Decisions Decisions: the Sequel

Decisions, Decisions: The Sequel

Many thanks to Erossir for graciously giving me permission to write this sequel to his recent story, "

Decisions, Decisions

." This story picks up at the end of his.

I would like to thank all those who have read, voted, and commented on my stories. I know it's been a while since I contributed here, but things have been rough around the Saddletramp homestead. My 93-year-old mother-in-law recently passed away, and I have been working on projects under a deadline.

I also want to thank QuantumMechanic1957 for beta-reading this story. His suggestions have helped tremendously. I want to thank those who have reached out by email and offered comments and constructive criticism on my previous stories.

On a final note, no artificial intelligence was employed in the creation of this story, and no nuclear weapons were harmed in the crafting of this story. Seriously.

And now, the disclaimers:

For those who want to say this or that would never happen, remember this is my universe, a place where nearly anything can and often does happen. At least on paper... In addition:

Characters in this story may participate in one or more of the following: Smoking, consumption of adult (meaning, alcoholic) beverages, utterance of profanities.

All sexual activity is between consenting adults 18 years of age or older.

Statements or views uttered by the fictional characters in this story do not necessarily reflect the views or opinions of the author.

Please refer to my profile for more on my personal policy regarding comments, feedback, follows, etc. (Yes, I DO moderate comments) And please remember, this is a work of fiction, not a docu-drama...

Copyright© 2024 by Saddletramp1956, All rights reserved. Any unauthorized reproduction, publication, use, or reprint without the author's expressed authorization is strictly prohibited. This includes use on YouTube, Amazon, or similar platforms, even with attribution or credit. No more than 3% of this work can be used under Part 107, "Fair Use," nor can it be published with selective editing and declared as a 'motif' or 'republished' for any reason.

...

Estelle Mathison, Stell to her close friends, had just shot her husband, Derrick, and her lover, Austin Dickerson, dead. For a few agonizing moments, she considered her choices.

She could sit patiently after calling 911 and endure a trial, which would surely lead to a lengthy incarceration. Or, she could put the 9mm pistol she used in her mouth and join the two bodies on the floor.

On the other hand, she could take the suitcases, the $100,000 in the safe, and her passport, load them into Derrick's BMW, and head for places unknown. She might get away, and she might not. If anyone heard the shots, she might only have minutes. She could have as much as a couple of days if no one had.

Tipping up her glass, she gulped the last few drops of the potent scotch and set the empty glass firmly on the table. She had a decision to make.

Of course, another option was available. Avoiding the thick puddle of blood on the floor as best she could, she fished through Austin's trouser pockets and found his car keys. She pulled his wallet out and took his driver's license and the $250 in cash he kept with him.

Standing up, she saw the 9mm pistol on the table. She remembered the feeling of power it had given her. In her hand, it felt like the most real thing in the world. Derrick's and Austin's expressions had given her a thrill of superiority, of triumph.

Besides, if she left it, her fingerprints would make any legal future an open and shut case. If she were caught, she could spin any story she wanted, right? Who could call her a liar? The gun practically whispered to her. Stell grabbed the gun and stuffed it deeply in her oversized handbag.

Stell spared the bodies a glance and wondered, briefly, why the sight didn't affect her. Then she shook her head and moved quickly. I might be a cold-blooded murderer and a serial cheat, but I'm not stupid, she thought as she also scooped up the manila folder. Don't leave any more evidence behind than necessary.

She ran to the safe, opened it... Derrick foolishly hadn't changed the combination yet... and loaded the money into one of the suitcases. Leaving the safe open, Stell wiped it of prints. It might look like a robbery gone wrong. Every misdirection could buy her time or muddle any future legal problems. She congratulated herself on her cleverness.

She also ignored the blood again and emptied Derrick's wallet. He had $323, which Stell added to her stash, realizing she probably wouldn't have any income for a while. As she let go of the body, it flopped back onto the floor. And huffed.

Stell momentarily froze. But the body didn't move, and there was no blood pulsing out of the wound. She breathed a sigh of relief. She must have just knocked some stale air out of his dead lungs.

