Free The May Day Murders by Scott Wittenburg

thoroughly enjoying what she was doing. She saw the twisted
smirk on her face each time she leaned over her cart to retrieve
the next item. She could almost envision the old lady sliding in
behind the wheel of her ‘68 Oldsmobile when she was finished here
and purposely driving fifteen miles an hour all the way to her home
just to tie up traffic.
    The man sighed again, and began tapping
the lid of the pickle jar nervously with his fingers. Although his
back was to her, Ann could almost see the subtle scowl on his
handsome face as he waited his turn. Suddenly he glanced back,
apparently to see how many more people were being held up by this
woman. He smiled a little when he saw her, shrugged his shoulders
in a gesture of hopelessness, and turned around again. Ann had
smiled back at him, unable to resist the temptation. His demeanor
was quite charismatic.
    When the woman had finally placed the
last of her groceries out on the counter to be scanned, she took
out her well-worn billfold and produced a wad of one-dollar bills
then started counting them out. When she had at last counted out
the thirty-eight ones she needed, she fumbled through her change
purse to cover the sixty-four cents and handed the coins to the
checkout girl, snatched her receipt, then went on her merry way.
Ann began taking her groceries out of the cart as the man stepped
forward to be checked out.
    “ Sorry for the wait, sir,”
Ann heard the checkout girl say to him.
    “ That’s quite all right—it
wasn’t your fault,” the man replied good-naturedly. His voice was
deep and pleasant, with the slightest trace of an English
accent.
    “ Nine fifty-three,” the girl
told him.
    Ann watched as the man handed her a
ten-dollar bill. “Out of ten?” she said. “Thank you sir. Have a
nice day.”
    “ You, too,” he replied. He
picked up his bag and headed for the door.
    Ann resumed taking out her groceries
and noticed that the man had forgotten the six-pack of Coke. The
checkout girl noticed it at the same time. “Sir! You forgot—” she
shouted, but the man was already out the door.
    Ann hesitated a second, then peered at
the checkout girl. “I’ll take it out to him.”
    “ Thanks, I really appreciate
it,” the girl said, relieved.
    Ann swooped up the Coke and ran out the
door. She spotted the man just as he was about to get into his car.
”Sir!” she called after him.
    He turned around as Ann continued
running toward him. “You forgot this,” she said, holding up the
six-pack of Coke.
    The stranger smiled at her and said,
“Oh, thanks! This is what happens when you’re in a hurry, I
guess.”
    When she drew up to him, breathless,
Ann handed him the Coke and said, “I’m sure that woman in front of
us wasn’t much help either.”
    He grinned. “Hell could have frozen
over in the time it took that old biddy to get those groceries out
of her cart!”
    Ann laughed and said, “I’d better get
back inside.”
    He seemed disappointed. “Thanks again,
uh …”
    “ Ann.”
    “ Thanks, Ann. It was very
kind of you.”
    Ann nodded, then turned to
leave.
    “ Wait a second,
Ann.”
    She turned back around.
“Yes?”
    “ This may sound terribly
forward of me, but I’d really like to repay you somehow for your
kindness. Like dinner, perhaps?”
    Ann suddenly felt uncomfortable. She
replied, “That’s not really necessary …”
    “ Jerry. Jerry Rankin. I’m
sorry—that was very rude of me putting you on the spot like that,
and I see now that you’re married. Please accept my apology,
Ann.”
    Ann glanced down at her wedding band
then back at him. He seemed genuinely embarrassed and in fact,
ashamed of himself for hitting on her. Ann realized that she could
simply let him go on thinking that she was married and that would
be the end of it but for some reason, she didn’t. “I’m
divorced.”
    Instead of looking relieved, Jerry
Rankin frowned. “I’m sorry to hear that, Ann. I’ve just recently
become a widower and have a pretty