Home > adventure, romance > 4. Beryl O’Flies – Confidential Investigator

4. Beryl O’Flies – Confidential Investigator

Beryl O’Flies tossed her cellphone carelessly onto the sofa. She looked beautiful just being naked. She had stood there without nervousness, totally nude holding the phone to her ear. I felt uncomfortable, sitting there naked. We were acting as if we were dressed in street clothes, ready to go out. It was a peculiar scene: a man in his twenties sitting naked on the side of his bed while a woman in her forties, obviously aware of her pulchritude, stood and listened to the phone.

“Look, Beryl, I haven’t agreed to continue in your profession. I hope to see more of you socially, but this confidential investigator thing isn’t me,” I said.

“Let me be the judge of that, sonny boy,” she said. It hit me hard when she said that. She was just being her own flippant self, I know on an intellectual level. Emotionally it was different. Was I turned on by her because she’s older… like my mother… or because she’s a bright, bubbly, gorgeous woman? I was inhibited now… I realized that Beryl is only four years younger than my mother and almost double my age. I chastised myself for focusing on the age gap. I’m sure a man in his forties with a girlfriend the age of his daughter would… well, actually that would be kind of bad.

While we dressed and groomed ourselves, Beryl roughed in basically what this ‘gig’ was to be. She believed I was going to want to be in on this adventure. She was adorable as she made a little game, teasing out the information she had.

“We have to get a complete briefing by the client. Who’s the client I can imagine you wondering,” she grinned. “Does the name Kimberly Rashid-Monterrain mean anything to you?” she said.

“The Supermodel that married the Italian movie mogul,” I said. “I know who she is.”

“Well she is,” Beryl said, “our fucking client!”

“What’s the case,” I said, somewhat apprehensively. Obviously Beryl’s strategy to entice me into working with her was starting taking effect. All she said was the client’s name, and I became interested.

“She thinks her husband was murdered,” she said. “The Rome Police claim it was a traffic accident…”

“The Rome, New York police?” said I.

“No, dufus,” Beryl O’Flies said. “Rome, Italy.”

“What can you do for an alleged murder on the other side of the world?” I said.

“We have to go to the other side of the world, obviously,” she said. “Have you ever been to Rome?”

“Yes, twice. Some freelance jobs,” I said.

“Well, pack your toothbrush sonny,” she said. “We’re going to Romantic Rome.”

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