The Case of the Rich Man’s Wife

By Millie Dynamite

In August 1945, shortly after VJ day, the third richest man in America hired private investigator Theodora Drummond to find his wayward wife. Theodora suspected his motives but not wishing to bring another woman into a dangerous situation, she dug deep into the case.

Theo Drummond was an oddity in the 1940s, a woman making her way in what was traditionally a man’s occupation. With the aid of a young intern, Aaron Foundling, they struggled to put the pieces together.

Was the Rich Man trying to help his wife or kill her? Was Theodora putting her and Aaron’s lives at risk, and if so, for what? A big payday was in the offing, but how much money could you spend if you were dead?

Enter the world of broads and mooks, where you can get your birds in a nest, and the joe’s always piping hot. Step back to when phone numbers had names, and cops would look the other way for five spot.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Red Kittys Publishing
• Release date: Feb 21, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215968161

Millie Dynamite

Millie was born in Texas on September 10, 1989, she is an African-American female. Millie spent her teenage years as a runaway – living on the streets. For ten years she lived a hard life scratching out a living, she did things to get by that she scared her. Never giving up on herself she turned her life around and is now a productive member of society.With her checkered past behind her, she now writes short stories as a type of therapy. Millie draws on those awful times to enrich her stories. The stories she writes are of an adult nature and can be soft and romantic or harsh and gritty.Millie lives a quietly with her life partner, Jo. They have one cat, ‘Captain Tom’ and fish who live in constant terror of him.Millie enjoys reading as much as writing; she loves horror, erotica, mysteries and stories that mix the three.

Book preview

The Case of the

Rich Man’s Wife

From the files of

Theodora Drummond — Private Investigator

Millie Dynamite

© Copyright 2021/2023 by Millie Dynamite

This is a work of fiction and not intended to be historically accurate, but merely a representation of the times. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any similarity to any person, living or dead, is coincidental and unintentional. Historical characters and places are used strictly for dramatic purposes. This story contains a little sex and some violence.

The Richman’s Wife

Table of Contents

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Prologue

The past is strewn with those who did what others said couldn’t be done. Case in point, one Theodora Drummond, Private Investigator, in a time when women in law enforcement were, at best, meter maids, defied the norm. Theo was a no-nonsense dame, hearty, put together well, as they say, the cat’s meow, intelligent, with an appreciation of honor and justice.

In those bygone days, one might think she was some high-dollar call girl ... one would’ve been ever so wrong. This woman, Theodora Drummond, proved herself, time and again, solving mysteries, and bringing in the bad guy, dead or alive.

The first time a person laid eyes on her, her body and face demanded attention. And how she moved, you understood, she cooked with gas. A real classy piece of cheesecake. When she locked eyes with them, they were stunned by her relentless gaze, like she could spot the secret they hid.

Most often, Theodora Drummond dressed to the nines. Yes, sir, Theo always looked yummy enough to eat.

The Case of the

Rich Man’s Wife

Chapter One

August 1945

Clicking out a familiar tune, my high heels resonated from the walls as I made my way up the flights of steps to the third floor. Exiting the stairwell, the signage jumped into view, my trade shingle. ‘Theodora Drummond & Associates, Private Investigators,’ emblazoned in black paint on the pebbled glass of my office door.

The truth was, I found seeing my name and profession decorating my office door something which made the arduous work worthwhile.

I was a woman making my way in a world dominated by men. With this admission, I owed part of my success to the war effort. The harshness of the times demanded I couldn’t ignore the situation. And the problem was, no one would’ve given me the time of day if many of the men in America hadn’t been off fighting Hitler and Tojo.

But give this devil her due, I acted with diligence to achieve a measure of prosperity. The war ended; that notwithstanding, I wasn’t going anywhere. For you see, I earned my position in the world.

The long, rough day left me wanting nothing more than to go home. Well, I also wanted Aaron to come over and relieve my tension. With fond memories of our earlier cuddle, I smiled as I opened the unlocked door.

Assuming Aaron waited for me, a thought dawned on me. He took the initiative and entertained Estelle and her Girl Friday until my arrival. Being late for my appointment caused me to contemplate my tardiness. Might be, perhaps, I stayed at the docks considering Lady Liberty, too, long.

The back of my head exploded as I stepped into my reception area. This blinding, burning pain detonated across the back of my noodle. The floor rushed towards me. Twisting to the right, gravity took hold, toppling downward like a tree succumbing to the ax. I glanced around the waiting room.

Crap, one of my heels broke. No, I love these shoes.

The heel skittered off across the tile, making a peculiar high reverberation. A severe impact shook my body as I crashed into the deck. Confusion took hold, and I tried to comprehend.

Sliding away from me, my purse spilled the contents within, makeup compact, lipstick, and other sundries insides sprayed out across the floor. Worst of all, my.45 colt flew away from my reach. All the debris came to rest near Aaron’s face. The young man’s eyes moved around under the lids. Thank God he lived, dreaming, or more likely, having a nightmare.

Trying to push up, I pressed my hands, planting them on the cold tiles. Thump, another vicious blow, sent a shockwave deep into my skull. Darkness rose with the force of a tidal wave, submerging me.

As the surging tide overtook me, I slipped below the surface of consciousness. The light in the room faded into black. Leaving me with only a few disjointed flashes of awareness. A vast stillness enveloped me as I clung to memories, trying to fight off the eclipse covering me in nothingness. The night before, such a long time ago. Dear God, couldn’t be over 24 hours since Aaron and I balled together in my bed?

The world died or slept. Whichever world I fell into, either possibility frightened me so.

****

21 Hours Earlier

Thinking of my lover, back in the mid-1940s, the term for a promiscuous man comes to mind. Active-duty gentleman, in no way, described Aaron. The entire day, he’d been an eager beaver. Most guys have this built-in sense when things are going right. In this regard, Aaron himself was a regular feller.

However, not being wanton, the knowledge that something was about to happen triggered his nervousness.

All day, all evening, Aaron’s uneasiness showed. Stumbling through the day, dropping things, missing his mouth with the water from a fountain, and spilling his popcorn everywhere while we watched The Woman in Green. The tension increased after arriving at my apartment.

The truth is strange, for I didn’t appreciate the reason for his trepidation. He trembled when I took his hand, guided him to my bedroom, and took him in my arms.

When our lips met, he calmed, and we clutched one another in a long loving embrace. Once we broke apart, I again controlled him while removing his clothes. In an apparent hurry, Aaron rushed, and I slowed him. When I had him in his birthday suit, I directed him on how to undress me. More blundering, I thought, his ineptitude endearing.

What does that say about me?

Tossing the covers from my bed, I positioned him on its edge. Getting between his legs, I kissed and licked him, working my way to his erect member. When my tongue touched his dick, the thing exploded, sending globs of semen across his chest and belly, and dribbling down the shaft. Gazing into his eyes, he let go of a catalog of apologies as heavy as his discharge.

Undaunted, I retrieved a wet washcloth, cleaned him, and resumed his first lesson in making-whoopie with Theodora Drummond. Over the next several hours, we made love, long, slow, stroking, rough, raw, blazing screwing.

At best, we were out of sync. Despite Aaron losing his load, I kept riding away on top of him. And I’d shutter through an orgasm, and he stayed rock hard.

If memory serves, I allowed him to be on top. Oh, I think twice. But for me, on top, in control, punched my ticket. So, my being experienced and aggressive, I dominated him in this area as I controlled him in all other areas. The hour turned late, so we embarked on our last hump of the night. This took some time, and we, at last, synchronized.

The first wave of my