Scott Wittenburg - The May Day Murders

It was conclusive now: Marsha Bradley and Sara Hunt had been raped and murdered by the same man.

Roger told Sam that he was flying to New York to compare notes with Mancuso and to go over another lead that had just cropped up regarding Sara Hunt’s case. Evidently, someone from her neighboring apartment building had called the police and informed them that he’d seen a man lurking on the fire escape outside Sara Hunt’s apartment on the night she’d been murdered. The witness had been summoned into police headquarters and his claim was substantiated. The police were just in the process of working with the witness and a sketch artist to try and put together a composite photo of the suspect when Mancuso had called.

Roger had asked Sam to do a little investigation of his own while he was in New York. He wanted him to call Ann and ask her if she’d ever known Marsha Bradley to have been in contact with Sara Hunt recently; and if so, when, and in what respect. Roger had already interrogated Dave Bradley. He’d told Roger that as far as he knew, Marsha hadn’t seen nor heard from Sara Hunt since high school. Roger wondered if perhaps Ann might know something that Dave Bradley didn’t.

After hanging up from talking to Roger, Sam had promptly called Ann at the travel agency where she worked in Columbus to fill her in on the latest details of the case. She had been stunned to learn of Sara Hunt’s murder and Sam could sense that his ex-wife was as troubled over this new twist in the investigation as he was. It was all hitting just a little too close to home for comfort and they both knew it. Sam asked Ann if Marsha had ever mentioned Sara Hunt in any size, shape or form since high school. She replied that she hadn’t, but went on to say that Marsha had hung out with Sara Hunt for a brief period near the end of their senior year at high school. Ann had always felt that Sara didn’t particularly like her, and as a result, she and Marsha had ended up having a temporary falling out in their friendship during this period. The three of them simply couldn’t get along with each other, Ann explained. At any rate, Marsha eventually quit chumming around with Sara and started hanging out with Ann again. In all that time since, Marsha had never so much as breathed Sara Hunt’s name to Ann.

At first Sam was relieved when he heard this. It meant there was still the slim possibility that there wasn’t any concrete connection between Sara Hunt’s murder and Marsha Bradley’s-except for the fact that they had both been murdered by the same person. Maybe it was just pure coincidence they had both once lived in Smithtown. Hell of a slim one, he had to admit, but nevertheless a possibility.

Then he thought: who am I trying to kid? Every indication so far suggested that the murderer had personally known both Marsha Bradley and Sara Hunt. And the only connection between the two women appeared to be that they had attended the same high school over twenty years ago. This implied that the murderer had most likely lived in Smithtown around the same time as well.

And that wasn’t good at all…

He mustn’t upset Ann needlessly, Sam had resolved. There still wasn’t anything in the case to indicate that she was in any kind of danger, but he cautioned her to be on her guard nonetheless. Afterwards, just as he started to hang up the phone, Ann had suddenly stopped him. She started to say something, then cut herself off. She told him never mind, that it wasn’t anything important. Ann had frequently done this sort of thing as long as he’d known her and it never failed to pique him. He had pressed her to tell him what she’d started to say but she wouldn’t relent, so he’d ended up getting pissed off and hanging up on her.

Sam took out a cigarette and lit it up. It wasn’t until after he had called Ann that everything really started sinking in. There was a murderer on the loose who had killed two Smithtown women in cold blood; and one of them just so happened to be his wife’s best friend. And, his wife’s best friend had at one time befriended the other victim. These were documented facts now-not idle speculation. And the implications were almost as scary as the facts themselves. Whom ever it was that had raped and murdered Marsha Bradley and Sara Hunt had known them both personally-he was certain of that now. And odds were, unless something came up to prove otherwise, the murderer knew Ann, too.

Sam leafed through the contents of his briefcase until he found the copies of the marked pages in Sara Hunt’s 1970 Smithtown High School yearbook and studied them. He looked over the nine graduating seniors’ headshots, wondering if one of them might be a cold-hearted murderer. Although Roger hadn’t brought it up earlier, Sam was certain that he too now realized the sudden significance of Lieutenant Mancuso’s half-hearted hunch. For not only had this evidence resulted in tying in two related murders, it may very well end up pointing to the murderer himself.

The five men still living in Smithtown had been checked out and interrogated by the police, and every one of them had clean records and solid alibis for the night Marsha Bradley had been murdered. This narrowed the potential suspects down to four, and the police were having a tough time discovering their exact whereabouts. All they knew for certain at this point was that none of the four men had local criminal records.

Sam still remembered two of the men, and neither seemed likely to be the type capable of rape and murder from his recollection of them in high school. Stanley Jenkins had been a nerdy, straight-A student; the type who wore thick horn-rimmed glasses, had zero personality, and made everyone sick because the teachers loved him-he always did his homework and excelled in academics. Buford Jackson, the other one, was a black guy who was as big as an ox, dumber than a coal bucket but one of the funniest, most likable guys in the entire class. Buford was probably either working somewhere as a laborer with a wife and ten kids, or doing stand-up comedy on the Holiday Inn circuit.

The remaining two men both looked like they were capable of almost anything sinister-even murdering their own mothers. They were what all the kids back then referred to as “hoods.” Both wore scowls instead of smiles in their class photos. Both had “automotive class” listed as their only academic credits. And both had probably packed switchblades whenever they decided to show up at school. Ernie Jones and Clyde Kastings: two guys you definitely didn’t want to bump into after school had let out for the day…

And both prime suspects, in Sam’s book.

As he scrutinized their faces, he wondered what possible motive one of these men could have to rape and strangle Sara Hunt in New York City, then two weeks later travel the five hundred miles to Smithtown to do the same to Marsha Bradley. It seemed incomprehensible the more he thought about it. Yet, it had happened. And there had to be reason.

What was the link between Sara Hunt and Marsha Bradley?

He set the yearbook copies aside then began reading over the articles written in the New York papers regarding Sara Hunt’s murder. Just as Lieutenant Mancuso had mentioned, the press coverage had been uncharacteristically lacking-in fact, damn near pathetic. The only articles covering the murder had been written the following day; there had been no follow-

up. Details were scarce in all three of the articles, particularly the one in the New York Times, which had been little more than a cursory obituary: ASPIRING ACTRESS FOUND MURDERED

New York City detectives reported that the body of Sara Marie Hunt, 39, was discovered in her Soho apartment by her roommate at approximately 2:30 A.M. Tuesday morning. Miss Hunt was reportedly beaten, sexually assaulted, and strangled to death by an unknown assailant who remains at large. Police say the incident is under investigation.