The Murdered Wife

"Daddy loved us. He was always watching out for us, always trying to protect us." She began to sob again. "But Momma was the light of his life, and to find her like that was more than he could bear. So later, after Jill and I had gone to the neighbors to spend the night, he put a gun to his head and blew his brains out."

"Oh, my God!" Barry gasped.

Now Bridget's eyes were pleading with him for understanding. "When they thought I couldn't hear them, I've heard people say that my Daddy was selfish. They said he had a responsibility to Jill and me and he put his own grief ahead of that. But I know that's not true. I know that the man who killed my Momma killed my Daddy too, just as surely as if he'd been the one to pull the trigger."

She began to weep again, and Barry held her, shaken by her awful story. After a few minutes she raised her eyes and looked at him. "We didn't have any other family to live with. Our grandparents had died, and Momma and Daddy didn't have any brothers or sisters. The authorities wanted to put us in a foster home, but Jill was 18 by then and she fought them. She finally became my legal guardian, and she raised me. Things were tight but we had the money from Daddy's life insurance and Social Security, and we made it."

"Anyway, Jill decided right away that she was going to become a policewoman. I'm not as brave as she is, so I didn't follow her, but I was still fixated on criminals. One way or another, both of us wanted to try to prevent something like that from happening to somebody else." With that she buried her head in Barry's shoulder and wept some more.

Barry held her, lightly rubbing her back the way a parent would sooth a grieving child. "I'm so sorry, Bridget. I don't know what to say," he told her quietly. Then, after a few minutes, he whispered, "I guess both of us have lost someone we loved to violence."

Startled, she pulled back to stare at him and thought she saw a reflection of her own grief mirrored in his face. In her pain she'd completely forgotten about the fact that he'd just lost his wife. She pulled him tightly back to her, and the two of them clung to each other like the lost souls they were.

After some time passed, both of them calmed down and then Bridget pulled back far enough to gaze into Barry's eyes. Then she leaned forward to kiss him gently on the lips. He returned the kiss in warmth and gratitude. Again she pulled back to look at him, and this time he saw a look of determination in her eyes. She leaned in again, but this time her kiss was full of promise. The powerful emotions she had experienced were now transformed into passion, and her lips parted so her tongue could probe his mouth. Almost instantly the heat between them blazed up and they were locked in a passionate embrace like lovers long separated from one another.

Finally, Barry wrenched himself away and held her at arm's length. "Are you sure, Bridget?" he asked.

Without hesitation, she replied, "I'm as sure as anything in my life."

With that he pulled her back into his embrace and began kissing her mouth, her eyes and her neck almost frantically. Abruptly he swept her up in his arms and carried her back to the master bedroom, laying her on her back and stretching out beside her.

Between kisses they began to fumble at one another's clothing, desperate to remove all barriers between them. But as he tugged at her knit top, Barry thought he detected some hesitation in her movements, and when he ran his hand over her supple stomach, he could feel the tension in her muscles.

"What is it, Bridget?" he asked anxiously. "Is something wrong? Do you want me to stop?"

He'd pulled his hand away, but she grabbed it and brought it back to her bra-covered breast. "No, don't stop," she said. "It's just that, well, I've never done this before." Then she looked away in embarrassment as he stared at her in astonishment.

After a second he leaned over and kissed her gently. "It's alright," he said soothingly, "I know just what to do."

He stood up to strip himself down to his boxer briefs, and then helped her shed her clothes. As he pulled off her skirt, he almost laughed: she was wearing little-girl panties with polka-dots.

When he was done he instructed her to roll over onto her stomach on the bed. Then he straddled her hips and began to rub her back and neck in long, smooth motions. In minutes he felt the tension flow out of her muscles, and she began to purr in contentment at what he was doing.

When he felt she was sufficiently relaxed, he slid lower and began to massage the twin orbs of her buttocks. He was careful to avoid touching her intimately, but the pressure and rotation clearly felt good to her, and he soon smelled the unmistakable aroma of an aroused female.

Next he lifted off of her long enough to roll her over onto her back. Then he again straddled her hips and leaned forward so that he could massage her face, first rubbing his thumbs lightly over her forehead, then massaging her temples and down her jaw line. From there he began to stroke her neck, shoulders and upper chest. He lightly ran his fingers around the perimeter of her breasts, carefully avoiding her areolae and nipples. When she began to arch her back and whimper impatiently, he finally let his fingers grasp her nipples and tug on them lightly. She moaned and the scent of her arousal grew stronger.

