The Small Brass Key

She transferred the items that she needed to wash into the laundry basket, and was carrying it toward the bedroom door when she noticed her diary on top of the tall chest of drawers. She immediately remembered she had left it with her emergency bag on Wednesday, and picked it up to take downstairs with her. She was relieved to see that it was where she had left it, and that it was undisturbed.

She had intended to keep it up to date while on her trip, but had been unable to do so when she discovered that she had forgotten it. She realized where it was when Patrick had told her where the emergency bag was, and she could distinctly remember placing the two items there. Patrick had obviously put the bag back on the shelf, but had left her diary where it was. She decided to bring it up to date while she did the laundry, as it was still a bit early to relax in the tub.

While the washing machine removed the last traces of Anthony from her clothing, Glenda prepared herself a sandwich and bowl of soup. When her meal was finished, she put the dirty dishes into the sink and went over to the telephone where she pressed the preset button to call Patrick's cell phone. It rang twice before she realized that the sound of a cell phone ringing was coming from the wicker basket on her kitchen counter.

The basket was used by both of them to keep their keys, cell phones, and sometimes even a wallet or spare change. After she hung up the phone, she walked over to the counter and picked up Patrick's cell phone from the basket. "Damn! How am I going to get hold of you now?" It was a strictly rhetorical question, and after asking it, she went back to the kitchen table and pulled her diary in front of her.

The small brass key that would open the diary was in her wallet, attached to a piece of red yarn, and she quickly used it to undo the lock. Once the lock was removed, she opened the book to the first blank page, picked up her pen, and began to write.

January 7th. Dear Diary;

The most eventful four days of my life have just ended, and I hope I can remember everything that I wanted to tell you. Some things may be upsetting to put on paper, but I must do it.

When I picked up Anthony at his home, it was plain that he was looking forward to this. He kept trying to touch me as we drove, and I was a little put out with him over that. He finally left me alone until we were on the Interstate, after I warned him that someone I know might see us. The further we got from town, the more relaxed I became, and I was quite enjoying myself, and his attention, when we finally got there.

We stopped at the mall before we went to the Sheraton, and while he went to the pharmacy for condoms, I went to the Victoria's Secret store to find some sexy lingerie. He must have run all away there and back, as he joined me at the store before I had the chance to purchase anything. He made several suggestions and I finally purchased one set that he liked, and two that I preferred.

The one that he wanted me to buy was a little trashy looking, I thought. I wore it for him Wednesday night, and he doesn't know this, but I wrapped it up in an empty bag and left it in the garbage can when we checked out this morning. There's no way that I could ever wear it for Patrick, especially considering that Anthony chose it. I've also come to the decision to throw out the two bra and panty sets that I purchased, as I don't want anything around to remind me of my nights at the Sheraton. I know I can never erase all of the memories, but I'm going to try.

Wednesday night, Anthony joined me in my room, and it didn't take him very long to remove my new panties and bra. He was really turned on, and we were quickly naked and having sex. I've already told you how experienced and handsome he is, and he quickly had me fully involved. He has a young man's ability to recover quickly, and we managed to have sex three separate times that night before we both agreed it was time to go to sleep.

I really enjoyed the sex we shared, and came many times. The first time I could definitely notice his larger size, but I realize now that sensation was gone after the first time. I guess the size difference wasn't as great as I'd thought.

Thursday morning he woke me up with his tongue, as he teased my nipples. We did it again that morning, just as we did Friday morning. It's something that Patrick and I used to do most mornings when we were first married, and I miss that. If I have anything to say about it, we're going to get back to that.

Thursday night was much like the previous night, except that I was now finding myself thinking of Patrick while Anthony was having sex with me. I finally realized after that first night that there is an awful lot of difference between having sex and making love. After we had done it the third time Thursday night, I told Anthony that that was the end of it. The novelty I enjoyed the first night we spent together had rapidly worn off it seems, and I began to realize how much I preferred making love with my husband.

