The May Day Murders

by Scott Wittenburg

  “By now, you’re probably asking yourself why I did all of this. What was the purpose? The answer is simple. Besides the fact that I hated being Stanley Jenkins and wanted to eliminate him, I also wanted something else. Or more precisely, someone else. I still wanted you, Ann. I figured that if I change myself that you would accept me and that I could finally realize my dreams.”

  Jenkins stared at Ann expectantly, studied her reaction. Ann squirmed on the stool and looked away.

  “I had heard that you’d married Sam not long after graduation and I almost hated you for that. But I didn’t. I decided that I’d follow through with my plan and let fate take its course. I am a fatalist, you see. I came back to the States in January and did some surveillance, discovered that you were still with Sam Middleton and had a daughter. So I decided to buy this place and ride out the tide. Then fate entered the picture this spring. You and Sam got divorced. I sat around and waited to see what you were going to do, and to my surprise and delight you moved to Columbus. My course was suddenly set: I would eliminate everyone who had ever stood in my way of getting to you. Then, I’d make my ultimate move.”

  Ann started sobbing hysterically. Jenkins walked over and gently placed his hand on her shoulder, causing her to flinch.

  “Don’t cry, Ann. It’s only going to make things worse.”

  He stroked her hair, still damp from the hot tub, and said,” I truly am sorry that it had to turn out this way, Ann. But I half suspected it would and as a result am going to have to resort to my backup plan. I should have known better than to think you were any different than the others anyway, and it only goes to show that I am not infallible. But all is not lost, by any means. I’ll be able to say goodbye to Stanley Jenkins for good after tonight. And believe me, that will be quite a weight off my shoulders.”

  He stepped back and looked her over, then said, “I’m afraid I’m going to have to kill you, Ann. I’ll have a plane to catch in a few hours and I’ve already wasted enough time telling you my life story. But I felt you had a right to know what I’ve just told you, and besides that, I’ve not been particularly looking forward to putting an end to your existence. But life goes on, Ann. I have no choice in the matter. Unfortunately, I can’t let you live and still walk out of here a free man. I do hope you understand.”

  His directness caught Ann off guard and sobered her thoughts. Suddenly, her will for survival superseded everything else.

  She had to get away. At least stall him somehow for now. At least give him a goddamn fight!

  “Please let me live, Stanley. I promise that…”

  “The name is Jerry Rankin, Ann, remember? We’re through with Stanley now.”

  “I beg you, Jerry,” Ann pleaded. “Please don’t kill me. I promise that I won’t tell a soul any of this. You can leave the country, or go wherever you’re going, and I’ll pretend that this never happened!”

  He laughed heartily and Ann knew that she’d said the wrong thing. “It’s not going to work, Ann. You’re going to have to give me a better offer than that.”

  Ann knew what he was implying. “I’ll do anything, Jerry! Please, just let me go-Amy needs me!”

  He grinned, then replied, “You should have thought of that before, Ann. You had your chance but you blew it.”

  He removed the bloodied towel and looked at it, tossed it to the floor and stared directly into Ann’ s eyes. “And look at what you did to me! Cut my fucking face with that wine glass! Yet here you are, standing there half naked and all blurry eyed, begging me to spare your fucking life. After you fucking cut me? Do you know how many goddamn stitches it’s going to take to fix my face? Christ, Ann-sorry to say it but you’re not in a very good negotiating position right now.”

  Suddenly, Dr. Jeckyl turned into Mr. Hyde.

  He grabbed her by the arm, flung her down on the floor and was on top of her in a flash. He started yanking down her swimsuit bottoms as Ann pummeled his chest with her fists, her legs thrashing wildly.

  “No more time to negotiate, Ann. I’m going to fuck you, then I’m going to kill you.”

