The May Day Murders (17 page)

Sam lit up a cigarette and inhaled
deeply as he attempted to collect his thoughts. The sudden arrival
of Shelley Hatcher wasn’t only a shocker but and out-and-out
mind-blower. Why, he wondered, had she really come here? He
seriously doubted that she’d come just to say howdy and show him
her photography portfolio—that hardly seemed worth all the bother
she’d gone through. Nope, he decided, there had to be more to it
than that.

But what?

All he knew for certain was that he
felt uncomfortable about Shelley showing up. Seeing her reminded
him that had he never fooled around with her in the first place,
he’d still be a happily married man now. It wasn’t Shelley’s fault
of course, and never once had he blamed her for his own folly.
After all, it wasn’t really her fault that she was young,
beautiful, and had flirted with him one too many times on the job.
He could still remember the subtle way she used to less than
innocently brush up against him during an assignment; or the way
she’d purposely lean over every now and then in such a way that he
couldn’t help but see those lovely tits beneath those perennially
loose-fitting tops that she always wore.

Jesus,
he thought.
Did she
even own a fucking bra?

But the bottom line was that Shelley
Hatcher was bad news. There simply wasn’t any other way to put it.
She brought him bad luck. After all, how many guys in the history
of mankind had gone out on their wives just one piddling time and
ended up getting caught? Then, ended up being divorced over it? Not
too many, he supposed. Only the sorriest of souls, like his own
luckless self.

Sam heaved a sigh and drained his glass
dry. Stubbing out his cigarette, he went to the kitchen to
replenish his drink. He felt the welcome glow of inebriation
returning as he went back to the sofa and sat down, staring blankly
at the test pattern on the television set.

In spite of all the hell that Shelley
Hatcher had created for him in his life, he now realized that deep
down, he was actually glad she was here. Seeing her strip down to
nothing but her birthday suit had been the biggest thrill he’d had
in over six months. The inviting prospect of another round with her
in the sack suddenly zipped into his head. What would he do if that
opportunity arose? he wondered. More importantly, how would he feel
afterwards?

Sam grinned to himself as he considered
the absurdity to both of these questions. He’d jump on Shelley
Hatcher’s bones at the drop of a hat and wouldn’t hesitate for a
second. As for how he’d feel afterwards, what in the fuck
difference would it make how he felt? He was after all, now a free
man living in a free world, wasn’t he?

This is probably just what the doctor
would order, he decided. And he doubtlessly would feel like a
million bucks afterwards. After all, he’d had nothing but an empty,
lonely existence ever since Ann dumped him. And lately, since
Marsha Bradley’s murder, he’d been more than a little stressed-out
and on edge. It certainly wouldn’t hurt to get his mind off that
for a while …

He heard the water shut off in the
bathroom. Deciding to check on Shelley’s clothes in the drier, Sam
stood up and went down to the basement. He felt the clothes—they
were still soaking wet—then reset the drier and went back upstairs.
After topping off his drink he returned to the den, found an old
Cars CD and put it on, cranked up the volume.
Just What I
Needed
blared out of the speakers as he plopped back down on
the sofa.

Shelley Hatcher suddenly entered the
room. She was wearing a towel that was wrapped around her just
enough to cover less than two-thirds of her breasts and about
one-tenth of her thighs. Her hair was still wet, combed out, and
she was carrying the drink he’d left for her on the kitchen
counter.

Shelley took a long sip of Jack Daniels
as she sauntered over to the sofa.

“
I borrowed your comb—I hope
you don’t mind.”

“
No problem,” Sam said. “I’m
afraid your clothes aren’t dry yet. I can find something of mine
for you to put on if you’d like.”

She shook her head. “That’s all right—I
can wait.”

She sat down beside him, close enough
that he could smell her. Her scent was as enticing as her
half-naked body was. Shelley took another sip, set her glass down,
and gazed at him intently.

“
Have you been able to
forgive me yet for what happened?” she asked.