I didn't want to start an argument with Anthony, so I didn't say anything to him until we were preparing to go to sleep. He became quite angry, and for a while there I was actually a little scared of him. Because it was late we agreed to stop arguing, and both of us went to sleep fairly quickly, although I was already starting to make plans about how I would try to make it up to Patrick for all of this.

Friday morning I woke up and found that Anthony was preparing to have sex with me. I tried to stop him, and I told him that I meant what I said the night before. He didn't listen to me at all and just told me to lie back and enjoy it. When he was finished, he went back into his room, and I locked the connecting door between our rooms. I talked to him through the locked door, and told him not to plan on joining me in my room again. He told me that was OK, and that he would find another partner for Friday night. He told me I wasn't the only sexy female sociology professor staying in the hotel.

Sure enough, after our closing supper, I saw Anthony with one of the women who had attended a couple of the sessions with me. I know she was married, but she was just as taken in by Anthony as I had been. You can't imagine the relief I felt when I knew that I wouldn't have to argue with him about sex last night. I heard them come into his room, and a few minutes later he knocked at the connecting door to ask for the box of condoms in my nightstand. He didn't give me any problem as I handed them to him.

As I lay in my bed last night, I began to realize that Anthony is a predator, selecting older women that he feels he can manipulate. It is to my everlasting shame that I am one of the ones he was able to control.

I was afraid that the drive home with him would be a terrible experience, but it actually went quite well. Now that I could see Anthony for what he is, I was able to remain in control of the conversation and our physical interaction. I think he had had enough sex to keep him sated, as he actually behaved quite well. He didn't argue very much at all when I told him that I never wanted to see him again. I think he realized he would have no further control over me.

I had a lot of time to think about things as we drove home, and I have already decided that I will make an appointment with a psychiatrist or psychologist on Monday morning. I have to know that I would never again cheat on Patrick, and to do that I think I will need to know how I let Anthony take control of me. I have to do something about that obvious flaw in my character. Whatever allowed this disgraceful episode to occur has to be controlled or eliminated: I'd rather die than give in to temptation like that again.

I've also decided to spend the rest of my life making it up to Patrick, even if he will never know the reason why. It is enough that I know this terrible secret; I can only pray that he never finds out.

There is one other decision that I've made. If Patrick agrees, I intend to stop taking the pill when my present prescription runs out in 12 days. The prospect of having children has really begun to excite me, and it really makes no sense to wait any longer.

When Glenda finished writing her lengthy entry, she used her pen as a bookmark, left the book on the table, and went upstairs to prepare her bath. She brought her cordless phone into the bathroom with her, in case Patrick should call. When the bathtub had filled to the proper level, she added some bath oil, lit some candles, and slipped into the water.

As she lay back in the tub, she finally closed her eyes and let the warm water relax her. She was so comfortable that she was on the verge of sleep when she got the feeling that she was being watched. She slowly opened her eyes and turned her head to look back into the bedroom, but there was no one there. She returned to her comfortable relaxation, and continued thinking about the ways that she could make it up to Patrick for her foolish relationship with Anthony.

An hour later, she returned to the kitchen fully refreshed. After putting her laundry into the dryer, she returned to the kitchen table to reread her latest entry in her diary. She was momentarily confused by the fact that her pen was missing from the book. She was sure that she had left it between the pages, but soon realized she was mistaken when she saw it on the kitchen counter beside the wicker basket. After retrieving her pen, she opened her diary and began to read.

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Sunday morning Glenda got up refreshed and eager to begin the next phase of her life. After spending the morning catching up on housecleaning, she had a shower and changed into an outfit that she knew Patrick liked. By mid afternoon, she was relaxing at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee while a large roast was just beginning to cook in the oven, when she was interrupted by a knock at the side door.

She was both surprised and alarmed when she saw that there were two large men at the door, one of them a young, uniformed police officer who was standing off to the side with his hand on the butt of the gun holstered at his side.

