The May Day Murders

by Scott Wittenburg

  Shelley nodded and lightened up a bit as Sam helped her out of her rain-sopped denim jacket. He draped it over his arm, noticing that the rain had soaked all the way through to the cashmere sweater she was wearing.

  “Christ, Shelley, you’re drenched to the bone! How long have you been out in this shit, anyway?”

  “About half an hour. It took me at least twenty minutes just to trudge through the mud to get to your house. I’ve been beating on the door the rest of the time.”

  “Well, you need to get out of those clothes before you catch pneumonia. Why don’t you take a hot shower and I’ll throw your things in the drier in the meantime,” Sam suggested.

  Shelley smiled graciously. “Thanks, Sam. I’m sorry I’m such a pain.”

  “You’re not a pain, Shelley. C’mon, I’ll show you where the bathroom is.”

  She followed Sam down the hall to the bathroom. He switched on the light as Shelley brushed past him and immediately began to peel off her soaked clothes. Sam stood in the doorway and watched in awe as she wrestled herself out of her jeans, unable to take his eyes away. She looked every bit as good if not better than she had on that fateful night: tall and lean with slender legs, slim hips, and firm, nicely-rounded breasts. She gathered up her wet clothes and grinned nonchalantly as she handed them to Sam.

  “Here. I won’t be long,” she said.

  “Take your time,” Sam replied, attempting to appear unaffected by her lack of modesty. “Would you like something hot to drink-some coffee?”

  “You have something a little stronger?” Shelley asked as she leaned over the tub and valved in the water.

  “Beer and whiskey.” he answered.

  Shelley glanced at him coyly. “Whiskey would be nice.”

  “You’ve got it,” Sam said, feeling an electric pang in his groin as he watched Shelley Hatcher step into the tub and draw the shower curtain.

  Sam closed the bathroom door, carried Shelley’s clothes down to the basement and threw them into the drier. Returning to the kitchen, he realized that he was going downhill fast as he cursed the relentless throbbing in his head. He was more hung over than drunk now, having slept just long enough to plunge himself into the worst of both worlds.

  He needed a good strong belt to set him back on course.

  He went over to the cupboard, found the bottle of Jack and poured himself a couple of ounces. He drained the glass in a single gulp, grimaced, and refilled the glass before pouring another drink for Shelley. He made his way to the den and plopped down on the sofa.

  Sam lit up a cigarette and inhaled deeply as he attempted to collect his thoughts. The sudden arrival of Shelley Hatcher wasn’t only a shocker but and out-and-out mind-blower. Why, he wondered, had she really come here? He seriously doubted that she’d come just to say howdy and show him her photography portfolio-that hardly seemed worth all the bother she’d gone through. Nope, he decided, there had to be more to it than that.

  But what?

  All he knew for certain was that he felt uncomfortable about Shelley showing up. Seeing her reminded him that had he never fooled around with her in the first place, he’d still be a happily married man now. It wasn’t Shelley’s fault of course, and never once had he blamed her for his own folly. After all, it wasn’t really her fault that she was young, beautiful, and had flirted with him one too many times on the job. He could still remember the subtle way she used to less than innocently brush up against him during an assignment; or the way she’d purposely lean over every now and then in such a way that he couldn’t help but see those lovely tits beneath those perennially loose-fitting tops that she always wore.

  Jesus, he thought. Did she even own a fucking bra?

  But the bottom line was that Shelley Hatcher was bad news. There simply wasn’t any other way to put it. She brought him bad luck. After all, how many guys in the history of mankind had gone out on their wives just one piddling time and ended up getting caught? Then, ended up being divorced over it? Not too many, he supposed. Only the sorriest of souls, like his own luckless self.

  Sam heaved a sigh and drained his glass dry. Stubbing out his cigarette, he went to the kitchen to replenish his drink. He felt the welcome glow of inebriation returning as he went back to the sofa and sat down, staring blankly at the test pattern on the television set.

