The May Day Murders (4 page)

“
Lousy,” Ann replied flatly.
“And it’s no wonder. She hardly ever does her homework.”

“
Well, all I can say is give
her time. She just needs to adjust to everything.”

“
Thanks for the
encouragement, Karen. I need all I can get right now.”

“
No problem, dear—I think I
just heard Bill pull up. We’re taking in a movie tonight. I sure
wish you’d hurry up and find a man so we can double
sometime!”

Ann laughed. “I don’t think I’m quite
ready for that yet, Karen. I’ve got enough problems as it
is.”

“
Well, you should still keep
your eyes open anyway. It may be just what you need now—a
relationship of some kind. It would help get your mind off your
troubles.”

“
I doubt it. I don’t think
I’d be very good company to anyone right now,” Ann
lamented.

“
Nonsense! I can see that
you need an ego-boost, dear. Trust me, any man in this town would
kill to go out with you! If I looked just half as good as you do, I
could be taking my pick of eligible bachelors!”

Ann laughed again. “You’re too much,
Karen! But in spite of your tendency to exaggerate, I’ll take the
compliment anyway. At least you’ve managed to make me
smile.”

“
Come on in, honey,” she
heard Karen say. “Ann, Bill’s here. I want you to think about what
I said and cheer up! Everything’s going to be fine.”

“
Thanks, Karen. If I don’t
talk to you tomorrow, I’ll see you at the office
Monday.”

“
I’ll call you tomorrow and
check in,” Karen asserted. “Take care of yourself, Ann.”

“
I will, Karen. Tell Bill I
said hello, and you guys have a good time tonight.”

“
Thanks, dear. Talk to you
tomorrow.”

Ann hung up the phone feeling grateful
for having a friend like Karen. She always had that knack for
making her laugh, she thought to herself.

Karen Walker was office manager at the
travel agency where Ann worked. She was fifty years old, divorced,
with two kids who were all grown up and married. And although she
might look her age physically, she possessed a lighthearted
attitude toward life that made her seem years younger. When Ann was
introduced to Karen on her first day at the agency, the two hit it
off immediately and had become best friends from then
on.

Bill Warner was Karen’s
boyfriend—mid-fifties, balding, and worshipped the very ground
Karen walked on. They had been dating for over five years and Ann
often wondered why they didn’t simply get married after all this
time. Karen’s explanation was that she’d “already made that mistake
once,” and insisted that she was quite content with their
relationship the way it was. Ann had the feeling, however, that
Bill wasn’t in total agreement with Karen, and would gladly marry
her at the drop of a hat.

Ann stared blankly at the kitchen table
as her thoughts shifted to Marsha. She felt a tear come to her eye
as the stark reality of her death hit home once again. Already she
missed her lifelong friend, and she knew that life would never be
the same without Marsha Bradley in it. Before moving to Columbus,
Marsha had been her confidante and sounding board during the
divorce, always there to comfort and support her. Marsha had in
fact been one of the few reasons she had been hesitant to move out
of Smithtown after the divorce. Perhaps had she not moved away,
Marsha might still be alive today …

Ann held her head in her hands and shut
her eyes. She suddenly felt very alone, living in a strange new
city in unfamiliar surroundings. Had she done the right thing?
Would she have been better off forgiving Sam for what he’d done and
staying with him, instead of stirring everything up as she had? The
after-effects of the divorce had so far been anything but
auspicious. Nobody was happy. Not Sam, not herself, and certainly
not Amy.

And now, Marsha Bradley was
dead.

Was somebody trying to tell her that
she’d made a mistake?

