Cold Steele

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Matt takes on a blackmailer.
17.8k words
4.8
52.9k
45

Part 1 of the 6 part series

Updated 10/25/2022
Created 03/11/2012
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woodmanone
woodmanone
2,267 Followers

Woodmanone copyright March/2012

There are no descriptive sexual scenes in this story.

Constructive comments, emails, and critiques are appreciated.

********************

It was obvious when they entered my office that they had problems and were in trouble. It's not that I'm so sensitive and astute and aware of people's feelings, it's that people don't come to see me unless they are in trouble or have a problem.

The paint showing the name on the frosted glass of the door was somewhat faded and peeling. It read:

Matthew Steele

Investigations

Security Specialist

That's me, Matthew Steele St. Louis, Missouri investigator and security consultant. I'm what's commonly known as a private detective; I also work as a security consultant at times, better known as a bodyguard.

I'll do almost anything pertaining to investigations, from background checks, to keeping the scum of society off your back and away from your body, to following a suspected cheating spouse, to finding runaways. Doesn't matter if it's a wife, a husband, a kid or your enemy; I'll find them; for a price.

I'll do just about anything that's legal, although that can be a fuzzy line sometimes. One thing I won't do is provide muscle to physically assault someone. If you and your neighbor or business associate are at an impasse over something, I won't kick their ass for you. I'll find out things from their past, if there is anything, that you can use to control them but if it's physical payback you want, then go talk to someone else.

It was just before lunchtime and I'd been sitting back in my chair with my feet on the desk, contemplating the world situation when the man and woman came in; actually I'd almost been asleep. Taking my feet off the desk and putting them back on the floor I sat up and waited for one of them to speak.

"Mr. Steele?" The man asked. I nodded and he continued, "I'm Jason Worth, this is my wife Susan, and I need your help."

He sat down without being asked and without waiting for his wife. Jason Worth was about 55 or so. His styled thinning hair, smooth features, the spray on suntan, and his very expensive clothes should have taken years off his appearance, but didn't. He was 6 feet one, muscular build, probably from a gym, and had an air of entitlement. Worth had an attitude that only a lot of money could bring and it surrounded him like a shroud. I immediately took a dislike to him.

Susan Worth is the kind of woman that shouldn't be allowed to walk down a busy street. Her looks would cause men to walk into sign posts or wreck their cars because they'd be watching her instead of where they were going or what they were doing.

Mrs. Worth couldn't have been more than 35, if I was being cruel; about the same age as me. Tall for a woman at five feet ten, she had the type of body and face that could start wars. Hey, it happened back in Troy, it could happen now. Susan would have made Helen of Troy look like an ugly cousin.

She also had a muscular build, but she looked like she did tennis or golf or something instead of hitting the gym exclusively. Susan leaned more toward a toned voluptuous body than runway models. She had a sexy, girl next door face, sort of like Kate Hudson, long auburn hair worn loose down her back, and piercing blue eyes. If she would walk across a bar or restaurant men, and some women, would follow her with their eyes and thoughts.

I watched as she sat down and crossed her legs. Her fashionably short skirt rode up displaying a lot of long beautiful thigh. I sighed and settled back in my chair. Keep your mind on business, I told myself. Myself answered back saying are you kidding me?

Continuing the discussion with myself; the devil side of me said we would fit well together, as I'm 6 feet 3. The devil also said that my hard muscled body, weighing 200 pounds even, would feel good rubbing up against her. The last thing the devil said before I pushed him out of my mind was that my black hair and gray eyes were just the thing she needed to compliment her.

Get thee behind me Satan.

"I've checked into your background a little and I think you're just the man I need," Worth said.

I nodded sagely and thought, ah yes my background. Matthew Steele had been a rising star in the St. Louis Police's Detective Division at one time. I was sure to make Captain by the time I was 35; that was five years ago. A sad set of circumstances led to my, shall we say downfall or should we say being screwed by the system.

********************

My partner and I were on a stake out and something I ate didn't agree with me. When you're on a stake out, you can't be too choosey about food; I should have been more careful. After almost two hours of jumping out of the car, running into the nearby alley and throwing up, my partner suggested I go home.

"Hell, with you jumping in and out of the car, we might as well put up a neon sign saying, 'Police stake out on duty', so go home."

