Keeping It In The Family
Written & edited by Amnoartist
Chapter 2: McNamara
“Listen, Chief, this time I have it nailed down perfectly.” Kelly McNamara hastily shadowed her boss’ steps through the police station, clumsily walking into her hard-working, much more experienced colleagues who seemed to have more resent than respect for the Irishwoman—probably because she just wouldn’t let that case go, despite repeatedly being told to back off on it. Her lush red hair swept sideways as she sharply turned to avoid yet another desk, still hot on the Chief’s tail. Kelly was certain there was definitive proof that suggested there was more to the Hines family than what was being let on.
“Jesus, this again?” Chief Parks had pretty much gotten tired of Kelly’s incessant ramblings and obsession with the Hines’. It wasn’t the first time Kelly had ‘definitive proof’ to offer, but Parks was certain it would be the last. Kelly had shown promise when she first arrived at Bridgewood PD, but that seemed to lose its shine upon getting involved in a ‘case’ that wasn’t even official, rather something she found odd and out-of-place. “Lay off it, McNamara.”
“But my source—”
But her source. Fine—Parks was willing to throw a bone just this once more, else he’d have to seriously consider reprimanding Kelly for wasting police resources on a wild goose chase. It wouldn’t look good on her record and even worse on the department. Kelly stood behind him in wait, nervously clutching a report she’d hastily written just to suggest she was actually working as ordered. “And who exactly is this source you so confidently claim to trust this time? The town drunk?”
Kelly let that joke slide in the hope that Parks would actually see reason for once and help her, as he once did. “Nick Dawes.”
“Nope.” Parks wasn’t having it. It was a whole new level of low from Kelly to actually trust Dawes. Why couldn’t she just let it go and move onto other, genuinely concerning cases like the triple-murder down on Third Avenue? But no—she had to stick to the Hines case like glue, didn’t she? “Relying on the word of a notorious Peeping Tom? I know you’re relatively new to the detective work, but at least act like you give a shit. Don’t give us a bad name on account of your obsession.”
“You know as well as I that incest is a criminal offence. Not to mention blasphemous.” Kelly was often one to bring religion up on most occasions, even when it was uncalled for—which was one of the many reasons why her colleagues resented her. They may feel that way about her but often confided in the redhead for anything regarding scripture when religious killings occurred. “That alone makes it worth looking into. I shouldn’t even have to build a case around it.”
“You damn well have to, when you start spouting claims the entire family’s in on it like it’s some kind of orgy.” Parks was getting irritated now. He knew the Hines’ were upstanding members of the Bridgewood community, often donating to charities and helping young families however they could. “You even claim the grandmother’s involved somehow. I doubt an eighty-year-old can stand straight, let alone partake in an incestuous orgy.”
“It’s not just the family.” Kelly threw the report down onto the desk near her and hastily flicked through the inches-thick pages to reveal several b+w photographs of several unlabelled heavy good vehicles, one of which showed a crew loading what appeared to be crates of foodstuffs into the backs of them. There had to be at least a hundred crates per truck. Kelly glanced at Parks for an emotion reaction--but nothing, save for heightened annoyance. Regardless, she turned the page and sharply pointed to a printout of the vehicles’ travel route. Kelly was only able to get a solid indication of where they went through installing trackers onto the undersides of the trucks—not exactly a legal thing to do, but needs must. There’s only one road those trucks took daily: up to the Hines’ mansion. Never anywhere else, always there. “I took inventory of the deliveries. Why would the family need over a million kilos of food on a daily basis? They’re all in on it.”
Parks took a moment to think, realising Kelly just might be onto something. That wasn’t to say he was starting to believe her claims of the Hines’ regularly partaking in incestuous sex, rather that he knew she was just onto at least something. Why would the family need that much food sent daily? Perhaps it was worth it to send Kelly over to the mansion and passively question the Hines’ after all.
But on the other hand, maybe it wasn’t a good idea. There was the possibility the Hines’ could take great offence to false claims, which wouldn’t reflect all that well on the department. There was also the chance Parks and Kelly could both be fired as a result. No—no, it wasn’t a risk Parks was willing to take. As much as he knew Kelly could be onto something, it would’ve been better for them both if she just laid off the case.
