Wingnut

'I'm gonna sound like a poof, but I've always thought you have a really nice home,' Jason remarked.

'Thanks mate. Wish I could claim the good work was mine, but it was already this way when I bought it. A lot of the furniture was included in the sale. Same with the machinery.'

'That's fucking odd, isn't it?' Jason remarked.

'The furniture was bought to suit the house and the old owners weren't short of a quid. They probably wanted to buy new stuff for their new house.'

'Still,' Jason argued as he followed Luke into the kitchen. 'It's not usual, is it? This whole packing up only their personal belongings and selling up, just because of Jock, doesn't really make sense, does it? Jock either pissed them off good and proper, or there was some other reason.'

'He pissed them off,' Luke said. 'I spoke to them after the sale went through. They came around to warn me, and to apologise.'

Jason tapped his fingers against a kitchen benchtop.

'You wouldn't happen to have their contact details, would you?' he asked. 'The old owners?'

Luke's craggy face contorted into a frown.

'I do, as a matter of fact,' Luke said. 'But why...?'

'Because the cops think I'm might be responsible for Jock's disappearance,' Jason explained. 'I was thinking I might do some investigating.'

'You think the old owners had something to do with it? That they came back and robbed and killed Jock?'

'Maybe,' Jason said. 'I was just hoping to talk to them.'

'They might not want to talk to you,' Luke pointed out. 'And they're hardly going to say 'oh yes, we're guilty', are they?'

'I'm still working on how I'm going to approach them.'

Luke shook his head.

'Beer, coffee, water?' he asked the younger man.

'A beer'd be great,' Jason said, taking a seat at the kitchen table. 'Thanks mate.'

Luke retrieved two stubbies of Gold, plonked each one into a cooler, and opened them. He sat down at the kitchen table, passed one beer to Jason and took a sip from the other.

Jason began to wonder if perhaps he shouldn't have been so open with Luke. Maybe he should have just thrown a few casual hints and questions about, to see if he could glean information without giving himself away.

'I'll give you their details,' Luke offered. 'Just don't tell them you got them from me. They're an odd couple. In their forties, no kids, hippy types. He's an architect, she's a political analyst.'

'Fuck me. No wonder this place looks so expensive. They must be rolling in it.'

'Swimming in it.'

Jason was momentarily jealous. Then he remembered the wife was a political analyst, and he hated politicians. He didn't even vote. He'd been fined six times for failing to vote, and now showed up at polling stations, collected his slip of paper, and put it in the relevant bin without making a mark on it.

'They wouldn't have a reason to rob Jock,' Luke added.

'They might have taken the money to throw everyone off their scent,' Jason argued.

'But to rob him in the same way Shelley did it?' Luke asked. 'Taking the cash out of the money tin?'

'Shelley left you an IOU,' Jason pointed out.

'You've already suggested that that was so I wouldn't call the police.'

The two men lapsed into silence, each contemplating the bizarre situation which had unfolded in the house next door.

'Whoever did it, it was done sometime between Friday night and Monday afternoon,' Jason said slowly. 'Did you see or hear anyone at his property at that time?'

'I wasn't paying attention,' Luke admitted. 'Shelley was over on the weekend, and on Monday I was at work.'

'Were you and Shelley here the whole weekend?'

'No, we went to the markets on Sunday morning.'

Jason reached into his pocket for his phone.

'Could you tell me roughly what hours you were here, and where you were when you went out?' he asked.

'Am I under suspicion?' Luke asked, bemused.

'Nope,' Jason replied honestly. 'I'm just trying to figure out who came and went.'

Luke regarded the younger man seriously.

'This has you rattled, doesn't it?' he asked.

Jason shrugged defensively.

'I want this sorted out before Mandy gets back. She'd get upset if she knew the police thought I was a suspect,' he said. 'And I can't believe I'm saying this, but I'm actually a bit worried for Jock. What if he's still alive and being held hostage?'

'What if we've got the whole thing wrong?' Luke countered. 'What if Jock has taken his money and fucked off for a while, just to scare people?'

'You reckon he'd do that?'

'I don't know,' Luke admitted. 'It's not outside the realm of possibilities. He's not entirely right in the head.'

