Scott Wittenburg - The May Day Murders

“Well, now I’ve just learned that Amy got an obscene phone call in the middle of the night! This guy apparently did the heavy-breathing routine, then said, ‘I want to fuck you.’ Amy, God love her, wisely hung up on him immediately. Jesus, Karen, this is so frightening! I’m scared…”

“All right, Ann, now calm down a second,” Karen said soothingly. “Do you think the prowler and the caller might have been the same person?”

“I don’t know, Karen. I’m not even sure that there was a prowler. All I know is that some sick son of a bitch terrorized my daughter on the phone!”

“Well, I certainly don’t blame you for being upset-I’d be too. Have you reported it to the police yet?”

“No, I called you first.”

“Then here’s what you do. Call the police and tell them what happened-tell them everything. They’ll probably tell you there’s nothing they can do about the obscene phone call, but surely they’ll offer to keep an eye on your house for a while, I should think. That will at least give you a little piece of mind. In the meantime, get that light in your backyard fixed. Do it today.”

“I’ve already called the landlord and he’s coming over this afternoon to take a look at it,” Ann said.

“Good. So will you call the police?”

“Yes, I will. Karen, I don’t know what I’d do without you… You always know the right thing to do. I’m not so sure I would have even thought of calling the police.”

“Well, hon, you’ve been under a lot of stress lately, that’s all. There’s just too much happening all at once and you’re not quite yourself. I’m just doing what any friend would do.”

“And I appreciate it. I feel a lot better already.”

“I’m happy to hear that. I hate to say it, but this is all the more reason why you need to get a man in your life. I mean, for security, if nothing else! Here you are, two gorgeous gals living all alone, without a man around, and you’re sitting ducks for things like this. Get yourself a man, Hon! Your troubles will be over.”

Ann managed to smile at her friend’s persistence. “You know, it’s funny you’d say that because I just met someone this morning at the supermarket.”

“Really? That’s wonderful! Tell me all about him!” she gushed excitedly.

“Calm down a little, Karen-it’s really not that big of deal,” Ann declared. She then proceeded to tell her friend about the brief encounter with Jerry Rankin.

When she was finished, Karen said, “So what are you going to do? You’re going to call him, aren’t you?”

Ann sighed. “I don’t know, Karen… I doubt it.”

“Why not call him? He sounds like a very nice guy and believe me, they’re few and far between nowadays. Plus, you said he was a hunk-what’s stopping you, gal?”

“I said he was handsome, Karen, not a ‘hunk!’ At any rate, as I told you yesterday, I’m just not ready for a relationship. I don’t know if I’ll ever be for that matter.”

“Who said anything about a relationship?” Karen persisted. ”The guy just wants to take you out to dinner, not marry you! Listen. He’s a widower, right? So he’s probably not anymore interested in a relationship than you are. He’s probably lonely, like you, and at the crossroads of his life, like you. It sounds perfect! What do you have to lose?”

Ann sometimes resented the way Karen made everything out to seem so logical. She took a deep breath and said, “Okay, Karen. You’ve made your point. I guess when you put it that way it doesn’t seem like such a bad idea. I’ll give it some serious thought-I promise. But don’t get on my case if I don’t go through with it.”

“Ann, I would never pressure you over anything like this and you know it. I’m just trying to encourage you a little-God knows you need encouragement! One last thing before I drop the subject. It won’t hurt anything if you just call this guy and talk to him, just like he suggested. You know-get to know him a little bit and play it by ear. Then, if it looks good, go ahead and let him take you out. If he sounds like a creep, then just ditch him. Simple as that.”

Ann sighed. “I guess you’re right; it’s not like I have to go out with him, right? I could just call and talk to him, being careful not to tell him my last name or anything else that might enable him to find out my phone number or where I live. Then just take it from there. Actually, he didn’t remind me of the type who would hassle me-he was really sweet… Okay. I just might do it! But I’m still going to think about it first.”

“Great! Promise me you’ll let me know the scoop if and when you do call him, okay?” Karen said.

“I will,” Ann replied. “How was the movie, by the way?”

“Pretty stupid, really. We went to see one of those sci-fi action movies-Bill loves them-and I fell asleep. Dinner was nice, though. We went to Angelino’s.”

“I’ve heard that was a pretty decent restaurant.”

“It’s fantastic. Maybe if you hook up with this Jerry fellow, we can double sometime.”

Ann chuckled. “You are unbelievable, Karen!”

“I know it. Well, hon, I’d better let you go. If I don’t talk to you in the meantime, I’ll see you at the office tomorrow.”

“Okay, Karen. And thanks, again.”

“No problem. Bye.”

Ann hung up the phone and sat for a moment, thinking about what Karen had said. Maybe she was right, she thought. It wouldn’t hurt just to call Jerry Rankin up someday and chat with him. She might even be glad she’d followed through with it.

But right now she had a more important call to make. She stood up and went over to the refrigerator where the card with the emergency numbers was stuck to the door by a pear-shaped magnet, and carried it back over to the phone. Then she dialed the number for the Woodcrest Police Department.

Sam stared blankly out the window at the frost on the ground, the morning rays of sun just now beginning to melt it away. As he leaned over the kitchen sink, he felt a relentless throbbing in his head and wished to hell the coffee would finish brewing and the aspirins he’d taken would start kicking in. He had a hangover of mammoth proportions.

He hadn’t tied one on in a long time. In fact, the last time he’d gotten that shit-faced was the last day he’d stayed over at Roger’s place. Since then, he’d kept sober for the most part-no more than a couple of beers before going to bed. Roger Hagstrom couldn’t stop at two drinks to save his life.

Sam had acquired this little house out in the sticks for a number of reasons. He knew he could never go back to the one he and his family had lived in before-the memories and the ghosts would have made it unbearable. It had been a handsome house-an old Cape Cod on the north end of town that he’d renovated exactly to his and Ann’s specifications. It had been their dream house, and they’d spent nearly as much money over the years making it everything they’d ever wanted as they had on the original mortgage.

Once the divorce proceedings began, he’d moved in with Roger until he could find another place to live. He had learned about this humble abode from one of the employees in the advertising department at the Observer, and had driven out here to the rural countryside to check it out. From the moment he’d first laid eyes on the little cottage nestled in a hollow between two steep hillsides, he knew he wanted it. The asking price was a steal, especially taking into account that the deed included ten acres of nicely wooded land. But the house had been in bad need of repair. This hadn’t been a problem though, he had in fact looked forward to a project that would help take his mind off the divorce.

It was secluded here, and he liked that. The only thing standing between his house and Route 52 was his land and the road linking them together; a quarter mile of winding, bumpy terrain. His closest neighbor was over two miles away, as was the nearest convenient store-the only drawback to the whole arrangement. But he’d learned to deal with it.