“Drop it, kid.” For the first time in what had to be months, Parks actually hated the words that came out of his mouth, even if they were a heartfelt warning. But he also knew Kelly wouldn’t back down so easily—she was persistent and iron-willed—so a more assertive touch would have to be applied. “Or I’ll put you on two months’ suspension.”
“You know I need the money.”
Parks slammed his fist down on the desk in anger, rousing the entire police force. He’d had his fill of Kelly’s persistence for today. Why couldn’t she just let it go? Parks knew Kelly’s obsession would inevitably bite her one day. He’d seen that look before on too many faces—both experienced and fresh. Kelly was even frightened by the chief’s outburst—he’d never done that with anyone, even before she immigrated from Ireland. “Well, maybe you shouldn’t stick a fucking flashlight up the Hines’ ass. You go looking for shit, you get shit.”
It was only then Kelly backed down—just for a moment. There was definitely more to the Hines’ than what was being let on. It did get Kelly thinking though. If a supermarket chain was acting suspiciously—potentially even in on what the Hines’ did in the comfort of their lavish home—it stood to reason that the police could be too, right? She’d hate to be right about that, but Bridgewood wasn’t exactly Heaven.
“Sorry for wasting your time, sir.” Kelly saw fit to leave Parks be, for now. In spite of being told to do otherwise, like hell she was going to back down on the case. It could very well be the one that helped define her as a true detective, the one that could set her up above the others in the department.
“Seventy-eight inches.” Carolyn had to stop and stare in awe at her mother’s titanic thighs in wonder. She was such an inspiration to the family—fiercely confident and otherworldly powerful—that it wouldn’t be wrong to feel just a bit jealous. Whipping the tape back, Carolyn pushed up from her knees and postulated what to measure next. Measuring her mother had become such a normality in Carolyn’s life that sometimes she caught herself doing it even when not part of that day’s timetable. Granted, they changed daily but that was besides the point. “A little over three inches bigger than last time.”
Seventy-eight? Ruth was evidently displeased with that news. She swore they could’ve been at least a little bit bigger, like rounding the size off at eighty would suffice. No matter; she’d get that big eventually. Probably within the next few hours. Looking down with a smile, the powerful woman glimpsed Jordan applying a fresh coat of body oil to her other leg, making sure to do it at a slow and even pace. Nobody cared about Ruth’s nakedness—everyone was at some point in the day. Her tits were round and large, bigger than that of the number one porn star, bolstered with a tight, shaven clit.
Kendall stood close by, observing her copy of the day’s timetable. Her first duty of the day was to oversee the delivery coming from the factory. Fresh fruit and veg, packed meats and other such things, packed high in crates, were the norm for delivery. Most of the foodstuff would go straight into Ruth’s belly, while the rest would be divided up and given to the other family members. But today’s delivery would be much different: building supplies.
Almost as if on cue, sharp rhythmic knocking came from the front door. If there was one thing the Hines’ liked about the deliverymen, they were always punctual and made it a point to let their arrival be known. Three unlabelled heavy goods vehicles aligned themselves evenly, engines purring in sync for a moment before their shutters rolled open to reveal the stacks of materials and building equipment used to build…whatever it was they were paid to.
Kendall opened the front door, slowly revealing her beefy form to the man she’d grown to become quite friendly with over recent months: Darryl. Every time he spoke with her, Kendall seemed to always be bigger, her shadow forever reaching over his comparatively tiny body. A very select few people—those the Hines’ truly trusted—only knew what really went on in the mansion, Darryl being one of them. He knew he had very little chance of being with Kendall, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t be friendly—or dream about her at night.
“Got yer stuff for the basement conversion right here, Kay. You’ll need to sign for it, of course.”
Kay. Kendall always giggled rather childishly every time Darryl called her that and today was no different. She teasingly twirled her blonde locks in response, giving him an eyeful of the twenty-nine-inch bicep in the process. That was usually enough to keep him roused for the rest of the day. She signed off the document on the clipboard the shaky Darryl offered her before speaking. “Got anything planned for the night?”
Darryl knew to keep his expectation in check. What the babelicious blonde just said wasn’t in any way a hint at asking for a date—she was just being friendly and he knew that. In spite of that, Darryl couldn’t do much to prevent his unfortunate stuttering. “N-n-not much. Y-y-you?”