  In spite of all the hell that Shelley Hatcher had created for him in his life, he now realized that deep down, he was actually glad she was here. Seeing her strip down to nothing but her birthday suit had been the biggest thrill he’d had in over six months. The inviting prospect of another round with her in the sack suddenly zipped into his head. What would he do if that opportunity arose? he wondered. More importantly, how would he feel afterwards?

  Sam grinned to himself as he considered the absurdity to both of these questions. He’d jump on Shelley Hatcher’s bones at the drop of a hat and wouldn’t hesitate for a second. As for how he’d feel afterwards, what in the fuck difference would it make how he felt? He was after all, now a free man living in a free world, wasn’t he?

  This is probably just what the doctor would order, he decided. And he doubtlessly would feel like a million bucks afterwards. After all, he’d had nothing but an empty, lonely existence ever since Ann dumped him. And lately, since Marsha Bradley’s murder, he’d been more than a little stressed-out and on edge. It certainly wouldn’t hurt to get his mind off that for a while…

  He heard the water shut off in the bathroom. Deciding to check on Shelley’s clothes in the drier, Sam stood up and went down to the basement. He felt the clothes-they were still soaking wet-then reset the drier and went back upstairs. After topping off his drink he returned to the den, found an old Cars CD and put it on, cranked up the volume. Just What I Needed blared out of the speakers as he plopped back down on the sofa.

  Shelley Hatcher suddenly entered the room. She was wearing a towel that was wrapped around her just enough to cover less than two-thirds of her breasts and about one-tenth of her thighs. Her hair was still wet, combed out, and she was carrying the drink he’d left for her on the kitchen counter.

  Shelley took a long sip of Jack Daniels as she sauntered over to the sofa.

  “I borrowed your comb-I hope you don’t mind.”

  “No problem,” Sam said. “I’m afraid your clothes aren’t dry yet. I can find something of mine for you to put on if you’d like.”

  She shook her head. “That’s all right-I can wait.”

  She sat down beside him, close enough that he could smell her. Her scent was as enticing as her half-naked body was. Shelley took another sip, set her glass down, and gazed at him intently.

  “Have you been able to forgive me yet for what happened?” she asked.

  Sam held her eyes. “There’s nothing to forgive, Shelley. It wasn’t your fault. I told you that a long time ago.”

  “I know, but I still feel guilty about it. I mean, I know how much you love your wife. And it’s my fault that- ”

  “It’s all water under the bridge,” Sam interrupted. “Let’s not even talk about it, Shelley, okay?”

  She smiled. “Okay, Sam. I guess I was just trying to see where I stand now. I mean, I thought you might hate me or something.”

  Sam couldn’t help but laugh. “Hate you? You’ve got to be kidding!”

  Shelley smiled again, apparently satisfied that all was okay between them. She retrieved her drink and took a sip. “I really would like for you to take a look at my portfolio. I’ve been freelancing for the Ashland Times the last couple of months. I don’t get a whole hell of a lot of assignments but at least I’ve had plenty of time to work on my book. You want to see it?”

  “Sure, lay it on me,” Sam said. “Have you been in Ashland all this time?”

  “Yeah. After I got laid-off at the Observer, I was totally directionless. So I moved back home sort of with my tail between my legs, you might say. Moved back in with my parents, got a part-time job at a jewelry store until I could get back on my feet.
It’s been a drag, really. But at least I finally have my own apartment now,” she added with a shrug.

  “That’s good. And I’m glad you’re sticking with it, Shelly. You have a lot of potential-I’d hate to see you waste it,” Sam declared sincerely.

  Shelly beamed. “You really think so?”

  “Of course I do. I’ve been telling you that all along.”

  “It doesn’t hurt to be reminded once in a while, though. Let me show you my new stuff!” she said excitedly, springing up from the sofa.

  Sam’s eyes were on her sweet little ass as Shelley scampered out of the room to get her portfolio. She returned in seconds, holding the briefcase as though it were filled with priceless jewels. She sat down and placed it on the coffee table then opened it up. Sam crouched forward and began examining the contents. The prints were all black and white eight-by-tens. The subject matter ranged from landscapes to portraiture and practically everything in between. The composition, lighting, and creativity were all quite impressive. Shelley had come a long way in the last six months, he concluded.

