Scott Wittenburg - The May Day Murders

She took a sip of Pepsi and watched the weather report. Smithtown was presently being hammered by thunderstorms, but the meteorologist gave his assurance that the storms would stay to the south of the state and avert central Ohio. By morning it was supposed to be fair and turn much colder in Columbus.

Ann reached for the romance novel she had been reading and read until she had to fight to keep her eyes open. Then she decided to go to bed, stopping at the bathroom on the way. After washing her face and brushing her teeth, she happened to notice that the mini blinds were fully open as it occurred to her that this was the second time in the last week that they hadn’t been in their usually closed position. The first time she’d given it little thought, aware that Amy occasionally opened the blinds as well as the window a little to vent out the steam when she took a shower But Amy hadn’t taken a shower today because she was running late for school earlier that morning and hadn’t had time.

Then she had gone straight to Amanda’s after school instead of coming home first.

Ann felt a pang of dread as she struggled to recall if the blinds had been open when she had gotten ready for her date with Jerry Rankin. She was almost certain that they had been closed then; otherwise she would have noticed. Wouldn’t she have? Of course she would have. Being modest by nature her entire life, she had always made a point of closing the blinds whenever she was in the bathroom.

So someone had opened the blinds while she had been out with Jerry.

But who?

A thought suddenly came to mind: Amy. Perhaps Amy had come home while she’d been out with Jerry. She hadn’t mentioned it on the phone when she’d spoken to her earlier, but that was no real surprise. It probably hadn’t seemed worth mentioning…

Ann looked at the bathroom window. It was closed and locked. So if Amy had come home earlier, it hadn’t been to take a shower. The window would still be cracked open.

So why had Amy come home, then?

Had she come home to do something she shouldn’t have been doing? Ann wondered. Like sneaking boys in, or drinking with her friends? That might explain why she had seemed so suspiciously “cheery” on the phone earlier. But surely Amy wouldn’t have taken that great of risk, Ann thought. She would have had no idea how long she and Jerry would be gone or whether she’d have enough time to pull off some kind of caper. And besides that, it would have been nearly impossible for her to avoid being found out somehow if she had been drinking alcohol in this house. Amy was much too sloppy and careless to have been able to cover her tracks so well.

Ann heaved a sigh of exasperation as she closed the blinds. Whatever had happened, she was going to get to the bottom of it. Tomorrow she would have a few questions to ask her daughter about all of this. And if Amy tried to lie her way out of it, she would be able to tell.

And if Amy told her that she hadn’t come home and she was telling the truth, then what?

Ann didn’t even want to think about it…

She turned off the light, went upstairs and went to bed.

It took Ann Middleton a very long time to get to sleep that night…

Radiant sun poured through Sam’s bedroom window when he finally decided to get up. He’d heard the phone ring earlier and his answering machine come on, but he hadn’t been able to make out whom the caller was or what he was saying. He’d felt too wasted to get up and check it out at the time but now realized that the call might have been important and that he’d better go see what it was all about.

He was definitely hung over in a very bad way and it wasn’t until he rolled over onto his back and saw Shelly Hatcher lying fast asleep beside him that the events of the following night began registering in his groggy head. She lay with her back facing him and the covers drawn up to her waist. Sam sat up and pulled the covers over her shoulders before slipping quietly out of bed. After throwing on a pair of sweats, he left the bedroom and made his way to the den.

When he pressed the message replay button, Roger Hagstrom’s gruff voice crackled through the tiny speaker:

“Get the fuck out of bed, ya drunk!” his old friend chided. After a short pause, he continued: “I’ve got a ton of shit to tell you man, so give me a call as soon as you get your sick ass out of bed. It’s 8:42 now and I’ll probably be at the station by the time you hear this. Call me there.”

Sam glanced over at the clock. Just past noon. He immediately picked up the phone and dialed the number for the Smithtown Police Department.

“Detective Hagstrom, please.”

A moment later his friend answered.

“Hagstrom.”

“What the hell are you doing back from N.Y.C. already?” Sam said.

Roger’s voice was low as he spoke. “It’s a long story, but in a nutshell there was a lot more happening here than there was there, so I took the first flight out this morning.”

“What happened?” Sam asked. He could tell by his friend’s tone of voice that he was onto something major.

“I can’t tell you right now-I’m in the middle of a briefing. Can you get down her in say, a half hour or so?”

“No problem. Can you give me a hint? Something to do with the Bradley case?” Sam prodded, feeling a surge of adrenalin kick in, in spite of his hangover.

“Could well be,” Lieutenant Hagstrom replied in his typically vague fashion. “I’ll fill you in when you get here. Gotta go.”

He hung up the phone.

Wondering what the hell had come up to get the normally complacent Roger Hagstrom so fired up, Sam made a beeline for the kitchen and quickly got the coffee brewing. He suddenly recalled that Shelley Hatcher’s car was mired-up in his driveway and that it would have to be moved before he could go to the police station.

He went back into the den to get a cigarette and stood there for a moment debating what he was going to do about Shelley and her car. He wanted to meet Roger ASAP and find out what was going on but he also wanted, no, needed to take a hot shower so that he could feel at least halfway human again. He wasn’t going to have enough time to get Shelley’s car out of the mud and shower unless the road had by chance dried out enough to enable him to get the car out under its own power. The first priority, Sam decided, was to drive the Jeep down and check out Shelley’s car.

He started to leave the room and stopped himself cold as he realized that he was going to need Shelley’s car keys, which most likely were in her purse. He didn’t particularly want to go rummaging through Shelley’s purse without her knowing it, so it looked like he was going to have to wake her up after all. He’d wanted to avoid awaking Shelley any sooner than needed and Sam now seriously considered why this was so. The reality of having to confront her after last night, perhaps..?

Yup. You got it.

Sam let out a groan and made his way back to the bedroom. Shelley was still fast asleep when he entered. He walked quietly over to the side of the bed and touched her shoulder.

“Shelley?” he said softly.

She mumbled something and opened her eyes. She smiled when she saw him.

“Hi,” she whispered sweetly.

Even after a long and crazy night of heavy drinking and unbridled sex, Shelley Hatcher still looked like a million bucks. Her silky blonde hair partially covered her lovely face and her deep blue eyes were just as wide and enchanting as they’d been the night before. Her full lips still had that sultry, seductive look that he had always found hard to resist.

“How are you feeling?” Sam asked, testing the waters.

She feigned a groan and replied, “Tired, but content. Last night was wonderful, Sam,” she purred with a playful grin.