Introducing Thaddeus Black Ch. 01

"You are a private detective, are you not?"

He was seeing stars. He was at the precipice of exploding. His words came out heavy and forced. "Look... lady... Uhh... whoever you are... yes, I am a private eye. What can I do for you?"

"I would like to make do with your services. If you wouldn't mind, I've sent a car to fetch you. I look forward to meeting you in person."

"Very well, ma'am. Can't wait."

He didn't know when he hung up the phone but that was what he did as he shut his eyes and gave a fit of groan as he filled Sarah's mouth with his cum. His load of cum was too much for her to capture with her lips and some of it splattered over her face and hair. Though she rubbed some of his cum over her lips and resumed sucking him. Thaddeus felt like an astronaut who'd just be let go into space and he had to rest against his desk for fear of crumbling on his feet.

"Damn, girl!" he wiped sweat from his brow. "You're going to make a hot secretary."

"I'm happy to hear that," she licked his sperm off her face, smiling. "That's more gratitude I ever got from my ex-husband."

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Thaddeus had enough time to take off his jacket and go into a small room across the corridor leading to his office which served as a urinary and a bathroom to clean himself off. Sarah went along with him to wash her face and hair and apply make-up back on her lips. She inquired if such was his usual mode of searching out anyone wanting to do secretarial work for him and Thaddeus replied yes, it was. She said she couldn't wait to begin actual work for him.

Thaddeus told her he would make requirements to fix her with her own separate desk and chair. For the time being he gave her several of his files and told her to index and square them away and to report for real work the following morning at seven. He gave her a spare key to the office as well as his cell phone number should she want to reach him anytime. He as well took down hers and wrote down his home address for her which wasn't far away and told her she could drop by anytime. His hand was caressing her buttocks while he said this. She didn't need a shaman to get the hint.

He was busy locking several papers away in his desk drawer when there came a knock on the outer door. Sarah left her chair and went to see who it was. It was a chauffeur asking for him.

"Mr. Black?" the chauffeur came in and asked.

"Yes, that's me," Thaddeus answered.

"I was sent here by Ms. Constance Loftus to get you. I have a car waiting outside."

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The drive from the downtown section of the city where his place of residence and livelihood was located to the outskirts of the city where the limo driver took him felt like a drive to another state. They left the city's environment completely, headed out into an upper-class suburban neighbourhood the likes he'd only heard of but never before until now entered. Thaddeus lounged in the backseat observing the tall elm trees and lined the large sidewalks, behind which were security-guarded gates that hid opulent mansions the likes would be found on an English countryside. He wound down the window the take in more of the sight. Even the air over here tasted different. So fresh and dirt-free. The roads were wide and few cars passed them along the way and Thad noticed they were all expensive machines. He admired the drink cabinet in the limo and were it not that he wasn't a spirit man, he would have been tempted to help himself to something.

The driver spoke to him via the intercom: "Sir, we're almost there, at Loftus Garden."

Thaddeus watched as the limo drove past a pair of tall white gate into a spacious uphill driveway that came to a stop in front of a splendid mansion that he reckoned could only be home to an Arab sheik or a royal prince. There was a man in a stiff black suit standing by the concrete stairs leading into the mansion and as the limo drew to a stop, the man approached and held the door open for him.

"Welcome to Loftus Garden, sir," the man announced to Thaddeus Black as he stepped out of the limo and craned his head around while he adjusted his jacket and hat from the glare of the sun. The man closed the door behind him. "If you will please follow me."

Thaddeus walked a step behind the man with his hands stuck in his pockets. His eyes turned around to look at the wide verdant valley that seemed to travel in the distance. He thought about the old history books he'd read back in college about slave plantations and wondered just how many black backs must have worked in such fields to keep it looking this green. The man ushered him through the wide doorway into the house and he perished the thought from his mind.

He stepped into a large foyer and the man led him past a stairway and wide corridor into an adjoining parlour with windows looking out the western part of the compound. The man indicated for him to please feel comfortable and inquired if he would like something to drink. Thaddeus shook his head and watched the man turn around and leave.

Thaddeus held his hat in his hand and walked back and for the room, admiring the furniture and classic wall paintings that decorated the walls. A crystal chandelier hovered above his head. The glare of the sun's rays entering through the windows gave the room a creamy outlook. He was admiring one of such paintings that stood alone on a far wall adjoined by large book shelves when someone spoke behind him.