I walked to the corner about two hundred feet away, called the Precinct and asked for a patrol car to pick me up and take me home. The two patrolmen good naturedly ragged on me all the way to my house. Thinking back on what happened, it's a good thing they were with me.

It's an old story and a cliché, but when I got home there was a strange car in the driveway. I entered my house with the two patrolmen behind me. The noises coming from down the hallway to the bedroom couldn't be mistaken. Somebody or bodies were getting it on.

I walked to the bedroom door, knowing what I'd see before I got there; I was right. My wife Johanna and a man were having, I guess a conjugal visit is as good a way to describe it as any. "What the hell?" That was my not very original question; the same one that's been asked thousands of times.

Having seen my share of domestic disputes I planned on telling the guy to get the hell out of my house. In spite of my anger I knew if I started beating on the guy I might not stop and that would lead me into trouble I didn't need; I already had a plate full. That was before I recognized my wife's playmate.

Her boy toy was my superior at the Department, Captain Joe Harper. Harper was a brown nosing, ass kissing hack that only got his position because of political pull. When I saw him stand up, naked, in surprise, I lost it. Still I wouldn't have attacked him if he hadn't gone for his gun lying on the night stand next to the bed. Guess he was as surprised as me and his first thought was about self preservation.

I closed the distance between us before he could grab his weapon and hit him so hard I bet his daddy got a headache. He fell across the bed; I straddled him and started beating on him. Now I swear I hadn't planned on hitting my wife; I don't hit women. But she jumped between Harper and me; I never knew if she wanted to protect Harper or to stop me from going to jail. Johanna caught a roundhouse right hand and went ass over tea kettle off the bed.

It's a good thing that the patrolmen, who had brought me home, rushed down the hall to the bedroom when they heard me yell. If they hadn't I might have killed that piece of crap Harper. They pulled me off him before I became guilty of manslaughter or murder.

No one including my wife, who worked for the local school board and especially Captain Harper, wanted the situation to go public. He didn't bring charges of assault with intent and convinced Johanna not to press a spousal abuse complaint. However, when the dust cleared, I had lost my job and my wife. I did get to keep the house and most of the money.

I complained that it wasn't right or fair that I would lose my job and Harper would go unpunished. It didn't do any good; I was still terminated for conduct unbecoming or some such bullshit. Harper didn't get off scot free; a severe letter of reprimand was put in his file.

Whoop de do, I thought. Major Taylor, the head of the Detective Bureau, told me that Harper would be demoted to Lieutenant and because of that letter and the reason for it, would never get another promotion. Taylor also said Harper would have a hard time with the rank and file of the Department.

"Yeah, but the asshole still has a job," I argued. "Where is his punishment? What has he lost? I've lost my wife and my job. Hell, I've lost my way of life."

"It's a bad result," Taylor said, "but his family has too much political clout for the higher ups in the Department to do much more. If you need a hand or I can help, call me Matt."

********************

"What about my background?" I ask Worth. I was still a tad defensive about that piece of history.

"I know you were a good, maybe even great, police detective. I also know why you left the department." Worth took a gold cigarette case out of the inside pocket of his very expensive sports coat. "Mind if I smoke?" He asked and lit his cigarette before I answered either way. I slid the ashtray I keep for clients across the desk toward him; I don't smoke but it isn't up to me to police people's vices or health.

"Your knowledge and talents as a detective plus your experience with your ex-wife suit you perfectly for this job."

When he mentioned my ex, I thought, I was right; I don't like this son of a bitch. "What's the job Mr. Worth?"

"My wife," Worth squirmed in his chair, obviously embarrassed and angry, "had an affair with one of the hired help."

"It wasn't like that Jason," Susan complained, but she had a sly little smile on her face.

"Shut up," Worth said in anger. "It was like that. You just couldn't keep your hands off him, could you? I still can't believe it; a woman of your station and class rutting like a pig with a damned pool boy."

"Stanley is more than a pool boy; he's a very talented up and coming actor," Susan countered.

"Talented actor my ass," Mr. Worth responded. "He's had a few bit parts in plays at the Muni Opera. And it doesn't matter if he is an actor; you shouldn't have been with him."