  Ann fought back fiercely. She managed to rake her fingernails over the fresh wound on his face, causing him to let out a blood-curdling howl. He stopped dead for a second, stared at her with eyes that wanted to kill, and ripped off her bathing suit in one quick, effortless motion. Ann screamed in terror and struck him in the face again. He gaped at her maniacally, as though he couldn’t believe what had just happened, then brought back his hand to strike her They both heard the voices at the same time. They were coming from downstairs-muffled and unintelligible, but getting louder. A look of absolute horror came over Stanley’s face as he froze in his tracks and cocked his head, listening, covering Ann’s mouth in his hand. Ann could hear her heart beating wildly and watched as drops of blood ran down Stanley’s cheeks and plopped onto one of her breasts.

  The loft floor vibrated from where the steel staircase was attached to it as someone climbed up and apparently stopped on the second floor.

  Ann tried to scream but all that came out was a muffled whimper into Stanley Jenkin’s hand. His face was chalk white as he glanced first at the hatch, then over to the balcony door, apparently trying to decide what to do next. All of a sudden, the floor started vibrating again and they heard footsteps coming closer. Stanley flinched as his eyes darted all around the room. Total panic.

  The footsteps ceased and they heard someone shove hard against the door. Stanley leered at Ann threateningly, tightening his grip over her mouth, daring her to utter a sound. Someone banged on the door a couple of times and tried to force it open.

  There was a moment of silence, then the sound of more footsteps coming up the stairs.

  “This is the sheriff’s department, Rankin. We know you’re in there-open this door immediately!” a muffled voice commanded.

  Ann felt a huge wave of relief sweep over her. She tried to scream again but Stanley’s hand stifled her. He glared at her defiantly. Jenkins eyes darted over toward the balcony again and he made a gesture for Ann to stand up.

  “We’re on to you, Stanley, so give yourself up,” another voice said. Ann immediately recognized that distinctive voice-it was Roger Hagstrom!

  “We’ve got your entire house surrounded, so I suggest you open this door and let us do our job. We don’t want anyone to get hurt.” Roger said.

  What little color Stanley’s face had drained away. He was kneeling now with one hand over Ann’s mouth and the other over his wound. His eyes frantically surveyed the room in a desperate effort to figure out his next move.

  They both heard the sound of more footsteps scurrying up the staircase.

  “Ann, are you in there?”

  It was Sam!

  On impulse, Ann grabbed Stanley’s wrist and wrenched his hand away from her mouth. “Sam!” she cried.

  In a flash, Jenkins slapped her hard on the cheek and Ann slumped to the floor, reeling from the blow.

  “Ann!” Sam shouted. “Are you alright?”

  Jenkins suddenly snatched up a coil of picture hanging wire from the table and forced Ann up to a sitting position. He knelt behind her and wrapped a length of the wire around her neck.

  “No!” she cried.

  Ann felt the wire cut into her flesh and screamed hysterically.

  “Your wife’s life is quite literally in my hands, Sam,” Jenkins shouted. “If you want her alive, then I suggest that you, your sidekick and the rest of this lynch mob back off now!”

  There was an unintelligible mumbling of voices for a moment, then Ann heard Roger Hagstrom say, “Don’t harm her, Stanley. We’ll do whatever you say,”

  Stanley chuckled nervously. “That’s very prudent of you, Roger. I’ll tell you my demands in a moment, but first I’ve got to know something. How in the fuck did you find me out? I purposely left a couple of little clues for you to ponder over but that was only to incriminate Stanley Jenkins, certainly not his alias.”

  “The picture, Stanley,”
Sam said. You took a Polaroid of my daughter and she sent it to me. Your prints were all over it.”

  Stanley contemplated this for a moment, then said. “I’ll buy that Sam, but what prompted you to check out the prints in the first place?”

  “You should have sprung for a new camera, Stanley. Your pinch rollers on that old relic are about shot. You might say that they left an incriminating trail.”

  “ Fuck!” Jenkins gasped, realizing his folly. And with that, Stanley Jenkins snapped.

  Ann felt the wire tighten around her neck and at the same time heard a rustling come from behind her. A shot rang out and Stanley immediately released his grip.

  Ann spun around just as a young officer sprinted across the room from the balcony. He placed the barrel of his service revolver against Jenkin’s temple.

  “Release her, Jenkins, or the next one is for you.”

  Ann watched as Stanley shut his eyes. “Please don’t shoot me!” he whined. “I give up!”