She hustled and loaded everything into Austin's black Audi and climbed in. He had never let her drive it. Now, he was dead, and she had his prized possession.

Stell chuckled quite nastily as she calmly backed out of the driveway in Austin's car and drove off. She never even locked the front door of her house, having decided that she would never return. Unfortunately for her, she never saw the curtains move in the front window of the house across the street.

...

When Stell backed out of her driveway, Wendy McGregor stepped back from her living room window. She had seen the Audi pull into the driveway and watched a strange man enter the house. Then she watched Stell load up the car and leave. Something didn't make any sense, she thought.

Wendy went upstairs, where her husband, Mike, was taking a shower. Working in construction, he often showered after coming home to be fresh and clean for her. She opened the shower door and admired her strong, muscular husband before speaking.

"I'm going across the street for a few minutes," she told him.

Mike immediately picked up on her tone and wiped the soap from his face. "Is everything all right?" he asked.

"I don't know," Wendy said. "Something strange is going on over there at the Mathison's."

"Want me to come with you?" Mike asked. He knew the Mathisons, and while he liked Derrick, he didn't care much for Stell. She was too big a flirt and had come on to him more than once. He had taken to avoiding her as much as possible.

"I don't think that'll be necessary, but I'll take my phone anyway, just in case." She was very conscious of appearances. It would be embarrassing if they both marched over there and it was nothing.

"Okay," Mike said, starting to rinse off and dry himself. He trusted Wendy and knew she would call if she needed help, but running across the street soapy and naked wouldn't help much.

"Love you," Wendy said before kissing Mike.

"Love you, too," he replied.

Wendy grabbed her cell phone and walked, as casually as possible, to the Mathison home across the street. She tentatively knocked on the door but got no answer. After a few moments, she tried again, only knocking louder.

When there was still no answer or sound coming from inside the house, she tried the doorknob and was surprised when the door opened. She stuck her head inside and called out.

"Hello," she called. "Is anyone home?" This is odd, she thought when no one replied. She saw Derrick arrive and the strange man sometime later. Perhaps they're in the basement or backyard, she thought and stepped inside the house. Halfway into the living room, she saw two bodies and thick pools of dark liquid on the floor.

"Oh my God," she gasped when she saw the two bodies on the floor in the kitchen. She stepped back out of sight of the carnage to keep from throwing up, immediately dialed 911, and reported what she saw.

"911, what is your emergency?"

"This is Wendy McGregor. I'm at 275 North Cedar Drive. I came to visit my neighbors, Derrick and Stell Mathison. The door was unlocked, and there were two bloody bodies on the kitchen floor."

"This is extremely important. Please don't touch anything, ma'am. Stay outside and wait for officers to arrive. I've dispatched ambulances and police to your location. They should be there within a half hour," the operator said after taking Wendy's information.

"Uh... okay," Wendy stammered, still in shock after seeing the two men on the floor. After speaking with the 911 operator, she called Mike to tell him what was happening.

"You should do as they say. Get out of there now. There may be someone still in the house. I'll be right over," he told her, prompting fear followed by a sigh of relief as she hurried out the front door.

Mike was still hugging his distraught wife when the first ambulance arrived twenty-five minutes later, immediately followed by a police cruiser and an unmarked sedan. Four paramedics came to the door with two police officers and two men in suits.

The officers entered the house with the paramedics as one of the suits identified himself to Mike and Wendy as Detective Jacob Branson.

"This is my partner, Detective Frank Smith," Jacob said.

"I'll go inside and have a quick look," Frank said.

"Thank you. I'll get the statements," Jacob agreed before turning to Wendy and Mike. "Can you tell me what happened?" Jacob asked the shaky woman.

He took notes as Wendy recalled everything she had seen in great detail, from the arrival of the car and the man to the departure of the car and Stell. She was commendably brief. A few minutes later, one of the officers came back outside and approached Jacob, whispering something in his ear. Jacob's eyes widened as the officer spoke.

"I'll be right back," he told Mike and Wendy, then donned a pair of booties the officer handed him, entered the house, and quickly examined the crime scene before stepping toward Derrick's body.

