Free Keegan 00 Soft Case by John Misak

driveway was made of white gravel, and it crunched underneath the tires of the heavy Mercury. I pulled up next to the Navigator, a green one, and we got out. The weather had finally improved, and I could hear birds chirping in the large oak tree above us. How quaint.
    “I can’t believe we got in,” Rick said.
    “We haven’t passed the final test yet,” I said.
    “True.”
    Before we got to the door, a large wood one with an ornate brass knocker, it opened, and a man dressed in a tan pair of slacks and white polo shirt stood there, eyeing us. Security, no doubt. I scanned him quickly, to see if he was carrying a gun. None that I noticed.
    “Detective Keegan,” the man said. Some camera that guy had. He was fairly tall, say about 6”2”, and was built similarly to Rick. He had short light brown hair. He looked like an ex-military type. They never lose that look.
    “Yes, and this is Detective Calhill, my partner.”
    “I was said to expect you.” By whom, I wondered.
    “Is Mrs. Mullins here?” I asked, knowing full well she was. “Yes. But she is busy contacting relatives at the moment. As I am sure you know, this is a difficult time for her.”
    “I do. When need to speak to her for only a few moments. We just need some information.”
    “What sort of information?”
    “About her husband.” I walked closer to him. “Listen, I understand you are trying to protect your employer. We don’t wish to cause her any more grief, but in order to find out exactly what happened to her husband, we need to speak to her. We know she was in the Bahamas, and we are not considering her a suspect.” “You guys consider everyone a suspect.”
    “You know what I mean. Don’t make this any harder than it has to be. Just let us do our jobs, and we will be on our way.”
    He thought about that for a moment. “Come in,” he said, “but I can’t promise that she will talk to you.”
    I wanted to tell him that, by law, she didn’t have much choice. I figured he knew that, and so did she.
    We walked in to the house, the foyer, actually, which had shiny ceramic tiles and a Persian rug, along with a small chandelier. Nice place. A brass-trimmed mirror was on the left wall, and a fancy painting, one of a garden, was on the other. He led us into the room to the left, which I would say was the sitting room, with large bookcases, all half full, and a couch and two chairs. This room was painted an off-white, and had a painting of
    Mr. And Mrs. Mullins on the far wall. Unless the artist decided to be creative, she was some looker. Made Roseanna look like a run of the mill girl.
    “Have a seat, and I will tell Mrs. Mullins that you wish to speak to her.”
    “Please.”
    The guy gave me a look, then left the room.
    “Nice painting,” Rick said. “You gonna ogle this one the way you did the housekeeper?”
    “Only if that picture is a correct representation.”
    “This is a serious investigation.”
    “And I am a serious investigator. What my eyes do serves a purpose. Don’t worry.”
    “Whatever.”
    We waited for about ten minutes, and then Mr. Security Guard came back in the room. He looked bothered, defeated.
    “She’ll see you. Give her a minute or so.”
    “Thank you, I appreciate it,” I said.
    “Yeah,” he replied, then walked out of the room, to return to his ever-so-important duties. Not more than thirty seconds after he left, Sondra Mullins walked into the room. She was the sort of woman who took control of whatever room she entered. She had blonde hair that came down to her shoulders, with a sort of curl at the end, and a body to die for. I figured her to be about 5”5”, and she certainly had her breasts, um, augmented I think is the right word. What made her so attractive was her face. It was near perfect. Her eyes were big and blue, her small nose was appropriate, and she had nice, pouty lips. Someone up above surely wanted me to concentrate on other things besides this case. Looking at her, I really