Sam held her eyes. “There’s nothing to
forgive, Shelley. It wasn’t your fault. I told you that a long time
ago.”

“
I know, but I still feel
guilty about it. I mean, I know how much you love your wife. And
it’s my fault that– ”

“
It’s all water under the
bridge,” Sam interrupted. “Let’s not even talk about it, Shelley,
okay?”

She smiled. “Okay, Sam. I guess I was
just trying to see where I stand now. I mean, I thought you might
hate me or something.”

Sam couldn’t help but laugh. “Hate you?
You’ve got to be kidding!”

Shelley smiled again, apparently
satisfied that all was okay between them. She retrieved her drink
and took a sip. “I really would like for you to take a look at my
portfolio. I’ve been freelancing for the Ashland Times the last
couple of months. I don’t get a whole hell of a lot of assignments
but at least I’ve had plenty of time to work on my book. You want
to see it?”

“
Sure, lay it on me,” Sam
said. “Have you been in Ashland all this time?”

“
Yeah. After I got laid-off
at the
Observer
, I was totally directionless. So I moved
back home sort of with my tail between my legs, you might say.
Moved back in with my parents, got a part-time job at a jewelry
store until I could get back on my feet. It’s been a drag, really.
But at least I finally have my own apartment now,” she added with a
shrug.

“
That’s good. And I’m glad
you’re sticking with it, Shelly. You have a lot of potential—I’d
hate to see you waste it,” Sam declared sincerely.

Shelly beamed. “You really think
so?”

“
Of course I do. I’ve been
telling you that all along.”

“
It doesn’t hurt to be
reminded once in a while, though. Let me show you my new stuff!”
she said excitedly, springing up from the sofa.

Sam’s eyes were on her sweet little ass
as Shelley scampered out of the room to get her portfolio. She
returned in seconds, holding the briefcase as though it were filled
with priceless jewels. She sat down and placed it on the coffee
table then opened it up. Sam crouched forward and began examining
the contents. The prints were all black and white eight-by-tens.
The subject matter ranged from landscapes to portraiture and
practically everything in between. The composition, lighting, and
creativity were all quite impressive. Shelley had come a long way
in the last six months, he concluded.

“
Great stuff, kiddo!
Excellent,” Sam said after he’d examined the final
photograph.

“
Really?” Shelley exclaimed.
“You don’t think they’re too contrived?”

“
Not at all.”

Shelley rested her elbow on Sam’s thigh
and leaned forward. ”This is my favorite one,” she said, flipping
back to the first page. It was a shot of an old abandoned well
taken in the late afternoon sun.

“
I love the lighting—the
long shadows and the way the background just sort of blurs out
behind the well. It’s got a nice mood, don’t you think?”

Sam nodded. Shelley’s face was within
inches of his own and her soft blue eyes were wide as she gazed
into his. He felt her other hand come down and rest on his knee.
Suddenly, she threw her arms around him and kissed him hard. Sam
was caught off guard but responded by embracing her and allowing
himself to get lost in her soft, moist lips. His head started
swimming as she brought her hand to the towel and inched herself
away long enough to remove it and expose her flawless body. She
then grabbed his hand and placed it on her breast, pressing his
hand firmly as an invitation for him to take over.

Before long, Sam’s clothes were off and
what had started out as a lonely, rainy and miserable Friday night
soon turned out to be a whole lot better than he could ever have
imagined.

CHAPTER 11

It hadn’t been more than five minutes
after Jerry Rankin left when the telephone rang again. Ann hastily
threw on her sweatshirt and ran across the hall to Amy’s bedroom to
answer it.

“
Hello?”

As quickly as she spoke she heard the
click of the caller hanging up. Ann waited a moment before
replacing the receiver, wondering if it was the obscene caller
again. Then she decided against it. Not his M.O, she thought to
herself sardonically as she hung up the phone.

