The Donut Shop Murder

by Suzanne Jenkins

  “Miss Cooper,” he shouted. “I’m locking up in ten minutes.”

  “I’ll be right out,” she called, dragging herself off the bed.

  Looking around, she decided that if they were still married the following summer, she was going to come down for weekends with him and insist that they stay in the marina. If he wanted to go out sailing, she didn’t have to go. Why she hadn’t insisted on that in the first place baffled her. She could get her needs met without making unreasonable demands.

  They got through the week without fighting. He was sullen and moody, but she assumed it was because the girlfriend might have made demands he was unable to meet. Maybe he was in the doghouse.

  Arriving home on time every night, they had dinner together and as always, went their separate ways afterward; Faith to the bedroom to read or watch her television programs, Ken to his den to do whatever it was he did on his computer and watch his programs.

  Friday morning at breakfast, they’d reached the boiling point. Faith knew it was coming because he usually made plans to see his friends on Saturday, and now that his cover was busted, he’d be stuck home with her all day.

  “Will you have dinner with me tonight?” he asked.

  Looking up at him from her plate of toast, she smirked. “You going to ask me for a divorce in a public place?”

  “No,” he said, more brusquely than he meant to. “We need to talk, and it’s too easy for you to run away from me here at home.”

  “What do we need to talk about?” she asked, knowing she was infuriating him, and not caring.

  “I want to start a dialogue, that’s all,” he replied. “Nothing heavy, just want to hear what you have to say. Obviously, you were on an information gathering expedition, and I’m interested to hear what precipitated it.”

  Glaring at him, she wanted to scream at him, but bit her tongue. He didn’t realize she knew about Marvin not going fishing or the engagement ring. All he knew is that she felt a need to search the boat and found all of their ridiculous sexual enhancement products, none of which he’d ever needed with her.

  “Okay,” she answered, slumping over.

  Effort to stay mad had drained her to the maximum, and she was growing weary. “Do you want me to meet you someplace in town?”

  “No, I’ll come home and pick you up, like we always do,” he said. “Let’s go together, someplace nearby. I feel like relaxing.”

  He mentioned a place she’d always liked a lot, a dark, fragrant Italian place where they really had candles in Chianti bottles and a violinist strolled around the checkerboard cloth covered tables, serenading the diners. It was not a place she wanted to associate with divorce talk or even affair talk.

  “Let’s save that place for a happy celebration,” she said. “How about the diner?”

  “Okay, the diner it is,” he said trying for cheerful and losing. “I’ll see you tonight.”

  Sitting at her desk in class, Faith watched over her students like a mother hen, there for the few who aced her quizzes and also for the few who struggled with understanding basic American history, she loved teaching. Glancing over the classroom as they took their standard pop quiz for Friday afternoon, she noticed uncomfortably that she was being observed in return by Chris Burns. Increasingly taxing the delicate dance she performed between keeping a distant but caring relationship with her students, Chris was teetering on exploiting her, and she felt powerless to stop him because he hadn’t crossed that line, yet. However, later that night, something would happen to do the trick.

  When the bell rang indicating it was the end of the class period, the last period at the end of the day, the students lined up at her desk to hand over their quizzes. Smiling at each student as they said goodbye, finally Chris stood in front of her with an empty piece of paper.

  “Chris,” she started, looking at the paper, her mouth set.

  “I was too busy with my English paper to work on Political Science,” he said. “I handed it in this morning though, so now I can concentrate on this stuff.”

  “You have a responsibility in this class, too. At least finish your assigned reading,” she said. “That should prepare you for the test.”

  “I’ll do better next Friday,” he promised.

  Waiting for him to leave, she didn’t move, breathing shallow, uncomfortable with his crotch inches from her nose.

  “Anything else, Chris?” she asked, keeping her vision on his paper.

  “Are you doing anything this weekend?” he whispered, knowing her response would be to not answer him.

  Giving him a semi-smile, silently dismissing him, she stood up, away from his beckoning zipper and began to gather the papers together, placing them within a folder that she’d take home, grading them during her downtime.

  “I hope I’ll see you this weekend,” he said, persistent.

  “You know that isn’t very likely, don’t you Chris?”

  “A guy can hope,” he said, his voice low.

  Looking away, she busied herself, a niggling fear creeping into her mind. She saw him leave the classroom; slink out more like it. Tall and a little gangly, there was a sexual energy coming from him that scared her. She thought of teachers who’d succumbed before her, involving themselves in forbidden relationships with students and she found it appalling, reprehensible. So far, he hadn’t come right out and said anything terribly inappropriate, although the weekly asking to see her might be considered problematic, right at the line and had not yet crossed over.

  And then the restaurant incident occurred. He must have followed her home that night, how else would he know where they were going? It wasn’t a fancy place, a common, family café; people would sit and read the paper or more commonly nowadays bring their iPads and use the free Wi-Fi.

  When she got home, Ken was already there, waiting. He’d showered and had dressed in jeans and a long-sleeved t shirt, looking so handsome that it took her breath away, and she hated him for it.