  “Stand up and put your hands behind your back,” the officer commanded.

  After Jenkins complied, the officer handcuffed him.

  “Got him, sir!” he hollered in the direction of the door. “Are you all right, Ma’m?” he asked Ann. The officer picked up a sheet draped over a chair and sheepishly handed it to Ann.

  “Yes, thank-you,” Ann replied gratefully. She covered herself up with the sheet and got up onto her feet.

  “Open the door, Griggs,” someone demanded from the other side of the door.

  Keeping his pistol trained on Jenkins, Officer Griggs went over and opened the hatch door. Sam was the first man inside. He ran over and threw his arms around Ann as he glanced at Stanley Jenkins and did a double take when he saw the notorious Jerry Rankin for the first time.

  “God Sam, I’m so glad to see you!” Ann cried as Sam held her tight.

  “Me too, honey,” he replied.

  Roger entered along with the officers from the Hocking County Sheriff’s department. Ann saw the astonished look on Roger’s face when he saw Stanley Jenkins, alias Jerry Rankin.

  “Jesus Christ, Stanley! It looks like you got a bit more than just a little nip and tuck from your plastic surgeon!” he exclaimed.

  Stanley frowned and looked away.

  Roger stepped over to Ann and gave her a quick hug, winked at Sam and turned to face Jenkins.

  “Stanley Jenkins, you are under arrest for the murder of Marsha Bradley. You have the right to remain silent…”

  Epilogue

  A week later, Sam was sitting at his desk when the telephone rang. He finished the sentence he was typing, located the phone underneath the pile of wadded up papers and picked up the receiver.

  “Hello?”

  “Have I caught you at a bad time?” Ann asked.

  “No, not at all. How are you doing?”

  “Okay,” she replied, not sounding very convincing.

  “You’re lying,” Sam said. “What’s wrong?”

  There was a moment of silence before Ann replied, “That kid of ours is going to put me into an early grave…”

  “What did she do now?”

  “It’s what she didn’t do! I reminded her three times to clean up her room before she left to got out with Amanda, so I go to the grocery store and come back and what do I find? Her room hasn’t been touched! What in the world is wrong with her, Sam? Why won’t she ever mind me?”

  Sam breathed a silent sigh of relief. He was afraid that it was gong to be a little more serious than this.

  “Well, Ann. Do you want my honest opinion?”

  “Yes, please.”

  “She needs to be disciplined a bit more convincingly. You are way too easy on her!”

  “But-”

  “Let me finish before you get all defensive, okay? Although I think you’re being too easy on her there’s such a thing as being too hard on her and that could be even worse. My advice is to do as you’ve been doing, but with a little more edge behind it. She’s a good kid, Ann. And she’s got a good mom who loves her. She’ll be okay.”

  “She’s got a good dad, too,” Ann declared.

  “True.”

  “She misses her dad and I miss him, too.”

  “That could be fixed, you know,” Sam challenged.

  Ann sighed. “I know, Sam. And don’t think I haven’t been giving that a lot of thought lately.”

  There was an uncomfortable pause and Sam resumed typing, cradling the phone.

  “Why are you working at home on a Saturday afternoon?” Ann asked, breaking the silence.

  “I’m not working. Exactly…”

  “I can hear your typewriter-wait a minute! What are you doing using the typewriter? Sam, are you actually working on your manuscript?” she asked excitedly.

  “Well, not exactly. I’m working on a new one.”

  “Sam, that’s wonderful! What are you writing about?”

  “A deranged murderer.”

  “You mean Stanley, don’t you?”

  “Sort of. A first I thought of doing a true crime thing and writing a documentary of what happened but I changed my mind. I mean, I spend day in and day out writing about real things in the real world and I want to do something different for a change. Something that I’ll enjoy doing. So, I decided to make it a novel instead-based loosely on Stanley Jenkins. I figured who in the hell would believe the truth anyway? It’s rather ironic, in a sense.”

  “I think that’s great, Sam! And I’ll be frank-I don’t think I’d want you to write about it. I was such a fool, Sam. I can’t believe I let myself get sucked in by him!”