  “Great stuff, kiddo! Excellent,” Sam said after he’d examined the final photograph.

  “Really?” Shelley exclaimed. “You don’t think they’re too contrived?”

  “Not at all.”

  Shelley rested her elbow on Sam’s thigh and leaned forward. ”This is my favorite one,” she said, flipping back to the first page. It was a shot of an old abandoned well taken in the late afternoon sun.

  “I love the lighting-the long shadows and the way the background just sort of blurs out behind the well. It’s got a nice mood, don’t you think?”

  Sam nodded. Shelley’s face was within inches of his own and her soft blue eyes were wide as she gazed into his. He felt her other hand come down and rest on his knee. Suddenly, she threw her arms around him and kissed him hard. Sam was caught off guard but responded by embracing her and allowing himself to get lost in her soft, moist lips. His head started swimming as she brought her hand to the towel and inched herself away long enough to remove it and expose her flawless body. She then grabbed his hand and placed it on her breast, pressing his hand firmly as an invitation for him to take over.

  Before long, Sam’s clothes were off and what had started out as a lonely, rainy and miserable Friday night soon turned out to be a whole lot better than he could ever have imagined.

  CHAPTER 11

  It hadn’t been more than five minutes after Jerry Rankin left when the telephone rang again. Ann hastily threw on her sweatshirt and ran across the hall to Amy’s bedroom to answer it.

  “Hello?”

  As quickly as she spoke she heard the click of the caller hanging up. Ann waited a moment before replacing the receiver, wondering if it was the obscene caller again. Then she decided against it. Not his M. O, she thought to herself sardonically as she hung up the phone.

  Ann returned to her bedroom and put on her sweat pants as the sudden urge to call Amy at Amanda’s house came to her. She just wanted to hear her daughter’s voice and make certain that she was where she was supposed to be. After slipping into her house slippers, she turned off the light and went downstairs.

  Ann found Amanda’s phone number scrawled on a note pad stuck to the refrigerator door and dialed it. On the third ring, a teenage girl’s voice came over the line.

  “Hello?” the girl giggled.

  “Hi, this is Ann Middleton-Amy’s mother. May I speak to Amy, please?”

  “Sure,” the girl replied. Ann heard the clunk as she dropped the phone and began yelling Amy’s name. A few moments later, Amy got on.

  “Hey, Mom, what’s up?” she said. Her voice sounded a little too cheerful.

  “Nothing, sweetie. I just called to see how everything went tonight. Did you guys win the game?”

  There was a long pause, some whispering, and then her reply: ”Yeah, we won.”

  Ann had a sneaky feeling that Amy had never made it to the game. “I’m happy to hear that. What was the score?”

  “Uh, I don’t remember exactly. It was close though… I think,” she stammered.

  “You think?” Ann quizzed suspiciously.

  “Well, we left kinda early.”

  “And where did you go?”

  “We came here, Mother! Why all the third degree?”

  If Ann were a gambler, she’d bet her last dollar that her daughter had been drinking. “I was just curious, that’s all. Is Mrs. Givens there now?”

  “Jesus, Mother!” Amy sputtered. “Of course she’s here! Do you want me to put her on just to prove it?”

  “That won’t be necessary, I…”

  “No, Mother. Let me go get her so you’ll know that I’m not lying!” Amy snapped. Then, after a long sigh, she said, “Why don’t you ever believe me, Mom? You never trust me!”

  Here we go again, Ann thought. “I do trust you, honey. I’m sorry, It’s just been a long day and I’m tired,” she said, not wanting to start a fight.

  Amy fell silent for a moment. Then she said, “I’m sorry, too. I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that-Hey, guess what!”

  “What?”

  “I got asked to homecoming!” Amy announced excitedly.

  “That’s wonderful, sweetie! Who’s the lucky guy?”

  “Jason Walborn. And is he ever a hunk!”

  “I don’t recall you ever mentioning his name,” Ann said. “Is Jason a freshman, too?”

