Scott Wittenburg - The May Day Murders

He’d left a six-pack of Coke at the checkout counter knowing full well that she was going to rush out into the parking lot to give it to him! Or, he had at least taken a ‘calculated hunch’ that she would.

“You know, I can read your mind, Ann,” he said, interrupting her thoughts. “Right now, you’re trying to sort out everything and you’re slowly but surely discovering that you’ve more or less been had. And right now, you’re no doubt probably wondering how I could possibly know so much about you. Like, how did I know that you would pick up that book and start reading it, for example? I’ll be modest and admit that I didn’t know for sure that you would. But had you not chosen to read that steamy little romance novel, I would have merely executed an alternate plan instead. You see, there’s always a back-up plan, Ann. It’s absolutely vital in this business. It can make the difference between life and death, in fact.

“The irony of all of this is that it didn’t have to end this way. We could have moved on to greener pastures by now instead of standing here freezing in this goddamn hot tub, which, by the way, I installed solely for your enjoyment. We could be submerged in this wonderful hot water right now humping away. But I’m no fool, Ann. I’ve finally come to grips with reality. You’ve already told yourself quite some time ago that you don’t want me. I wasn’t sure of it until today, though. You’ve eluded yourself into thinking that you’re too goddamn good for me, just as all the others have. I thought you’d understand me, Ann, but you don’t. You, like all the others, wouldn’t know a good thing if it bit you on the ass.”

He let go of Ann’s wrists and stood back from her, flexing his muscles and taking on a bodybuilding pose.

“Look at me, Ann. Check out this bod. Not an ounce of fat, just pure muscle of steel. It’s taken me fifteen years to get my body in this shape! Fifteen years of working out tirelessly, methodically, and sticking to a proper diet. What woman wouldn’t dream of being screwed by a man with a powerful body like mine? Not too many is my guess.”

Jerry stepped forward and brought his face a few inches from Ann’s. “And this mug, Ann. Check it out! A pretty damn handsome bloke, eh? Forty years old and hardly a wrinkle! A great head of hair, too. What bitch could possibly resist me, once they’ve examined the merchandise? What the fuck more could they want?

“But there you stand, plain as day, telling me that I’m not quite up to your specs. Are you trying to convince me that Sam Middleton is some kind of prize? Ha! That skinny twerp sure ain’t getting any offers from Chippendale’s, now is he? Yet you still want the son of a bitch, don’t you? You miss the motherfucker; I can tell by the way you talk to your buddy Karen on the phone all the time. Judas Priest, Ann, you’re fucking blind as a bat!”

The mention of Sam’s name made Ann tense up even more as something suddenly dawned on her.

“You’ve never even seen my ex-husband before-how do you know what Sam looks like? And how… How the hell do you know what I’ve spoken to Karen about?”

Rankin chuckled vacantly. “There’s a lot about me that you don’t know, Ann. I’m pretty amazing, though, aren’t I? Christ, I know more about you than you know about yourself! Makes me almost godlike, doesn’t it? Are you sure you don’t want to reconsider?”

Ann’s mind was a whirr as she thought back. Had she ever shown a picture of Sam to Jerry? No, she had not. The only photo she had was the family portrait in her bedroom. Had Jerry been up there? No, he most certainly had not.

And what about Karen? He had never met her-he doesn’t know her from the man in the moon. Yet…

“Think, Ann! Think! How could I know so much about you when I’ve only just met you a few weeks ago? Could it be that the man you’re seeing isn’t quite who he appears to be? Could it be that perhaps Jerry Rankin, real estate broker, is really somebody else? A master of surveillance-a master spy? And could it possibly be that he went into your house while you were away, gathering vital information and tapping your phone, listening in on your conversations? And spied on you through your windows while you were innocently going about your business? I mean, how else could I have known all the juicy things that you and your buddy Karen have chatted about? Including yours truly, of course. And how about that tart, Shelley Hatcher, whose been fucking your beloved Sam blind? You’d still choose him over me even after he’s been screwing around with someone else-even after he never learned his lesson the first time around. I just can’t figure you women out!”

Ann felt as though she was going to faint.

All of a sudden, Jerry grabbed her and began shaking her mercilessly, his face contorted in a maniacal fit of rage.

“I went to all of this time and trouble for you, you bitch! And what do I get in return? Another turndown! You’re a big fucking disappointment, Ann!”

Ann cried out in agony as she felt his hands digging into her flesh.

“Please, Jerry…”

“ Please fucking what? Please let go of me? Please take me home? Why, bitch? Why should I do anything else for you? What have you done for me to deserve any mercy? I’ve done everything for you-all of this-but you haven’t given me one goddamn thing in return!”

He ceased shaking her and looked away for a moment. Then he stared at Ann, his expression softer, feigning compassion. “I’m sorry, Ann. I really need to get a handle on this temper of mine. I get a bit irrational when I get angry and then I start making mistakes. That’s not acceptable. Especially in the spy gig. Do forgive me, please.”

Ann was trembling. She forgot the excruciating pain in her shoulders while she struggled to figure out how she was going to get away from this raging lunatic. She realized that she was totally at his mercy, no matter what, and that her only chance for survival, if only for a few minutes, was to keep silent and do whatever he demanded. She simply had no choice.

He brought his hands down and clasped onto hers, smiled like a lover getting ready to propose. “Why, you’re freezing cold, Ann. Let’s get in the water,” he said gently.

Ann forced a nod, lowered herself down into the steaming, churning water along with Jerry. The warmth seeped into her skin and had a graciously sobering effect.

“There now, that’s better,” he breathed softly. Gazing into her eyes, he said, “Do you know how many times I’ve longed for this moment, Ann? To be with you like this, holding your hands? Countless. It means a lot more to me than you could ever imagine. A long time ago, I dreamt of a moment just like this, to be with a beautiful woman, intimately, enjoying her beauty, the softness of her skin and knowing that she wanted me as much as I wanted her. Do you know what I mean?”

Ann nodded.

“But I never had much luck making that dream materialize. Women have never been able to understand me for some reason. But you, Ann, you seemed different ever since the first time I ever laid eyes on you. Yes, I admit it now. I lied about my once having a wife. I was trying to make you feel sorry for me. Do you forgive me?”

Ann nodded again.

“A guy gets lonely sometimes. He needs a release, a break from all of the frustration. That’s what this is all about, Ann. I need a release. A little female accompaniment that’s not forced-voluntary. I really don’t want to hurt you. I just want you to play along-to let me realize that dream. If only for just a few moments. Do you think you could do that for me, Ann?”

Although her head was reeling, Ann managed to appear relatively calm. What was her alternative, she thought, if she didn’t play along?