"I didn't say his talent was in acting, now did I?" Susan said with an evil smile.

"Damn you Susan. When this is over you and I will have to revisit our relationship," Mr. Worth promised.

Susan started to answer but I interrupted. "Enough, I'm not interested in hearing you two verbally tear each other up. What's the job Mr. Worth?"

"Like I said, Susan had an affair with our pool boy," Worth stared at his wife, daring her to deny it. "When I found out, I threw him off the property and put the word out so no one that matters would hire him."

"Again, what do you want me to do Mr. Worth?"

"Well apparently the boy didn't like the consequences of his little tryst with my wife and he has threatened me."

"What Jason really means is that Stanley is blackmailing him," Susan said with a sexy little grin. At least it looked sexy to me. "He, Stanley I mean, told my husband that he had a DVD of Stanley and me together. Said he'd make sure it went public and all our friends, family, and Jason's business associates would get a copy if Jason didn't pay him one hundred thousand dollars."

"Shut up Susan," Worth almost yelled. Looking back at me he said, "I want you to find him and persuade him to leave me alone and to give you the DVD and any copies he has made. Do anything that's necessary to make him leave us alone." Worth looked at me with an angry face and added, "Anything that works, anything at all."

"Have you contacted the police? Blackmail is a crime you know."

"If I go to the police I might as well put an ad in the paper saying my wife acted like a slut," Worth angrily replied, glaring at Susan. "That's why I came to you. I've heard that you are very discreet."

"From who?" I asked.

"What?"

"Who referred you to me?"

"Well...Major Taylor for one. We've met him at several of the police social functions." Worth took a deep breath. "I don't understand the question Mr. Steele. What difference does it make how we found you? The only question is, are you going to take the job?"

"I haven't made a decision just yet," I replied. "Leave your number and I'll call you by tomorrow morning with my answer."

"There are other private investigators, you know,"

"Yes there are Mr. Worth. Feel free to contact any of them, but if you want me you'll have to wait until tomorrow morning to see if I'm available."

Worth looked around my office. He saw the worn carpet, the walls that needed painting and the beat up desk I was sitting behind. "It doesn't look like you can afford to be choosy about jobs."

"Appearances are deceiving Mr. Worth and besides, money isn't everything." I lied; money was everything. Well almost everything. "If you like, I'll call you tomorrow; if not, it's been nice meeting you."

"Very well," Worth said and stood. "I'll expect your call tomorrow Mr. Steele. Come along Susan."

Mrs. Worth made a show of uncrossing her long legs, stood, and offered her hand. "I think I'm going to like working with you Mr. Steele. I'll bet you'll be more fun than poor old Stanley."

"Not for the same reasons I hope Mrs. Worth. Goodbye."

I called Major Taylor right after the Worth's left. "Hey Major. I understand you're sending business my way."

"I take it you're talking about Jason Worth, Matt."

"Why'd you suggest he contact me with his problem?"

"I don't know what his problem is," the Major said. "He was a bit secretive about it. When he asked if I knew any PIs I could recommend, I told him I'd recommend you or Rollie Chambers. He's a spoiled rich guy and I thought you might make a piece of change off him."

"Thanks Major, I can't talk about his problem but I'm going to take the job."

"How are you doing Matt?"

"I'm good Major. It's been almost two years since I was screwed by the Department and I've made lemonade out of those lemons. I like my life; I can work when I want and for who I want. And I don't have some politically connected jerk telling me what to do."

"How are you doing for money? I've heard about that office of yours and the truck you're driving."

"Between you and me Major, the work I'm getting is setting me up pretty well. The truck runs good and I don't worry about parking it in some of the areas I've had to go to. As for the office, the only reason I even have one is for some place to meet clients."

"Wouldn't a nicer office impress your clients more?"

"My place makes the people think I'm a little desperate; it makes them think I'll work harder to earn their money."

"Okay Matt. Call me if I can help."

"Sure Major and thanks."

What wasn't mentioned by Major Taylor or myself was the settlement I got from the St. Louis Police Department. I'd sued for wrongful termination and a whole bunch of other things. My attorney, Jeb Smith, was an old college buddy and he is very good; a real vicious Great White shark in an ocean of lesser sharks. Jeb was so good that the other sharks got out of the water when Jeb started swimming.

