The Widower Murders

Chapter 15 - I Hate You

Another manila envelope. 

Without opening it, Trevor already knew who it was from: The woman responsible for the cut-outs, brochures and who he had caught going through his trash the week before.  The same woman who had yelled she loved and would make him a better wife than Ann ever could have.  Oblivious as to who she was, by the time Trevor had started back to the house to call the police, the seemingly crazed lady screamed he'd broken her heart, kicked over his trash can and then ran away.  Trevor figured that would be the last he'd hear from her so he kept the incident to himself and decided not to tell anyone.  With the general election in three weeks, the last he needed was his name associated with a criminal investigation manned at the taxpayers' expense.

Trevor placed the envelope under his arm, picked up his rod and tackle box and began to head back inside, hoping that if he moved fast enough he could catch the last of his interview.  Had Spencer been home he would have had him set the VCR to record it.  A director nearly three decades with a multi-billion dollar pharmaceutical company and yet something about electronics Trevor just couldn't get the hang of.  Besides—  Hold it! he interrupted himself as he walked onto the porch and paused for a moment.  The hatchet.  Potentially the blade could rust if left out overnight so he decided to doubleback for it.

Crack, crack, soop!

Just as Trevor turned and before he could take another step or his body could involuntarily or instinctively react, clothed in a dripping wet black poncho, the woman he thought he would never see again buried the hatchet twice into his chest and once into the aortic artery in his neck.  Blood instantly poured and squirted from the wounds painting everything within reach crimson red.

"Why, Trevor?  Why?" the woman ranted as Trevor collapsed backwards into a forming pool of his own metabolic fluid.  "Why couldn't you have just given us a chance?  Was it too much to ask?  Did you really have to be such an asshole that you couldn't even answer my fuckin' calls?  What kind of man just ignores the woman he claims to be in love with, Trevor?  As if she doesn't fuckin' exist.  I bet you can't even tell me what I've done to deserve such humiliation, can you?"

Trevor managed with all the strength he could to gasp, cough, and then gurgle.  "My...w-wife...Ann."

"Ann?" the woman shrilled, lifting the hatchet high above her head. "Don't you ever, ever call me Ann again you son of a bitch!  Ahhhhhhhh!  I hate youuuuuu!” she roared, wielding the axed blade repeatedly into Trevor's torso until his entire chest laid open.