A husband and lover is murdered, but who did it. The wife? The mistress? This story is filled with twists and curves.
BETRAYING SCENTS
Night’s breath tapped against the window, and though it failed to reach her, shivers froze the blood running in her veins. Wispy clouds glided across the heavens, and a full moon radiated like a beacon. The streetlight standing guard outside illuminated shadows skulking about, and blackened the darkness outside light’s realm.
Sharon’s forehead pressed against the cold windowpane. Loneliness devoured her. It had already consumed her heart. She searched past the streetlight’s halo into bleak obscurity –- praying a better life existed beyond.
For fifteen years, she’d been the doting wife of Mac Downs, had kept a perfect house, prepared gourmet meals, put up with her husband’s out-of-town trips and long meetings, and overlooked cold dinners when he stumbled in late.
Over the past months, he had become detached as if he needed more -- much more. It seems, his secretary offered what Sharon had lacked, and the prominent businessman had grabbed it in more places than one. “I never meant to hurt you,” he had confessed. How –- civil -– of him.
To think, Sharon had given his secretary, young Loretta, Christmas and birthday gifts, and even, Lord, how stupid, invited her to dinner. The twenty-five-year-old mistress had worked directly under Sharon’s husband, in more ways than one, and shared intimate moments, while Sharon cleaned his house, from scrubbing his crap out of the toilet, to washing Loretta’s scent from the crotch of his boxers.
In her unlit bedroom, Sharon flinched as pungent Scotch spilled down her throat to join soured emotions. She didn’t usually partake, but this was a special occasion. She toasted herself for being a fool. Drunkenness weighted her lids, and she regretted her indulgence. Tonight would be the night -– the night for revenge.
Staggering to bed, she stumped her big toe, and cursed. Embracing the copper spread, she yanked it back and snuggled between cool silky sheets. Darkness whirled about her. She hugged her pillow, yearning to slow the revolving room.
Though it was still early, familiar noises frightened her -– leaky faucet, squirrels skittering across the attic floor, walls moaning from age, floors creaking for no reason. All had been easily ignored with Mac beside her, or knowing he’d stroll through the door any minute. Now, they taunted her. She resisted the alcohol that dragged her into a black tunnel. She lost that battle, too.
From a dead sleep Sharon was aroused. Her heart pumped. Perspiration surged through every pore. Something had happened. Fear scraped her bones. She heeded every sound. Creak. Silence. Scratch. Silence. Moan. Her ears strained as an eerie calm poured over the house. Nothingness frightened her even more.
Then she remembered. Could it already be time? She glanced at the digital clock. It flipped to two a.m. She listened. Creak. Squeak. Creech. Then she heard it. Breathing. Her soft whimper escaped. Heartbeats drummed against her ribs. Yes, it was time. Sharon had rehearsed this moment over and over in her mind.
A shaky hand slid open the bedside table drawer, removed Mac’s revolver he always kept beside him. Metal chilled the hand that quivered under the gun’s weight. She fanned the nylon gown fused to her sweaty skin, and shook grogginess from her head.
The click of the hammer blasted the silence.
Her left hand fumbled to find the telephone smothered beneath darkness. She punched 911, dropped the receiver onto the bed, and clutched the gun with both hands.
“911, what is your emergency?”
Her past played like a silent movie reel and the memories whizzed by: honeymoon, loving phone calls, dinners by candlelight, to arguments, slamming doors, and now this. She squinted under the darkness, fingers numb from gripping the firearm. She had to do this just right.
“911, is anyone there?”
A silhouette, tall and thick, stood in the doorway. She hated her unfaithful husband for putting her in this situation, and hatred urged her. Every doubt plummeted to the floor like unlocked manacles.
“Is this an emergency? Please, can you talk?”
She ignored the operator’s pleas. Her finger molded around the warmed trigger, gently squeezed it. Gunfire buried her scream.
“Hello. Are you all right?”
Sharon’s senses cleared. She opened her eyes, and grabbed the telephone.
“Hello, yes. There’s –- someone broke into my house. I saw him -– at the door. I couldn’t -– I shot him.”
“Ma’am, have you been hurt?”
“No.”
