Reunion With Murder

Chapter I

During our twenty-three years of marriage, my wife Lucille had never displayed any signs of jealousy. I was never sure whether she had implicit trust in my fidelity or whether she figured I didn't have enough initiative to embark on any extramarital affairs. There were even times when I thought maybe she didn't care whether I was faithful to her or not. One can never tell about wives--or ones self, for that matter. I'd not given her any cause to be jealous. A few minor flirtations had been carried out with the utmost discretion, and indeed I had not brought any of these to any sort of fruition, whether because of moral rectitude or for lack of gumption (an archaic word probably belonging to an earlier generation), I couldn't tell without the help of a good shrink.

At any rate, because of her past record, my wife's tone of voice and the quizzical look on her face was quite startling as she relayed the message to me. I'd just gotten home from a late afternoon faculty committee meeting of the Political Science Department of DeMott University, that private Midwestern institution of higher learning which had only recently found it possible to recognize my twenty years of service as its senior professor of Political Science by promoting me to a full professorship. Lucille greeted my peck on her mouth with more than her usual detachment, indicating that something was amiss. So I waited as she continued stirring something in a pot on the stove. I knew that shortly I would be facing the necessity of making some sort of rejoinder, I assumed for some oversight or infraction of domestic protocol. That type of thing I usually take in stride, and I might say that I am pretty adept at holding my own in the domestic arena. But I wasn't prepared for what was to ensue.

With a glint in her eye--or was it a twinkle--but with a definite edge to her voice, Lucille said, "Marilou called you from Denver."

Now I supposed that some time in the past I might have mentioned to Lucille the existence of Marilou Baxter, one time college girlfriend, but I wasn't sure. I'd not thought of Marilou for years. I think I once read in a psych. book that in the long run we tend to remember the pleasant events of our past but forget--block out--the unpleasant. And memories of Marilou were certainly unpleasant. Well, not all of them, au contraire! But the events that led to the termination of our relationship were most unpleasant indeed.

I'm sure that a number of expressions flitted across my mobile features. I say my features are mobile because Lucille tells me I can't hide a thing; "Just look at your face!" she'll say. But by the time I get to the mirror on those few occasions when I take her advice, all I see is the usual dead pan I shave every morning, and the same set of teeth I brush twice a day, and the receding hairline backed by slightly fuzzy graying hair. So that my face was mobile now I had no doubt. Lucille was looking at me intently, with slightly lowered eyelids, and I suddenly knew I was going to blush. I didn't know what I'd do if I ever really had something to feel guilty about.

Obviously I was supposed to say something, so I tried my best to sound nonchalant and slightly disinterested.

"Well, I'll be damned. I'd forgotten all about her. What did she want, for Pete's sake?"

I took an apple from a bowl on the counter, though I don't really like apples, and bit into it, partly to hide a small part of my face and partly to keep me from gaping at Lucille.

For a few moments I thought Lucille had forgotten all about it. She concentrated on whatever it was in the pot on the stove, then reaching for a pot holder, she removed the pan and set it over on the sink counter.

"Supper will be ready in a few minutes. We're having this soup for a first course. I saw the recipe in The Family Circle." Then, just when I thought I must have imagined that Lucille had mentioned Marilou, she added, "Marilou says that she SOOO much hopes you will be coming to the class reunion in Denver, and that she and all the old gang will be SOOO looking forward to seeing you again after all these years."

Well, no rejoinder came to mind, and I forgot to put the apple to my gaping mouth, which gave Lucille the chance to administer the coup de grace, in the sweetest, most reasonable tone of voice you can imagine, but I wasn't fooled, not for a minute.

"I really think you should go. It's the second week in June, and that's when Mother is breaking up the house and moving into her new apartment, so I can go to Columbus to help her, and you can go out and give THE OLD GANG a treat, and Marilou, of course."

I hasten to add that the last three words were not delivered in the same reasonable tone of voice as the rest of the statement. Whatever Marilou had said, or more likely how she said it, certainly had gotten under Lucille's skin. I could tell.