The sound of the squeaky hot water
faucet coming from the bathroom reminded her that Amy was going out
tonight and that she’d be left alone in the house for the rest of
the evening. She had never really gotten used to not having Sam
around since the divorce—especially at night—and she had been even
more apprehensive about it since moving to Columbus. Even though
Woodcrest was supposedly a “safe neighborhood” as suburban
neighborhoods go, it didn’t make Ann feel any more secure. The
porch light suddenly crossed her mind and she wondered how the bulb
could have gotten unscrewed so far. Could the wind have done it?
she wondered. Certainly not! Maybe it had been loose all this time,
barely making contact, and had just happened to back itself out far
enough to go out while she and Amy were gone. Yes, she decided,
that’s probably what had happened.

Just then, Ann heard a rustling noise
outside, coming from the back yard. She stood up and ran over to
the window and peered out. The yard was pitch dark and she recalled
that the floodlight mounted on the roof had never worked right
since they’d moved in. Ann had attempted to replace the bulb
herself but it was too high up for her to reach, so she had called
the landlord and asked him to do it for her. Mr. Ogilvy had come
over the next day with his ladder and a new bulb, and having
finished replacing the old one, had informed her that there was a
short in the wiring and that he had gone ahead and repaired it.
Since then the light had worked sporadically, going off and on
randomly, as if it had a mind of its own. Ann hadn’t yet taken the
time to call Mr. Ogilvy back to tell him that it still wasn’t
working right.

She would call him first thing in the
morning, she decided.

Ann’s eyes adjusted somewhat to the
darkness as she looked around the yard as far as she could see from
her vantage point. Finally, a couple of moments later, she felt
assured that there weren’t any intruders outside. Probably a
raccoon or opossum, she thought to herself.

Ann realized that her heart was racing
now and she looked down at her hands to find that they were
trembling. She smiled wryly, telling herself that she was letting
her imagination get the best of her. She simply had to try and get
her mind off of everything, she resolved. Maybe get into a good
book after Amy left.

Ann turned around and strode out of the
kitchen. She paused outside the bathroom and opened the door a few
inches. “Save me some hot water, kiddo!” she shouted into the
steamy bathroom.

“
Okay!” Amy hollered back
from the tub.

Ann closed the door, went upstairs and
peeked into Amy’s bedroom. It was a mess as usual, but she had
hoped that it would have lasted longer than this. She’d helped Amy
tidy up only yesterday and it already looked like a tornado had
blown through it. With a sigh, she crossed the hall to her own room
and entered.

As she sat down on the side of the bed
to take off her shoes, Ann looked around the room and felt grateful
that she and Amy had been fortunate enough to rent this house, as
opposed to having to live in an apartment. She had Sam to thank for
that. When she had informed him that she and Amy were moving to
Columbus, he had been predictably shocked and angry with her. He
had fumed that it wasn’t fair of her to move his daughter out of
town, and accused Ann of making an already bad situation even
worse. This had made her feel guilty, but she explained to him that
she couldn’t bear to live in Smithtown any longer, and asserted
that she wanted someday to return to college and get her law
degree. Furthermore, she needed to get Amy and herself settled in
before school started in the fall so Amy could get herself
adjusted.

Sam had reluctantly given in and wanted
to know where she intended to live. Ann had replied that they would
get an apartment and Sam had immediately objected, insisting that
they at least try and find a house to rent because apartments
weren’t safe. Sam had subsequently made a few calls to some friends
he knew living in Columbus and one of them had tipped him off about
this house in Woodcrest. Sam had even driven up with Ann and Amy to
check it out and had ended up paying the first month’s security
deposit as well.

The house was perfect, all things
considered. The rent was reasonable and it was roomy for its size.
Ann particularly liked the family room that had been added on to
the rear of the house, complete with a working fireplace and a
bar.

