A Tangled Web Ch. 10

Isabel gulped, held out her arms and raised her bowed knees. Her wet beckoning pussy gleamed in her thick grotto. "OK, Ted," she said, "TAKE me. I'll be just YOURS."

Trotter snarled into her ear, "That's RIGHT, Izzy... and never FORGET it." He lunged his hips. His prick plunged hard and deep into her pussy, slamming its back wall. Isabel grunted with the collision. Even at their most rambunctious, she did not recall such a violent, thorough entry. She crushed his chest to hers and swooned, realizing his domination was the final missing factor in her world, but wondering how it would work.

"Yesss... YES! Oh, GOD! YESSSSS!" Isabel chanted repeatedly while her son-in-law staked his claim and her cunny claimed his stake. Ted pounded relentlessly. The great bed lifted from the floor and crashed noisily as he drove her through the mattress. She screeched and came more strongly than she could remember. Her climax seemed endless as it washed through her body and swept her mind of all thought.

Trotter's throbbing pulse and heavy short breaths summoned his nuts, requiring release. The soles of his feet pushed against the bed rails and he powered mightily forward, again parking his cock at the door to Isabel's womb. With a howling roar, he launched his load. His multitudinous sterile flotilla futilely breached her innermost door, seeking an egg that would never come.

Two miles northwest of the McGuinness bungalow, downtown, at the corner of Adams Street and Central Avenue, a telephone rang. "Police. Flynn," the veteran desk sergeant answered brusquely. "Oh, yessir... just one moment, please." His tone changed notably. Placing the caller on hold, he opened a new line, dialed an internal number and said neutrally, "Doctor Sparks is on Line One, Detective." Flynn hung up and wrote, "8:15 a.m. - Dr. Albert Sparks called for Det. Howard."

Prescott Howard thanked Flynn and punched up Sparks' line. "Good morning, Doctor," he said. "I was just thinking about you."

"Yes," replied the doctor, "Well, I completed my tests and examinations on Farragut. It's exactly as I thought. Natural causes, which in his case means 'cardiopulmonary failure,' which is exactly how I worded it on the death certificate I just signed. For your report, you may record that he died in his sleep between one and one-thirty in the morning on Saturday, May 19, 1940."

Sparks paused while Howard asked, necessarily dotting i's and crossing t's, "So, no foul play, eh? Just 'gave up the ghost,' as it were? Did you check the cake for poison?" Prescott did not hope for a murder to add to his caseload, but he never shirked from due diligence.

"No, sorry to disappoint," Doctor Sparks answered. "The cake was clean and so was Farragut's system."

"OK, Doc, thank you," Howard said. "That's good news. He had no living relatives, but I found contact information for his attorneys in St. Louis. I'll notify them and they can handle his affairs from there." He cradled the phone and recalled the death-bed scene along with his memory and impressions of the lovely Mrs. Trotter. "Too much high living and hard exercise," he mused. "A tiger can kill a man, but so can a little pussy, I guess." Chuckling, he updated his manila folder and closed the file.

That afternoon, in the Trotter cottage, while Mary sat at her kitchen table mulling recent events over a cup of coffee, the phone rang in the front room. She had a weird hopeful premonition the caller would say, "It was all a mistake. Eli Farragut is not dead." She hurried up the hall and answered on the third ring, "Uptown five-four-three-six. Hello?"

"Hello. Is this Mrs. Trotter? MARY Trotter?" The stranger's voice, though not unpleasant, was serious.

Mary briefly considered hanging up, but instead replied, "Yes, this is she. Who is calling, please?"

"Good afternoon, Mrs. Trotter," the man's tone softened noticeably. Mary instantly felt less on guard and, oddly, comforted. "I am Robert Schuster, of the law firm, Schuster and Schuster, in St. Louis." After the introduction he hurried to put Mary at ease. "You don't know me and likely have never heard of us. But Mr. Farragut spoke often, and at length, about you... in only the kindest and most loving terms, I assure you... and I feel as if I know YOU quite well." He paused for a response.