  “Nope. He’s a junior! Can you believe it?”

  Ann didn’t want to believe it. “Oh,” was all she could say.

  “Don’t worry, Mom. He’s really cool. From a fine upstanding family, and all of that,” she added with a giggle.

  Ann wondered what Sam’s reaction would be to his fourteen-year-old daughter going out with a junior. He simply wouldn’t allow it- she was certain of that. And she probably shouldn’t allow it either. But she didn’t have the heart to spoil Amy’s obvious excitement now.

  “I’m really happy for you, honey. Isn’t homecoming next weekend?” Ann asked.

  “Yeah, so we have to go out and find me a dress tomorrow!” Amy declared.

  Ann sighed to herself and said, “Okay, I guess I can take you to the mall tomorrow. When will you be home? We’d better get an early start before the stores sell out of everything.”

  “I don’t know. Probably around noon or so,” was her daughter’s reply.

  “Well, try not to be too late, honey,” Ann said. “Be good and try to get some sleep tonight, okay?”

  “I will, Mom. See you tomorrow.”

  “I love you, sweetie.”

  “Love you, too,” Amy said before hanging up.

  As she replaced the receiver, Ann considered Amy’s sudden announcement that she was going to the school dance and realized she had mixed feelings about it. Although she was certainly less than thrilled that her little girl was going out with a boy who was two years older, she was nevertheless happy that Amy was so excited about something for a change. Recalling the child’s declaration that school dances were just for “nerds and jocks” brought a wry grin to her face. How quickly a teenager’s mind can change!

  Ann realized that she no longer felt tired as she checked the time. It was just a little past eleven. Deciding that she could never fall asleep after all the excitement, she went over to the fridge, took out a can of diet Pepsi and went into the family room. After switching on the eleven o’clock news, she went over and plopped down on the sofa.

  Ann began thinking about her date with Jerry Rankin and concluded that she had truly enjoyed herself. Besides his being handsome and a lot of fun, she had been equally impressed with Jerry’s impeccable manners and the way he had managed to comfort her after that terrifying phone call. His offer to be there for her whenever she needed someone had been awfully considerate of him, too. Although she could never see herself actually calling him up and bothering him with her troubles, it nevertheless gave her some piece of mind knowing that at least that option existed.
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br />   One thing troubled her, though. It was pretty obvious that Jerry Rankin was more than just a little interested in her. She could be wrong of course-and maybe she was just flattering herself-but Ann couldn’t help but sense that he wanted more than just a casual relationship with her.

  And that was bad.

  Because she was quite certain that she wasn’t ready to start a relationship with Jerry Rankin, or anybody else for that matter. And if he were as interested in her as she suspected, it would ruin everything. At this point in time, she needed a friend, not a lover. If Jerry could consent to being just friends, she would be more than happy to go out with him on that basis-in fact she would look forward to it. But if he was expecting more, then they were just going to have to part company now before somebody got hurt. It was as simple as that.

  So when he called tomorrow, Ann resolved that she would approach Jerry with this. She wouldn’t rush into it, of course. She would test the waters first, then let him know how she felt. Hopefully, he would understand her position. She liked Jerry Rankin; she might even be capable of falling in love with him someday if she allowed herself. But she wasn’t about to let that happen now. And if she could convince Amy that Jerry was only a friend, maybe she could avoid her making a big fuss over him. She knew that if Amy thought there was something more to their relationship, she might well fly off the handle. Amy still resented the divorce and wanted her and Sam to get back together again. The last thing she wanted was to see her mother get seriously involved with another man.

  Ann didn’t like sneaking around behind Amy’s back. She had always taught her daughter how important it was to be honest and straightforward about things, no matter how difficult it might be sometimes to tell the truth. For this reason, Ann had already decided she was going to tell Amy about her date with Jerry soon-perhaps even tomorrow-providing that Jerry was willing to keep things on a friendly basis. Karen no doubt would disapprove, but she didn’t care. Amy had a right to know what her mother was doing. And besides, Jerry had mentioned that he wanted to meet her. How could that ever happen if Amy didn’t even know he existed?