Scott Wittenburg - The May Day Murders

“Okay, you’ve made your point,” he told his friend. “Ann could be fooling around with someone and I no doubt would be the last one in the world to know about it.”

“So there you are. My advice is to quit worrying so goddamn much and stop and smell the coffee once in a while. Go for it! Enjoy yourself for a change!”

“You’re right, and I know you’re right. I guess I just feel a little weirded-out, that’s all.”

“Because you’ve forgotten what it’s like to have a good time.”

“I reckon so,” Sam confessed.

“Is Shelley still at your place?”

“Yeah. Her car’s stuck in a drainage ditch in my driveway. Why?”

“Because if I were you, I’d keep her there for a while, if she’s willing. Get back on the track and leave the past behind while you’ve got the chance. Jesus, Sam! If I had that chick hanging around my doorstep, I sure as hell wouldn’t send her home!”

Sam laughed. “I’ll give your worldly advice some serious consideration, Doctor Hagstrom. In the meantime though, I’m going to run a few errands while I’m in town and think all of this out. Ain’t got a drop of liquor in the house and I’m down to my last egg.”

“Sounds like my place,” Roger said as Sam pulled into the police station parking lot.

“Keep in touch,” Sam said as Roger started to get out. “When are you taking a day off, by the way?”

Roger opened the door and said, “You mean there’s really such a thing as that?”

“At least you’re getting paid scads of overtime.”

“Fuck, they’ll probably screw me out of that, too.”

With that, Roger Hagstrom got out, slammed the door and headed toward the station.

As he drove away, Sam Middleton had a lot on his mind.

An hour later, as he pulled up beside his house and got out of the Jeep, Sam wondered if Shelley was still in bed asleep. His question was answered when he reached the front door: Shelley was standing just inside the doorway, apparently awaiting him. Her face was white as a sheet.

“What’s wrong, Shelley?” he asked uneasily as he stepped inside and set the groceries on the floor.

She stood rigidly and looked away from him as she spoke. “Ann just called,” she announced dismally.

Sam felt his pulse quicken and his heart skip a beat. “What did she say?” he asked, hoping rather futilely that whatever had been said by his ex-wife had been said to his answering machine, and not to Shelley Hatcher.

Futile, indeed.

Suddenly, Shelley broke down. “You’re going to hate me!” she cried. “I should have never answered the phone!”

Sam felt his blood pressure go up 20 points, but he struggled to keep calm. “What did she say, Shelley?”

Again, Shelley looked away from him. “She asked for you. I told her you weren’t here,” she began slowly. Then she faced him again, tears streaming down her lovely face. “She knew it was me, Sam!”

She threw her arms around him and buried her face in his chest. “I’m so sorry, Sam. It looks like I’ve screwed you up again,” she sobbed.

Sam patted her back halfheartedly. “How do you know that Ann knew it was you?” he asked lamely.

Her muffled reply was, “Because she said, ‘This is Shelley Hatcher, isn’t it?’ I froze up, Sam, and couldn’t answer. Then she yelled ‘slut!’ and slammed down the phone.”

Sam was speechless. His anger at Shelley’s answering the phone in the first place was offset by his own stupidity for not telling her before he left to let the answering machine field any calls he might have until he returned. But utmost in his mind was the overwhelming guilt he now felt and how incredibly small and fiendish he must now look in Ann’s eyes now that she knew he had been with Shelley Hatcher, of all people.

There is no way out of this, he thought. He’d been caught red-handed yet again and Ann was never, ever going to forgive him.

Shelley Hatcher is bad news…

Remember telling yourself that, asshole?

Sam’s immediate impulse was to run to the phone, call Ann, try to explain. But there wasn’t anything to explain.

Jesus Christ! he thought. Was he not the most luckless son of a bitch on earth, or what?

Shelley’s incessant sobbing prevented him from flying totally off the handle. Again, just like the first time, she wasn’t to blame for this and Sam knew it. He’d given into temptation, again, and now he was going to have to face the consequences… again.

And now, in spite of his anger and frustration, and as ironic as it was, he realized that he felt even worse for Shelley Hatcher than he did for himself. He held her tight and felt the odd and impulsive urge to kiss her, which he did. Then he talked to her, gently, and eventually managed to calm her down somewhat. Then he took her by the hand and led her to the bedroom, where they spent the remainder of the afternoon making wild and passionate love.

Sam glanced over at Shelley to make certain that she was asleep, slipped quietly out of bed and tiptoed out of the bedroom. It was dusk and long shafts of sun shone through the window as he made his way to the den and picked up the phone. He dialed Ann’s number.

“Hello?” he heard her say.

“Hi, Ann.”

There was a moment of silence and Sam guessed that she was deciding whether or not to hang up on him. Finally, she spoke.

“What do you want?” Her tone of voice was undeniably terse.

“Please hear me out, Ann. I know you’re pissed at me right now and I don’t really blame-”

“Pissed?” she interrupted. “I’m a lot more than just pissed, Sam! How could you? After all the trouble that tramp has caused, you turn around and let her back into your life. I’m so angry at you that I could just scream!”

Before Sam could say anything, she added, “And you sure have had a lot of nerve acting like you were so hurt and torn up over the divorce-what a joke! I’m sorry I ever fell for that load of crap. How long has this been going on? How long have you been screwing that whore, Sam? Huh? How long have you been snowing me with your bullshit?”

Sam was taken aback by Ann’s outrage. He’d known she would be hurt and angry, but he’d never guessed she’d be this hysterical. “I’m sorry, Ann,” he said weakly. “I can see that you need some time to cool off, so I might as well not even try to argue my case now. I just want you to know that I haven’t been ‘snowing’ you, as you put it. I truly have been torn up over our divorce and will always be. This is the first time I’ve seen Shelley since-”

“I don’t even want to hear her name, Sam!” Ann snapped. “Furthermore, I’ve had all day to ‘cool down’ and I’m about as cooled down as I’m ever going to be. Listen, why don’t you do us both a favor and just leave me alone. I have nothing more to say to you. Nothing! You’ve really screwed up but good this time, buster. So just have your fun with your little slut friend and leave me alone!”

She slammed down the phone so hard it hurt.

Sam stared vacantly at the wall with the phone still to his ear. He was not only stunned by his ex-wife’s onslaught, but angry as well. He deserved a little better treatment than this-no matter how much he’d fucked up.

He deserved to be heard, at least.

He pushed the redial button. It rang a dozen or so times before Ann finally answered.

“What?” she hissed.

“You’re being a little unfair about this, don’t you think?”

“Unfair?” she echoed. “I’m being unfair? You’re a regular comedian, Sam.”

“I just want you to take a second here and look at the facts, Ann. We’re divorced, right? That was your idea, not mine. But no matter whose fault it was that we split up, the fact remains. We’re free now. Isn’t that what you keep telling me? So I should be free to see whomever I want whether you like that person or not. It just so happens that you despise this particular person, so all of a sudden I’m a bad guy. What if it were someone else? What would your reaction be then? Better yet, try putting the shoe on the other foot. What if you were seeing someone now? Would you want me to get all over your case like you’re getting on mine? Would that be fair?”