The May Day Murders (16 page)

Jerry Rankin was clearly flabbergasted
by all of this. “Hold on a minute, here. What’s this about your
friend being murdered? Is this the same woman you were referring to
when we spoke on the phone?”

Ann nodded. “Yes, Marsha Bradley. She
was raped and strangled in her home back in Smithtown. She had a
little six-year-old …”

Ann burst into tears.

Jerry put an arm around Ann and tried
to console her. Moments later, she managed to get a hold of
herself.

“
I’m sorry,” she said. “I
guess I just haven’t gotten over it yet.”

“
I understand, Ann. I know
how difficult it is to lose a loved one,” he said
softly.

“
I’m sorry I told you all of
this, Jerry. I should’ve kept it to myself. Now all I’ve done is
ruin what up until now has been a beautiful evening…”

He bent down and kissed her lightly on
the cheek. “Listen, Ann. I’m glad you told me about this—you did
the right thing by getting it off your chest. As for ruining our
evening, we don’t have to let that happen if we don’t want to.
We’re still together, aren’t we?”

“
Thanks for being so
understanding, Jerry. Next time, we won’t let anything spoil our
date … I promise.”

“
There now, that’s the
spirit!” he said. His expression suddenly turned grave. “Ann, I am
very concerned about all of this. Have you spoken to the police
about the prowler and the phone calls?”

“
Yes,” Ann nodded. “They
suggested that I get an unpublished phone number if the calls
persist and told me that they’d keep an eye on the house. Until
tonight, the only other time he’d called was last
Saturday.”

“
Well, you should go ahead
and get a new phone number as soon as possible, then. Nip this off
at the bud before it gets out of hand.”

“
I suppose you’re right.
I’ll call the phone company on Monday.”

“
Now I want to say something
else and it’s very important, Ann. If you ever, and I mean ever,
need me for anything at all you call me, okay? I’ll be there for
you, anytime, any day. Will you promise me you’ll do
that?”

His voice was emphatic, almost
forceful.

“
I don’t want to bother you
with my problems, Jerry,” Ann said.

“
Please, Ann. Don’t shut me
out. I want to help you in anyway I can. As a friend, if nothing
else. Let me help you.” he persisted.

Ann smiled, grateful and relieved at
Jerry’s offer. “Okay, Jerry. That’s very kind of you.”

“
Do I have your word on
it?”

Ann nodded. “Yes, you have my
word.”

“
Excellent. Now what’s this
about your friend? Do you feel like you can talk about it? Talking
helps, you know.”

Ann sighed and took a deep breath.
“Marsha was my best friend. We practically grew up together. She
was the kindest, most out-going person you could ever know. Anyway,
she was found murdered in her home one night by her husband, Dave.
She’d been raped and strangled to death. Her little boy, Tommy, was
found upstairs locked in a closet—so terrified that he still hasn’t
been able to speak to anyone since. The police are totally stumped
and don’t have a clue as to who did it.”

Ann swallowed hard before she
continued. “This afternoon, Sam called me. He told me that the
police in New York City had just confirmed that a woman who was
found murdered there a few weeks ago was murdered by the same
person who had killed Marsha. The woman, Sara Hunt, used to live in
Smithtown and had been a casual acquaintance to both Marsha and I
back in high school.”

Jerry’s eyes widened. “Good Lord, Ann!
No wonder you’re so concerned! Do you think there might be a
connection between these murders; a common motive?”

“
That’s what has been so
baffling, and frightening. There haven’t been any motives
established in either of the murders according to Sam. And I guess
the police in New York are just as stumped as the local police in
Smithtown are.”

“
And no one ever saw the
murderer in either instance?”

“
Apparently little Tommy
Bradley is the only one who might have seen who killed his mother;
and he hasn’t been able to speak a word. As for Sara Hunt, Sam
indicated that there haven’t been any leads in her case
either.”

“
That’s incredible. This
character must be as clever as he is deranged. Do you think you’re
in danger?”