It's good to have friends; it's even better to have friends that can get you 'Go to Hell' type money in a settlement. 'Go to Hell' type money is when you have enough money to tell everyone to go to hell; you don't need them for your livelihood.

"You really don't have a case Matt," Jeb told me, but he had this shark's grin on. "I mean you did beat the hell out of your boss. And that's insubordination, no matter what the reason. But."

"But what?" I asked.

"But the Department doesn't want the publicity of this case. It's bad enough that a superior humps a subordinate's wife. But when the superior gets off with a slap on the wrist and the husband gets fired, well, that won't sit well with the public and really wouldn't sit well with the rank and file policemen. They'll settle and for high six figures." Jeb grinned and added, "And I'll get them to pay my fees too." Then he laughed like hell. Jeb didn't care much for the establishment.

Jeb sent an 'Intent to file suit' letter to the Police Commissioner with copies to Captain Harper, his boss, and their legal department. Then he sat back and waited for the explosion. It wasn't long in coming. The attorney for the Police, Judas Dobson, immediately called to set up a meeting with Jeb and me. When Jeb told me about the meeting, the when and where, I said "Judas, that's a fitting name for an attorney." Then realizing who I was talking to said, "Sorry Jeb, I don't mean you.

Jeb laughed and opened us another beer. "Call me what you want but pay me my 30 pieces of silver." He read through the request for a meeting again. "We'll go meet with Dobson. But here's what I want you to do."

We walked into Dobson's office and were shown to a large conference room. The secretary got us coffee and Dobson and three other people came into the room; they were all lawyers. Jeb was outnumbered four to one, but I had confidence in my shark.

"Mr. Steele, I'm Judas Dobson," he said as he sat down across the table. It was all I could do not to laugh at hearing his name. "I will speak for the St. Louis Police Department during these negotiations."

"Hold on Dobson," I said. "This is not a negotiation meeting. If my demands aren't met, and met by end of business tomorrow, I'll file suit."

All of this was according to the script Jeb and I had worked out the previous night.

"Surely Mr. Smith has told you that you have no case?" Dobson's face was red. The young pretty female lawyer on his side of the table was trying to keep from smiling.

"Yeah, he did. But I'll demand a jury trial and take my chances in court." I looked directly at Dobson with a challenge. "Worst case scenario is I have to pay Jeb's fees. Best case, the jury will see what a hosing I got and side with me; they'll roast Harper, the Department, and the City of St. Louis. Your choice Dobson. C'mon Jeb, let's get lunch so you can pad your expense account."

I stood and started toward the door. Jeb stood, shrugged his shoulders at Dobson, and followed me. We had a hard time eating lunch because we kept laughing about the look on Dobson's face.

Jeb called me about 1 PM the next day. "We'll have a check first thing tomorrow morning Matt. If you take care, you probably won't have to work for three or four years."

********************

Enough reminiscing, I thought. I picked up the phone and called Mr. Worth. "I've decided to at least talk more in depth about your case Mr. Worth. I'll be out to your place tomorrow morning at 10 to get more information and possibly a retainer."

"Is that really necessary Mr. Steele?"

"It is if you want me to work on your case. Your choice"

"I'll see you at 10 sharp." Worth hung up the phone with a little extra force.

Worth's house was set back from the two lane blacktop road; you couldn't see it from the street. The grounds were more like a golf course with lots of trees rather than just a place for a house. The grass was extensive with no bare spots and manicured to an exact height. The address was so exclusive that it didn't have a city or community name; it just said 'St. Louis County' and a zip code.

The look I got from Worth that morning as I drove up the tree lined road to his house was priceless. I was driving my old pickup truck. The right rear wheel fender was a study in body filling Bondo; I was having the rusted area repaired. My truck has three different colors of paint, not counting the Bondo, because one door and one front fender are each from different trucks.

In its defense, the old Chevy has a 350 Cu. In. engine that's just one or two accessories from being a full blown racing engine. Not only does it run good, it will outrun most cars; including police interceptors. My truck is what is known as a sleeper. The old adage of you can't tell a book by its cover aptly applies to me and my truck.

woodmanone
woodmanone
2,267 Followers