  “Do you want to change?” he’d asked her, and she took it to mean he didn’t like what she was wearing.

  “I wasn’t going to,” she said. “Do you want me to wear something else?”

  “You’re all dressed up,” he replied. “I’ll feel out of place.”

  Oh for God’s sake, she thought. “I’ll put jeans on, then,” she replied, leaving her briefcase and purse to go up to their room.

  Ten minutes later, she came down in jeans as he’d asked, the dichotomy being that the clothes she’d changed into cost more than what she wore to school.

  “Wow, you look fantastic,” he said, the first time in a long while that he complimented her.

  “Thanks,” she said, thinking, it’s too late, baby.

  They walked out to his car together and he opened the door for her, holding it and waiting until she was inside. They made small talk, mostly initiated by Ken on the way to the diner which was about five minutes from their house. Neither of them noticed the Mustang following a few car lengths behind, nor that while they sat in the parking lot for a few minutes before they went in, someone was observing them.

  Once inside and seated at a booth, the tension between the couple thickened, and she found ordering food to eat was out of the question.

  “I’m just going to get coffee,” she said. “This atmosphere is not conducive to eating.”

  Looking around, he had to agree. “You’re right. I’m sorry. We were getting more accomplished in the car.

  “Ken, what do we need to accomplish?” she asked.

  “What happened to make you go to the sailboat?” he asked.

  Waiting until her coffee was poured and the waitress left, Faith studied his face. Ken was the Ken doll to her Barbie; that was what all of their friends used to say. The side comments were hurtful; that they were as interesting as Barbie and Ken, not the worst. Tonight, he looked tired, a small scab on the side of his face from a shaving nick ruining the faultlessness of his complexion, it
made her a little sick to see it and she turned away, looking at her coffee instead. Faith knew he’d married her because of the way they looked together; the handsome lawyer in the forefront with the colorless wife; she faded into the background until you took a good look; alabaster skin, huge blue eyes, naturally white blond hair, always dressed to perfection.

  “I went to see a movie with Margaret Pelham, and Marvin was there with his wife.”

  Closing his eyes, his posture said so much to her, he was ashamed, guilty, regretful, embarrassed.

  “I’m sorry,” he said; what else was there to say?

  “I went back to the condo and dug through your stuff…”

  “You did what?”

  The color drained from his face, the concern; what could she have found?

  “I never brought anything home,” he said, a hint of defensiveness in his voice.

  “No, just the receipt for $19, 876 for a three carat diamond engagement ring.”

  Folding his hands in front on the table, he looked at them, contemplating what he could possibly say to justify such a purchase.

  “Why are we even together?” she asked. “I’m stymied. You must love her, so leave and divorce me and marry her. We share so little community property; it should be the easiest divorce in Oakland County. “

  “I don’t love her,” he said. “I love you.”

  “Ken, get a grip. Why then?” she asked, her eyebrows in question marks.

  “It’s just for thrills.”

  When she instinctively winced, he felt horrible. “Not that it was thrilling, that’s not what I meant. I mean because it was forbidden, or the unknown, or something different. I think a guy gets bored with himself. It doesn’t have anything to do with his wife. I’ve done enough divorces to know that a guy who leaves his wife for another woman will probably do it again unless he deals with his own issues.”

  “So what now? You have a young girl in love with you, Ken. I saw her belongings. That merchandise is the dominion of the twenty-somethings.”

  “I’ll just have to tell her,” he said. “Can you bear with me?”

  “I have to think about it, Ken. I just found out. I don’t even know the details yet; how long has it lasted, who is she, what does she do for a living?”

  Hope crumbling, knowing how proud Faith was, if she found out Allison worked for him, that would be the end. He was going to have to find a way to wiggle out of it somehow because telling the truth was definitely not going to cut it.

  “Are you about finished? Let’s get out of here,” he said, sliding to the end of the booth.

  He threw money down on the table and offered her his arm, but she ignored it, and they walked out of the restaurant without touching.

  They walked to the car side by side and he reached for her hand, but she still wasn’t having it.

  “Stop it, Ken,” she whispered. “I’m not ready for this. I’m far from ready for it.”

  “In other words, you’re not going to forgive me,” he said.

  “I just found out about it,” she said. “Can I have a couple of hours?”

  “What will a couple of hours solve?” he asked, reaching for her hand.

  “You never asked for forgiveness,” she replied.

  “It’s not like you’ve given me the chance,” he said. “You snooped around in my stuff, instead of getting in touch with me right away and asking me where I was when you saw Marvin. Why didn’t you call me right away? No, instead, go to my office and dig through my shit. I feel like a jerk as it is.”

  “You’re a fucking asshole!”

  A man’s voice shouting, the sound of him running coming from behind them stunned the couple and they both swung around, coming face to face with Chris Burns.

  “Who the hell are you?” Ken shouted.

  Stupidly, Faith put her hands up between the men to try and keep them separate.

  “He’s a student of mine, Ken. Please let me handle this…”

  But he ignored her, pushing her aside and walking toward the boy. “What right do you have talking to me that way, you punk!”

