The front door to the home of Paul and Lynn Hew was almost never used. Mostly, they came and went through either the side door into the garage or the sliding glass doors onto the patio. To the right of the entry way was the formal living room, which was kept pristine and was the least used room in the house. At the end of the entry on the left lay the hallway that connected to three bedrooms, including a large master suite, and a guest bathroom. The formal living room was dark, with its massive curtains closed. There was a white camel-backed couch against the back wall and large wing-back chairs on either side, all facing a walnut coffee table.
None of this was of any significance before that day. But late that morning, Paul was sitting in the wing-back chair that faced away from the archway between the entry and living room. He had sat there many times when his wife was gone, contemplating his life and running through scenarios, trying to calculate his potential losses if he dared to end his sorry marriage. The friends they had in common would decide for themselves if they wanted to remain his or hers. This house would be gone. He would probably be strapped for alimony payments for years. Half of his net worth would disappear in a flash, along with legal expenses. In the end, he would still have to deal with Lynn, and she was a very vindictive bitch.
In the midst of his musings, he heard the side door open and knew that she was home from grocery shopping. He should have gotten up then and pretended that he'd been in their bedroom. If she caught him in the living room, there would be another argument.
Arguments in this household were a dime a dozen, and they were all begun by Lynn and consisted of unwarranted criticism of Paul for minor infractions, for some made up reason, or for nothing at all. He knew that she did it to keep him off balance and just for the hell of it. Lynn could carry on a running argument for weeks over the least little thing, and in the end, Paul always found some way to placate her enough to end it.
Life was just not worth living if there was constant friction, in his opinion. Better to settle a fight as soon as possible. The problem was that it was generally a short time until she started the next one. This situation was hopeless after their 10 years of marriage, and he could see no way out of it short of suicide, murder, or divorce. Still, he persisted in trying to make things better, mostly to preserve his own sanity these days rather than to make things nicer for his wife.
Paul heard the freezer door shut, and he knew she'd put away the frozen food. She would be sending him out to get the rest of the groceries in a couple of minutes. She did that sort of thing all the time. She ordered, and he was expected not only to obey but to tolerate her criticism while he performed the action. 'No, I want the cereal in the other cabinet this time,' she might say. Wanting to avoid her for as long as possible, he remained still. He waited for her to call his name, or worse, whistle for him. That whistle was almost too much for him to take these days. Just like a dog, he thought.
Instead of her voice, he heard light footsteps as she approached the entry way. If he had looked, he would have seen her stopping at the entry tiled floor and peering down the hallway, making sure she was alone. He waited quietly.
Lynn was thinking, "I should have called him in the car before I got home. It's hard to drive and talk, though. Oh, well, I'm safe right here. Paul's probably out back working on the gazebo like a good little husband."
In a few seconds, he heard the chirp of her cell phone as she dialed a number. She was now in the entry, just five feet away from the back of the chair where he sat.
"Hi, Daddy. Can you talk now?"
Daddy? Why is she calling him now?
"We're good for Thursday afternoon. I'll call him at work after 1 o'clock. He should be back from lunch by then. If he's at his desk, we'll be fine for a few hours. I'll open the back gate like always and see you about 2."
She was silent while the other party replied.
"Sure, Daddy," she cooed. "You can put that thing anywhere you like. You know I looooove your big ol' cock! I've gotta go and find out where my boy is now. See ya Thursday!"
He heard the flip phone snap shut and her footsteps trailing off across the carpet to the sliding glass door. She whistled and called toward the gazebo project he had been working on in the back yard. She apparently hadn't heard his labored breathing or the crashing sound of the blood pumping in his heart and head.
This was not Paul's first time in a tense situation, and he had automatic responses developed from his experiences in the army and elsewhere. First thing, don't panic. Unless you are discovered and actively under attack, use your knowledge to your own advantage and choose your own time to engage. Make your face blank. Control your breathing. Maintain. Be normal.
Paul stood and walked into the den.
"I'm here. I was in the bathroom. I've gotta run to the hardware store and get parts for the gazebo," he said as he crossed the den toward the kitchen and the side door, trying not to look at her. He was amazed that he had been able to get those words out of his mouth. He was amazed also that he didn't have his hands around her throat at this moment.
She turned to look as he strode by her and caught the redness in his face. "You need to wear a hat out there. You look like you're really getting sunburned. I don't want to look at your skin peeling off in a couple of days. By the way, there are groceries to bring in. Do that before you go anywhere, and don't be gone all day." She dropped her phone into her purse, which was on the kitchen counter, and headed out the back door to inspect Paul's work on the gazebo. There would be criticisms about it waiting for him when he returned.
That was Lynn all over. Almost everything she said to him involved a set of marching orders and an implied or explicit criticism.
As she stepped into the back yard, Paul retrieved her phone from the purse and looked up the last number she'd dialed. He memorized it quickly and placed her phone back in her purse.
Then Paul brought in the groceries, put them away, and drove off in his small pickup truck. But he didn't head for the hardware store. He stopped at a local park a couple of blocks away. For the first 15 minutes, he went over and over the short conversation he'd just overheard. He wanted to rehearse it in his brain so that every word was memorized. To be sure, he made notes. There was no doubt at all what it meant. No room for mistake. His wife was having an affair, and she was doing it in his house. Probably in his bed while he was at work. He was furious knowing that he was subsidizing her infidelity, working to support her while she cheated on him.
Who was the guy, the one she called 'Daddy'? It wasn't her real father, because the area code was local and her parents lived a thousand miles away in California. In the early days of their marriage, she sometimes called Paul 'Daddy' when they were making love. She had long since ceased doing that, but he remembered because it had seemed a little odd to him. He had initially thought that maybe she was signaling that she wanted kids, that she wanted him to be a daddy. But she had seemed relieved when, a couple of years into the marriage, they had decided not to have kids. She was definitely a daddy's girl, though.
Then he began to think of practical matters to determine what his best course of action was. She was going to let her lover in the back gate on Thursday. That meant he would be walking down the alley. He could ambush him there, but what would he do with his cheating wife? If her lover was walking, his car had to be somewhere nearby. It hit him. Her lover would probably leave his car right here at the park.
Who was this guy, and how could he find that out? The obvious thing would be to call the number he got off her cell phone. He could have someone else call it, as if by mistake, and try to get him to say who he was. A woman would be most likely to get that info. Who did he know that would make the call?
Who else might know about this? That answer was simple. Lynn's best friend was Sue, and if Sue didn't know about it, he didn't think anyone else would either. Maybe Lynn's sister would know, but that was doubtful. Ever since she'd been ostracized by the rest of the family for her messy divorce, she and Lynn had not been close.