The second man was a bit older, dressed in a suit and topcoat, and was holding up his police identification. "I'm Detective Rankin, and this is Officer Reynolds. We're with the Springfield Police, and we're looking for Patrick Dunn. Can you tell us if he's at home?"

The relief on Glenda's face was evident to them, and she quickly said, "Patrick is working right now. The moment I saw you I was afraid that something had happened to him. I'm his wife, by the way. Maybe I can help you."

The two men exchanged a quick glance before the detective said, "Perhaps we should come inside. It's a bit chilly out here."

Glenda stepped away from the door and said, "Certainly, come right in." She led the two men into her kitchen before continuing, "Why are you looking for Patrick?" The look of concern came back to her face before she said, "He isn't hurt, is he?"

Detective Rankin quickly replied, "No, no, nothing like that. As far as we know, your husband is in good health. We just need to speak with him concerning a case we are working on. You're certain your husband is away at work?"

"Well, of course I'm certain." She walked over to the counter and picked up the note that Patrick had left for her. She handed it to the detective before she continued, "You can read his message yourself. It was waiting for me when I came home from a trip last night."

Officer Reynolds had stationed himself by the counter where he could watch the rear entrance, as well as the entire kitchen. He continued to rest his hand on the butt of his weapon. Detective Rankin passed him the note, and when the officer had read the contents, he took it back. "Do you mind if I keep this, Mrs. Dunn?" When she shook her head, the detective opened the zippered case he was carrying and put the note inside.

Glenda's curiosity got the best of her, and she nervously asked, "Why do you need to speak to Patrick? What possible interest could the police have in him? He's never been in any trouble."

The detective replied, "We received a phone call in the homicide department this morning, reporting a murder. The call was recorded and the number from which it was placed was traced back to your husband's cell phone. We're now working with your husband's cell phone provider to determine where he was when the call was made."

Relief washed over Glenda's face as she said, "Well, you have obviously made a mistake somewhere. I tried to reach my husband last night just after I got home, and when I called his cell phone I discovered he had left it at home; it's in that basket right over there." She was pointing to the wicker basket on the kitchen counter.

Skepticism was clearly showing on the detective's face as he said, "Do you mind if I check over his phone?" As he finished speaking he walked over to the basket, looked at it for a couple of moments before picking it up, and returning to the kitchen table with it. "I don't see any cell phone in here, Mrs. Dunn. Are you sure you aren't thinking of some other day, and not yesterday?"

Shock registered on Glenda's face as she confirmed that the basket was actually empty. She quickly walked over to where the basket had been located and glanced around, although it was obvious that there was nothing else on the counter. "I don't understand! His phone was there when I tried to call him early last evening." She was looking back and forth from the officer to the detective in obvious frustration and concern.

"Well, I can't explain why the phone wasn't in the basket where you claim it should have been, Mrs. Dunn. Obviously I have to believe that the call that was traced to your husband's cell phone really did come from that phone." The Detective opened his folder and made several notes before he continued, "Does your husband know a Mr. Anthony Romano?"

At the mention of the name, Glenda displayed even more surprise, and her face momentarily lost its color before she said, "I know Anthony Romano, but my husband doesn't. Anthony was my teaching assistant this past semester."

The two men exchanged glances again before the detective said, "So there's no reason for your husband to have had it in for Mr. Romano? You're quite certain that he didn't know him?"

Glenda was beginning to look panic stricken as she said, "No, Patrick never met Anthony."

The detective made more notes before he looked up at her and said, "Well, your husband seems to have known Mr. Romano well enough to have made the call that reported his murder."

Glenda was so shocked by the statement that she sat down at the table before saying, "Anthony's dead! He... he was with me on my trip, and I just dropped him off at his home about 5:30 yesterday afternoon. How can he be dead?"

Detective Rankin sat at the opposite end of the table before asking Glenda, "What was your relationship with Mr. Romano? Could it have given your husband cause to murder him?"