Ann shook her head in frustration. “I
don’t know, Jerry. Sam is worried about me of course, but that
doesn’t surprise me. He’s always had an overactive imagination.
That’s probably from his being a journalist. I’m more realistic
than he is, and I honestly can’t think of any way I could possibly
be involved in any of this. Marsha just happened to be my best
friend. And I barely knew Sara Hunt. My relationship ends there. It
is frightening, though. And it really makes one think just how
vulnerable we all are nowadays. Until this bastard is caught, no
one is really safe.”

Jerry fell silent a moment as he took
Ann’s hand in his. Then he said, “I’m here for you, Ann. I just
want you to remember that. I don’t feel too good about all of this
to be quite honest, and I don’t like the fact that you and Amy are
living here all by yourselves. So please don’t hesitate for one
moment to call me if anything suspicious occurs. I know I’m being a
bit redundant, but I want to be able to leave here tonight assured
that you’ll call me if you need me.”

Ann smiled warmly. “I will, Jerry. I
promise.” She leaned over, kissed him on the cheek and said, “I’m
afraid we’re going to have to call it a night, though. I think I
drank a little too much wine; I’m suddenly feeling very
sleepy.”

Jerry stood up. “I could use a little
shut-eye myself. I worked out at the gym this afternoon and it’s
starting to catch up with me.”

He followed Ann to the living room and
turned to face her at the front door, his eyes showing regret for
having to leave her. He put his arms around her waist and said,
“Take care, Ann. Do you mind if I call you tomorrow?”

“
No, not at all,” she
replied. “Thanks, Jerry … for everything. I had a wonderful
time.”

“
So did I.”

He balked for a moment, obviously
deciding whether or not to kiss her. Ann stood for what seemed a
very long time before he finally brought his lips to hers. The kiss
was brief and tentative, much like her very first kiss when she was
in junior high school.

“
Good night, Ann. I’ll call
you tomorrow. And remember …”

“
I know, Jerry. You have my
promise.”

Jerry Rankin turned and made his way to
the BMW.

Ann waited until he had backed out of
the driveway before closing the door. She heard him toot his horn
as he pulled away and it dawned on Ann that she regretted his
leaving a lot more than she cared to admit to herself.

CHAPTER 10

Sam was two-thirds of the way to La-La
Land when he awoke. He had no idea how long he’d been hearing the
incessant pounding on the front door before it finally brought him
to his senses, but he had a feeling it had been a very long time.
It was one of those deals when you think you’ve been dreaming
something was happening before you suddenly realized that it
actually was happening.

Sam opened his eyes and saw the snowy
test pattern on the television screen. The static was loud, but not
loud enough to drown out the beating on the door. He sat up on the
couch and gazed squint-eyed at the half dozen or so empty beer
bottles on the coffee table in the foreground and let out a gasp of
disgust when he saw the huge mound of cigarette butts in the
ashtray. His head felt like lead as he forced himself up onto his
feet, wondering who in the fuck would be banging on his door in the
middle of the night.

He stumbled out of the room and headed
toward the front door like a drunk being forced to run a marathon
at gunpoint. The racket grew incessantly louder as he neared the
door, as did the throbbing in his head. He flicked on the front
porch light and pulled open the door.

When he saw who it was, Sam thought for
sure he was still dreaming.

“
Jesus, Sam! I didn’t think
you’d ever get here!” she exclaimed.

There in front of him stood Shelley
Hatcher: soaked to the bone and her normally thick and lustrous
blonde hair clinging limp and lifeless to her blanched but
beautiful face.

“
Shelley! What the hell . .
?”

“
Let me in, Sam! I’m
freezing!” she whined impatiently.

“
Sorry,” Sam said, opening
the storm door.

She stepped in and stood on the mat,
wringing wet. Sam peered out through the pouring rain and saw
nothing but his Jeep parked in the driveway.