"That's a Matisse," said a tall, blonde-haired woman standing by the parlour entrance in a pair of plants and silk blouse. Her hair was tied in a bun behind her hair. Her eyes were blue and she possessed a pointed nose with wide lips. She had slim, curvaceous body and one look told Thaddeus she exercised regularly. She approached him. "It was one of my late husband's most treasured paintings, which was why he hung it separate from the others. It's going to be going on tour in the Smithsonian a fortnight from now."

"Got to be worth a dime or two," Thaddeus remarked.

She snorted. "A dime, you say? It's worth more than seven million."

Thaddeus acted as if he wasn't impressed. He always hated it when rich people called out figures for him as if they meant everything else in life was cheap. For him, nothing was more expensive than pussy. And this was one rich, snotty pussy he was with.

"My mistake then. For a nickel I'd flog it down at a yard sale for twenty-five bucks and change."

She didn't know what to reply to this, not knowing if he was being serious or just plain cynical. She offered him her hand. "I'm Constance Loftus. We spoke on the phone earlier on."

"Ms. Loftus, a pleasure to meet you," he shook her hand. "You mentioned something about a late husband."

"Yes. Emmet Graham Loftus. Presumably you've heard of him?"

Thaddeus shook his head. "I don't believe I do. I'm not a fan of the wealthy, Ms. Loftus. What was he into?"

"A lot, I believe. Shipping, energy, and politicians, I suppose. The Mayor gave him the key to the city last year for his philanthropy efforts."

"Really? I'm glad he didn't steal into my home while I was out of town last year," he grinned at her in humour, though she wasn't buying it.

"Mr. Black, I assure you I'm not interested in your asinine sense of humour," her voice dropped a touch of cold at him and so too did her eyes. "It was a matter of utmost urgency that I looked you up. Nigel told me of how rude your manners were when he was at your office earlier today, and frankly I can see just what he meant."

"Oh, so it was you who sent that grouch over to my office some hours ago. Well, I wasn't impressed by his manners either. So how about you cut through the chit-chat and get down to whatever it is you want me to help you with."

"Didn't Nigel explain it all to you?"

"I'd rather hear it all from you, if you would be so kind."

She turned away from him. "It happened two days ago. I returned home from my husband's funeral and discovered my son, Jonathan, had run away. He left me a letter saying what he'd done. It wasn't the first time he was attempting such, and at first I thought he was playing and that he would come home. But the evening came and still no sign of him and nobody around had seen him leave the estate."

"You said it happened two days ago. That's Monday, right?"

"Yes," she answered.

"Didn't you call the police?"

"I did. The Sheriff of the county is—I'm sorry, was—a good friend of my husband. He knew how to be discreet. Unfortunately nothing so far has turned up. It was he who told me to hire a private detective to look into it, and that's why you're here."

Thaddeus gathered up his thoughts before replying. "I appreciate your wanting me to take this case, Ms. Loftus, but like I mentioned to your man earlier, that's not the type of work I'm used to doing. Finding missing persons most times can be a heck of a burden, and I'm not getting any younger. You'd be better off letting the police find your boy for you."

"And I too appreciate your advice in the matter, Mr. Black, but bringing the police into this is virtually out of the question. Aside from their trustworthiness, which I can't wholesomely agree, the last thing I'd want is have the media parading in front of my gate for an exclusive. Wherever the police go, the press is bound to follow."

"Wouldn't that help in finding your boy a lot quicker? He's the son of a rich mom, wherever he is, he'd definitely bound to come rushing back home."

Constance was about to say something but caught herself. Her features went from being calm and haughty to one of despondence and she turned her face away from the detective to gaze out the window close to her. "No, I just can't stand to have the press picking wind of such," she said, returning to look at him. "I'd much rather you take up this assignment. Pretend it's your son that's out there. Would you like for the media to plaster his face for the world to pick on?"

"Well, Ms. Loftus, in the first place, I don't have any kids. Also, I'm black and where I'm from, CNN or ABC would think twice of coming down there to search for a missing child. If you're looking for sympathy, you're not going to get it that way." He fixed his hat back on his head. "I'm sorry if I wasted your time."

He was about walking past her when she reached for his arm. Thaddeus saw the apparent sadness in her eyes; she was now looking vulnerable. Gone was the haughty look she'd had when she came in here and met him.

"Mr. Black, I'm begging you, please. I'll pay you twice what you make in your normal cases, please just help me find my boy before anything bad happens to him out there." She took out a photo from her pocket and showed it to him. It was the smiling face of a kid staring back at him. "This was taken when he was seven. He's just a lost kid. I'm begging you."

Thaddeus was touched by her words. He took the photo from her hand. "How old is he now?"

"He turns fourteen next month."

"Well then we better make sure he's around for it. He gave her back the photo. Would you mind showing me his room?"

