Sweet as Sin

Andrew paid the cab off a hundred yards from the new home he’d only ever seen in photographs. His coming home for the mid-term break was to be a surprise. That’d been Trixie’s idea. She might be a ditz and a bit of a drinker, but she was so sweet. No sooner had the three of them moved into the Sag Harbor house than she’d mailed him a door key. ‘You should have a key to your own home, even if you can’t use it for a while.’

When he’d been worried that the letters Penny sent him were a bit impersonal, it’d been Trixie who’d explained that her daughter was so fervently in love with him that she had to keep a lid on her emotions or break down. When he got there, face-to-face, he’d soon discover just how strong Penny’s passion for him was.

The silly woman had even mailed him travelling money, in cash no less! As if he didn’t have money of his own, and credit cards. Crazy, huh? Crazy-nice.

He crunched up the circular white-gravel path and paused to admire his Dad’s and Trixie’s home, that he’d be sharing with them from after university until he and Penny married and got their own place. It was certainly big enough for four adults to live in. Andrew approved of there being so many trees, especially an enormous weeping willow that would provide ample shade even on the hottest day. A man and a girl would be invisible, under there. It was a tree that had grown specifically for romantic interludes.

The key fitted perfectly. He eased the door open, slipped in and set his carry-all down in the hall, making sure that his camera, its case’s strap looped into the handle of his bag, didn’t make a clunk on the random-pine floor.

It was getting close to noon. Chances were, there’d be someone in the kitchen and that someone would most likely be his Penny. Trixie’d bragged to him about how Penny did most of the cooking. Where would the kitchen be? His nose told him which direction the aromas of bacon and coffee were coming from. A late breakfast, it being Sunday? Andrew eased his feet out of his sneakers and tip-toed to the kitchen door.

Penny wasn’t in there. Nobody was. What was in there was a shirt of Penny’s, that he recognised from a picture she’d sent him, and the shirt was torn. On the floor there was a pair of panties, also ripped, with dark blood staining the crotch.

Women bled down there, and accidents could happen, but Penny’d never dump her soiled underwear on the kitchen floor. Something bad was up!

There was a strangled cry from somewhere upstairs. It sounded like a stretched-out, ‘Nooooo!’ The distorted voice could be Penny’s. Andrew rushed back into the hall and bounded up the stairs. There was a door partly open, opposite him, when he got to the landing. Penny’s anguished moans were coming from behind it. He barged through the door and stopped, stunned. His brain froze as it frantically tried to process what his eyes were showing him.

His Dad was naked and kneeling up on the bed. His loins were thrusting at Andrew’s beloved Penny, who was on her knees before him. Her arms were bound behind her by straps, rendering her completely helpless. There was another strap in his Dad’s fist, a strap that was tight around Penny’s throat. It looked as if her bulging eyes were trying to tell him something.

Whatever it meant, he had to stop this nightmare! There, almost at his eye-level, on top of a chest of drawers, was a revolver with its grip towards him. A revolver makes people do things, or stop doing them. Andrew snatched the gun up and pointed it at his Dad’s shock-blanked face. His finger curled onto the trigger, though he hadn’t decided whether he was going to shoot or not, or what he was going to do.

The revolver went off. His father was thrown against the wall behind the bed by his shoulder. Andrew dropped the gun and blurted, ‘Dad?’