The Widower Murders

Chapter 14 - Trevor Mullson's Residence - June 29, 1995

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The time was 10:07 p.m.  A light rain was falling and the nightly news had already begun.  After spending the evening fishing with his son before the first droplets fell and having just ended a call with his campaign manager, Trevor Mullson settled into his favorite Lazy-Boy recliner, the smell of two forty pound carp he'd caught and cleaned still lingering, the thought crossing his mind maybe he'd missed what he'd wanted to watch.  Scheduled to air was a segment reporting the political divide among voters in Ypsilanti. Residents upset about the stifling of economic development in the downtown area had formed a coalition to oust big money backed elected officials. Spearheading the charge against what he'd termed "An abomination bred to the detriment of democracy,"  was a local many hoped would restore order and transparency to the city's public offices.  Trevor picked up the remote and turned to FOX 2 NEWS.  "Almost missed it," he murmured.  On the screen was the previously recorded footage of him explaining the bipartisan dysfunction within his hometown.

Not an advocate of profiting off the general welfare of the community, at the age of sixty-three Trevor had witnessed control of Ypsilanti’s electoral landscape remain the same for as long as he could remember.  No secret among those seeking to attract outside investors that permission for new business ventures must first meet the approval of several private citizens, individuals who maintained a firm financial chokehold on the town's economic viability and resurgence.  For the third consecutive year Ypsilanti had recorded a twenty-two million dollar deficit and a declining population of nearly five percent.  Almost in droves people were deserting a once thriving, family oriented community and heading out in search of the prosperity and safety the city could no longer provide. 

Rinnngggg.   Rinnngggg. The telephone rang and interrupted what Trevor considered his fifteen minutes of fame. Checking the Caller-ID the screen read Unknown.  Trevor tossed both remote and telephone aside.  The interview he so desperately wanted to see would have to wait.  An unforeseen concern for his own safety now demanded he made sure the windows and doors were secure.

Ever since the political hopeful had announced his bid for city council, someone had become a bit over zealous in their support efforts.  On his doorstep several newspaper clippings of Trevor with his face circled and the words "I LOVE YOU" scribbled thereon had been discovered by his son Spencer.  Assuming his father had sparked the interest of a lust filled admirer, Spencer made Trevor aware of what initially they both dismissed as harmless attention seeking.  However, in the past few nights the cut-outs had ceased and left in their place were Caribbean honeymoon brochures. Most disturbing about the pamphlets was that written on them, in red lipstick, was "Let's get married!" and the fact that each highlighted the exact place Trevor and his late wife Ann had married some forty years earlier.

Trevor made his way from the living room to the kitchen, turned on the back porch light and looked out.  With the exception of the mess he'd left from fishing and the drizzled remnants of rain, all was calm.  If only Ann had lived long enough to witness his transition from working at Park Davis to public service, he thought, deciding the present was as good of a time as any to put away his fishing equipment.

Love for his community was what originally drew Trevor back to Ypsilanti. Voted most likely to succeed by his high school class of 1957, after several tours of duty in Vietnam Trevor returned a hero and decided to pursue a degree at the University of Michigan.  It was while working at the campus bookstore he and Ann had met and began dating.  Credited with keeping him focused, when the two officially became a couple, Ann made sure Trevor excelled in his studies.  Her entire life Ann dreamed of marrying a person who she could respect for his work and acccomplishments. 

Trevor eyes shifted over near the fire pit as he made it to and reached down to grab his rod and tackle box.  On the chair where he'd cleaned the two goliath fish laid his hatchet and something he hadn't noticed before.  Trevor moved towards them and found himself having to resist the urge to smile.  For in the subtleness of a passing breeze he could almost hear Ann joke he should've threw the carp back and spared himself the work and embarrassing accomplishment.