She gave a sigh of disappointment when his fingers moved away, but it was soon replaced by moans of pleasure as he gently began caressing her stomach and abdomen. After a few minutes he scooted further back so that he could run his hands up and down her legs. When he reached her feet, he bent her knees and propped her legs up so that she lay there, open and exposed. Now he could see the moisture seeping from her pussy lips, and he began to run his fingers up and down her inner thighs. As he neared her pussy, she moaned loudly and arched her hips, but when he retreated she gave a groan of frustration. He repeated the motion several times, and soon her hips were lifting and pumping, begging for his touch.

Suddenly her eyes flew open and with a look of desperation she implored him, "Please, don't make me wait any longer. I need you now!"

With that he slid off his boxer briefs, knelt between her knees and rubbed his penis over her moistened lips. She gave her loudest groan yet and begged him, "Now, now!"

Gently he shifted his weight forward and down, sliding his penis into her heated depths until he felt the tightness he was expecting. He paused a moment, then pushed in a little further.

Her eyes flew open and she squeaked, "Oh, stop! It hurts."

"It's alright," he soothed, "just a little more and then it will feel better."

He pressed again without pausing, and he felt the resistance give way as he slid all the way into her. She gasped and he held himself motionless, kissing her and whispering, "That's all there is. Doesn't it feel better now?"

She looked up at him in wonder and uncertainty. "I guess so," she said. Then he flexed his hips slightly and she said, "Yes, that definitely feels better."

He could feel that her tension had returned, so he clasped her to him tightly and abruptly rolled her over on top of him. She was startled, but he smiled up at her soothingly. "Now, you're in charge. You decide how deep and fast to go. Just forget about me and do whatever makes you feel good."

Cautiously she drew her knees up beside his hips and rocked. "Ooh, that's nice," she said in surprise. Then she leaned forward with her hands on his chest. She lifted her hips up slightly and then slid back down. "Ooh," she repeated, and tried it again, this time lifting a little higher.

Barry reached up and tweaked her nipples gently. Instantly her hips snapped up and back as the sensation shot through her. He continued, and now her hips took up a continuous rocking motion. Each time she thrust down on him she gave a little cry of pleasure.

Once more she increased the pace of her actions, and her eyes squeezed closed as she savored the unfamiliar sensations coursing through her body. In her excitement she pulled back too far and moaned in frustration as his penis slipped out of her. Hastily she reached down and stuffed him back inside her so that she could resume her motion.

Now her expression changed to one of intense concentration as she pumped faster and faster, desperate to satisfy the need building rapidly inside her. Barry too was caught up in the ecstasy of the moment, arching his hips to penetrate as deep as possible as he reached for his orgasm.

Suddenly, Bridget threw her head back and gasped, "Oh! I've never. . . I can't. . . Ahhh!" She stayed frozen in that position until, with a last cry, she collapsed onto Barry's chest. Her hips twitched several more times before she ceased her movements and lay there in exhaustion.

After a minute or two she rolled over on her back and lay beside him, still panting. Barry slipped out of the bed and went into the bathroom. He returned a minute later with a wet washcloth and a towel, which he handed to Bridget. After she'd finished he slipped into bed beside her and pulled the spread over the two of them. In minutes they were both asleep.

When the morning sun woke him, Barry rolled over to look at his alarm clock and was startled to see that it was an hour past his normal time to get up. Then he remembered what had happened the night before and spun around to look for Bridget, but she wasn't there. He glanced around the room, then got up to check in the bathroom, all to no avail. When he returned to the bed, however, he spotted a note on the pillow she had used.

Hey, sleepyhead!

I had an appointment first thing, so I let myself out.

Bridget

P.S. I'll call you.

P.P.S. You snore!

P.P.P.S. Last night! Wow!

"Hey, Jill, sorry I didn't call you last night."

"Where were you? I got a little worried when you didn't call."

"Sorry, Sis, but something amazing happened."

"What did you do, BeeGee? Did . . . Omigod, you slept with him! I can hear it in your voice."