“The intruder -- is he…”
“He’s not moving as far as I can tell. Let me turn on the light. Don’t hang up, please, don’t…”
“We won’t. Just remain calm.”
Sharon stared into his open eyes, smelled a familiar scent -– one she had grown so accustomed to, one she had grown to hate. She had known exactly who it was, but she had to play it to the hilt. There could be no slipups, no mistakes.
Her lips curled into a victorious smile. Then she screamed.
“Oh, my God. No!”
“Ma’am, what’s wrong? Are you…”
“It’s -– it’s my husband.”
* * *
The straight-to-the-point chief lacked a smile, yet possessed a genteel countenance. He was bulky, more muscle than middle-aged flab, and directed his staff proficiently, ordering Officer Jenkins and a few other officers to answer another emergency, while his other men marked the crime scene, and removed the body.
As her house was investigated, Sharon wrung her hands and paced the floor downstairs. Finally, the chief descended the winding staircase and entered the den and graciously helped Sharon to the couch. His gentle brown eyes seemed out of place on such a gruff face. His face was etched with deep creases even though he was only forty-eight. Twenty-five years in the precinct had dealt him some hard blows. “Now, ma’am. Tell us exactly what happened,” he said.
“I – I was awakened by a – a noise – downstairs. It was dark. Then, a silhouette appeared in the doorway.”
The chief continued. “You weren’t expecting your husband, ma’am?”
“We were separated.”
His brow lifted. “Looks as though he broke the dining room window. He didn’t have a key?”
“I changed the locks after he left me.”
“I see. So you were separated. Had you talked to him today?”
“No – uh – yes. He called wanting to pick up some things. I told him I was leaving town, and he’d have to wait.”
The chief glared at her, confused. “But you didn’t.”
“No, I changed my mind. It was our anniversary – a very depressing day for me.”
“You didn’t let him know?”
“Officer, my husband left me for his secretary. Why should I, out of consideration, let him know I’m not going out of town?”
The officer scrawled in his notebook.
“Chief, I found something of interest in his pocket.”
The young policeman handed several papers over.
The chief thumbed through the pages. “Interesting. Looks like bonds, income tax information, and insurance policies. This policy is on your husband,” he said eyeing her, “and the beneficiary is – you.”
“Well, I am still his wife,” she said, her glower hard and angry.
“You mean – was his wife. Now, let’s see,” he said and unfolded another insurance policy. “Maybe this one will add more light. The Beneficiary is – Mac Downs?” Sharon’s lips formed a lopsided grin. “This is a $500,000.00 life insurance policy, naming your husband as beneficiary. Strange.” He eyed Jenkins coming in the door and asked, “Well, what happened?”
“Damn false alarm.”
“Good. Now where was I? Oh, yes, the insurance policy. If find this very strange indeed, Mrs. Downs.”
Sharon’s eyes narrowed to the point of anger. “Why is it strange, Officer,” she stared at his badge, “Thompson? You expected another insurance policy naming me as beneficiary?”
“Well…”
“You’re mistaken, it seems.”
“I thought…”
“Unless you are charging me with something, Chief Thompson, I’ll say good-night, Sir.” She lumbered past Jenkins to the front door, opened it to conclude her point. “I’m very tired and I have a funeral to plan in the morning.”
Chief Thompson studied her daring eyes before tipping his hat. “Ma’am.”
* * *
“Chief, I tried to reach the Downs’ Insurance agent, but he’s out of town. His secretary stated that a change in beneficiary had been requested and Mr. Downs was to sign the necessary papers -- today.” The officer paused. “Of course he never showed up.” The chief rubbed his chin, stared into space. “Chief?”
“Yeah, yeah.” He rewound the 911 tape and listened, then paused, rewound it, and listened for the fourth time. “Something’s not right, Lewis. I feel it, right here.” Chief Thompson patted his middle-aged gut.
“Looks open and shut to me, Sir,” Lewis said. “ Jealous, jilted wife claims revenge on two-timing husband, gets rich in the process.”
“I agree,” Jenkins added, propped against the metal filing cabinet, holding the day’s newspaper. He read out loud, “Accidental death? Homicide? Only Time Will Tell.”