  Sam stopped typing. “Don’t be too hard on yourself, Ann. Stanley Jenkins was a master manipulator. A genius in his own demented way, when you really think about it. He was cold and calculating, and knew how to play on people’s fears and emotions. Had it down to an art, in fact. Just be thankful that you’re still around to talk about it.”

  “Did he confess to killing Cindy Fuller, too?” Ann asked.

  “Oh, yeah-he was more than obliging to the police. He confessed everything. He gave Roger the whole low-down, right down to the very last detail, to all three murders. Roger said that Stanley was quite proud of his accomplishments. That man is one sick son of a bitch, that’s for sure.”

  “I still can’t get over how stupid I was! If only I’d driven by his alleged home in Dublin, or at least checked to see if he really was a member of that neighborhood church. Then I would’ve known that something was wrong and…”

  Sam cut her off, “Ann, dear, listen to me. Don’t blame yourself for what you could have done. Remember that first of all, you had no reason to suspect Jerry Rankin of anything. He was just some good looking guy who happened to meet you at the supermarket and then one thing led to another until you eventually went out with him. Stanley knew that the church story and his falsified residence in Dublin was a gamble, but he was banking on the hunch that you wouldn’t check up on him in the time it would take him to accomplish what he’d set out to do.”

  Ann sighed. “I guess you’re right. But how come I never once noticed that he’d been in the house, or that he’d bugged the phones? How in the hell could he get away with all of that and neither Amy nor I notice anything?”

  Sam lit up a cigarette and replied, “The guy was a fucking master sleuth-that’s all I can say. Roger learned that Stanley had always been a spy freak-read every secret agent book he could get his hands on when he was a kid. Used to read them late at night while his parents were asleep. His parents are yet another story altogether, by the way. It’s little wonder why Stanley ended up being so psychotic and fucked up. Anyway, James Bond was his hero and by the time Stanley was thirteen or so, he’d become obsessed with agent 007 and started fantasizing about being a spy. He used to sneak out of his house at night and go peep-tomming all over town. Got pretty good at it apparently-he never once got caught. Had he gotten caught, his mother probably would have murdered him. He spent a great deal of time casing you o
ut back then, by the way.”

  “I know, he told me,” Ann moaned.

  “Anyway, he told Roger that this Larry Underwood kid peeping at Amy just about blew his cover. Apparently, Stanley had been in the back of the house one night screwing around with the telephone wires when he heard the Underwood kid climbing over the fence. Stanley ran around the side of the house just in time and hid in the bushes. Then he watched the kid as he proceeded to peep into the bathroom window presumably at Amy as she showered. Stanley realized that the boy could eventually pose a problem for his own agenda but he wasn’t quite sure how to deal with him. He couldn’t bust the kid, not then, anyway, because the kid would most likely wonder what in the hell Stanley was doing there in the backyard. So Stanley started keeping a keen eye on the Underwood kid as he spied on Amy over the next couple of weeks, trying to determine his routine. Then, once Rankin had “accidentally” met you and became a legitimate presence in your life, he struck. He had a hunch that Larry Underwood would come around on the night of Amy’s homecoming dance so when he did, Stanley was ready for him. Roger said that Stanley had wanted to, quote, ‘murder the fucking amateur,’ but opted instead to merely rough the boy up a bit.”

  “This is incredible!” Ann shuddered, imagining two different deranged nut cases invading her property.

  “Scary, isn’t it? The Underwood kid may become another Stanley Jenkins some day, for all we know. I’d be sure to tell Amy to keep a very close eye on that one!”

  “God, Sam. What is the world coming to?”

  “I don’t know, babe. I’m starting to think that the parents are to blame for a lot of the insanity that goes on anymore. Like I was saying before, parents can push their kids too far and you end up with a case like Stanley Jenkins. His parents, particularly his mother, apparently never gave him any breathing room. They demanded too much of him and wouldn’t let him have any kind of normal social life. Stanley retaliated, became a total sociopath lost in his own little world of perverse espionage. And the older he got, the more dangerous he became.”