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  • Living with Katrina Ch. 06

Living with Katrina Ch. 06

12

Sorry for the delay guys. I was writing something for the Halloween Contest. Check it out if you want. Here is chapter 6! As always, your comments make my day, so do drop them on your way out.

Thanks to my dedicated editor CambriaRose.

"The truth will set you free, but first it will make you miserable."

-James A. Garfield

* *

"Hmm," said the thoughtful figure behind the ornate mahogany desk. He held Katrina's iPhone in front of his face and flicked through the photos.

Balthazar Wolff had been a PI for a long time. He had initially joined the police academy, but realized he could make much more money this way. Even after four decades, infidelity was his bread and butter. New York never ran out of cheaters and their significant others who paid large sums to confirm the cheating.

"Why are they of interest?" he said in a business-like tone.

"The woman is seeing someone else," said Katrina in a sombre tone.

He carefully saw the photo showing the couple in a passionate lip-lock. There was little doubt over the happenings just prior to this. The next photo showed them separating. He could isolate the faces here and run it through his databases.

"What do you know about them?"

"The woman's name is Emma. She is an accountant at Leveson's."

Balthazar ran his fingers through his scalp, smoothing his sparse grey hair. He transferred the photos to his workstation and handed the phone back.

"I will look into them and see what I can dig up. You have given me a good place to start."

"Good," said Katrina rising from her seat. "This is on a strictly confidential basis. When you find out something, you immediately let me know. Clear?"

"Crystal."

They shook hands and she left his office. She was not moving out yet. Not before she got to the bottom of this. Even as she walked, she could feel herself bristling with rage towards Emma. She had dared to cheat on Jake.

Jake who had always looked out for her. Who had always been by her side. For once he needed her help and she was damn well not going to deny him.

As for Emma, she just hoped that they would not meet at a time when she had a mood swing.

* *

Jake leaned back into his office chair. For the first time in a long while, the numbers on his screen seemed utterly banal to him. His office line was disconnected. He just needed some time to himself, to contemplate.

Katrina's monologue was recorded in his mind. It kept playing itself in a broken loop, each time more haunting than the last. He knew each word by heart, each expression was branded into his psyche and that forlorn, disconsolate look at the end. He could not forget that look.

Emma replacing Katrina.

Even the words sounded strange.

He needed more time to think about this. As of now, his thoughts were hopelessly jumbled. Life was ironically simpler when all he had to do was look out for Kat, rather than think about her leaving.

What was she to him? A liability? A source of solace? A companion? A parasite? A friend? More than a friend?

He was obviously more than a friend to her, but what was she to him? Was she better off away from him? Was he better off with Emma?

More questions. Questions piled on questions. No answers.

His mobile buzzed away on its own on the table.

* *

Balthazar was an old hand. He reminisced on some of his best cases while munching on pastrami in a dusty room. He had a small portable monitor in front of him and some wireless equipment.

The manager at the front desk had been too easy to buy off. He mentioned that Emma met a visiting gentleman here once or twice a month and he usually stayed for a weekend. He had a room booked in advance for their meeting.

It's a wonder how much he was eager to divulge as more notes came out of the wallet. He even furnished a spare key for the room.

Balthazar turned his attention back on the screen, hoping to see something human. His rather confidential contacts in three-letter agencies provided him with state of the art surveillance gear. Not all of it was available elsewhere, or even strictly legal.

He turned the knob beside his monitor for a few seconds. The frequency modulation adjusted and the picture on the screen became clearer. He switched to another camera placed at a different angle and repeated the procedure. Eventually, he had six crystal clear views of the room.

He tuned his listening devices too. All his instruments were ready when one of the bugs picked up the sound of the door opening. He hurriedly set his main recorder on. Keeping a tape of everything was key to getting a good job done. Depending on how important the man was, the tape could have other uses too.

He switched to the camera angle closest to the door. It showed two bodies stumble into the room. Switching to the front view, he got a view of their faces. Emma seemed a bit drunk. She curled her arm around the man for support and laughed with her eyes closed.

The mystery man smiled. She clung on to him all the way to bed, where he dropped her on the mattress. A silly smile stayed on her face while he went back and closed the door. He walked back to her and leaned over the bed, putting his hand at the waistband of her trousers. She giggled obscenely.