“It’s just too open and shut for me,” the chief replied and played the tape one more time.
* * *
“Now, Miss Stoddard…”
“Loretta, please.”
“Uh, sure.” Chief Thompson gazed into the woman’s piercing aqua eyes. Copious blonde tresses draped her full breasts and fell to a dainty waist. He knew her full lips must’ve tempted many a man, and he found it hard to concentrate. Jenkins had ogled her as well only to fall under her spell also. “Okay.” The chief glanced at his notes. “You and Mr. Downs were having, uh…”
“An affair?” She licked her mouth sensually.
“Uh, yes.” The vixen held his eyes captive. He cleared his throat, looked down at his notes. “Let’s see. You and Mr. Downs had talked marriage?”
“As soon as he obtained a divorce.”
“Excuse me, ma’am, but you don’t appear to be too upset about his death.”
“What do you want, Chief. Tears, shaky hands, hysteria?” She tossed a wicked grin to Jenkins.
The chief said, “Maybe.”
“That’s not me.”
“Did you know he was going to his, uh, to Mrs. Downs’ that night?”
For the first time, Loretta’s eyes darted about as if she feared guilt might leap from them.
“No, I didn’t,” she answered.
“It was very late when he arrived. Hadn’t he been with you?”
“Yes.”
“Didn’t you find it strange that he left in the middle of the night?”
“I guess so.”
“You didn’t question him?”
“Mac was someone you – didn’t question.” Again, her poise vanished.
Chief tapped his pen against his chin. The puzzle pieces weren’t fitting, and he wondered if he had the right pieces, but the wrong puzzle.
* * *
“Chief Thomspon. What a surprise.” Sharon held a steaming cup of coffee.
“May we come in?”
She hesitated before forcing a polite smile. “Of course. What brings you to my humble abode?” She smiled at young Jenkins who trailed behind.
The chief surveyed her home, far from humble, with marble foyer, crystal chandeliers, lush crown molding, and expensive antiques. He slipped off his hat, held it against his chest. “Well, ma’am, just trying to get more facts.”
“On my husband’s death?”
“Yes ma’am.
“What else would you like to know? I apologize for my behavior the other night, but I was not myself.”
“I understand, ma’am.”
“Please join me in the den. Coffee?” she said.
“No thank you.” The chief plopped down on the huge couch, and sank into plush leather. Officer Jenkins declined also, but smiled as he chose a matching leather chair. “I’m puzzled,” the chief admitted.
Sharon giggled. “You, Chief Thompson? I can’t imagine you puzzled. Determined, yes. Puzzled, no.”
Her green eyes sparkled with youth despite the fine creases that led to high cheekbones. She was an attractive lady, not steamy and voluptuous like Loretta, but classy, well bred, composed. Mac must’ve been a middle-aged fool.
“Ma’am, what would you say if I told you that I think Mr. Downs and Miss Stoddard might have been conspiring to murder you, and planned to make it appear like a break-in?” Jenkins fidgeted to get comfortable. Sharon glanced at him.
“I’d say you’ve been watching too many Columbo reruns.”
“From what I’ve gathered so far, your – Mr. Downs had been experiencing money problems, a sinking business, dwindling cash assets, and extended loans.”
“I’m aware there were discrepancies. I am Vice President of the corporation.”
“But a passive one.”
“Well, yes.”
“And with you dead, he’d not only collect your life insurance, but also the business’s “key person” insurance.”
Sharon’s cup and saucer clattered as she placed it on the coffee table. She hugged herself as if the room had turned cold.
“Are you all right?” the chief asked.
“I’m just confused.”
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Downs.” He stood. Officer Jenkins and Sharon jumped up to join him. “I’m going to question Miss Stoddard again. Trouble is, there’s no evidence and my gut feelings aren’t admissible in a court of law.”
“I appreciate your efforts, Chief Thompson.”
“I wish I could do more, ma’am,” he said and shook her hand. The scent of her expensive perfume embraced him.
“I’m sure you’re doing all you can do.”
“You’re too kind, Mrs. Downs. Jenkins, let’s go.” The chief tipped his hat. “Ma’am.”
“Chief Thompson.” She watched him leave through the small crack in the door.
