Miz Sara Cooks Up a Surprise

Examiner: Since your marriage, have you had a romantic relationship with anyone other than your wife? Subject: No I have not. Polygraph reading: Truthful.

As I read, I saw a big smile break out on Herman Morton's face. Before he could say anything, I went on.

"Let me read to you from Mr. Blackman's summary of his examination.

I was asked to determine whether or not the subject, Mr. Herman Morton, had been faithful to his wife. It is not uncommon in such situations for a subject to attempt to hide or disguise reality by offering evasive answers or partial truths. Such strategies can easily be overturned by asking a number of variations of the same question and comparing the polygraphic responses to each. This is the methodology I employed in this case.

In my professional opinion, Mr. Herman Morton was speaking truthfully when he said he has not had a sexual or romantic relationship with anyone other than his wife.

When I had finished, Mr. Morton pumped his fist like a triumphant athlete and, turning to his wife, said in a loud voice: "See? I told you you had no reason to doubt me!"

Mrs. Morton blushed and then beamed, throwing her arms around her husband's neck. "I'm so sorry, Herman. I'll never doubt you again."

As the couple clasped each other happily, we were interrupted by the sound of the doorbell. "Excuse me," I said. "That will be our other guest."

The Mortons both looked at me curiously as I left the room to go into the entry hall. When I returned, I was accompanied by a pretty young woman wearing a summer dress and clutching her purse in both her hands.

I watched April Morton's face carefully, and saw no sign of recognition. "Who is this?" she asked.

"Excuse me," I said. "I guess I need to make my introductions. Mrs. Herman Morton, may I introduce Mrs. Herman Morton."

The two women stared at each other, and then both of them looked at me in confusion. But I ignored them to watch Herman Morton. The triumphant smile on his face had been replaced by shock, and he visibly shrunk back into his seat as though he was trying to hide.

But April Morton had thrown off her astonishment, and her face was now contorted by jealousy and anger. "You're not Herman's wife, she yelled, "I am. How dare you try to steal my husband!"

The other Mrs. Morton was equally upset. "He's my husband, not yours. You have no right to try to take him!"

Marcy quickly stepped between the two women so she could intervene if things got nasty. I spoke up loudly. "Ladies," I said, "neither one of you is a homewrecker, and neither one of you is at fault. I regret to have to tell you this, but Herman Morton married both of you. He has illegally taken two wives, and in the process has deceived the both of you."

With that, both women turned on Herman, who was cringing in his seat. Marcy had to insert herself in front of him to keep the two angry wives at bay.

Seeing that she couldn't get at her husband, April Morton turned to me in bewilderment. "I don't understand, Miz Sara. The expert's report said that Herman was faithful to me."

I shook my head sadly. "No, the report said that he had never had a relationship with anyone other than his wife, and technically Herman was telling the truth. He just didn't bother to mention that he has two wives, not one."

With that, April broke into tears as the reality of the situation dawned on her. "What is to become of me?" she sobbed. "How will I ever face my friends again?" The other Mrs. Morton was also crying, and, to my surprise, she went over and began to hug April, who tried to comfort her in turn. It seemed the two unhappy wives had found common ground in their shared distress.

After a few minutes, April regained her composure. She wiped her eyes and blew her nose, then stood up and took the hand of her counterpart from Bainbridge. "Miz Sara, we will be in touch with you later to get your assistance with our divorce suits." Turning to the other Mrs. Morton, she said, "Come, dear, you and I have a lot to talk about."

As they walked out the door, I saw one of them whispering to the other, and I heard the second Mrs. Morton giggled. I predicted an unpleasant future for their common husband.

I looked back at the unhappy man, who sat there ashen-faced. "Mr. Morton," I said to him, "you many have thought you were pretty clever, but I'd say you're now in a heap of trouble."

He looked up at me helplessly. "What should I do?" he asked.

"I can think of only two things, Mr. Morton," I told him sternly. "The first is to get yourself a good attorney. Bigamy is a felony in Georgia, and if my memory serves, it's punishable by up to ten years in prison. The second is to call your employees and let them know that both stores will soon be under new management."