"Dammit, I never could keep secrets from you. It's like you read my mind sometimes."

"Are you crazy? I can't believe you let him seduce you. Do you know what a risk you were taking? He could have killed you just like that beast killed Mom!"

"No, Jill, no, it wasn't like that at all. He didn't seduce me; if anything, I seduced him. We were talking about Momma . . ."

"You told him about her? Why would you do that, BeeGee?"

"We just got to talking about our pasts and suddenly it all came spilling out. I was crying and he held me and tried to comfort me. And after I'd calmed down, I realized that his wife had been murdered just like Momma. Then I was trying to comfort him, and somehow it all got hot and heated, and now I'm not a virgin anymore."

"So he got you in a vulnerable emotional state and then took advantage of your weakness."

"No, it was nothing like that. He was gentle and considerate and loving. I felt completely safe. I don't think he's even capable of violence."

"Listen to me, Bridget Callahan, no matter how lovey-dovey you're feeling, the fact remains that someone murdered his wife and he's the only suspect with a possible motive. What's more, he has every reason to romance you because you're writing a book that could support his innocence. Of course he wants you to like him!"

"I can see what you're saying, but you just don't know him like I do. Anyway, before you start another lecture, I promise that I'll be careful and I'll do a better job of keeping in touch. Pinky promise, Sis."

"Alright, BeeGee, but don't forget it. If anything happened to you, I don't know what I'd do."

"Hey, I feel the same way about you."

The call came in mid-morning, and Barry answered quickly, hoping that it might be a new client. It wasn't. Instead, a muffled voice inquired, "Is this Barry Russell?"

"Yes, I'm Barry Russell."

"The Barry Russell that was married to Kelly Russell?"

"Yes. What's this about?"

"You think your wife was a saint, but she was really just a common slut."

"What the hell? I don't know who you are but you have no right to insult my late wife!"

"It's no insult to call a spade a spade, Russell. You don't believe me? Well you should, because she was banging Bill McAvoy right under your nose."

"Bill McAvoy? Kelly didn't even know him, and she would never do anything like that anyway."

"If you don't believe me, why don't you ask one of her friends? I'll bet they all knew. Hell, I bet half of them were helping her hide it from you."

"Listen, whoever you are . . ."

"And while you're sitting around mourning for her, they're probably all laughing at you behind your back."

"Who the fuck are you?" Barry yelled, but the line had already gone dead.

A few minutes later, Barry was in his car and headed for the home of Jared and Susan Jackson. Barry and Kelly often socialized with the Jacksons, and Susan was probably Kelly's best friend. When Barry rang the doorbell, Susan answered.

"Oh, Barry! You startled me; I wasn't expecting you. Um, if you're looking for Jared, he's at work," she said uneasily.

"Actually, I was hoping to speak with you, Susan. Do you mind if I come in for a few minutes?" he asked coldly.

"Of course, of course," she said hastily. "Listen, I'm so sorry we haven't been by to see you since the funeral. It's been crazy around here and we've had so much to do and . . ."

He held his hand up to halt her babbling. Knowing Susan and how close she was to Kelly, Barry felt certain that she would try to protect her friend if he asked her a simple yes-or-no question, so he decided to take a more aggressive tack. He crossed his arms and stared at the woman sternly.

"How long did you know about Kelly and Bill McAvoy?" he demanded.

He was watching her face closely so he saw her eyes widen in surprise. She stood there silently for a long moment, obviously groping for the right thing to say. That told him all he needed to know: the anonymous caller had been telling the truth. All the adrenaline that had been pumping through him ever since the phone call seemed to flow out of him, and he sank down on the chair behind him and put his head in his hands.

"What about Kelly and Bill?" he heard Susan say weakly, and he looked up at her with wounded eyes.

"Please don't lie to me, Susan. It's much too late for that," he said.

Susan sat down across from him and nervously played with her hands as she stared at him.

"Barry, I don't know what to say," she said in a pleading voice.

"Just answer my question: how long was it going on?"

Her eyes darted around the room as though looking for an escape route, but finding none, she spread her hands helplessly and answered, "I don't know, maybe six months or so."

"Six months!" Barry thundered, and she shrank back at his anger. "How could you not say anything?"