'Maybe I should have a poke around his house,' Jason said. 'See if anything's missing.'

'If you do that, and the coppers find out about it, there'll be hell to pay.'

'True.'

The men drank their beers.

'I'll get you the details of the folks who owned this place,' Luke said eventually. 'Jock was a piece of work, but nobody deserves to be killed, if that is indeed what happened to him.'

Jason nodded.

'Thanks mate,' he said.

He finished his beer and immediately started planning on how to approach his suspects. He'd been lucky with Luke; the man had been willing to help him. Not everyone else was likely to be so welcoming or forthright.

~~~~~~~~~~

Jason woke on Sunday morning, rolled over to give his wife a hug and hopefully something more, and was disappointed to remember she was still thousands of miles away.

He reached into the bedside drawer and retrieved the gift she'd left him; a fleshlight and a bulk pump pack of lubricant. He sighed as he removed the packaging from the sex toy and read the instructions. He hadn't experienced any sort of sexual drought since his son's infancy, when Amanda had been too tired and touched out to show much interest. That was a good few years ago. He'd grown accustomed to getting what he wanted, when he wanted. His sex drive wasn't unusually high, and Mandy was quite accommodating and enthusiastic, so buying fancy toys to wank with wasn't something he'd ever considered.

Jason peered at the toy and poked the silicone interior. Hmm. Squishy. Not exactly like the real deal, was it? But it was close enough for something in his brain to convince him that it would be very nice to lube up and insert his penis into the fleshlight's confines.

A buzzing sound alerted him to a new message on his phone. Jason grabbed it and read it, expecting to see something relating to work or something similarly uninteresting, and was instead greeted with a very explicit picture from his wife. Presented on the screen was a close-up shot of her cunt and her arsehole, two holes that he greatly enjoyed fucking.

Sweet Jesus, if only she were here now, on her hands and knees. He'd be in the tradesman's entrance quicker than he could say 'boo'. He'd always felt there was something magnificently perverted about fucking his fat Chinese wife up the bum, and Mandy had never minded. She'd finger herself to an orgasm while he pumped into her, and he always knew right when she was cumming because her arse would clamp down around his cock like a vice.

Jason positioned the fleshlight in between two pillows, grabbed the phone, and began to fuck the toy frantically while staring at the dirty shot Amanda had sent. The pressure on his cock was a little tight so he withdrew, grabbed the fleshlight, and loosened the cap at the end of it. Then he repositioned both the toy and himself, and resumed fucking it.

Fuck it was good. He could just imagine Mandy beneath him, fingers scrabbling at her clit, her breathing heavy, and her tits swinging with the force of him thrusting into her. She didn't so much moan as yelp when she came, a short, sharp little cry that had an undeniable effect on him.

'God, fuck, Mandy, I'm cumming,' he muttered to the empty bedroom. 'Ohhhh faaaaark.'

Three days of jizz was deposited into the fake pussy as Jason fantasized about what he'd be doing to his spouse when she returned home in just under three weeks.

Orgasm complete, Jason eased his cock free and flopped onto the bed. Jesus. That had been a bit of alright. A dirty picture and a Fleshlight went a long way to easing the sexual frustration.

When he was quite recovered, he hopped out of bed, showered, and made himself a cup of coffee. Today was the day he would start asking questions. He would track down the old owners of Luke's property on social media and investigate them. He would try and establish Shelley's identity and her whereabouts. And, lastly, he would call Robbie and invite him around to install a hallway light, and while the tradesman was at work, he'd quiz him about the money Jock had owed him.

Jason drank his coffee, had a quick shower, and fried a few eggs while browsing his phone. He didn't have any troubles finding the Facebook pages of the architect and the political analyst through their business Facebook pages, but much to his chagrin, their personal pages had high security settings.

Jason cracked pepper and salt over his breakfast and considered how best to approach the couple. They would be far too savvy to start answering questions posed by a local odd jobs man, especially if they were guilty of a crime, so he'd have to work his way into their inner circle. But how?

He'd have to earn their trust. He'd have to connect with them on public, business Facebook pages, and try to get into online conversations, so he could then send them personal friend requests.