"This man is still alive, Detective," one of the paramedics said. "But he won't be for long if we don't get him to the hospital ASAP."

"All right," Jacob said as the officers continued their work. "Give me his information and get him outta here. What about the other victim?"

"He's gone," the paramedic said, shaking his head. He handed Jacob a wallet, and Jacob donned gloves before taking it.

Opening the wallet, Jacob saw the man's driver's license and noted the information. He motioned to one of the officers, who handed him an evidence bag. After dropping the wallet in the bag and making the proper notations, he walked to the second victim, avoiding the blood on the floor.

"What have you got?" he asked the paramedics.

"One shot to the chest. Right in the heart. He was dead when he hit the floor," the paramedic said. "There's nothing we can do for him."

"I've already called the ME and Forensics. They've got a team on their way. Should be here soon," Frank said. "It looks like they got dispatched at the same time but are just running a little behind."

"Good," Jacob said. "What else?"

"According to the cards in his wallet, the victim is Austin Dickerson. His driver's license and keys are missing."

"The shooter probably took his car," Jacob replied. "Anything else?"

"An empty bottle of single malt scotch," Frank said. "Looks pretty expensive. Two cars in the garage. An open fireproof safe in the home office. Except for the bodies and the blood, no signs of a struggle."

"Did you find a weapon?" Jacob asked.

"No," Frank replied.

"Damn. The neighbor across the street said she saw a woman drive away in an Audi," Jacob said. "That was probably Mrs. Mathison. You'd better get Dickerson's plates and put a BOLO on her. Consider her to be armed and dangerous."

"Got it," Frank said before leaving the room to contact dispatch.

By then, the medical examiner and forensics team had arrived and started processing the crime scene. Frank and Jacob walked onto the front porch while the medical examiner prepared to take Austin's body to the morgue. Mike and Wendy were still there, waiting for the detectives.

"What do you know about the Mathisons?" Jacob asked.

"Not much," Mike said. "Derrick is an attorney, I don't remember what firm, and his wife has a real estate office. I think it's over on the East Side, but I'm not certain."

"What about Austin Dickerson? You know anything about him?" Jacob asked.

Mike and Wendy looked at each other before shaking their heads. "No, we've never heard of him," Wendy replied. "If that was the man who came earlier, then today was the first time I've ever seen him."

"All right. Thank you both. You've been very helpful. I realize it's been pretty traumatic," Jacob said. "If you need to talk to someone, call the number on this card," he added, handing them a card.

"Would you gentlemen like a cup of coffee or something?" Wendy asked. She seemed eager to be away from the crime scene but did not want to miss anything.

"No, thank you, ma'am," Jacob said politely. "But thank you for the kind offer."

"Of course," Wendy replied, and then she and Mike hurried back across the street. A few of the neighbors had come out to see what all the fuss was about, and Jacob was sure that the gossip would keep them diverted for some time and away from the crime scene.

"I got Dickerson's plates, and there's an APB out for Mrs. Mathison," Frank said after the McGregors were out of earshot.

"Good work. Thanks."

"You think this was a robbery gone wrong?" Frank asked.

Jacob shook his head before answering. "No, I don't. Personally, I think this was a love triangle that went south. That's what my gut's telling me, anyway. We need to find out as much as we can about these people. I want to know everything - where they work, what they do in their off time, how much toilet paper they use - everything."

Frank chuckled briefly before responding. "I'll get right on it," he said before walking to the unmarked sedan, where he would use their mobile computer to run his searches.

Jacob pulled out his phone and called his wife, Angelica, to tell her he would be late - again.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart. We're working on a domestic shooting. No telling how long we'll be," he said after she answered the call.

"That's all right, sweetheart. I understand. You just get those bad guys and come home safe, you hear?"

"I will," he said with a smile.

"I love you," Angelica said.

"And I love you too," Frank replied before ending the call. As he returned his phone, he swore that after he retired in two years, he would treat his wonderful wife to a much-deserved cruise.

While Frank searched the Internet and police records for clues, Jacob sighed and returned to the house to oversee the crime scene processing.