Ann returned to her bedroom and put on
her sweat pants as the sudden urge to call Amy at Amanda’s house
came to her. She just wanted to hear her daughter’s voice and make
certain that she was where she was supposed to be. After slipping
into her house slippers, she turned off the light and went
downstairs.

Ann found Amanda’s phone number
scrawled on a note pad stuck to the refrigerator door and dialed
it. On the third ring, a teenage girl’s voice came over the
line.

“
Hello?” the girl
giggled.

“
Hi, this is Ann
Middleton—Amy’s mother. May I speak to Amy, please?”

“
Sure,” the girl replied.
Ann heard the clunk as she dropped the phone and began yelling
Amy’s name. A few moments later, Amy got on.

“
Hey, Mom, what’s up?” she
said. Her voice sounded a little too cheerful.

“
Nothing, sweetie. I just
called to see how everything went tonight. Did you guys win the
game?”

There was a long pause, some
whispering, and then her reply: ”Yeah, we won.”

Ann had a sneaky feeling that Amy had
never made it to the game. “I’m happy to hear that. What was the
score?”

“
Uh, I don’t remember
exactly. It was close though … I think,” she
stammered.

“
You think?” Ann quizzed
suspiciously.

“
Well, we left kinda
early.”

“
And where did you
go?”

“
We came here, Mother! Why
all the third degree?”

If Ann were a gambler, she’d bet her
last dollar that her daughter had been drinking. “I was just
curious, that’s all. Is Mrs. Givens there now?”

“
Jesus, Mother!” Amy
sputtered. “Of course she’s here! Do you want me to put her on just
to prove it?”

“
That won’t be necessary, I
…”

“
No, Mother. Let me go get
her so you’ll know that I’m not lying!” Amy snapped. Then, after a
long sigh, she said, “Why don’t you ever believe me, Mom? You never
trust me!”

Here we go again, Ann thought. “I do
trust you, honey. I’m sorry, It’s just been a long day and I’m
tired,” she said, not wanting to start a fight.

Amy fell silent for a moment. Then she
said, “I’m sorry, too. I shouldn’t have snapped at you like
that—Hey, guess what!”

“
What?”

“
I got asked to homecoming!”
Amy announced excitedly.

“
That’s wonderful, sweetie!
Who’s the lucky guy?”

“
Jason Walborn. And is he
ever a hunk!”

“
I don’t recall you ever
mentioning his name,” Ann said. “Is Jason a freshman,
too?”

“
Nope. He’s a
junior!
Can you believe it?”

Ann didn’t want to believe it. “Oh,”
was all she could say.

“
Don’t worry, Mom. He’s
really cool. From a fine upstanding family, and all of that,” she
added with a giggle.

Ann wondered what Sam’s reaction would
be to his fourteen-year-old daughter going out with a junior. He
simply wouldn’t allow it— she was certain of that. And she probably
shouldn’t allow it either. But she didn’t have the heart to spoil
Amy’s obvious excitement now.

“
I’m really happy for you,
honey. Isn’t homecoming next weekend?” Ann asked.

“
Yeah, so we have to go out
and find me a dress tomorrow!” Amy declared.

Ann sighed to herself and said, “Okay,
I guess I can take you to the mall tomorrow. When will you be home?
We’d better get an early start before the stores sell out of
everything.”

“
I don’t know. Probably
around noon or so,” was her daughter’s reply.

“
Well, try not to be too
late, honey,” Ann said. “Be good and try to get some sleep tonight,
okay?”

“
I will, Mom. See you
tomorrow.”

“
I love you,
sweetie.”

“
Love you, too,” Amy said
before hanging up.

As she replaced the receiver, Ann
considered Amy’s sudden announcement that she was going to the
school dance and realized she had mixed feelings about it. Although
she was certainly less than thrilled that her little girl was going
out with a boy who was two years older, she was nevertheless happy
that Amy was so excited about something for a change. Recalling the
child’s declaration that school dances were just for “nerds and
jocks” brought a wry grin to her face. How quickly a teenager’s
mind can change!