by Theo Baxter
"He hurt me, so I made sure he suffered in return. Don't you see it?" she asked rhetorically. "Those men deserved what they got. They were all rotten to the core, abusive in all kinds of ways. They deserved much worse than what they got from me," she seethed, trying to make us see that she was the good guy in this story.
Despite all she suffered, since it was obvious she was the victim in many cases, it still couldn't justify her becoming the aggressor at some point. Nothing could explain her killing all those men, including my father. Sadly, somewhere along the way, she’d started believing in her justifications, in her brand of crazy.
"And my father?" I heard myself say.
Melissa looked at me like she couldn't believe I’d dared to ask her something like that. Before saying anything, she smirked. "What about your father?"
"You killed him too, but why?"
"Honestly, Dean, you of all people should know the answer to that question. You should cheer that the monster died. After all he did to me, to you, to your poor mother . . ."
I gritted my teeth, not liking her mentioning my mother.
"It was the only way," she concluded.
The way she phrased that, I became almost convinced that we should let her go. Almost. "Okay, and what about me then?"
"You're now free as well." She said that as though she did everything for me.
Yeah, right.
"I got in your way, Melissa, remember?" I pointed out. "You framed me, and now you're holding me at gunpoint."
She sighed. "Sadly, you did get in my way. I couldn't have you interfering with my plans, standing between me and the payout I deserved for putting up with your father's crap," she explained with such cold logic that I felt chills.
In the end, it was all about the money. I hadn't realized I said that out loud until Melissa looked at me all insulted, replying, "I really tried to make it work, but Carson turned out to be as bad as the rest of them. Even worse."
I couldn't really argue with that, but all the same, there was something seriously wrong with her statement. Something simply didn't fit.
"Why did you keep remarrying?" I questioned. "Why didn't you just stop after the first one?" I challenged. If that was such a traumatic experience, wouldn't she try and learn from her mistakes, and become a better judge of character?
"Excuse me?" Melissa replied as though clearly confused, so I tried again.
"Why didn't you settle on some island and enjoy the rest of your life after making that first fortune?"
If I got a second chance in life, to start fresh, anew, I would take it in a heartbeat.
And that was what bugged me about Melissa from the start since I heard the detective's theories. Where did all the money go?
"What can I say? I started enjoying life on a certain level and needed constant cash flow."
Her reply disgusted me. It was all about the money. I was right all along.
"I don't think that’s the real reason." Detective Michaels called her out on her bullshit. She'd remained quiet so far. I was surprised to hear her speak up now.
"No?" Melissa mocked.
"No," Detective Michaels countered calmly. "I think you realized after your first husband how you liked to watch men die. It gives you the power you so desperately crave in your life."
To my utter shock, Melissa started laughing, and wholeheartedly at that. Melissa completely lost her mind, not that I didn't know that already.
I saw my window of opportunity, and without a thought, I lunged toward Melissa. Please don't get yourself killed, please don't die.
I hit her with my body, smacking the gun out of her hand. Melissa screamed, outraged, but it was too late. We fell to the ground.
I thanked the heavens I didn't earn a bullet hole for my efforts. Bruises were something I could most definitely survive with.
Melissa instantly started to thrash about, trying to fight me off and make a grab for the gun, but the detective acted as well.
She apprehended the gun before trading places with me.
"It's over, Melissa," she informed her, easily subduing the other woman. "As I said before, you are under arrest."
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Due to Melissa's arrest, all charges against me were dropped. I was a free man again, and it felt terrific.
Next part of my life, thanks to these new developments, was kind of hectic. I had to give numerous statements to the police and the district attorney about what happened. I had to explain why I was there meeting with Melissa in the first place, why I was wearing a wire, and things like that.
At one point, it felt like that was all I did, talk about Melissa and my life with her in general. If I thought the press was annoying before when I was charged, they went insane after the story about a true black widow broke.
They all wanted an exclusive with me since I was there when she was apprehended. To understand the full extent of the madness that was created, I even got a book offer from a publishing house to share my story—Living with a Black Widow, and the Unveiling of all her Crimes was a working title. Of course, I turned them all down. I never cared for such exposure and never would.
Although Detective Michaels accomplished something great, she still got reprimanded for her actions. It was true she acted on her own, without getting approval from her supervisors, and managed to put a civilian's life in danger, mine, but I fully believed a suspension was a bit of a harsh punishment. She caught a serial killer, for crying out loud. Sadly, my opinion didn't count for much.
Detective Michaels took her suspension admirably well. I was more upset than she was. She simply shrugged it off. "I would do everything exactly the same all over again, no regrets."
"No regrets," I repeated, thinking how I too should adopt such a way of thinking.
After the dust settled and all the detective's finds were verified and some new additional evidence had been discovered, the DA indicted Melissa on four separate counts of first-degree murder. She would be tried separately for each husband she killed, John Trent, Shawn Goldberg, Jessie Smith, and of course, my father, Carson Andros.