...

Meanwhile, Stell had jumped on the freeway going west, careful not to draw attention to herself by speeding or driving recklessly. She was nervously checking her rearview mirror for signs of police. Stell wanted to get out of the city as quickly as she could but wanted to avoid drawing attention to herself.

Stell breathed a sigh of relief when she saw the sign indicating that she had left the city limits and continued driving. A half-hour later, the shock of the day's events hit, and she began to shake.

"Keep it together," Stell scolded herself out loud as she struggled to keep her emotions under control. "After all, they both deserved it."

She saw a sign indicating a motel and diner and stopped for the night. Pulling into the parking lot, Stell found a spot that wasn't visible from the freeway and parked the car. She went into the office and paid for a room using cash.

The old man who managed the motel didn't seem concerned enough to check her identification or vehicle registration. Stell breathed a sigh of relief after she left the office. She carried her bags to her room and collapsed on the bed.

After calming her emotions, she walked to the diner and ate what they claimed was meatloaf covered with a brown sauce they called gravy. It was filling but tasted like shit to her. Stell chuckled at the old movie reference, washed the "meal" down with a glass of iced tea that wasn't too nauseating, paid her bill with cash, and returned to her room.

After turning the television on for background noise, Stell stripped off her clothes and took a hot shower, hoping to calm down while removing the day's grime. She was drying herself with the thin motel towel when she heard something from the television that made her blood run cold.

"We interrupt this program to bring breaking news," a reporter's voice intoned importantly. "Police have issued an all-points bulletin for Estelle Mathison, who is a person of interest in a double shooting that took place in Central City earlier today.

"According to authorities, Mathison allegedly shot and killed one man and severely injured her husband, who is currently undergoing surgery at Mercy General Hospital. The police are asking for the public's assistance in locating Mrs. Mathison.

"She was last seen driving a dark Audi sedan with license plates QWE-1731. Authorities believe she is heavily armed and is considered extremely dangerous. She is described as medium height with auburn hair and green eyes," he said as a photo of Stell appeared on the screen. "Police say that if you spot this person, do not approach, but call the number on the screen.

"That is all for now. We will provide updates as we receive them," the reporter said, ending the announcement and going directly to the results of the city's Cutest Cat Contest.

By now, Stell had walked into the room holding the towel around her trembling body. When the announcement ended, she collapsed on the bed to consider her dwindling options.

She was shocked to hear that her husband was still alive. How was that possible? Stell was sure that he was dead. They must be trying to trick her or something like that; she was so sure of it. And where did they get off calling her "extremely dangerous?"

"Shoot two assholes, and you get branded for life," Stell muttered crossly. She dropped on the bed as she considered her options. She heard her phone ring some time later. Looking at the screen, she saw it was Crystal, her receptionist.

"Is it true?" Crystal asked anxiously when Stell answered the call. "Did you really shoot your husband and another man? Was that your lover, Austin Dickerson?"

"I can't get into it right now, Crystal," Stell replied testily. "Look, I'm going to be out of town for a while..."

"Yeah, about 30 years to life," Crystal hissed. "How could you do this to us? You know I need this job. I have kids and bills to pay."

"I know. I know, Crystal," Stell said with a flash of dismay at how this affected others she cared about. Damn those two men! "Everything will be fine. Tell Janice she's in charge while I'm gone, okay?" As the office manager, Janice Rollins had access to all business accounts and handled payroll. "If anyone asks, I'm on vacation. I'll talk to you later."

"Where are you?" Crystal put in urgently.

"I can't say," Stell replied defensively.

"You are so fucked. You know that, don't you? They've got your picture all over TV and probably the Internet as well," Crystal shot back.

"Yeah, I guess so," Stell admitted. "Look, I have to go now. You take care of yourself, and I'll see you as soon as I can. Bye now," she said, ending the call before Crystal could say anything else.

Stell was exhausted but realized she couldn't stay in this motel and prepared to leave. She dressed in jeans and a casual blouse, packed her things, and left the room. Dropping the keys in the night key box, she saw the motel manager talking on the phone.