"I tried to warn her, Barry," Susan protested. "I told her she was playing with fire but she wouldn't listen."

Suddenly, Barry remembered something else the anonymous caller had said, and he asked, "Who else knew?"

"I guess after a while almost all of us," Susan said reluctantly. "Kelly hardly even tried to hide it. Some of us even wondered if you knew and it was some kinky thing you liked."

"My God, you know me better than that!" Barry yelled angrily. "I could never stand for something like that."

Susan sat white-faced in the chair, retreating as far away from Barry as she could get. After a few moments, he regained his composure and his face took on a sad expression. "Why didn't you tell me, Susan? Six months? Why didn't you let me know?"

She held her hands out in supplication. "I couldn't, Barry. She was my friend -- I just couldn't."

He stood up and stared at her coldly. "I thought you were my friend too. Thanks for nothing." Then he walked out the door and drove off, leaving a shaken Susan to reach for the phone to call her friends.

Late that afternoon, Bridget pulled up to Barry's home and rang his doorbell. When he opened the door, she gasped in surprise. He was standing there holding a bag of frozen peas over his eye. "Omigosh, Barry, what happened?"

"I got into a fight," he said as he ushered her into his office.

"You got into a fight?" Bridget asked in disbelief. "That doesn't sound like you."

Barry proceeded to recount the whole story from the anonymous phone call through his encounter with Susan Jackson. "After she confirmed everything, I drove straight over to where McAvoy has an office. The bastard inherited a fortune when his wife died of cancer, and now he spends most of his time fiddling with his stock portfolio. When I walked in he was meeting with some guy who works for him, but I interrupted them. When I told him who I was, he was startled at first, but then he got a sneer on his face. I couldn't stand it and threw a punch at him."

Barry tried to smile but the motion hurt his eye and he gave an involuntary groan. "Who knew that his assistant was a martial arts expert? Anyway, they dragged me out of the office and McAvoy threatened to call the cops if I ever came back."

Bridget was clearly taken aback by his story. "Barry, you committed assault and battery! He can have you arrested if he wants to press charges."

"I doubt if he wants to do that, considering why I went after him in the first place. Besides, I'm the one who was battered, not him."

Bridget looked at him disapprovingly. "For a guy who's just started a brawl, you don't sound very contrite."

His expression darkened noticeably. "I don't even know how I'm supposed to feel! I've been mourning the death of my wife all this time and now I find out she was carrying on an affair behind my back. How do I feel? I'm angry, and hurt and confused, and I'm definitely not contrite about going after the bastard she was cheating with."

Bridget flinched at his outburst, yet she felt a wave of sympathy as she tried to imagine how conflicted he must feel. "Barry, I'm so sorry all this has happened, and I can only guess at what must be going through your mind right now." She reached out to take his hand. "Would you like to have company this evening, you know, to talk it out?"

He shook his head and once again his face twisted in pain. "Truthfully, I just need some time by myself to process all this. It's just so overwhelming to learn that everything you believed in is a lie."

He took both her hands in his, and to Bridget it looked like a fire had been lit behind his eyes. "I can't believe she cheated on me. I also can't believe that all my so-called friends knew what she was doing and never told me about it. The fact that so many of them knew in the first place just makes it worse. Apparently, Kelly was acting like she didn't care whether I knew or not. It's as if she had no respect for me at all. That makes me so angry . . ."

As he spoke, he'd unconsciously tightened his grip on her hands, and finally Bridget yelped, "Barry, you're hurting me!"

He instantly released her and apologized. "I'm so sorry, Bridget, I didn't realize what I was doing. You can see why it's better for me to be alone tonight."

She nodded and reached up to touch his face. "I'll give you a call tomorrow to see how you're doing," she promised as she turned to leave.

As she drove away, her brow furrowed in concern. "I've never seen that side of him before," she thought.

"Hey, Sis, it's me."

"What's the matter, BeeGee? Yesterday your voice sounded like you were ready to burst into song. Tonight you sound like you've got the weight of the world on your shoulders. What's going on?"

"Jill, I'm so confused about Barry. Let me tell you what happened today." With that Bridget recounted the events of the day to her sister, especially his attack on Bill McAvoy and the anger she'd seen in him. "It's like he was a different person, Sis. There was a rage in him like I've never seen before. It scared me a little."