A New Investigation

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Agents Liz and Harry investigate drugs and porn.
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HStoner
HStoner
2,387 Followers

This story is a work of fiction. Any similarities to any real person or entity are entirely coincidental and unintended.

*****

After considerable soul-searching, Liz and I declined John Smith's offer of senior management positions in his little business empire. That was hard. The offer was very attractive and we both liked John and Karen a great deal. It was difficult to reject them. However, neither Liz nor I had any desire to be a business person. We both enjoyed law enforcement and, notwithstanding Operation Tarpon, felt like we were making a small positive impact.

We did get married in Liz's hometown of Syracuse. Karen and John came to the wedding. I imagine that it was uncomfortable for them to stay clothed that long. I know that it was uncomfortable for us. We took John's suggestion and had our honeymoon at Club Orient on St. Martin. It was great. We were there for a week. While we did go into Phillipsburg and had a couple of dinners at nice restaurants in Grand Case, we spent most of the trip nude. In fact, we managed a stretch of just over 100 consecutive hours in which neither of us wore a stitch of clothing.

Club Orient is on Orient Bay on the French side of the island (Although it is a small island, roughly half of it belongs to France and half to the Netherlands. The two countries spell the name of the island slightly differently). Orient Bay has a magnificent, and now much developed, curving beach. Part of the beach has been a well-known nude beach for decades. Several times during the week, we saw mini-buses and cabs discharge tourists from the cruise ships docked in Phillipsburg. Liz and I made something of a game out of trying to predict which cruise shippers would actually strip down. More than once, I had the impression that friends who had gone on a cruise together were seeing each other nude for the first time at Orient Beach.

With Kate Howley's help, we were also able to finesse the problem of being married and both staying with the Agency. While the Agency discouraged marriage between agents, there was no actual rule against it. That still left us with the problem that Liz was assigned to Buffalo while I was assigned to Indianapolis. There was a formal rule against both members of a married couple working in the same field office.

Since the Agency's primary mission was enforcement of Federal drug laws, there was always a need for agents in Florida. We were able to work out Liz's transfer to the Tampa office and mine to Ft. Myers. Technically, Ft. Myers was a satellite office of Tampa. However, the offices were physically separate and the Ft. Myers agents reported to their Special Agent in Charge ("SAC") who reported to the SAC in Tampa. Since neither of us was an SAC, we were not in the same direct chain of command. The Agency decided that having Liz in Tampa and me in Ft. Myers was ok, until the Agency changed its mind.

In addition to a warmer climate, our move to Florida had some other benefits. Perhaps the biggest for me was my new boss, Ed Needham, the Ft. Myers SAC. On the surface, Ed and I had little in common. Ed was an African-American from Alabama and I was a white guy from Ohio. However, we quickly established a rapport. We had both played college football; although, as Ed never stopped reminding me, his football career had been much more successful than mine. Ed had been a two-year starter at defensive end for an SEC school, and made All-Conference as a senior. I had been lucky to just letter my junior and senior years. Also, as Ed said, "Harry, you spent most of your time on the bench and you guys were playing against those Big Ten pussies."

Ed was a sharp guy with a deep moral streak. Not the superficial morality that worries about things like sex before marriage. Rather, as Ed put it, "There are two kinds of people I aim to get off of the street and into jail: the people who actually get off on hurting other people and the people who don't give a shit about hurting other people so long as they're making money at it. There's too damn many of both kinds."

Ft. Myers was a small office with only five agents in addition to Ed. We all knew each other pretty well and we all got along. Ed was willing to give his agents as much independence as they could handle, and Ed always had your back. In return, Ed expected to be kept well-informed of what you were doing. Ed was ambitious and wanted to move up. But, he wasn't going to throw any of his agents under a bus to protect himself so long as he knew what you were doing before there was any issue. Liz also seemed quite satisfied in Tampa.

Another benefit of moving to Florida was that we bought a house. Although, it took most of our small savings plus a helping hand from Liz's parents. A developer had started building what was intended as a massive subdivision in scrubland east of I-75 not too far from Venice. While the streets and cul-de-sac's were laid out, only ten houses were built on one cul-de-sac before the recession hit and the developer went belly-up. As was the case in several instances in Florida, it took years to unravel and liquidate the developer's holdings. Liz and I were able to buy the last house, a three bedroom, out of bankruptcy for a price we could afford.