When there was none, Schuster continued. "I have represented Mr. Farragut, and his many interests, for over thirty years. When he passed away, the police notified me. Let me say right off how sorry I am for your loss. I know that Eli, who was also my friend as well as a client, loved you and that he always believed that YOU loved HIM." Schuster waited, listened to the soft weeping on the other end of the phone, and checked in. "Mrs. Trotter... may I call you 'Mary'? Are you alright? I can call back, if you prefer."

Mary rubbed her streaking tears with her free bare hand and sucked in a gulp of air. "N-no, Mr. Schuster... don't call back," she said through quivering lips but with a strengthening voice. "I'll be alright. YES, I loved Eli VERY much... I appreciate your consideration and yes, you may call me 'Mary'. Please go on."

"Thank you... Mary," Schuster acknowledged her consent. "I know you're grieving and I won't take much time. I wanted to call as soon as possible, though, to let you know, in very general terms, that Eli provided for you, in all of his wills since 1932. Even when his sister, Alma, was living, he wanted YOU to be taken care of. When SHE passed, on Hallowe'en, in '35, he had no other family left. She was a spinster and he never married either. As a result, Eli updated his will, for the last time, that November, naming you his sole beneficiary."

Mary felt faint. She put the receiver on the table and sat abruptly in the padded straight-backed wooden armchair by the phone desk. Schuster's voice squawked distantly through the instrument, "Hello? Hello, Mary? Are you still there?" Trembling, she picked up the phone again.

"Yes, Mr. Schuster," Mary said, bringing herself under control. "I'm sorry. The news was surprising, yet NOT so, as I think about it, now. I remember he and I had a... PRIVATE moment, at Thanksgiving in 1935. He told me he loved me and that I was all he had, or wanted. He frequently said wonderful romantic things like that, and, since you are, or were, his attorney, I may tell you, with confidence and IN confidence, that I believed him. However, I always thought it was lover's hyperbole. We WERE that, you know... 'LOVERS', in the truest sense of the word, from the moment we met." Mary's voice trailed off as she allowed her mind to drift with sweet memories.

Schuster wisely held silent. Indeed, nothing Mary Trotter had just said was news to him. After a time, he coughed lightly into the phone and brought Mary back to their conversation. "Yes, Mary, I do know that, and because of the way Eli structured his estate, even after his passing, I remain his attorney... and YOURS, unless and until you say otherwise. But, for the nonce, you may rely on me to keep our conversations strictly confidential."

Mary breathed an audible sigh and said, "Thank you, Mr. Schuster. What else do I need to know, or do?"

"As I said, this is a general, and brief, notification. Mostly to share immediate condolences and to assure you that ALL details regarding Eli, his personal effects, his estate, and..." here, he took a deep breath, hoping he was on solid ground with his upset new client, "...his funeral arrangements, are provided and will be carried out."

When he did not hear Mary break down again, he went on, with confidence. "You need do very little, for the moment. In a week, or perhaps two, we can meet, preferably here in our St. Louis offices, but anywhere, really. The immediate paperwork is complete, but there will be things to take care of, on a go-forward basis."

Schuster paused again and then concluded, "MEANWHILE, Mary, you might begin considering whether you will want to keep the Garvey Street property, or dispose of it to your best advantage. Everything will come to you, with no strings attached, although Eli specifically asked me to give you the following posthumous message: 'Dearest Mary, ma petite douce chérie, ma seul vrai amoure, walk in sunshine and follow your heart. When one door closes, another may open. I will always be with you.'"

Mary was stunned by the words, so eerily like those Eli's apparition spoke in her dream. "Th-thank you, Mr. Schuster," she said, bravely choking back her tears. "Please DO call again... TOMORROW. I'll be better prepared to hear about Eli's... funeral arrangements and... other things." She drew a deep breath and exhaled. "I'll come to you in St. Louis, as soon as can be, following that. Eli would want this done swiftly and efficiently." Schuster smiled as he heard the phone disconnect.

*** FIN ***