In one motion, he pulled down her trousers and threw them to the side. Her flimsy thong followed. She held the hem of her shirt and bunched it up at the level of her stomach, exposing her bare pussy for him. He grinned and knelt between her legs lowering his mouth to her labia.

The camera on the ceiling showed her eyes open wide while the mystery face disappeared between her thighs. He held her hips firmly, minimizing her squirming. His mouth remained latched onto her vulva.

The listening device nearest to the bed picked up some low moaning. Emma arched her back off the mattress, pushing her wetness further into his face. He let the slick, rubbery flesh wipe on his nose and cheeks.

Balthazar watched astutely. Years of training meant he was so focused on the job that arousal was suppressed. If only he could count the number of times the dialogue that made his case came during pillow talk. This was not a time to be distracted by his baser needs. He could always make a copy of it if he liked it that much. Or if the man in question was worth blackmailing. He watched as the man pulled back his face. He sat between her legs and parted them.

Emma raised her face off the bed, looking at him expectantly. The appropriate cameras were zoomed to the exact point to capture the scene in vivid detail. The man pushed his cock against her abdomen. The ceiling camera gave a bird's eye view to his hardness teasing her slit. He let the cock slide to the top of her inflamed lips and all the way down. He stopped midway after a few turns and began pushing inwards.

The next few sound bytes were singularly unpleasant for Balthazar. He simply abhorred screamers, especially those who used no words, just one long wail. Emma's sounds of pleasure filled the room as the cock inside her began a slow motion. Every stroke was punctuated by a short shrill shriek.

He built a languid rhythm. The unseen cameras recorded every thrust intently. Her legs were on one shoulder. He was on his knees, plunging downwards into her to maximize penetration. She opened her mouth in an expression of lusty yearning.

Balthazar kept watching calmly. It was almost like watching porn, given the number of camera angles and zoom capabilities he had. His pastrami was almost over. The fucking was going on at full steam.

His keen eyes watched the mystery man pound her helpless pussy at full steam. His hips slammed against her pelvis, plunging his entirety into her. The blistering pace continued for a few minutes. Her moans increased with time.

Suddenly, he let her go and pushed himself inside her with all his strength. The happy couple stayed in that position for a few minutes. Then, the man rose from the sweaty tangle of flesh and disappeared into the bathroom.

He came back twenty minutes later, looking dour and professional.

"Do you have something for me, Emma?"

In a room on the opposite building, Balthazar Wolff pricked his ears and listened intently. He did not want to miss this.

* *

"You dare cheat on Jake!" Katrina bellowed at Emma's face. Not exactly Emma's face, but a very good drawing of it on her canvas.

The canvas did not reply. It never did.

Kat stormed around the room, livid. Her cheeks were flushed and her teeth clenched. Her face was contorted in a mask of unbridled fury. Anyone who could see her right then would have been scared shitless.

"You think my Jakey is someone you can toy with!" she seethed. "Yes, MY Jake. He was always mine. He will always be mine. A filthy whore like you cannot even begin to comprehend what I feel for him."

She willed the portrait to reply, but it sullenly remained silent. Enraged she held it in her hands and pulled it up to the level of her face. A searing rage coursed through her. Her medicines lay in her closet, unused as always.

"You worthless piece of trash!" she screamed, spit flying to the canvas. "You scum."

She dropped the canvas and stomped on it hard. The face was smudged in the shape of a shoe. Katrina took one step back and added another shoe print for good measure. It was perpendicular to the other one. This time, she spent some time grinding the sole into the canvas.

Katrina was out of breath. Her throat was parched. She staggered to the refrigerator and doused herself with the coldest bottle she could find. The water calmed her down and soothed her mouth. The fiery anger inside her continued to blaze.

She opened her drawer and found her silver case at the back. It contained one last joint. She lit it and lay flat on the floor. The flame at the end of her taper lit the cannabis inside the paper cylinder. A puff of smoke came out of the end, gradually becoming a thin vertical line of smoky vapour.

