48 comments/ 55147 views/ 27 favorites The Murdered Wife By: FrancisMacomber Bridget flipped through the pages of the Investigating Officer's Report looking for anything that might pique her interest. The facts of the case seemed pretty straightforward: a farmer named Palmer who lived out on the highway to Powhatan, VA, had heard what sounded like a gunshot in an abandoned barn on his property. He went to investigate because he thought it might be a hunter and his property was posted "No hunting." When he entered the barn, he found the body of a woman lying in a pool of blood. He'd called 9-1-1 immediately. When officers and the EMT arrived on the scene, they found the woman dead from a single bullet wound to the heart. (A note referred the reader to the attached report from the Medical Examiner for details.) The victim's car was found parked outside the barn. Documents found in the woman's purse, which had been left in the car, showed that she was Kelly Russell, the wife of Barry Russell, a financial consultant in Richmond. The detectives who searched the scene found no signs of a struggle nor were there any signs of a robbery. It did not appear that Mrs. Russell's purse had been disturbed; her wallet still contained $125 in cash. No murder weapon was found at the scene of the crime; however, a single 9mm shell casing was retrieved from the floor of the barn. The ME subsequently determined that Mrs. Russell had been shot with a 9 mm pistol at close range. Time of death was established at approximately 3:00 p.m. Idly, Bridget opened the ME's report. Everything appeared routine to her until she spotted a photograph of the victim taken at the scene. Death from the bullet had been instantaneous, and Bridget expected to see fear or perhaps pain on the woman's face. Instead, the expression frozen on the face of the corpse was one of complete and total astonishment. Bridget's heart began to beat faster. "This could be the one," she thought. The Murdered Wife Jill was silent for several moments. Finally, she spoke up. "Bridget, you watch yourself around that man. If he was truly innocent, I can't see why he would even raise the possibility of his guilt. He might just have a quirky sense of humor, but that troubles me." "Yeah, I know what you mean, Sis. Anyway, I'll let you know what I find out tomorrow. And don't worry: I'll be careful." 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! The Murdered Wife "Wow, that's quite a story, and it also raises some interesting questions. What if the motive for Kelly's murder was not money but jealousy? I don't need to tell you how many husbands have killed their wives for that reason." "But that can't be right, Sis. He didn't find out about her cheating until today." "We don't know that, BeeGee. All we know for sure is that he found out today who she was cheating with. What if he somehow learned she was unfaithful before today? What if he was the one who lured her out to that farmhouse and shot her for cheating on him?" "I don't know, Sis. He wasn't acting that way when I talked to him this afternoon." "Exactly, BeeGee, he was acting. That's what I've been trying to warn you about: guys like him can be very convincing." "I hear what you're saying, but I still don't think you're right." "Well while you're thinking about that, let me give you something else to think about. I've been doing a little investigating from up here, and I've found out that being faithful wasn't the only thing Kelly lied about." "What are you talking about, Jill?" "It turns out that Kelly Russell's history is a little more complicated than what Barry told you. In fact I'd guess it's probably a little more involved than he knows. I did a trace on her, and here's what I found out. it turns out that she came from a poor family that lived in Florala, Alabama, which is a little town right on the border between Alabama and Florida. She went to Florala High School where she was a Wildcats cheerleader. She also started going steady with Johnny Rayburn." "After graduation she and Johnny wound up attending Jefferson Davis Community College up the road in Brewton, Alabama. Eventually the two of them got married." "Really?" Bridget asked. "I'm pretty sure Barry doesn't know about that." "Wait, there's more. Apparently, she ditched Rayburn after only a year or two of marriage and headed for Atlanta. She must have been a real looker even back then because she met her next husband while she was working as a bartender at Coyote Ugly. He was a contractor riding the construction boom in Atlanta. Anyway, they got married in short order, but after only a couple of years of marriage, he died suddenly of a heart attack. After that, she moved up to Richmond, and, of course, that's where she met Barry." "Wow, she was a busy girl!" "There's one more thing, BeeGee. The Atlanta police told me that the contractor's family never liked Kelly, and they didn't believe he had any heart problems. They've been pestering the police and the courts to reopen the investigation into his death." "Hmm. All that is interesting information, Sis, and it will help flesh out my book. But I'm not sure how it fits into the immediate situation. Do you think that somebody in the contractor's family could be the murderer?" "I don't know, BeeGee, I'm just trying to help you gather enough clues that you can piece this thing together. But one thing is certain: don't let down your guard around Barry Russell. Now he's got two possible motives for murdering his wife, and that's two more than anyone else we know. So no matter how charming he may be or how good he is in bed, please be wary of him. Promise me." "Well, you don't have to worry about me for a while. I've got interviews lined up for the next two days with several other people who knew both Barry and Kelly, so I won't even see the guy any time soon." The Murdered Wife While they waited for the EMT and the police, Barry managed to recount everything Rayburn had revealed about what really happened, and Jill added details on what her research had uncovered. Later, when the medical technicians arrived and decided to take Barry to the hospital for observation, Bridget insisted on following him in her car. Jill volunteered to stay and give the police the whole story. After Barry was strapped to a gurney for the ambulance ride back to Richmond, Bridget came over and kissed him before heading to her car to follow him. Then Jill came over and patted his arm. "I owe you an apology, Barry. I was convinced that you were a sociopath. I thought you'd murdered Kelly and were likely to try the same to Bridget. Now it turns out that Kelly was the real sociopath and her first husband was her killer. I'm sorry I doubted you." Barry smiled at her. "No problem, Jill, I understand." She looked at him solemnly. "Just don't you ever do anything to hurt my little sister." Barry glanced over at the attendants loading Johnny Rayburn's body into the other ambulance, then looked back up at Jill and shook his head. "I wouldn't dare," he said.