Kendall preferred not to say, but she definitely had plans for the night. Instead of being totally transparent with the gentleman before her, she kept her cards close to her chest and played it safe. “I got a little something planned.”
Darryl took the hint, nodding agreeably before looking past Kendall’s shoulder at Ruth, who just so casually had Jordan’s face buried in her clit while Carolyn continued measuring. Darryl was loyal, forever keeping his lips sealed about what went on in the Hines’ estate, but he couldn’t deny it was still somewhat awkward to see with his own eyes. Be that as it may, he had a bit of news to share with the lusting Ruth.
“I’d hate to pull her away from something she’s clearly enjoying, but could I speak to your grandmother for a minute before the guys start building?”
Kendall chuckled, “Of course.”
It seemed as though Ruth overheard quite a bit of the conversation, having already set foot to the door and approached Kendall’s side, still naked. It was then Darryl took a brief moment to compare the two women. Darryl preferred those closer to his age, but a certain degree of respect had to be given to Ruth for being the bigger gal—or the biggest.
She looked at Kendall knowingly for a moment, wordlessly suggesting her to leave so a moment of privacy could be had with Darryl. Darryl didn’t know where to look first: the pumpkin’d deltoids easily the size of a truck’s tire or the naked clit that was so casually shown to him.
“So what’s this about?” Ruth wasn’t often impatient, but it wasn’t every day she was pulled away from pleasure.
Darryl didn’t mince his words. He was loyal to the core and aimed to prove that with the news he was about to share. He just wasn’t all that sure how Ruth was going to take it. “A little bird tells me someone might be onto you. Knows what you do here.”
“Ah.” Ruth raised a brow. That certainly was interesting news but it didn’t dampen her spirits. If anything, it inflamed them. The fact somebody took time out of their day to go looking into what went on in the comfort of her humble abode was—in some little way—exciting. It couldn’t be a complete stranger who went on this quest of unearthing. No, it had to be someone who did that sort of thing for a living—like a detective. “You mean that new Irish girl in the police force.”
Darryl didn’t know what to think or say in response. Ruth was right: it was Kelly he subtly referred to. The problem was now how the Hines’ would collectively respond to this fact. But Ruth remained strangely confident in the face of it all.
“I have a new task for you, Darryl…”
Back home, Kelly was accompanied only by the dwindling heat from her fireplace, too caught up with her work to properly give herself a heat, especially during the ever colder cold nights. She didn’t have anyone to share them with, lover or friend. She had them, once upon a time, but her obsession with the Hines’ proved too much for them.
Kelly had accrued a vast amount of data pertaining to the family dating as far back as the early nineties--bank statements and such—ailed, stapled and taped to the face of her bedroom wall nearest the window. It was true that she got her hands on such information through not to legal means, but like when investigating the heavy goods vehicles, she went above and beyond the call of duty to do Bridgwood justice, her shining, perfect career be damned.
It was all connected—quite literally, with red tape. The truck deliveries, regular donations to the community, even the lack of support from her own boss— in some weird sense, Bridgewood was a cesspool of immorality, and the Hines family was at the centre of it all, pulling the strings and working the cogs from the shadows. Whatever the Hines’ were really up to, Kelly was quick to surmise just about everyone was in on it.
She fingered the crucifix dangling from her neck, postulating her next move. The crucifix was a birthday gift from her mother the day she turned ten. Kelly’s mother was an unorthodox disciplinarian Bible-thumping Catholic, but everything she did that might—or rather did—harm Kelly, was all for her betterment. It might’ve made her a better Catholic in the long run, but a bitter distaste for her mother was left in Kelly’s tongue. Now that her mother long since then died from Tuberculosis—
The clock struck midnight. Running out of steam, there was no way Kelly could possibly keep herself alert any longer. Besides, another debacle of a shift at the ever-so-trustworthy police department was just eight hours away—what joy would be had then!
The stealthily delivered letter pushed though the detective’s letterbox changed everything though. The letter itself was fancy in pretty much every sense of the word: top-quality envelope with golden patterns around the edges, the Hines’ family seal firmly pressed into the top left corner. With delicate cursive lettering, ‘Detective McNamara’ was finely labelled on the front.
To say curiosity and pleasure filled the girl was quite the understatement.
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