He hung his head and walked out the door dejectedly. I didn't wish him farewell; I've never had much sympathy for cheaters.

After everyone had left, Marcy and I were straightening up the office when the doorbell rang again. I looked at her in surprise: we weren't expecting any more visitors today. When I went to the door, there stood George Patterson, wearing his customary coat and tie. And when I pulled open the door further to admit him, he stepped aside to permit a smartly dressed woman to proceed him.

Marcy was clearly agitated, and as we proceeded to my office, she pulled me aside and whispered in my ear, "That's her! That's one of the women I saw down in Destin!"

When we entered my office, Mr. Patterson and the woman were standing side by side in front of the settee. "Miz Sara," he said, "I'd like to introduce my wife, Sylvia Patterson."

I was so startled by their sudden appearance together that I almost forgot my manners. "Um, how do you do, Mrs. Patterson. It's nice to meet you," I said hesitantly.

Marcy gave me a sharp look. I could tell she didn't think it was all that nice to meet the woman.

I was still at a loss for words, but George Patterson clearly was not. "Do you still have those papers I asked you to prepare, Miz Sara?"

"Yes," I said faintly, "they're still in my file."

"Good," he said. "Sylvia and I want to sign them now."

Marcy looked at me wide-eyed; I found myself uncertain as to how to proceed.

"Are you sure, Mr. Patterson?" I asked.

He took his wife's hand and squeezed it affectionately. She gave him an approving smile. "Oh yes, Miz Sara," he said confidently, "Sylvia and I both want this, now more than ever."

Suddenly, I understood. I turned to Marcy. "Would you get the document for Mr. and Mrs. Patterson, dear?"

She frowned, but went to my desk and returned with the folder containing the transfer of ownership.

Mr. Patterson took the document out and handed it to his wife. "Here, darling," he said gallantly, "ladies first."

When she had finished, he took the pen from her and signed his name with a flourish. When he had done so, he turned back to her and said, "There you are, my darling, just as I promised." Then he handed the document back to me. "You'll see that this is properly notarized and registered?"

"Of course," I replied.

With that, he thanked me and the two of them prepared to depart. He offered his arm to his wife to escort her; then, when they neared the door, he scurried to hold it open for his wife. I realized that she had not said a word the entire time they were in the office, but as she left, she looked back at Marcy and me and gave us what I judged to be a triumphant little smirk.

When they had departed, I turned back to Marcy. She was standing there aghast. "How could he do that, Miz Sara? He saw the video; he knows she cheated on him. Why would he go ahead and sign over half his home after that? And how could you let him do it?"

I sighed. "Marcy, did Mr. Patterson appear to be coerced into signing that document?"

"No," she admitted, "he certainly seemed willing enough."

"And did he appear to be under the influence of drugs or alcohol or any other substance that might impair his judgment?" I pressed her.

"Well, no," she conceded, "but that just makes it worse. She's already proved that she can't be trusted – how could he ignore what she did down in Destin?"

"Dear, most husbands would be appalled and outraged if their wives acted like Sylvia Patterson. But there are some men who desire their wives to engage in sexual relations with others. Those men derive great pleasure from watching their wives do so, and even go to great lengths to set up such liaisons. I believe that George Patterson has just realized that he is one of those men."

Marcy was shocked. "But that's disgusting!" she cried out. "You shouldn't have let him sign that. She's taking advantage of him."

I smiled at her. "I certainly don't condone such behavior, but there's nothing illegal about it. And since neither party is being harmed and both are consenting adults, it's not our place to impose our values or prevent them from doing as they wish."

She crossed her arms. "I guess you're right, Miz Sara, but I still don't like it," she said stubbornly. "As far as I'm concerned, this whole thing just ruined our vacation."

"Oh, no, dear, you mustn't look at it that way," I said, trying to calm her. "From my point of view, in addition to spending some pleasant and relaxing time with my favorite assistant, two good things came out of this past week."

She looked at me inquiringly.

"First, I got two clients out of one case," I said with a twinkle in my eye, "and second, I got a great recipe for cornbread."

Marcy frowned in exasperation. "Oh, Miz Sara!"