Scott Wittenburg - The May Day Murders

Ann grinned. “I used to love fishing when I was a little girl! I sort of grew out of it though, I guess.”

“Maybe you’d like to try it again and see if you still enjoy it,” he suggested, eying her expectantly.

Ann flashed back to the times when she used to go fishing with her father as a child and a warm wave of nostalgia swept over her.

“I just may want to do that,” she replied with a smile.

In another minute they rounded a curve in the road and pulled up beside the house.

“Here we are,” he proclaimed.

Ann stepped out and stood for a moment, surveying the surroundings. The A-frame house looked even larger than she’d imagined it to be.

“I never dreamt it would be so gorgeous. You’ve created you own little island here!”

“I’m glad you like it. Well, let’s go inside and I’ll show you around.”

Ann followed him onto the deck and through the front door. The first thing that caught her eye was the sunken living room that nearly took up the entire east side of the first floor. Straight ahead from her was a large kitchen and to the right the dining area as well as sliding glass doors opening to a solarium, complete with a Jacuzzi. To her immediate right was raw space with the exception of a couple of oil paintings hanging on the wall and a spiral staircase leading upstairs. There wasn’t a single wall separating any of the interior rooms and that feature lent a light and airy atmosphere to the space.

‘Well, what do you think so far?” Jerry asked.

“Awesome,” was all Ann could say.

“C’mon,” he said, taking her by the hand and leading the way into the solarium. After showing her the hot tub, he led her to the staircase. Ann stopped and paused to look at the paintings, surprised to see that they were signed by Jerry Rankin.

“You didn’t tell me that you were an artist!” she exclaimed as she studied one of the paintings.

“I’ve dabbled a bit,” he replied modestly.

“Dabbled? These are really good, Jerry!”

“Thank you. I’m still trying to develop my own style-believe me it isn’t easy. My instructors all thought hat I was a little too fond of Picasso.”

“Who cares? How long have you been painting?”

“I took it up while I was in Europe. I used to sketch all the time when I was a kid and my parents were anything but encouraging-so I decided to take it more seriously and studied for a few years in Paris.”

He started moving toward the staircase and Ann followed behind.

“Let me show you the upstairs.”

Jerry waited until Ann reached the landing and said. “This used to be just like the first floor-void of any walls dividing up the rooms. But I decided to break it up into separate rooms to make it a bit more functional.”

Ann nodded and followed him down the hall to the first door on the left, which was the master bedroom. It was good sized, tastefully furnished and offered a nice panorama of the hills through the enormous plate glass window. Off to the side was a full bath that was shared with the adjacent room. Jerry led her through the bathroom into the next room, which was smaller and totally empty.

“One of the two spare bedrooms” he explained as they walked back out into the hallway.

They crossed the hall to another room. Jerry opened the door and Ann let out a gasp. Inside was a miniature equivalent to a fully equipped gym with every kind of exercise machine and weight lifting apparatus imaginable.

“I like to keep fit,” Jerry smiled.

“I’ll say,” Ann replied.

Jerry closed the door and led Ann to the last room. “This is my study, you might say,”

The room was every bit as large as the master bedroom and looked like it could be the control room for NASA, with numerous computers and peripherals arranged in clusters on the long counters running along the length of the walls. At the far end, against the window, sat another counter with what appeared to be a ham radio along with a vast array of sophisticated looking diagnostic equipment.

“Good God, Jerry! What is all of this?” Ann asked.

“Toys,” Jerry replied simply. “Just a bunch of toys that I like to tinker around with.”

Ann stood over to one of the computers and looked it over. Although she wasn’t very familiar with computer hardware, she could tell that this was serious, ultra-expensive equipment.

“What on earth do you use all of this for?”

Jerry came over and stood beside her. “I like to keep in touch with what’s going on in the world. It’s almost like having the entire world at your fingertips.”

“That’s pretty apparent. But why in a country retreat?”

He looked at her peculiarly. “Why not?”

Ann suddenly felt stupid for asking the question and smiled nervously. “Well, I’m certainly impressed. I didn’t realize you had so many hobbies, Jerry. I’m surprised you find the time to sell real estate!”

He said quickly, “It’s not as though I’m here that often, but it’s nice to come here whenever I can and get away from it all. Isn’t that what getting away is all about? Relax and do the things you most enjoy doing?”

He had a point and she had to agree. But she also wondered what was left to furnish his home in Dublin. Jerry Rankin’s “retreat” looked more like permanent residence than a place to just drop in from time to time.

When they returned to the hall, Jerry walked over to the staircase and pointed up to where it dead-ended into a hatch-like door set into the ceiling.

“My studio loft is up there. I’m in the process of renovating itI’m afraid I’ll have to show it to you some other time.”

“That’s a shame,” Ann said. “I’d love to see it.”

“Perhaps next time,” he said flatly before descending the stairs.

Ann glanced upward and wondered what renovations Jerry could possibly be doing to his studio that would prevent her from at least getting quick peek at it. Perhaps he was just sensitive of her seeing his paintings in progress? Possibly…

She began descending the stairs and was half way down when she realized to her horror that Jerry was standing at the bottom staring straight up her skirt! Her faced turned red and Jerry quickly turned away and began making his way to the kitchen. The incident made Ann very nervous and she wondered if he had been staring at her on purpose or if he’d done it inadvertently. Something told her that the former was the case but she hoped that she was wrong. Surely, she decided, Jerry wouldn’t purposely do something that childish When she joined him in the kitchen, Jerry smiled and said, “How about a little stroll through the grounds-if you’re not too tired, that is.”

Ann thought about it a moment. “Sure, why not?”

“Wonderful! And when we get back, I’ll prepare us some dinner. Do you by any chance like lobster?”

“Love it!” Ann said.

“I’m glad to hear that because I picked up a pair of fresh ones at the market yesterday along with a bottle of dry white wine. I toss a pretty mean salad, too.”

“Sounds scrumptious.”

Ann followed Jerry out the front door and zipped up her jacket when the chilly air greeted her. They began walking down the road toward the pond and by time they had reached it, Jerry had taken hold of her hand.

For the next half hour or so they sauntered leisurely around the grounds talking and taking in the quiet beauty of the autumn foliage. Jerry did most of the talking, telling Ann how much he loved it in the country and how he could just pack everything in and stay there forever. Ann could almost sense by his subtle hints that he was trying to sell her on the place, as if he wouldn’t mind it if she could someday join him and live happily ever after here in the middle of nowhere. She remained politely aloof, flattered by his little innuendoes and wondering at the same time how he could so easily forget that his wife had only recently passed away and how he could already be so fervent to start all over again with someone else.