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She led the way up the stairs. Thaddeus held his hat in his hat and walked a couple of steps behind her to admire the way her hips seemed to glide up the stairs and her ass cheeks moved. This was one hot-looking lady, he thought to himself. Too bad she's a high society snob. He made a mental note to do some digging about her husband once he returned to his side of the world.

Constance unlocked the door for him and both of them stepped in. She told him that she hadn't been in the room since the day he left and also only she held the key to the room and since then she'd kept it under lock. Thaddeus thought that was rather astute of her. He went to look in his closet, checking out the clothes that were there.

"Did he by chance leave with anything else?" he asked her. "Ever done any inventory of his stuff?"

She shook her head. "As far as I know, I don't think he left with anything. Much of his clothes are still there, but then I really wouldn't know. He could have hidden something. I'm really not sure."

"It's all right, you had other stuff on your mind at the time. By the way, I'm sorry about your husband's passing."

"Thank you," she said.

He looked at his reading table, at his desktop computer and writing books and stuff that littered the table. There was there written note he'd left his mom. He picked it up and read it:

"'Mother, I can't remain here anymore. I am leaving this time for real. Goodbye, Jonathan.' Does that sound like the sort of thing he would do?"

"I wouldn't really know. This isn't the first time he's run away."

"Other times did he ever leave behind a note?"

She shook her head. "No. What are you getting at?"

He didn't say at first. He walked to the window looking out the other side of the compound where the green valley lay. "If you could make a guess, how do you think he ran out of the house without anyone noticing?"

"He knew the movement of the servants around the house, so he must have set his watch on them. What are you getting at?"

"Nothing really, just thinking out loud. But has it ever occurred to you that maybe he had outside help?"

She thought of it for a moment then nodded. "It's possible. But I did a headcount of everyone and no one was really missing."

"Maybe no one had to be, and he probably wouldn't have been away from the house at the time. Whatever the case might be, for now, between you and I, let's assume your boy had some outside help. There's no way he could have left the compound without someone sighting him. It's a big estate, that I can tell, and I know there's no how I'd be able to run around without being spotted. Plus you've got security cameras, right?"

"That's correct."

"So let's assume that whoever this outside person was, he or she would have hidden your son somewhere out of plain sight, knowing that once you came back home and found him missing, you'd leave no stone unturned to find him. What better way to sneak the kid out than after you and the rest of your servants were out looking elsewhere. You get where I'm going with this?"

"I do, I do indeed. Are you saying my son was kidnapped?"

"It's possible, but let's not jump to conclusions just yet. It's been two days and if he'd been kidnapped, whoever it is that's got him would have written to you by now demanding money. Maybe the person's watching you right now, wanting to know whom you've been talking to. Anything's possible, Ms. Loftus. For now let's not panic about it. Go about your everyday business and do whatever you can to make it look like it's another ordinary day for you. If by chance the kidnapper gets in touch, you'll let me know right away. Tell me how many people have you got in this estate working for you?"

She ran her fingers through her hair while she thought. "Let's see... fifteen... seventeen, yes, seventeen in the estate."

"And your boy was in good terms with all of them?"

"Everybody dotted on Jonathan. It's why I can't right now get it through my head that someone would want to harm him."

"Like I said, it's mere speculation. Let's not jump into the conclusion until it happens. Now that I think about it, I can understand why you never wanted the police in on this. Hard to find anyone who wouldn't keep his trap shut in a police precinct. In the mean time, I'll do some checking of my own and see what I can dig up. If your son hasn't been kidnapped, then chances are that he's out there in world lost for reasons only he knows. That's another avenue we're going to have to explore sooner or later. For now, let's make do with what we've got on our hands." He took out his wallet from his back pocket and took out a business card from within. He took out a pen from his inner jacket pocket and scribbled a number on the back before giving the card to her. "That's my official card, office address and everything else. The number at the back is my cell number. You can reach me anytime. Also, I'll need from you a more current photo of your son, if possibly two. "

"That I can do. Thank you very much, Mr. Black. Won't I need to give you some money, at least something that'll make your work seem less stressful?"

"Usually I charge a thousand Dollars, plus five hundred expenses."

"Money's not a problem for me. Matter of fact, I'm going to double your charge and retainer fee. And if there's any further expenses you might incur, I'd like you to leave with their receipt so I can reimburse you for them."

"You're too kind, Ms. Loftus."

"Please, it's Constance. And really, it's I who should be thanking you, Mr. Black. You've really saved me a burden worse than hell."

"We'll find your son, Constance. And please, just call me Thad. Everyone does, except people I owe money to."

Constance tried not to laugh at this statement and barely succeeded.