Sweat dripped down the side of her face. Her voluptuous bosom heaved with every deep breath she took. Taking another drag, she could feel her mind losing touch with her body. The high was not nearly as powerful as it was from meth, but she could see images in the smoke.

Flashing random images coalesced to form Jake's face. She smiled and placed her palm against his imaginary cheek. He did not say anything. He never needed to. He never asked anything from her.

He just gave... and she just took.

No, she stole. She stole his life.

"I love you more than words can possibly say," whimpered Katrina at the wispy illusion of Jake.

The smoke swirled and sifted. Jake's face melted away. She watched, agonized, as one by one his features dissolved. Another image formed. First the sharp eyes, then the grin and the chubby face. Lastly, there was smoothly pleated hair on either side of her face.

"Emma?" she said.

Drawing her hand back from the smoke as if she had touched fire, she glared at her hallucination. It sneered back at her. No words came out of the smoke yet, but a very powerful action was afoot. Emma's smile signified what she had taken from Katrina, used for her pleasure and was going to end up hurting.

Katrina spat the rest of the joint out. Galvanized into action, she marched into the room. Her mind was working on the powerful, yet dangerous, combination of adrenaline and fury. She picked up the hated portrait of Emma from the floor and looked at it one more time.

"Go to hell."

The lighter was still in her other hand. She let the flames lick the canvas for an instant. At first, there was a small burn near Emma's neck. The scorched canvas gradually spread in all directions. Emma was burning.

Katrina gazed intently at the slow torching of what she had herself drawn. Without taking her eyes off the slow burn, she let one hand slide into her pants. She was positively leaking down below.

* *

"Move in with me."

"WHAT?" exclaimed Emma, "It's way too soon."

Jake exhaled as the first scenario in his head vanished.

"Move in with me."

"I'm sorry, Jake. I can't," Emma said. "I am actually a secret IRA operative sent to the United States to broker a weapons deal."

That vision too passed. They kept playing in a repeated loop in his head. Each scenario starting with the same question. The answers kept changing.

"I need to leave New York."

"I don't like your apartment."

"I'm actually a man."

"Jake, are you there? Jake."

His eyes shot open. His neck was still slumped over the headrest of his office chair. That last part was actually her. He shook his day dream off. Emma was knocking on the door.

"Jake. Are you all right? You haven't answered your phone and your office line is dead."

He hurriedly opened the door. She looked worried.

"Must have fallen asleep," he mumbled. "Not sleeping much these nights."

"We need those numbers from the Bronson files asap."

"I'll get right on it," said Jake, hurrying back to his computer.

He could not remember all the flashes in his dream, only snippets. What worried him was that in none of those snippets did Emma agree to move in with him.

What was his subconscious trying to say?

* *

Katrina sat on one side of the small table in Café Debussy. She patted her fingers impatiently, waiting for someone. Her eyes lit up when she saw the middle aged PI walk in and take the seat opposite her.

"You have something for me," she said, cutting straight to the point.

"Indeed, Ms Bauer," he said. "Take a look at these."

She took the small envelope from his hand. Inside were snapshots of Emma and another man. She was on her back, on her knees, standing. He had done her in every possible position. Katrina raised her eyes, browsing through the array of pictures.

"Any hits on the man?"

"As a matter of fact, yes. He showed up on my search right away," said Balthazar evenly. "Meet Conrad Hunt, the CEO of Hunt Financial Services, a Cleveland based investment agency."

Katrina furrowed her brow. "Why are they sleeping together?"

"I don't know yet," admitted Balthazar. "But I did find this. His travel records show he comes to New York once or twice a month for what are ostensibly business deals. He has been doing so for the past year during which time his fund made ridiculous profits."

Her eyes went wide. "You think these two facts are connected?"

"In my experience, coincidences are rarely this precise. Something is afoot," he said. "I'm sure of it."

The waitress came and handed them croissants. They sat in silence. Katrina was taking some time to figure out her what she was going to do.

"What would you like me to do with all the facts?" he asked quietly.

"Bury her," hissed Katrina.

Balthazar Wolff had been in the game long enough to know there were certain things a PI could not do. Even though he had the means and connections to rip Emma to shreds, he would have to be content with staying far inside the legal framework.

