Manhunt. Volume 9, Number 2, April 1961

“Do you think she sees it that way?”

“I think she’s beginning to feel that. There’s a humiliated, shamed look about her. She’s hurt. I think she’s feeling that she’s been used and discarded. You know the romantic illusions of a, young girl Instead of the adoring prince her lover’s turned out to be a rutting goat that stayed for a few encounters and has gone looking for other females in heat.”

Tunney nodded sympathetically, “She’ll get over it. Time, you know.”

“At her age it’ll leave an emotional scar.” Prescott lit a cigar and brooded over the smoke for a while. Then he shook his head, as though to shake the thing from his mind, and inquired of Prescott, “How’s the wife?”

“Oh, all right, I suppose. She’s at her mother’s.”

“Yes, of course.”

“I don’t feel that I want her at home just now.”

“Yes.”

“Give us both a chance to calm down, you see.”

“What are your intentions?”

“I suppose I’ll take her back. I think I can forgive her in view of her attitude.”

“Oh?”

“Yes, she begged me for another chance. Swore that this was a temporary insanity, that the scoundrel was so persuasive that she couldn’t help herself. She’s considerably younger than I am, of course, and hot-blooded. But she claims she loves me and has never been unfaithful to me before, and never will again if I take her back.”

“I see. And how did you find out?”

“I walked in on them.”

“A shock, eh?”

“You can imagine. I’d finished an out-of-town audit unexpectedly soon, and decided not to stay away another night. It was a long drive home, and well past midnight when I arrived. I didn’t want to disturb Ann so I was quiet. I was about to step through the bedroom door when I realized what kind of sounds I was hearing. I couldn’t believe it. I waited, listening to the relentless sounds and to Ann’s soft crying which I hear all too seldom myself. My eyes grew accustomed to the darkness, and the moonlight came through the window. I saw Ann’s naked form and glazed eyes and bared teeth. I saw the man’s lithe, animal body, and in that instant I admit I envied him his youth and strength. It was only afterwards that I grew furious.

“I didn’t know what to do. I backed away and left. I’d seen the man’s face clearly in the moonlight, and I decided I could take measures later. Ann, of course, I sent packing the next day.”

“And so he remains unaware of your knowledge?”

“Yes.”

A long silence ensued. Finally, Tunney broke it. “What do you intend to do with the whip now?”

“The cat-o-nine-tails? Keep it as a curio.”

Tunney grimaced. “Nasty looking thing. You could kill a man with it.”

Prescott permitted himself a frosty smile. “Yes, I could. However — what about your gun?”

“I’m getting rid of that. I won’t have any use for it now, any more than you’ll have for that whip.”

“In my opinion,” said Prescott slowly, “it’s extremely fortunate that we happened to begin exchanging confidences over a drink. Had we not uncovered the similarity of our situations, one of us would be in trouble now.”

“Yes, and awful trouble. I would hate to be facing a murder charge.”

“It’s much better this way.”

“Much better. Do you think he suspects anything?”

“Not a thing.”

“Yes, he’s a handsome fellow,” said Tunney. “Real ladies man.”

“Well, let’s get on with it.” Prescott took a key from his pocket and unlocked the bottom drawer of the desk. He brought up two neat packages of currency and two shiny half-dollars. “That adds up to your figure. Twenty thousand, one hundred and five dollars apiece in bills, and a half-dollar apiece to make up the odd dollar.”

The men pocketed the money.

Prescott said, “Once more, you’re positive you’ve set up the audit to prove Dorp guilty beyond a doubt? No loopholes?”

“None whatsoever. These figures are incontestable. Remember my standing.”

“Fine.” Prescott puffed at his cigar. “Personally, I think he’s getting off easy. I think we’re being pretty fair.”

“Under the circumstances I think we’re being very fair.”

“Well, might as well call the police.”

He reached for the phone.

The Evidence of Murder by Kenneth McCaffrey

Everything had gone perfectly. He went into the house and fixed himself a drink. His hand shook, not from fear, but with excitement. Then he spied it, a white object lying on the black floor of the patio...

* * *

When Helen left Tom Bates in early May he swore it was for another man, but he didn’t care one way or the other. He would have given her away with blessings, paid for a divorce, or gladly put a bullet through her head. She saved him the trouble. And if she wanted to live in a cabin up in the woods with Bob Parker that was just fine with him. Why in the world had she come back now?