Sam was a good man, in spite of his
faults, she thought to herself—

The image of seeing him emerging from
that bitch’s apartment, arm-in-arm, flashed through her mind and
made her teeth clench. She would never be able to forget that look
on Sam’s face when he had spotted her parked across the street,
watching them …

Sam had supposedly been working late at
the
Observer
that night. He’d called Ann at around
dinnertime and told her that he was running behind on an article he
was writing, and that he had to finish it up that evening so it
could go to press in the morning. It wouldn’t take more than a
couple of hours, he’d said, and he told Ann to go ahead and eat
dinner without him. She had immediately suspected foul play,
because Sam had rarely stayed late at work in the many years they’d
been married. He had always preferred bringing his work home to
finish because, as Sam put it, he would “rather be at home with his
family than cooped-up in that fuckin’ office.”

Besides this break from the usual,
Sam’s tone of voice had sounded different that evening, a little
more distant than usual, as if he was already feeling guilty for
what he was scheming to do. Ann’s suspicions mounted when Sam had
called her the second time, at around nine o’clock. He was a little
drunk, Ann suspected, when he told her that the article was taking
longer than he’d anticipated and that he needed another hour or so.
Ann had managed to remain calm though, telling Sam not to worry,
that she fully understood.

There had been a few rumors going
around town at the time that Sam had taken a sudden interest in a
certain young woman whom the paper had recently hired as an
apprentice photojournalist. Her name was Shelley Hatcher. She was
around twenty years old and fairly new in town; having recently
moved to Smithtown from somewhere in Kentucky. Apparently, Sam had
taken Shelley under his wing since he himself was an accomplished
photographer, and in fact, always shot his own pictures for his
articles in the newspaper.

Ann had a funny hunch what was
happening, so she had made a quick phone call to one of her friends
who once mentioned that she knew where this Shelley woman lived.
Apparently Shelley had had a few wild parties at her apartment and
Ann’s friend, who lived nearby, had twice seen the cops come to
break them up because of complaints about the noise. Ann got
Shelley’s address from her friend, trying her hardest not to arouse
her suspicions yet knowing all the while that she wasn’t fooling
her for a second.

Ann had then hopped into her car and
drove by the
Observer
to see if Sam’s Jeep was in the
parking lot. Just as she suspected, it wasn’t. She drove to the
address her friend had given her, which turned out to be a small
apartment complex on the other end of town. And sure enough, the
Jeep was parked out front.

Ann had parked across the street and
waited for nearly an hour before Sam suddenly came out the door
with Shelley Hatcher hanging all over him. The slut had just
planted a big kiss on Sam’s cheek when he glanced across the street
and spotted her. He had immediately broken away from Shelley and
run over to the car to beg Ann’s forgiveness. He knew he’d been
caught, and hadn’t even tried to lie his way out of it…

Ann took off her other shoe, then went
over to the dresser and picked up the family portrait. She stared
at Sam’s tall, slender frame, his long, unruly hair and his soft
gray eyes. His expression was calm, content. She and Sam both had
their arms around Amy and the three of them looked like one happy,
loving family. Even Amy looked content and at ease, in contrast to
her present demeanor; smiling and full of love for her mother and
father. Ann’s eyes traveled over to her own image and smiled
pensively, recalling how long it had taken to get her hair to look
that good …

She quickly set the picture down and
felt a stab of sadness. A family once so full of love and
togetherness was no more. She could still recall how hurt and angry
she had been when she’d caught Sam cheating on her, and how old and
obsolete she’d suddenly felt when she saw Shelley Hatcher for the
first time that awful night. Ann no longer felt wanted; her husband
no longer found her desirable. That’s what had gone through her
mind. Sam had risked everything just to sleep with a younger, more
attractive woman, and she knew that she could never make love to
him again knowing that.

Ann had filed for divorce the following
day.

Word spread quickly about the incident
and the public humiliation had been unbearable. Once it got out
that Ann wanted a divorce, it seemed as though everyone in town
started looking at her differently—as if she was the wrongdoer, not
Sam. Everyone except Marsha, that is. Marsha liked Sam as much as
the rest of the town did, but Marsha also knew how proud her friend
was and how much it had hurt her to see her husband with another
woman. Marsha encouraged her to go through with the divorce and
supported her all the way to the end.