Jason 'liked' William's business page, then sat back and thought best how to approach the wife, Kim. She might talk to her husband about why a random bloke from the back of beyond, who worked in slashing and mowing and machinery operation, had suddenly 'liked' her page and Will, who would also have received notification of a new 'like' might then tell her that the same, bald, man had liked his page.

There was a solution to the problem, but one which gave Jason pause for thought. Using his wife's social media account.

Amanda's Facebook page was under her maiden, Chinese name; Menglei Zhang. When she'd first created her account, and he'd seen the name she'd used, he'd been upset. She was Amanda Hobbs to him, and Amanda Hobbs at work, so why was she using a different identity online? They'd argued viciously. She'd told him he didn't understand and he'd agreed that he didn't.

It was only as the years passed, and her family began to truly welcome him into the fold, that he began to understand that she wasn't a typical Australian girl in an Asian body, but a Chinese-Australian, who by marrying him had taken another step away from her culture. Choosing to use her birth name on Facebook was her way of retaining a tie to her past and maintaining her identity. It wasn't a rejection of him.

He now accepted that his wife and son were part of something that he was not, and knew that denying them their heritage and customs wasn't fair. That was why, when people remarked that four weeks was a long time to be separated from his son, he could honestly reply that it was better to miss his son for a month, than for his son to miss his culture for a lifetime.

Was it wrong to use his wife's cultural background to his advantage? Nobody in their right mind would connect Menglei Zhang with Jason Hobbs, would they? Jason could therefore 'like' the wife's business under Menglei's name, and make his approach that way.

Hacking her account wasn't an issue, because he already knew her password. Amanda had an Uncle who had an interest in horticulture. He did his utmost to maintain a perfect backyard, and when he'd learned that his niece's husband was a greenkeeper by trade, he started Facebook messaging Amanda, asking her to ask Jason what he should do about his various lawn problems.

Amanda had repeatedly instructed her Uncle to contact Jason directly, but the Uncle failed to heed her advice, feeling more comfortable approaching his Chinese niece rather than her Australian husband. Amanda, fed up with being the intermediary, gave Jason her Facebook login details and told him to reply to her Uncle so she wouldn't have to read or type out one more message. From that day, Jason had accessed Amanda's page whenever she announced that she'd receive a message from her Uncle seeking advice.

The only thing holding Jason back was the fear that Amanda might realise her husband had accessed her Facebook page to like a random woman's political analysis business, and start asking questions. That was a possibility. On the other hand, Amanda was currently in China, and busy with family commitments. Normally an avid poster, she had now gone a week without uploading a single photo or missive.

'Here goes,' Jason muttered to himself, 'liking' Kim's business.

The next step was to contact Robbie. A nice, simple task. Jason easily located Robbie's business, and sent him a text message asking him to call 'tomorrow, or whenever suits' about installing a new light.

Robbie must have been around and doing something work related, because within a minute of sending the message, Jason received a call from the man.

'Hey buddy,' Jason said. 'Sorry for bothering you on a Sunday. It's the only time I have to sit down and get some work done.'

'No worries at all, mate. You were saying you wanted a new hallway light?'

The two men discussed what precisely it was Jason wanted, what style he preferred, and when he wanted the job done. Jason agreed to send through some pictures, and Robbie would source and buy a suitable fitting, and come around late Monday afternoon to do the work. He quoted a price for the labour, and a rough quote for the price of the light fitting and lamp.

'Is your labour price a cash price?' Jason asked.

'No, mate, that's the through the books rate,' Robbie replied. 'I can cut ten bucks off it for cash.'

'How about I just pay the quoted price, and pay it in cash?' Jason asked. 'I run a small business. I know what the lean times feel like.'

Robbie laughed uncomfortably.

'Whatever you feel is right,' the younger man said. 'I'll see you tomorrow at four.'

'See you then.'

Jason was pleased with the morning's productivity. He took his breakfast dishes to the sink, washed them, then went outside to inspect his lawn. It was brown, patchy and overgrown, the exact sort of nightmare that his clients paid him to help them avoid.

While he was mowing, snipping, edging and blowing, he planned out how he was going to identify Shelley. Her mother was most certainly the route to her real identity. All he had to do was create a list of champion rose growers – easy enough, horticultural shows almost always published their competition winners online – and find one who had a daughter named Shelley. Once he had established Shelley's surname, or maiden name at the minimum, he could undertake further research.