"I'll do what I can."

"Good," said Katrina rising. "Your money will be in the account you gave me."

They shook hands and parted ways. Each had their own bit to do to protect Jake.

* *

Jake had made up his mind. He was going to go through with it this time. He prowled the corridor on the floor above his. There was a lot of paperwork in his arms to give the impression he had some actual work on his mind.

His colleagues passed by, waving at him. He nodded his head politely. Emma's office was on the far end of the corridor. Jake stood in front of the door and took a deep breath. Slowly, his hand came up and he rapped his knuckles against the wood.

"Come in."

He opened the door tentatively, unsure of how best to go about it. She lifted her head and looked at him curiously. Her lips eventually cracked up in a smile.

"And what would you be doing in this neck of the woods, loverboy?" she asked coyly.

He gaped at her blankly for a long time. A part of him wanted to scream out "Move in with me." but a bigger part thought better of it. She tilted her head at his goldfish expression.

"I.. I... have the Bronson figures charted out, analysed and made into the final report for you," Jake blurted out, putting his stack of papers on her desk. She looked at them, then up at him.

"Thanks," she said, narrowing her eyes suspiciously. "But you know you could have emailed it to me and I would have printed it out here itself. Why did you bring it yourself?"

"I.. I..." he spluttered, not getting any clear thoughts in his head.

Emma got up from the desk and walked over to him slowly. Her hands started fiddling with his tie and she looked straight into his eye.

"It's a been a busy day," she whispered. "It's just as well you came up here or I would have eventually had to go down to get some. I have a meeting now with the other regional supervisors, but I will be free in an hour or so. Meet me in the old wing of the seventh floor which is currently unused."

"Wh.. wh.. why?" blabbered Jake.

"Why do you think?" she said, squeezing his cock through his pants.

She pulled her hand back and left hastily. He stood at the doorway, stunned.

"I'll definitely tell her when we meet in an hour," he resolved.

"Yeah 'coz that's the one line every woman wants to hear while they orgasm."

Jake hung his head. There was something inside him which would not let him say the words. Inexplicable, but true.

On the bright side, he was about to have some sex after an hour.

Little did he know that sexual tryst would be the last he ever saw of Emma.

* *

Half truths were always the best kind of truths. Balthazar Wolff knew that. He shared with Katrina exactly what he wanted to share. The most interesting part of his surveillance, however, was the post coital conversation.

Some of the snippets were particularly interesting to him and some clients of his. Being a PI was only a small part of his job. Those in the know used many more of his services. He had one such client who would be greatly benefited by his knew-found knowledge.

Serendipity. He just loved it when it happened.

He called up his contact in the SEC. A few rings went by before a gruff voice answered the phone.

"And to what do I owe the honour?"

"Business," said Balthazar smoothly. "A very important friend of mine is being investigated by you guys for certain financial irregularities. On her behalf, I would very much appreciate it if that investigation could be stalled."

There was a throaty chuckle on the other end of the line.

"You never call up without wanting something like that. Do you?" came the reply. "No 'lets go to a bar, David' or 'lets catch the Rangers game'. Always 'mislead this case' and 'stall that investigation'. You're incorrigible."

"David, David, David," he replied. "Business is so much more profitable than seeing the Rangers lose again. Don't you think?"

There was a short laugh on both ends of the phone as Balthazar went on. "Besides, you are in a position to do all the things I ask of you. You can insert a hint of false evidence here and a trace of a ghost lead there. Your agents would be chasing their own shadows till they got tired and a new case came up."

"Yeah," sighed David. "The new breed of agents don't know shit. If I had a nickel for every time one of them missed a glaring flaw in someone's accounts, I wouldn't need my pension."

Another laugh. David spoke again, "What's in it for me?"

"I'm glad you asked," said Balthazar in a low voice. "I may have accidentally stumbled across some evidence which would put you guys on the front page of the Times. A major league financial scandal which no one has any clue about."

There was a short pause.

"Go on."

"You guys have been prodding around Hunt Financial Services for a while now, and getting nowhere with your bureaucratic methods," he said. "I have some hard evidence which shows exactly how they have been making their astronomical profits."

12
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