* * *
“Why, Officers, I do believe you have a crush on me.” Loretta lingered in her silk bathrobe and young Jenkins gawked like a hungry wolf. Thompson grabbed Jenkins’ arm, spun him around. “We’ll just wait while you get, uh…”
“Decent?” She giggled. “Why I do believe you’re blushing, Officer Jenkins.”
She strutted from the room, but her fragrance lingered as if to tempt even while she was absent. Both officers cleared their raspy throats.
“Now, is this better?”
She traipsed into the room, spandex leggings binding her hips, and a flowing satin chemise caressed her breasts.
“Ma’am, we need to ask a few more questions.” Chief Thompson pulled the notebook from his pocket.
“May I offer you something?” She winked at Jenkins.
The chief intervened. “No, ma’am.” A scowl reprimanded his officer. “Let’s see,” he said flipping through the small pages. “It disturbs me that it didn’t bother you that Mr. Downs was out that late.”
“I’m a very heavy sleeper. I don’t think I even noticed.” She glanced at Jenkins.
The chief frowned and scribbled in his pad. “I see.”
“Chief Thompson, what is this all about? I don’t mean to be inhospitable, but your tone is so…”
“Accusing, ma’am?”
Defiantly, her shoulders lifted and her breasts stretched the thin silk. “Yes, and I don’t like it one bit.”
“I’m just doing my job.”
“Looks to me like you’re trying to make something terribly simple into something utterly ridiculous.”
“Maybe so, but I have to follow every lead.”
“Lead? You don’t have any leads on me, Chief.” Her nose lifted into the air heavy from suspicion, and she flipped damp tresses behind her bare shoulders.
The chief cocked one bushy eyebrow. “Don’t I?”
* * *
“I tell you, he’s on to something.” Loretta paced fitfully, the cordless pressed to her ear. “Don’t tell me to calm down. Is he questioning you?” She paused at her dresser, removed a cigarette from her case, and flicked the silver lighter. “Well, I don’t like it. My plane leaves Sunday, and I’m going to be on it.” She listened, inhaled deeply, and funneled smoke into hanging white mist. “We’re in this together.” A red thumbnail clicked against her pinky. “I’m not panicking. I’m just ready to get out of this place.” She smashed the filter into a butt-filled ashtray and replied, “Whatever.” After mashing the off button, she pulled out another cigarette, and continued to pace.
* * *
Sharon hung up the receiver, and stilled into deep thought. Loretta was panicking.
* * *
“Jenkins,” Chief Thompson said and shut the file. “There’s just not enough evidence in the Downs case. Let’s put all our efforts on the cocaine bust.”
With a quirky grin, Jenkins hopped to his feet. “Yes Sir.” As he fled past, out the door, Chief Thompson’s eyes widened. “I’ve got it,” he said.
* * *
They were to meet at the warehouse, a place familiar to both women. Loretta had worked there going on three years. Sharon had been a passive owner for fifteen.
Sharon clenched the hard-shelled Samsonite luggage that held $500,000.00. Her stomach rolled. With a sigh, she swiped a backhand across her beaded forehead. It would soon be over. She would never, ever have to deal with low-life Loretta again. A new life waited, and this time things would be different.
* * *
“Chief, line one,” the secretary yelled.
“Thompson here. Okay, got it. Radio Jenkins, tell him to meet me there.” He grinned.
* * *
“Should I count it?” Loretta asked, a hint of snobbery in her sexy voice, lust in her eyes.
“Whatever,” Sharon said. Money. It had been about money from the start. The sight of it made her sick. “I can’t do it,” Sharon whispered. Loretta ignored her and fondled the green riches. Sharon repeated, “I can’t do it.”
Loretta eyed Sharon with disgust. “Oh, no you don’t. We’ve come too far to back out now, you hear me?” She grasped Sharon’s shoulders. “And why would you feel guilty about that loser anyway. He dumped you, you idiot. He would have hocked your house, your children, had you had any, anything for me.” Loretta’s palms ran over her bodily curves.
Sharon stood as if the last drop of blood had drained from her. “You’re right.”
“Of course, I am.” Loretta’s aqua eyes glared at Sharon, the forsaken wife.