He went inside after mowing and saw his phone flashing. He picked it up and saw he had a missed call from Amanda. She'd left him a voicemail, and he listened to it, wondering if he was reading too much into it or if she sounded a bit upset.

Jason tried to return her call, but she didn't answer. He hated leaving voicemails, so he instead sent her a message.

Hope you and Devin are having a good time. Sorry I missed your call; I was doing some mowing. Love you.

It was only after he'd pressed send that he remembered that she'd sent him a dirty picture. He thought about telling her he'd enjoyed both it and the Fleshlight, but figured he'd tell her later on. It was a bit embarrassing to put that sort of thing in writing.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jason spent his Monday mowing, mowing and mowing. There had been a few days' rain a little over a week ago, and it had been followed by warm, humid weather coupled with the odd afternoon shower. The result? Prime growing conditions. Good for the farmers, good for his business.

Mowing was a good activity for thinking, which was also good, because tracking down Shelley hadn't been as easy as he'd presumed it would be. He'd spent four hours trying to identify a New South Wales champion flower grower with a daughter called Michelle, and had had absolutely no success.

It wasn't that flower growers were a secretive type of person – anything but. The hobby tended to attract people who were white bread, middle and upper class types who led scandal-free lives, and had Facebook pages filled with memes and inspirational quotes and pictures of their family members. He was fairly confident he could have sent a friends request to any number of rose growers and they would have taken one look at his interests, seen he was a greenkeeper, and accepted the request. Some of them, he suspected, wouldn't have even done that; they would have just clicked the button and given him intimate access to their friends only postings.

He'd started work at six, and by three-thirty he was heading home, covered in grass clippings, hot, sweaty and frustrated. He'd called Luke at lunch time to ask if Shelley had said her mother 'was' or 'is' a champion rose grower, and Luke had told him he was fairly certain she'd said her mother 'is' still involved in the hobby.

Fuck, this detective work was proving more frustrating than he'd anticipated. He was beginning to grow quite sympathetic towards police, a feeling he'd never expected to experience.

Jason arrived home with just another time to shower and dress before Robbie arrived. Jason invited the young electrician inside, only half listening to what the man was saying as he weighed up the possibility the kid was a murderer.

Robert wasn't a bad looking kid. 'Cute' was how Amanda would have described him. He was wearing a pair or rubber soled work boots, cotton drill pants and a faded but clean white shirt, and he was in good physical nick, not scrawny like Jason, nor overweight like many others.

He didn't mess around, either. Before Jason knew what was happening, the kid was up in the ceiling, installing the hallway light. Robbie had showed him the fitting he'd selected, and Jason had nodded his acceptance, though to his amateur eyes, a light was a light. Amanda would be pleased, though; she'd always complained that the hallway was too dark.

Jason pulled out his phone while Robbie was working, taking the opportunity to have one last search for a New South wales champion rose grower with a missing daughter. There was nothing. Zip, zilch, nada, none. He was at a complete dead end.

'Do you have a dustpan around?'

Jason glanced up to see Robbie standing in front of him.

'Yeah, mate, it's underneath the sink,' he said. 'Hang on.'

Jason put his phone down and fetched the dustpan. He handed it to Robbie, who went and swept up the small amount of mess he'd made, moved his ladder out of the way, and showed Jason the effects of the new light.

'Nice,' Jason remarked, impressed. His wife had had a point; the hallway had been dark without a light, hadn't it? It was only now that it was properly lit up that he realised how bad it had been. 'Thanks for that. The wife'll be pleased when she gets back.'

'Will she be back from work soon?'

'Nah, mate, she's in China. Won't be back for nearly three weeks.' Jason surveyed the young tradesman. 'It must've been hot up there. You want a drink?'

'Some water would be great.'

Jason headed to the kitchen, gesturing for Robbie to follow. He needed to start asking some questions, serious questions, about Jock. He also had to be careful. Robbie was, after all, still one of the prime suspects.

'I'll just pay you before I get the water,' Jason said, reaching for his wallet. Most of his clients for the day had paid cash, and he had a good little wad inside. He peeled off a few and handed them over to Robbie.