The Monday Decision

The police showed up on the doorstep in the middle of a Monday morning. Julie had seen the kids off to school, cleaned up from the breakfast mess and started the laundry, and she was just settling down with a cup of coffee and the New York Times crossword (too easy on a Monday, but it helped to shape her week). She tsked irritably at the interruption to her routine. Weekends were stressful, and she enjoyed the comparative calm when she was alone in the house at last.

Two police officers stood in the doorway: a man in plain clothes and a uniformed woman. Of course, her mind immediately flashed to worst-case possibilities. Harry had been in a major traffic accident on his way to work? There was a school shooting and the kids were injured or worse? Everyone was being evacuated due to a chemical spill? Her elderly mother had wandered off in a dementia haze and no one knew where she was? She stood for a moment, staring in fright at the officers.

“Mrs. Julie Stanage?” asked the plain clothes officer. She pulled herself together and nodded.

“Yes, that’s me. Would you like to come in?” She stepped aside to let them enter, glancing at her reflection in the mirror to make sure she looked presentable. Although presumably the police could care less about her hair and clothes. She showed them into the living room where she had been about to start the crossword. “Please take a seat anywhere. I just made coffee – would you like a cup?”

The policewoman smiled and walked with her into the kitchen to help her with the coffee. Julie breathed a little easier as she realized that any very urgent problems would not have been set aside for a cup of coffee. She set about taking mugs from the cupboard, pouring the coffee, collecting cream and sugar for the policewoman to carry in for her.

Once they were all sitting around the coffee table with coffee in front of them, the plain clothes officer opened up a small paper notepad. “We’re here in connection with a lady called Savannah Wilson,” he started.

Julie set down her mug on the table. Her heart was suddenly racing again. “Savannah? Has something happened to her?” she asked.

The officer didn’t answer her question directly. Instead he asked her a question. “Is she a friend of yours?”

How could she answer that question? Is my husband’s mistress a friend of mine? Well, no, Officer, I think she’s an evil bitch who’s taking my husband from me and taking the food from my children’s mouths. Why, yes, Sergeant, she is my best friend. She has taken my worthless husband into her bed so I no longer have to deal with his sub-par attentions. No, the name is familiar, but I’ve only met her a couple of times socially. I believe my husband knows her better…

“We’re not close. She works with my husband Harry. He runs an IT consulting business, and she’s a project manager.” All true, but so, so much left unsaid. Then she repeated her question “Has something happened to her, Sergeant, ah, I’m afraid I’ve forgotten your name?”

He nodded sympathetically. “I’m Sergeant Williams, this is Officer Mendoza. Yes, I have to tell you that Savannah was found dead yesterday.”

Julie’s hand went to her mouth. She took several deep breaths to calm herself. “That’s terrible. Did she have some sort of medical condition? She always seems so healthy and full of life.”

Sgt. Williams shook his head. “It appears she was the victim of a violent crime,” he said seriously, “so we are talking to her acquaintances to see if anyone can give us any clues as to her personal life.”

Julie frowned. “You need to talk to Harry. She works for him. He’ll know much more about her.” As long as she kept referring to Savannah in the present tense, she didn’t have to think about her being dead. “But couldn’t it just have been a robbery or something? She’s just a normal person, like me. She wouldn’t be mixed up with violent people.”

Officer Mendoza spoke up. “You probably need to take a minute or two to take this in. But she died in her own home with no signs of a break-in. We believe someone she trusted must have done it. That’s why we’re talking to everyone who knew her. We’ve already talked to your husband. Do you want some time to pull yourself together?”

Julie nodded gratefully to the other woman. “It just seems so unbelievable. Harry saw her on Saturday, and she was fine. Do you mind waiting here while I go to the bathroom?”

The police officer nodded sympathetically. “Take your time. We’ll just sit and drink our coffee.”