Glenda's face had gone white as the detective spoke. In a moment, she recovered enough to say, "Anthony was just a senior student who was my teaching assistant, and there was no reason for my husband to do anything to him." Although she had said the words, the tone of her voice was not convincing.

The detective let her sit there and fidget for almost half a minute before he said, "When we arrived at the address your husband gave us, we found evidence that Mr. Romano had been attacked as he entered his front door. There was a travel bag lying in the middle of the hallway, and marks that suggest a fight had taken place there. It's apparent that Mr. Romano lost the fight, and was dragged into the kitchen where he was tied to a chair with nylon straps, the type that would normally be used for bundling electrical wires together."

Glenda had begun to cry softly as he described the scene at Anthony's house. She reached for a tissue as he continued, "Before he was dragged into the kitchen, it appears that Mr. Romano was shot in the left knee, and the medical examiner believes a major artery was damaged as there was a lot of blood lost. We haven't received the autopsy results yet. It appears that Mr. Romano was struck several times before he was killed with a single shot to the head."

He continued, "The preliminary examination also shows that he was shot once in the groin, a nonfatal injury that appears to most likely have been inflicted postmortem. The estimated time of death is between 6 and 8 last night."

Glenda interrupted him at this point, saying, "Patrick could never do something like that to anyone! He is not like that!" Her crying had almost ceased, and it was obvious that she was more angry than upset.

The detective consulted his notes again before he continued, "State records show that your husband has a permit for a 25 caliber semiautomatic handgun. One of the slugs that hit Mr. Romano was recovered from the chair to which he was tied, and our technicians have made a preliminary determination that it was 25 caliber. There is also the question of motive."

Detective Rankin searched through his folder and finally withdrew three photocopies which he placed on the table in front of Glenda. "These are photocopies of three photographs that were recovered at the scene. Their placement on the table beside Mr. Romano seems to indicate that he was shown these three photographs before his death. Blood spatter indicates they were there when the fatal shot was fired. I don't think you've been completely honest with me in regard to your relationship with Anthony Romano, or your husband's interest in him."

Glenda had picked up the three photocopies, and was looking at them in shock while the detective spoke. As the full realization of what the photos showed sank in, she began to cry in earnest, as she said, "No! Patrick couldn't have known!"

Just as he was about to continue with his description of the crime scene, the detective received a cell phone call. During the three-minute call he said very little, and spent most of his time writing in his notebook. While he wrote, Glenda had become quieter, and now sat with her hands in front of her face as she sobbed.

When he finished his notes, the detective looked up at Glenda and said, "You're husband's call was made from Windsor, Ontario. The local police in Windsor have worked with the cell phone company and they found his cell phone. It was in a cloth bag along with his credit cards and the 25 caliber handgun that was registered to him. The bag was in a garbage can in the parking lot of a Wal-Mart Superstore."

"There was no sign of him or his car, although the license plates from his car were also found in the garbage. They believe that he may have stolen a license plate from another vehicle in the parking lot in order to blend into the Ontario traffic."

This news was of no consolation to Glenda, and she continued to cry inconsolably as she sat at the table. After watching her for several moments, the detective pulled another photocopy from his folder and placed it in front of her. It was a copy of a photograph of a small brass key, with a ruler placed beside it.

"There was a small key on top of the photos. We have no idea of its significance. Do you recognize it?"

Glenda took one look at the photograph and immediately grabbed her purse. In seconds, she had removed the diary key from her wallet, and was holding it beside the photograph of its twin. It was at that point that she completely lost control and slumped back into her chair. About the only decipherable words that she spoke after that were, "Diary," and "Patrick."

+++++++++

The two men stayed with Glenda for almost 15 minutes, waiting for her to calm down. They were finally able to convince her to call someone that could come over to be with her. Once it was confirmed that her sister would be arriving within minutes, the two of them finally left.