The subdivision was pretty barren. The developer's bulldozers had flattened everything and the developer had failed before any landscaping was planted. However, the house seemed reasonably well-constructed and had a few amenities, like an in-ground Jacuzzi on the back patio. We were not alone. The other nine houses were occupied, primarily it seemed, by couples starting out like ourselves. With no vegetation, there was no visual barrier between our lot and the lots to either side. Nuding in our yard was off of the table, at least for several years.

We thought that we could use the Jacuzzi so long as we waited until dark or near dark. We could, and did, stay nude inside the house. We kept the blinds down on the side windows facing our neighbors. However, we felt that we could keep the curtains on the front and back windows open because someone would have to walk almost up to the house to see in. We'd take that risk. We kept tee shirts and shorts handy in case someone rang the doorbell to sell us Girl Scout cookies or the like.

About a week or so after we moved in, Liz and I were in the Jacuzzi, nude of course. It was around dusk. We saw a couple running along the back line of our lot towards the street that served our cul-de-sac. We waved and they waved back. We never saw them return. Feeling fairly secure as it got darker, Liz and I got out of the tub and had a beer sitting at our patio table before we went inside.

A day later, just after we had both gotten home and gotten our clothes off, our doorbell rang. We hastily jumped into our emergency clothes and answered it. Standing on our stoop was an attractive couple, both thin, and about our age.

The woman said, "Hello. I'm Lisa Cooper. This is my husband Grant. We have the house at the end of the cul-de-sac. We wanted to welcome you to the neighborhood." Liz invited them in and offered them something to drink. Then, we invited them out to sit down on the back patio.

After the usual questions about where we were from, what we did, and how we liked the neighborhood, Lisa said, "Grant and I are runners. Because of the heat, this time of year, we usually run around dusk. You guys saw us last night. We run in the back because the ground is easier on our legs than pavement. I'm pretty sure that we were beyond everyone's lot lines and that where we were running belongs to the bankruptcy trustee."

With no trace of a smirk, Grant added, "We noticed that you guys seem to like this patio.

Lisa finished the thought. "We also noticed that you like to use it with no clothes on."

"Shit," I thought, "Busted already!"

Grant said, "We saw you two sitting out here in the nude. We thought that we had to tell you or we'd be peepers or something."

Lisa quickly added, "It's ok with us. Are you guys nudists?"

Liz looked at me. We both laughed. "Yes," Liz said, "we are."

Grant said, "That's cool. I know that a lot of nudists migrate to Florida for the weather." Grant looked at his wife. "Lisa, do you think that any of the other neighbors will be offended?"

"Well," Lisa said thoughtfully, "I'm sure that the Nashes, Martins, and Coffins won't be. I doubt that Ryan and Tina Wills would be and they're on the other side anyway. I don't know the people in the three houses closest to the street that well."

"Neither do I," Gant said.

Standing, Lisa said, "We didn't mean to take up so much of your time. We just felt like we had to tell you that we saw you, but it is ok."

Grant stood up. "Are you going to invite them or do I have to?" he asked his wife.

"Oh, yeah, duh!" Lisa said. "We put an in-ground pool in our back yard last year. There's no one who can see into our yard. We're having a pool party for the cul-de-sac Saturday starting at two. We hope you can come."

"Thank you," I replied. "What should we bring?"

"Beer is always useful, " Grant answered.

"And whatever you want to throw onto the grill. We'll have buns for sausages and burgers," Lisa added.

Liz looked at me. I nodded. "Thanks again," Liz said. "We'll be there."

Not knowing a good butcher yet, Liz and I ran to the nearest Publix that Saturday morning to pick up ground chuck, beer, and some chips and dip. At two that afternoon, we were walking towards the dead end of the cul-de-sac carrying our Publix bags. Liz hand on a stunning dark purple bikini. As always, Liz looked gorgeous. I had on swim trunks and one of my old college tee shirts. I looked like, well, me.

Grant Cooper answered their door and led us through a nicely furnished first floor out into a back patio dominated by a large pool with a diving board. We were introduced to four other couples, about our age, also in swim wear. While no one was aggressively ugly, no one was nearly as beautiful as Liz either. We opened beers and began chatting with our neighbors. They seemed like pretty pleasant people.