“It was going to be me, wasn’t it?”
Loretta wrinkled her nose. “What?”
“In the very beginning, the plan was to murder me.”
Loretta lowered her gaze. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Sharon grasped Loretta’s arm. “It’s okay. It doesn’t matter. I just need to know – so, so I won’t break.”
“Good lord, can’t we just get on with this.” Loretta groaned. “Okay, if you must know, yeah, at first it was going to be you, but the wimp couldn’t do it. I had to change my game plan, work you two against each other. If he wouldn’t kill you, then maybe the jilted wife would kill him. And, we know the ending to this glorious story. You came through with flying colors.” She lifted the suitcase with a grunt. “Now, if you’ll excuse me.”
“Not so fast.”
Loretta spun around. Wide-eyed, she dropped the suitcase in front of her red spiked shoes. Chief Thompson and Officer Jenkins waltzed into the room.
“Miss Stoddard, what a pleasant surprise.” Chief Thompson removed his hat.
“What is the meaning of this?” Loretta’s shock distorted her beautiful face.
“It’s over, Loretta,” Sharon said.
“Are you crazy? What have you done?”
“Miss Stoddard, you have the right to remain silent.”
“Me? What about her? She’s the one who pulled the trigger.”
Chief Thompson shot Sharon a quick smile. “Yes, we know that.”
“So, why aren’t you handcuffing her?” Loretta’s anger blasted Sharon, and then the chief. “What’s going on here?”
“Well, Miss Stoddard. It seems there’s been a conspiracy.”
She huffed. “I’m aware of that Chief Thompson, so why isn’t she getting the same treatment as me?”
Chief donned his hat, pulled it down over his slightly balding head. “No, Miss Stoddard, not against Mr. Downs. Against you.”
Loretta’s jaw dropped open, and her gorgeous color drained into pasty white. “Me?”
The voice behind Loretta startled her. “That’s right, Loretta.”
She twisted abruptly. “Mac!”
“In the flesh.”
“But.”
“No, he’s not dead,” Chief Thompson interrupted. Mac stopped a few feet from Loretta, at Sharon’s side. “It appears that though Mr. Downs was willing to commit adultery, he couldn’t commit murder. When you kept throwing suggestions to him, warning signals flashed.”
Sharon cut in, “That’s when he finally came to me.” Victory flashed from her eyes.
“You?” She set her evil gaze on Mac. “I knew you were a fool.”
“That’s true , Loretta.” His eyes glistened from regret. “I was a fool.”
Sharon continued. “We called Chief Thompson, but, of course, we couldn’t proceed without evidence. So, we conjured up this plan.”
Loretta snickered. “You mean the lie, don’t you -- the angry, bitter wife out for revenge lie.” Loretta stepped closer to Sharon, but Chief Thompson cut her off. “So the, ‘You can have him, I hope he rots in hell, and I wish I could slit his throat’ was just an act.”
Sharon glimpsed her husband. “No, they weren’t an act. I wanted to hurt him the way he had hurt me, not out of greed, like you, but as a betrayed wife who, in a moment’s time, lost trust, faith, and hope, in him, in life.”
Loretta’s face twitched as she eyed everyone in the room.
“Chief,” Jenkins said, “you want me to take Miss Stoddard in and book her?”
“Okay, Jenkins. Take the suitcase, too, and turn it in. I’ll meet you in an hour. We’ll return the money, and finish up the paperwork.”
Jenkins handcuffed Loretta, picked up the suitcase, and departed the warehouse. His siren faded into the night.
“So, what will happen to her, Chief?” Sharon asked.
“We’ll file charges against her, and with all the evidence, I assure you she’ll rest in jail a good while.”
“How one woman can be so deceitful and evil, I don’t understand.” Sharon shook her head.
“She’s not the only one.”
Sharon spun around. “What do you mean?”
“Looks like she managed to pull in a late accomplice.”
Mac’s brow furrowed. “Who?”
“Officer Jenkins.”
“Jenkins?” Sharon and Mac yelled in unison.
“Why’d you let them leave together with all that money?” Irritation elevated Mac’s tone.
The chief smiled. “Don’t worry, there’s a tracer in the trunk of his unit, and there’s not as much money in the suitcase as those two think.”