  Luckily, before it got out of control, a sheriff’s car cruised through the parking lot, and seeing the confrontation, pulled up behind Ken’s car.

  “Is there a problem here?”

  “This punk just called me a fucking asshole,” Ken shouted.

  Of course, having said that, now the policeman got out of the car, but not before flicking his flashing lights on.

  “It’s a misunderstanding,” Faith said through gritted teeth. “This young man is a student of mine, and he overheard my husband tease me and took it wrong.”

  The sheriff looked from man to man, weighing what he’d just been told.

  “Get in your cars and go home,” he said.

  Ken looked at Chris one more time, watching him turn and walk back to his car.

  As they got into their own car, Ken glared at Faith.

  “So who’s Ichabod Crane?” he asked, sneering.

  “A troubled student, obviously,” she said. “If he followed me here, he’s probably been following me everywhere. I have to figure out if I need to do something about it at school.”

  “You mean you’re not involved with him?”

  Shocked, she cringed. “Get real, Ken! He’s a student, for God’s sake.”

  “He’s passionate about you, regardless of his age,” Ken replied, leaning forward to put the key in the ignition. “If you were looking for kicks…”

  “I wouldn’t put my career at risk for kicks,” she said. “I wonder how I can find out if he’s following me.”

  “We can hire a private investigator,” Ken replied. “Just say the word and I’ll do it. You know I have the connections.”

  The rest of the trip home made in silence, Faith wondered how she could get Ken to sleep on the couch in his den. Thoughts of drugging him shocking, she shook her head to rid her mind of it. Pulling into the driveway, he stopped the car and turned to Faith.

  “I’m not coming in,” he said.

  Stunned, she groped for words. “What do you mean, you’re not coming in? Where are you going to go?”

  And then it hit her and she laughed out loud. “Oh, my God! You’re going to her house! I’m so damn dense. What was all that regret back there Ken? You really had me going for a bit.”

  “I was serious until Ichabod Crane showed up.”

  “Stop it!” she said. “That’s cruel and you know it.”

  “I’m not sure it is cruel. I wonder now if there’s not something you’ve been hiding from me, as well.”

  “Ken, do you realize that what you’re saying could get me jail time? I’ve never, ever even thought of such an act.”

  Begging him to believe her suddenly struck her as so ludicrous, and she stopped, reaching for the door knob. “Goodbye,” she said and slammed the door.

  ***

  Nature would have taken its course. Faith was too exhausted to make demands of Ken, and if he wanted to move out for good, she’d have packed his bags if in his stupidity, he hadn’t accidentally sent Allison a text meant for Faith the next night.

  On Saturday, keeping their distance from each other, Faith ran errands all day, making sure her phone was turned up just in case he called her with an apology.

  Then, he’d sent Allison a text message asking if he could come over, his intention to break up with her. Allison was preparing to tell him to come when the second text from Ken came in.

  Please forgive me. I must be having a midlife crisis or something. The relationship has about run its course anyway. I know I can’t live without you.

  Rereading it over again, she realized it was not meant for her. He was texting his wife. Allison, in her youth, didn’t realize he was making a decision in that text; she thought he was feeding the women the same lines.

  Quickly sending him a reply, Allison lied and said her sister was spending the night with her and he
’d better not come over.

  Tripping over a chair leg exacerbated Allison’s anger, and she wished she had something to throw at the wall. Instead, she ran to her computer and did a Google search for Faith Cooper. The landline and address of their Birmingham condo popped up, and Allison wasted no time dialing the landline.

  Faith answered on the first ring, thinking it was probably her mother. The young, unfamiliar voice didn’t register at first.

  “Faith, this is Allison Blumenthal. I’m Ken’s paralegal. I know you know about me. Ken gave me my things that you’d packed from the boat.”

  “Paralegal,” Faith said, incredulous. “You’re his paralegal.”

  “Yes. I mean, I didn’t start out that way. I was a general assistant for the partnership. But he made me his so we could work together. I’m not telling you this to rub your face in it, I just want you to know the facts.”

  “Why are you calling?” Faith asked. “I mean, why now?”

  “He just sent me a text meant for you,” she said. “It pissed me off because I can see he’s lying to both of us, not just you. A mistress always thinks the wife is the problem, that the wife is keeping the happy couple from living life to its fullest, when all along she’s probably blameless.”

  “Allison, I just found out about you, too. I mean I knew he was having an affair a week ago, but we’re just dealing with it now. We haven’t even fought about it yet.”

  A pause in the conversation as both women thought of the impact of Ken’s text message.

  “Can you meet me tomorrow?” Allison asked.

  “You want to meet me?” Faith asked. “Why?”

  “We should talk,” she said. “I feel like I need to hear the truth from you so I can let go of this mess and move on. I thought he was leaving you to marry me, and now I don’t think that was ever his intention.”

  “I can meet you,” she said. “I go to church with my parents on Sunday morning, but I can meet you afterward if you’d like. Where do you live?”

  Allison mentioned the same, up and coming neighborhood where Faith taught. “I teach high school there,” Faith said, stunned.