Detective Michaels had suspicions that there could be more cases, more dead husbands, but she simply couldn't prove it. If I were to be perfectly honest, the notion that she killed even more men terrified me. Sadly, I believed that was one of those things we could never be sure of without her full confession, which she didn't want to give. Melissa insisted that she was innocent despite everything, even with the taped confession from my wire.
Naturally, I was called to testify against her in my father's case, which I happily obliged. I wanted to see her locked up as soon as possible. She had been going around killing people for far too long. One murdered husband was one too many. This was a monstrosity. Now, thanks to smart Detective Michaels, who refused to give up, Melissa would finally be held accountable for all her sins, and I took pride in the notion that I’d helped in a small part.
At times, it felt unreal to me that Melissa had managed to do this bloody routine of hers for so long. For more than twenty years, she roamed about, marrying men, only to kill them and take their money.
It was a true victory that she was finally caught and brought to justice, not that I cared about that. I cared about my own personal vendetta that was reaching its end. When she was sentenced for her crimes, and there was no doubt in my mind that she would be, all would be right in the world once more.
Although I could never recover that lost memory of that night or know what truly happened or how it happened, I was convinced, based on all the facts presented during the trial, that the real killer would rot in jail for a very long time. It gave me immense joy and satisfaction that Melissa didn't manage to run away with all my money.
Although it would be a while before I inherited everything, I started to think about what to do with all of that money once I received it. I decided that the first thing I would do, once I got it all, was to sell that damned mansion and move someplace else.
My fi
rst thought was actually to simply burn it to the ground, yet after speaking with Dr. Blake, I realized that was a bit extreme. I think I would enjoy living someplace else. I deserved a fresh start where nobody knew who I was or what happened. I was tired of this city. Nowadays, I got two kinds of expressions from people—wariness and distrust from those who continued to believe I killed my father and framed Melissa, and pity from everyone else. I couldn't take that anymore, and luckily, thanks to all the money, I didn't have to.
The trials were long and tiring, not to mention completely sensationalized thanks to Melissa's legal team. Melissa hired a whole army of lawyers. It became apparent that she hadn't spent all her money like she wanted us to believe. All that wealth had been accumulating for decades, and now she could have whoever she wanted, and she chose the best of the best.
Not that it would do her any good. Detective Michaels was right, after all. Melissa maybe liked the money but loved to take power from men by killing them.
When my date at court arrived, I wasn't as nervous as I believed I would be. All advised me to simply tell the truth, speak plainly, and stay calm. Easier said than done considering her lawyer spared no punches while dealing with me during cross-examination.
I was doing fine while the DA questioned me. It was something else entirely when the other side took charge. Melissa's lawyer asked about the affair and the blackmail, intentionally leaving out the part that she started it.
"It wasn't like that," I tried to defend.
"You didn't kiss my client when she was in a particularly vulnerable emotional state?"
When he put it like that, I sounded like a bastard. The same thing happened when he asked about my recording her.
"I had no choice."
"It's a simple yes or no question, Mr. Andros. Did you record private conversations between you and my client without her knowledge or consent?"
"Yes," I replied reluctantly.
"Did you then try to blackmail her with such audio files?"
"Yes, but—"
"Thank you," he cut me off, not giving me a chance to tell the full story.
When he started grilling me about my illness, I was ready to start throwing punches. Melissa's lead counselor was obnoxious and rude, and unfortunately, it felt like the jury was buying it.
To be honest, that was what I feared most when I was charged with this crime, that they wouldn't fully understand the nature of my illness or assume I was lying to cover my tracks like the defense attorney tried to present now.
"Isn't it correct that you were the one found in your father's room on the day of his murder?"
"Yes. I had a seizure and woke up in his room without knowledge of how I got there."
"Is it true you were covered in blood that was not your own?"
"Yes."
"Whose blood was it?"
"My father’s."
The crowd became restless.
"And your fingerprints were found on the murder weapon?"
"Objection." The district attorney finally decided that he'd had enough.
Then the two counselors started to argue about the grounds of such a line of questioning, and eventually, the judge allowed the defense attorney to proceed.
Of course, he made it seem as though I were the real killer and had framed his innocent client. Truth be told, that was my first thought as well when I woke up in that room, but after that, I learned a great deal and knew better. I was certain the jurors would feel the same way after hearing everything.
"I didn't do it." I remained adamant. "I was framed by Melissa."
That caused another argument, and the Honorable Judge Nicholson had to call for order, banging his gavel before proceeding.
"How can you be sure you didn't kill your father?" the defense lawyer asked directly. "By your own account, you cannot remember anything."
He had me there.
"I'm sure because I am looking at the true murderer, and this isn't the first time she killed one of her husbands," I said in haste before anyone could stop me.
"Objection, Your Honor," the defense lawyer said.
