Shelton blinked and scratched his right ear thoughtfully. “That may be a tall order, Mrs. Akron. Christ! I’m not even sure where to start.”
“At two hundred dollars a day plus expenses, I’m sure you’ll find a place.”
“It’s liable to take a week or so…” he began.
“I don’t care. I’ll give you a retainer. Will a thousand dollars be enough to start?”
Shelton, speechless, merely nodded and then, suddenly realizing she couldn’t see his nod of acceptance, said quickly, “That will be fine.”
“Good. Incidentally, I don’t know anything about these organizations, but I would suggest you begin looking at the Santa Barbara Royal Yacht Club for a group. It’s common knowledge that they have an active bunch that swaps with other yacht clubs. Perhaps you can find the all-Negro group in the San Francisco Bay Area. For my plan, I will need at least twelve couples altogether. No more than fifteen couples though.”
Slowly, Shelton brought his feet down off the desk. He realized he probably should keep his mouth shut, but he also knew the question had to be asked even if he got his head snapped off “Mrs. Akron… would you mind telling me just what you have in mind?”
She didn’t answer for so long a time that Shelton began to think she had left the line, then he heard her inhale and exhale loudly as if she had just reached a decision. “You’re entitled to know, I think. I’m planning a little surprise party for my husband. He’ll enjoy it so! I want him to come home to me… at midnight… after visiting his little tart, and I want him to walk in on a wild orgy. He’s a brilliant banker, but a small-minded, possessive, selfish, petty little bigot. He hates Negroes. And I want him to see his wife being made love to like the lowest harlot by a black man. I want him to be humiliated in public, with lots of people around to see him squirm. I want big very big enlargements in the hallway of me… and you… in bed together!”
The breath whistled out of Hansen’s constricted throat, “Jesus!”
“It is the only way I can ever repay him.”
The broad was nuts. She had to be. She’d slipped her trolley somewhere. This thing was getting crazier by the minute. Hansen knew he had to make some effort to change her mind… even if it were to cost him a thousand bucks. “Look, Mrs. Akron. I don’t know about this. How do you know these groups will respond to your invitation? I mean, hell! you’re a stranger; they aren’t acquainted with you. Most of them are secret organizations not easy to break into. Besides, I’m sure they won’t go along with any party you plan unless your husband participates, too.”
She brushed all his arguments aside. “They’ll come if the invitation is worded properly. I intend to see that it is an affair they will be eager to attend.”
“And your husband?”
“I thought you understood that, Mister Shelton. You are to be my partner for the evening…”
Shelton’s mind was reeling when he hung up several minutes later. He was still in a daze when he made the photographic prints and put them on the dryer. In the fifteen years as a private detective, he had never before made extra copies of any client’s photographs… no matter how juicy. This time, however, he broke his own rule because he knew that he wanted always to remember Sylvia Akron and what she had done to and for him that afternoon.
He really didn’t come back to complete reality until he found himself standing before a mirror in one of Palo Alto’s best known and most expensive men’s stores having a $350.00 black mohair and silk suit fitted to him. He hardly recognized the man he saw in the mirror; it was a different Shelton, a Shelton who was almost polished, almost handsome. It was the image of the man Shelton had wanted to be when he had planned to become a lawyer. The war had shot down those plans. Before he left the store, he had blown another $75 on one pair of shoes, and over $100 on shirts and ties.
As he walked back to his dingy little office, he noticed that he was actually standing a bit straighter and taking long strides. It was then he knew… with utter incredulity in his mind… that he wanted the Akron woman and was going to do his goddamnedest to get her… for keeps… no matter what the cost. Then he said, aloud, “Tod Shelton, you are the stupidest shit alive.”
Five hours later, he was en route to Santa Barbara on the first leg of his assignment.
CHAPTER THREE
The day was simply full of pleasurable surprises, Sylvia thought. First, she had awakened to find that Bruce hadn’t come home at all last night and hadn’t even bothered to call. For a moment she had flared in anger and then abruptly recognized she didn’t care one way or the other any longer. The hell with him; she wanted only one thing and that was revenge.
The second and third surprises had come with the telephone call from the detective, Shelton, while she was still in bed. She was surprised at the effect his voice had on her body; it was almost as though he were lying in bed with her. Her abdomen and breasts both reacted as if they had been caressed. She closed her eyes and imagined him alongside her… that beautiful penis, hard and throbbing, pressed against her buttocks. She spread her legs out wide and flexed her vaginal lips, pushing her pelvis in the air. “What did you say, Mister Shelton?” she asked, shamelessly stroking her clitoris and waiting to hear his voice.
“I said I have the names of three different groups in Santa Barbara and two all-black organizations in Oakland.”
“That’s fast work for only two days,” she replied, feeling a hot dampness against her fingers.
“I was lucky,” he said. “Ah… I ok! This thing is rather involved for a written report. I think I had better just tell you about it.”
“All right. When can you come out?” And a wanton little voice within her mind cried silently out, “Come now, right now. I’ve got a present for you!”
There had been silence over the line and then Shelton’s voice came, “I have to be in court this morning and probably won’t get out until noon. It’s probable that I’ll be recalled to the witness stand in the afternoon session, so… well, are you free for a business lunch?”
Sylvia had paused, all of her upbringing scolding her not to get socially involved with an employee. Then she remembered what she had done to him, what he had done to her, what she was doing to herself right now as she listened to his voice… and what they were going to have to do together before this whole thing was over. It struck her as a joke… on herself… and she began laughing. There was genuine warmth and sincerity in her voice when she had answered, “I’d love to have lunch with you, Mister Shelton. Where?”
She was surprised and amused… at her feelings of anticipation as she dressed and drove to the restaurant he had named. This was, she abruptly realized, the first time she had lunched with a male alone other than her husband since her marriage. She was actually looking forward to it! The Barrister Restaurant was across the street from the Superior Court Buildings and the Police Department. Sylvia had heard of it and seen it mentioned in the various gossip columns, but she had never eaten there. She was pleasantly surprised when the parking lot attendent took her Porsche and she entered the restaurant itself. The exterior had been rather deceptive, the inside was impressive. Although there was a line of almost two dozen people waiting for seats, the maitre d’ immediately came over to her; there was a look of open admiration in his eyes. “You must be Mrs. Akron.”