Julie closed the lid on the toilet and sat down on it to think. Harry had gone over to Savannah’s house on Saturday morning but returned in the evening. Then he announced his intention of splitting his time between their home and Savannah’s. He’d said it as though it was the most normal thing in the world. Julie had known that he was having an affair with Savannah but she’d expected it to pass like so many previous ones had done. She remembered screaming at him, “So, how will this work? You live with her during the working week and come home at weekends? Or would you prefer us to have alternating nights so you don’t get bored?”

Furious, she had pushed him out of the house. “You want her so much, go to her. I never want to see you again except in the divorce court.”

Protesting, Harry tried to reason with her, but she had slammed the door and put the security chain on it. Then she went upstairs to check on the children. Thankfully, they had both slept through their parents’ yelling. It was not so very unusual, after all. At about two o’clock in the morning she had a phone call from Savannah. This time, Savannah was doing the screaming, blaming Julie for forcing Harry to leave her. Apparently, Harry had ended their relationship, and he had not done it kindly. Harry was not a violent man, but he could be very cold and cruel. Julie knew him very well.

Harry returned home a couple of hours later, shamefaced and humbled, begging for her forgiveness. Julie told him that Savannah had called her, then she sent him to sleep in the guest bedroom. She knew that Harry had only called it off because he didn’t want the expense and negative publicity of a divorce. Bastard.

Harry couldn’t have killed Savannah. He wasn’t a physically violent man and he was always well-controlled, and anyway, she knew Savannah had called her after Harry left her house.

So now she wondered if Savannah had another lover on call – someone who was angry to have been displaced by Harry. Perhaps this other lover went over in response to her call and killed her. But Harry had been there on Saturday, and surely there would be evidence of that. Was Harry going to be blamed for killing Savannah? Her heart thudded as she considered the impact on herself and her children if Harry was accused or found guilty of murder. Should she lie about the timing to keep her husband, the father of her children, safe? She carefully compiled a mental list of questions.

How and when did Savannah die? If there was a gunshot, or a lot of blood, that would suggest circumstantial evidence that could exonerate Harry.

How did the police find out about Savannah’s death? If she had reached out to someone, or if a neighbor heard something, Julie could give him an alibi for that time.

Had Savannah herself left any clues?

Did the police already know that Harry and Savannah were lovers? Should she admit that she was aware of that?

If she told them that Savannah called just a couple of minutes before Harry returned home there would be no need to bring up the affair, and she could claim she didn’t know anything about it. Harry could claim that he had broken up with Savannah earlier in the day, and the story would make sense to everyone. Had Harry already told them his version of events? She needed to keep her mouth shut until they had a chance to get their story straight. Then, with Savannah out of the picture, and Harry grateful for her help, they could go back to life as normal.

Julie sat there for half a minute, calming down. She just needed to tell the police nothing and wait until Harry came home. She would be doing the right thing, even if she had to lie to make sure Harry was cleared of a crime she knew he didn’t commit.

But then an ugly idea began to form in her mind. Maybe Harry could take the fall for Savannah’s death. She and the kids could be rid of him and have sole control of the business while he rotted in a prison cell. Idly, she considered it. What did she need to know in order to prove he was guilty? The same questions applied. She almost laughed at the irony of that.

The germ of the idea started to take root in her mind. It was a wrong thing to do, probably an evil thing. However it was so tempting to think about. She imagined her new life once Harry was out of the picture. The more she thought about it, the more she wanted to do it.

So, which should she choose? There was no doubt in her mind that she ought to save Harry. He wasn’t much of a husband, but he wasn’t a murderer, and he was the father of her two children. But the sneaky voice inside her kept whispering how much better her life would be without him. If she divorced him, he would keep the business, and she and the kids would be dependent on him for alimony and child support. He would enjoy having that control over them. But if he went to prison, she would have all the control. She would also be the wronged wife in everyone’s eyes, and she deserved that sympathy and support, didn’t she?

For a full two minutes, she sat there and wrestled with her conscience. She opted to delay her decision for now. She could find out the answer to the questions first, then make her decision whether to save or sacrifice Harry.

