can get away with lying to a detective, for Christ's sake? This ass is insulting my intelligence!

"Okay," O'Reilly continued calmly, ignoring the obvious lie. He puffed away on his cigar and continued to jot in his notebook. "And have you detected any money missing from any of your accounts - joint or otherwise?"

"Um...not that I have noticed." The poor bastard looked confused. "I, um, see no need to leave my money lying around in various bank accounts. Most of it is involved in different investments. Passive income is an incredibly powerful wealth-creating vehicle, you know. "

Ha! This idiot never even checked, instead he's going to try to distract me by giving me a lesson in investing! Give me a freakin' break! This guy's a real piece of work...

The detective nodded his head knowingly, "Now what about your sex life? Would you describe it as a healthy one?"

He didn't really need to ask that question, but sometimes, he just couldn't stop himself! That picture of the missing woman had O'Reilly thinking impure thoughts. He let his chubby hand fall onto his crotch, giving it a quick rub. He couldn't help it, the girl in that photograph was a pretty little thing! Not his typical type, he preferred his women a little more exotic, but she'd do.

This time, the client nodded enthusiastically.

"Absolutely it was healthy - very healthy. We made love almost every single night," he said, clearing his throat.  "Having sex with me is one thing I know for certain Sarah did enjoy. She had never been with anyone else before we were married," the man confided proudly. "So, Detective, do you think I have a case?" he asked nervously.

Slowly, the detective retrieved his hand from underneath the table and absentmindedly ran it across his protruding stomach.

"You bet your ass we have a case!" he answered eagerly, pulling the cigar away from his thick lips. "I'll get to the bottom of this, Mr. Austin, I can promise you that. We will find that young wife of yours, or my name isn't Detective Thomas O'Reilly!"\

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So, what do you think of the good detective? Will he figure out where Sarah is?

If you liked this chapter, please leave me a vote! And join me this Sunday for another chapter from Talia's POV. Thanks for reading!