Liz and I were both on our second beers when Lisa Cooper raised her voice. "Everyone? May I have just a minute?"

Everyone stopped talking and turned to face Lisa. "Grant and I are glad that you all came today. I'm sorry that the rest of the cul-de-sac didn't come, but that is what it is. We wanted to have this party so that you could all meet our new neighbors, Liz and Harry Stone."

Lisa paused, sipped her beer, and resumed. "Liz and Harry, we are all grateful that you bought your house. The last thing that we want is a vacant house in the cul-de-sac. Anyway, Grant and I made a point of going over to meet Liz and Harry. We're sure that they are a positive addition to the neighborhood."

Standing beside his wife, Grant smiled. "Uh, there is one thing," he said.

Lisa took another sip of beer. "Oh, yeah, we found out that Liz and Harry are nudists." Talk about being outed!

Grant announced, "Lisa and I want Liz and Harry to know that they are welcome to use our pool in the nude at any time."

Lisa said, "I think that it would be a great way to welcome Liz and Harry to the neighborhood by letting them party with us in the state they prefer. Does anyone have any problem if Liz and Harry take their clothes off?"

Lisa's question was met with a uniform shaking of heads. Lisa said, "Liz, Harry, everyone's ok if you two want to get comfortable."

Liz and I were both a bit embarrassed. It hadn't occurred to either of us that we'd be nude in front o f the neighbors that afternoon. Liz, responded, "No, Lisa, we really don't need to."

One of the other women, Tina Mills I think said, "Why not? None of us has a problem with it."

Someone else said, "Yeah. Come on."

Liz turned to face me, smiling. She shrugged. I shrugged. Liz undid her bikini top and took it off. I pulled off my tee shirt and dropped my trunks. Liz wriggled out of her bikini bottom. We put our clothing on a chair on the pool deck and turned to give our neighbors our full frontal. Our neighbors applauded.

It seemed that everyone was genuinely ok with our nudity. However, no one else got undressed that night. Previously, Liz and I had gone nude among other nude people. Being nude with five clothed couples was a very different thing. That's not to say that it was unpleasant. Just that we felt much more on display, particularly Liz. Most of the husbands had their eyes on her all night. I didn't notice it, but Liz swore later that all five wives were staring at me throughout the evening or, more specifically, at my dick. Liz likes to make me feel good.

As we walked naked back to our house around 11:00 p.m., Liz said, "That was fun."

"Did we pick a good neighborhood?" I asked.

"Yes, I think we did," Liz replied.

The other big benefit to moving to the west side of Florida was that we were reasonably close to Karen and John. Fortunately, they had not taken offense at our rejection of John's job offers. About every other weekend, if we both were not working, we stayed with Karen and John at the resort or were out on their boat. As you'd imagine, clothes were rarely worn at all on those occasions.

Karen and John provided, in a sense, the starting point of a new investigation. They called one evening. I answered the phone and got Liz on the line too.

"Harry," John said, "I need your help. My finance manager at the Tampa boat yard hasn't come to work for four days. She's not answering her cell or her landline. I called her folks up near Jacksonville. They haven't heard from her either."

Karen chimed in. "This just isn't like Jenny at all, not to call us. We're afraid something has happened to her. We are hoping that you can check around and find out. Help her if she needs it."

"Have you talked to the Tampa police?" I asked.

"Yeah," John said, "We did and her parents did. The police took a report, but it doesn't seem to be a high priority to them. Jenny's an adult, of course, and the cops say that there's 'no sign of foul play.' That's just not good enough."

Liz was giving me the look which said that I was obligated to help. "Ok. I'll do what I can. This isn't something within the Agency's jurisdiction so I can't go around flashing my badge or digging into the Agency computers."

"We know," Karen said. "Do what you can. At least, then, we can feel like we did what we could."

John said that he'd e-mail me all of the basic information which he had on Jenny and a fairly recent picture. I got the e-mail not long after we hung up. Jenny Mott was from just outside Jacksonville in Clay County. She was 25 and had a business degree from the flagship state university. Both parents were alive. She had a sister in Atlanta. She had an apartment in Tampa. She had no known boyfriend. She had worked for John for two years and had never missed a day's work.