Satisfied, Julie stood up and washed her hands and face. Looking in the mirror, she saw that her eye makeup was now smudged. She rubbed her face roughly to redden it. Then she returned to the living room.

“I’m so sorry,” she said in a voice that was slightly unsteady. “It was just such a shock. Did someone shoot her? Did she suffer for long?”

Officer Mendoza patted her hand gently. “It was violent but very quick. She hit her head on a piece of furniture. She probably didn’t even see the attack coming.”

Sgt. Williams coughed to interrupt. “It would be very helpful if you could tell us how you and your husband spent the weekend, Ms. Stanage. Starting from Friday night through yesterday afternoon.”

Julie stared at him. “Surely you don’t think that either of us had anything to do with this? What possible reason could we have?”

“No reason to get excited, Ms. Stanage. We have your husband’s statement already. We just need to make sure we’re as accurate as possible on timings.” Officer Mendoza spoke calmly, reassuring her.

“Oh, of course. Harry saw her on Saturday. I get it. Did she die on Saturday night or Sunday?”

Sgt. Williams was starting to get impatient. “The time is still unclear. Her sister went to see her for Sunday lunch and found her dead. If you just run through the events of your weekend, we can get out of your hair.”

“Of course, you’ve been very patient. I’m just so shocked. Her poor sister!” Pulling herself together, Julie breathed deeply, then started her timeline. “Friday night we were at home all evening. Harry came home from work at around seven, and we went to bed at around eleven. Saturday we had breakfast, then Harry had to go and meet with Savannah. He was gone for a few hours, so we had lunch and dinner without him. The kids and I spent the afternoon at the park.”

Sgt. Williams has been writing rapidly. He looked up and prompted, “About what time did your husband get back on Saturday?”

Julie furrowed her brow, calculating. “I think around eight. I was a bit upset that he’d been gone all day, so we had a row, and he walked out again.”

Officer Mendoza leaned forward and asked quietly, “What was the exact nature of your husband’s relationship with Savannah Wilson?”

Julie’s eyes opened wide as she looked from one officer to the other in a panic. “I – I don’t know what you mean…”

Officer Mendoza spoke soothingly, almost hypnotically. “We’ve heard that they had a very close relationship. He visited her often at her home, sometimes at night.”

Okay, said Julie to herself, it’s time to commit. She hid her face in her hands and took a minute to get her story straight. Looking up, she met Mendoza’s gaze. “I ignored it. Married men sometimes do these things. He’d have got it out of his system after a while. But yes, I think they were having an affair. She’s – she was – a very good-looking woman. And he was her boss.”

She stared defiantly at Sgt. Williams, daring him to say anything. He nodded slowly, trying but failing to look sympathetic. “So, he came home at about eight, you had a row, and he walked out. What time did he return?”

“I don’t really know. I was asleep – oh!” Julie came to a dramatic stop.

“Ms. Stanage? What is it?” Mendoza said sharply. “Have you remembered something?”

“There was a phone call,” said Julie slowly. “It was in the middle of the night, it woke me up. There was someone screaming down the line. I tried to listen but I couldn’t make out what they were saying, so I hung up. Do you think it was Savannah? She might have been trying to reach Harry.”

Sgt. Williams was suddenly all business again. “But your husband wasn’t home. Wouldn’t he be with her? Where do you think he was?”

“Oh no, I don’t think he went back to her place,” Julie shook her head emphatically, “he was back in the house by the time I woke up. He’d slept in the guest room so as not to disturb me.”

The police officers looked at each other. Julie felt satisfied. She had covered all the bases she could. The police would find out that Savannah had called the house, and now they could assume that Harry had been with her when she made that call. If further evidence came to light, she could “remember” additional details like hearing Harry come home before the phone call.

When the police officers left, she sat down and completed the Monday crossword, then went on with her chores for the day. Harry hadn’t called her to talk about Savannah’s death. It would be an interesting discussion when he came home.