Sharon rubbed her chin. “Why didn’t you just arrest him when you arrested Loretta?”
“Well, he wasn’t actually involved in the murder conspiracy. He sort of fell in later, but my gut feeling told me he was aware of everything.”
“You have a very sensitive gut, Chief Thompson,” Sharon said.
“Yeah, that,” he patted his belly, “and this.” He tapped his nose. “Her perfume is quite memorable, a betraying scent you might say. I’ve had Jenkins under surveillance ever since several bags of cocaine disappeared from a drug bust. Seems he has a weakness for money and beautiful dames. I followed him to Loretta’s on many occasions. When you two came to me and I found out his Loretta was also your Loretta.” Mac frowned. “Sorry. I had to play this thing out, the break-in, the gun filled with blanks, and the 911 call, without telling you two the real reason I had to carry it so far. I know it was hard on both of you, but I couldn’t risk Jenkins suspecting anything if he and Loretta were hot, heavy, and thick. The day I got a whiff of Loretta’s perfume and later when Jenkins whizzed by me wearing the same scent, it struck me that he might be involved with the conspiracy. Everything started to click I came up with a way to obtain evidence on Jenkins.”
Sharon asked, “He never did suspect anything?”
Chief laughed. “The way he and I listened to that 911 emergency call over and over, searching for a clue we both knew didn’t exist, I don’t know who put on the better act, him or me.” Chief looked at Sharon. “But you, ma’am, your act should’ve won an academy award. We couldn’t have done it without you.” He placed a hand on her shoulder. “I know it was difficult.”
Sharon lowered her head and nodded.
“Well, Chief, I don’t know how to thank you,” Mac said with outstretched hand.
The chief shook his hand firmly. “That is some lady there, Mr. Downs. You’d do well…”
“I’m going to do everything I can, sir.”
The chief turned to Sharon. “I must say it’s truly been my pleasure.”
Sharon stood on her tiptoes, kissed the officer’s flushed cheek. “Thank you. It’s been quite an adventure.”
“Well, Mrs.…”
Sharon pressed a forefinger against Chief’s lips. “Just Sharon.”
He tipped his hat. “Sharon. Sir. I’ve got a crooked cop to deal with. Good-night.”
After the chief disappeared through the door, Mac turned to Sharon. “Thank God, it’s over.”
Brimming tears sparked in his eyes. Sharon caressed his cheek the way she used to when he was tired and drained. He closed his eyes and smiled.
“Yes, Mac, it is,” she replied. Her hand dropped to her side. She turned, strolled away. A new life waited and, this time, things would be different.
Very well done. Nice twists and turns. The sort of story I love to read.
M.Rose
Reviewed by Clayton Umbach
2/11/2003
I'm not quite sure what Loretta's crime was--other than being stupid. It's no crime to talk about killing someone unless (a) the intended victim learns of the plot and fears for his/her safety or (b) you actually try to pull it off. Neither occurred in this story. Loretta wasn't even on the scene. Any two-bit lawyer could get the charges dropped on the spot. You didn't make it clear if Sharon was in on the "plot." The Chief mentioned "blanks," but did Sharon know they were blanks? When "Jenkins" enters a room, you haven't previously told us who "Jenkins" is, which is confusuing. And isn't Jenkins the same officer who handed over the papers? Which would already put him in the room? (could Mac carry that many large policies and bundles of paper in his pants' pocket?) I'd advise watching an episode or two of "Law and Order" before attempting another "mystery," to get a feel for how policemen talk and how they handle witnesses/suspects. I don't mean to be overly critical, but for a writing school graduate you use a lot of trite expressions and flowery descriptions. I also didn't buy Jenkins falling for Loretta so quickly.
Book Four in Belinda Lawrence mystery series. Confirming the Professor was murdered proves to be a challenge and, gradually, as they get to know those associated with the Manor House, Belinda and Hazel discover another murder and an intricate web of
Book Four in Belinda Lawrence mystery series. Confirming the Professor was murdered proves to be a challenge and, gradually, as they get to know those associated with the Manor House, Belinda and Hazel discover another murder and an intricate web of