"Sustained." Then he turned toward me. "Mr. Andros, you will stick to the facts and refrain from making any assumptions or indulge in hearsay."
"Yes, Your Honor," I replied.
The question was repeated to me.
"I can't," I said, fully knowing that was precisely what he wanted to hear.
This day couldn't be worse as far as I was concerned.
After he finished, the judge asked the DA if he wanted to do a follow-up. He did and asked the right questions that allowed me to explain all that I’d failed to clarify during the cross.
In the end, I was beyond exhausted both mentally and physically. I didn't expect it to be so invasive, being on the stand. At the same time, of course it was. A woman's life was on the line. It didn't matter if I or the detective believed she was guilty. That had to be proven without any doubt in the court of law.
I couldn't wait to get out of there. Exiting the building, I took a deep breath. I saw the reporters waiting for me, and I groaned inwardly. I was so tired of all this shit. I was certain I completely blew it in there and caused a setback for the DA. Dammit.
"That went well," a familiar voice said, and I turned to look at her incredulously.
I wasn't sure she would show up, but I was glad she had, although I was a complete failure. "Have you been watching the same trial I did? Because my testimony was horrible."
Detective Michaels shrugged in return. "The defense attorney did his job, but so did the district attorney. Overall, I think you did well."
That confounded me. Really? "Thank you."
"And don't worry, you'll have plenty of time to practice until all of this is over. There are three more trials left after this one," she tried to joke.
I felt exasperated. Since I was present during Melissa's meltdown and full confession, I was asked to take the stand on other cases as well.
The detective started laughing upon seeing my expression. I tried to remain glum, but it was hard since her laughter was pretty contagious.
"So, you think I didn't screw up?"
"You did good," she reassured me.
Suddenly, I felt much better. "I could use a coffee. Care to join me?" I asked before realizing what I was even doing. Did I really just ask the detective out on a date?
I didn't have time to panic since she said, "I'd love to."
Chapter Forty
Four months later . . .
One hundred and twenty-seven days later, and several coffee dates, lunches, and dinners with Detective Michaels—Valerie, I corrected myself—Melissa finally went to prison. The Black Widow's, as papers unimaginatively named Melissa, reign of terror was finally over. It went without saying that she was convicted, found guilty of killing all four husbands, and would be spending the rest of her life in prison.
Apart from my spending time with Valerie and Melissa rotting behind bars, I received another piece of good news. My inheritance went through probate, and I finally had access to all my money. That lifted a big load of stress off my shoulders. Finally, I would be completely debt-free and secure while trying to figure out what I wanted to do for the rest of my life. And where.
As I decided before, the first thing I did after getting my inheritance was put the house on the market. Actually, I wanted to sell all of my father's possessions. His company's shareholders were more than happy to buy all the stocks that I had, and for a fair price, I might add.
I realized I didn't want anything tangible from him to remain. That was my final act of defiance, the ultimate revenge. by getting rid of everything, I erased him from history. There would be no traces of the great Carson Andros anywhere. He’d worked so hard to leave some kind of a legacy, and with a few signatures, I destroyed it completely, and that felt damn good.
Thanks to Dr. Blake, I'd never felt better. My health and my mental state were finally stabilized.
"I am proud of you, D
ean. You've come a long way," she told me at some point.
"Thank you, Dr. Blake. That means a lot coming from you," I replied, touched.
I still suffered from seizures. I would always have them. but they were mild and tended to be on the short side. After I returned from blackouts, I didn't ache from severe physical side-effects like before.
With my therapist's help, I finally came to terms with who I really was as a person, with all the good, bad, and in between sides that all of us carried inside. I managed to forgive myself for all the mistakes, including Melissa.
Since Melissa was finally behind bars, that gave me conclusive proof that she’d tried to use me and my condition as a murder weapon against my father. She remained adamant that she was innocent of all charges. That meant nothing. The evidence and the guilty verdict spoke plenty for her.
There was only one thing left for me to do before leaving this place for good. I went to the prison to see her for the last time. The guard directed me to my seat, and I settled, waiting for someone to go and get her. There was a thick glass between those who were incarcerated and those who came to visit. A phone was provided to communicate.
It took me a moment to recognize her as she entered. She looked quite different in orange clothes, with no makeup on, and without a paid professional to take care of her hair. The prison didn't suit her at all.
Good. I was beyond glad that she suffered.
Settling, she grabbed the phone, so I did the same. "Hello, Dean," she greeted. "I knew you would come."
I suppressed the urge to roll my eyes. Some things would never change, as it turned out.
"Hello, Melissa," I continued to call her that, although during discovery, it was relieved that her real name was Mary-Ann Johnson.
"Did you come here to see what you did to me and gloat?" she asked, flipping her hair, sitting with her legs crossed as though we were in an expensive restaurant and not in a penitentiary.
"Yes, I did, and you're taking all the fun out of it."
She smirked. "I'll go a step further then," she announced.