“
How’d you get here?” he
asked, stupefied and in shock at this unexpected visit from his
former one-night-stand.

Shelley Hatcher stared at him with a
pained look. “Well, I drove myself most of the way. Until my car
got stuck in the mud, that is. Your driveway is like a river
bottom, Sam! Why don’t you get it paved?”

If she didn’t look so pathetic now, Sam
would have burst out laughing and said something like, Gee, I would
have gotten it paved had I known you were going to show up
unexpectedly like this in the middle of a fucking monsoon,
Shelley.

Instead, he replied, “Sorry about that.
How far is your car?”

“
About a hundred yards from
the highway—I sure hope my portfolio isn’t ruined. I knew I
should’ve left it in the damn car!” she exclaimed as Sam noticed
the expensive-looking leather portfolio case that she was
holding.

Sam said, “I have to admit that I’m a
little speechless right now, Shelley. What are you doing here,
anyway? How did you find out where I live?”

Sam could tell that he’d put her off
with this line of questioning and he suddenly felt bad.

Shelley looked away for a moment then
replied, “I found out from Bill Marshall … He was at the
Hi-Light. I just came to say hi and to show you my portfolio …
but it’s obvious that you aren’t interested, so I guess I’ll just
go now …”

She reached for the
doorknob.

“
Hold it, Shelley!” Sam
said, grasping her by the arm. She peered at him questioningly.
“I’m sorry I seem so rude—it’s just that I’m still in shock that
you’re here. I was also passed out on the sofa and haven’t quite
joined the living yet. Here, let me help you off with your
jacket.”

Shelley nodded and lightened up a bit
as Sam helped her out of her rain-sopped denim jacket. He draped it
over his arm, noticing that the rain had soaked all the way through
to the cashmere sweater she was wearing.

“
Christ, Shelley, you’re
drenched to the bone! How long have you been out in this shit,
anyway?”

“
About half an hour. It took
me at least twenty minutes just to trudge through the mud to get to
your house. I’ve been beating on the door the rest of the
time.”

“
Well, you need to get out
of those clothes before you catch pneumonia. Why don’t you take a
hot shower and I’ll throw your things in the drier in the
meantime,” Sam suggested.

Shelley smiled graciously. “Thanks,
Sam. I’m sorry I’m such a pain.”

“
You’re not a pain, Shelley.
C’mon, I’ll show you where the bathroom is.”

She followed Sam down the hall to the
bathroom. He switched on the light as Shelley brushed past him and
immediately began to peel off her soaked clothes. Sam stood in the
doorway and watched in awe as she wrestled herself out of her
jeans, unable to take his eyes away. She looked every bit as good
if not better than she had on that fateful night: tall and lean
with slender legs, slim hips, and firm, nicely-rounded breasts. She
gathered up her wet clothes and grinned nonchalantly as she handed
them to Sam.

“
Here. I won’t be long,” she
said.

“
Take your time,” Sam
replied, attempting to appear unaffected by her lack of modesty.
“Would you like something hot to drink—some coffee?”

“
You have something a little
stronger?” Shelley asked as she leaned over the tub and valved in
the water.

“
Beer and whiskey.” he
answered.

Shelley glanced at him coyly. “Whiskey
would be nice.”

“
You’ve got it,” Sam said,
feeling an electric pang in his groin as he watched Shelley Hatcher
step into the tub and draw the shower curtain.

Sam closed the bathroom door, carried
Shelley’s clothes down to the basement and threw them into the
drier. Returning to the kitchen, he realized that he was going
downhill fast as he cursed the relentless throbbing in his head. He
was more hung over than drunk now, having slept just long enough to
plunge himself into the worst of both worlds.

He needed a good strong belt to set him
back on course.

He went over to the cupboard, found the
bottle of Jack and poured himself a couple of ounces. He drained
the glass in a single gulp, grimaced, and refilled the glass before
pouring another drink for Shelley. He made his way to the den and
plopped down on the sofa.