I opened the JPEG file containing Jenny's picture. Liz was looking over my shoulder. The picture was a full length one. Jenny wore a summer top and knee length skirt. The boats in the background suggested that the picture was taken at John's dealership. Jenny was a very attractive young woman.

"What do you think is the likelihood of a girl that age and that good-looking not having a companion of some sort?" I asked Liz.

"Pretty low, I think," Liz replied. "Although, she could be lesbian and the companion is a woman."

"Male or female, finding the companion seems like a sensible place to start," I said.

I called John back. He didn't know much about Jenny's personal life, but he'd ask his GM, her boss, in the morning.

The next morning at work, I told Ed about my extracurricular project. "Just not on company time," Ed said. Then he softened a bit. "Give me a copy of her data and her picture. If anything comes onto our radar, I'll let you know." I thanked Ed and did that.

John called me later that morning. His GM thought that Jenny had been seeing a guy in Tampa named Pete Smalley. The GM thought that Smalley worked for one of the banks. Which one, he didn't know. Nor did he know where Smalley lived.

While Peter Smalley isn't the most common name in the world, it is common enough that there might be several in a place the size of the Tampa Bay area. I couldn't use the databases to which I had Agency access to narrow it down. Liz and I spent that night, and a few dollars, checking every commercial database we could locate online that promised to find people. We ended up with four people named Smalley whose first or middle name was Peter and who were roughly the same age as Jenny.

I went home a bit early the next night and started making phone calls. I reached three of the four Peter Smalleys. They all denied knowing Jenny Mott. That's not conclusive, of course, but they sounded credible on the phone. I could not reach the fourth Peter Smalley. I decided not to leave him a voicemail.

I also called Jenny's parents up in Clay County. They were worried sick and grateful that I was trying to find their daughter. Unfortunately, they had nothing to add to what I already knew.

While I was trying to find Jenny Mott, I still had my day job. That job included my turns doing surveillance on a warehouse near Immokalee that we suspected was a drug distribution center. Everyone in the office took their turns. The warehouse was out in the bush, which made the surveillance unpleasant. It was suspicious, in part, because every few days, some old junk van or station wagon would show up and a number of boxes were unloaded into the warehouse. There was also a pretty steady stream of private cars that would show up, uniformly driven by young men. They would not stay long, and always put things in the trunk before they left. Ed didn't think that was, by itself, enough to ask for a search warrant.

We had tried tracking some of the old vehicles which offloaded, but the plate numbers we observed always came back as stolen from some very different vehicle. Despite circulating descriptions to area police, we got no reports on any of the vehicles and it seemed likely that they were each used only once.

Finally, another of the guys caught a break. I guess that the supply of junkers had been depleted because another agent saw a Ryder truck show up and unload one night. He was able to copy an ID number painted on the side of the truck. We quickly called Ryder and asked them to hold the truck, un-touched, if it was turned back in. The truck was returned the next day to a location near Port Charlotte.

Ed got some of our lab guys from Tampa to come down and, viola, traces of cocaine were found in the truck. That was enough for a warrant. I didn't go on the raid. Ed had a great relationship with all of the local police and sheriff's departments. He got the sheriff to donate his manpower while Ed and two other of our guys led the raid.

In one sense, the raid was a success. Ed found a large quantity of coke and dozens of cartons full of pills which he did not recognize. Four guys tending the warehouse were arrested. The troubling thing was that they had found a girl tied to a bed in a room in the warehouse. She was unconscious and appeared to have been pretty badly beaten up. No clothing, purse, or ID for her were found. Our agents didn't think much of it at the time, by they also found boxes of unlabelled DVDs that turned out to contain low quality porn.

A couple of days after the Immokalee raid, Ed called me into his office. "Harry, I think we know at least some of what happened to your friend's employee. The fingerprints which we took from the girl we found in the Immokalee warehouse came back as Jennifer Mott."

"What condition is she in now?" I asked.

"Bad. She's still at the hospital in a coma. The doctors told us that she had skull fractures, a broken jaw and ribs, internal organ injuries. It's touch and go whether she'll make it and, if she does, she'll have permanent problems. The doctors also said that it looked like she'd had vaginal and anal sex within 24 hours of when we found her. And her tox screen came back weird. They found something out of the ordinary, but they can't identify it."

HStoner
HStoner
2,387 Followers