Beyond a Shadow

She turned back toward me and leaned against the deck's railing. She might have been lost and alone. But, she was still a very self-assured woman, confident in her looks and sexuality. She gave me an enticing smile and said, "You promised to tell me about your problems with women."

I said, "There isn't much to tell. I once had a wife, the one who I shared this house with. She was beautiful, intelligent and sexy. But, her moral compass got out of whack and she ended up outside the law. In fact, I was the one who arrested her. She's in the hands of the Marshall's Service now; someplace anonymous, under a new name. I'll never see her again."

Mavis looked confused and said, "What do the Marshalls have to do with that?"

I said, "Witness protection -- Janet was given a new identity. The Marshalls run that Program."

Mavis said, still confused, "What's witness protection?" Of course!! that program was set up in the 1960s.

I explained how witness protection worked, and how I'd cooperated with the FBI to take down a local drug ring. I said sadly, "Janet got caught in that net."

Mavis said awestruck, "You worked with J. Edgar Hoover. He's the toughest lawman in America."

I said, "No Mr. Hoover died back in the 1970s." With his secret lists, illegal surveillance and lifelong live-in boyfriend, I didn't think J Edgar was the proper role-model for modern law enforcement. But, there was no reason to share that with Mavis.

I added, "I had a choice. Either surrender my identity, and go off to live with my wife, who I still loved. Or I could divorce her and exist as a solitary man. I chose the latter. It wasn't like she was cheating on me. It's just hard to trust a woman who fronted a drug cartel."

Mavis gave me a lopsided grin and said, "That's easy to understand."

We talked a little while longer. But, both of us were exhausted. So, I said, "Let's hit the hay and we can continue the searching in the morning. I know you're frightened and I promise you that we'll get to the bottom of this."

She gave me an enigmatic smile and said, "What will happen after that?"

I said, "You are a good person Mavis and you deserve nothing but the best. I promise you that you will get what you deserve."

She looked pleadingly at me and said, "I would sleep a lot better if somebody was sleeping WITH me. I promise that I won't molest you. Could we sleep together in the same bed? "

I thought, "Oh Lord give me strength." But I said, "It would be totally inappropriate for me to spend the night in bed with you. I'm the person who is charged with your custody and care. That would be a violation of my duty. I am truly sorry." She had NO IDEA how sorry I was!!

She said with a brave smile, "I understand, good night."

*****

Her arrival in the middle of the night nearly gave me heart failure. She landed on me, wailing like a banshee, clutched me and began to thrash around in a paroxysm of fear. I finally got my wits about me enough to grab her and say, "Mavis!!! It's me, you're all right."

She stared at me, the whites of her eyes showing, like a frightened horse. I began to stroke her hair as she cried and wailed. An inordinate amount of time passed before she began to calm down. Her arms and legs slowly stopped flailing and she ceased the keening.

She was still panting with fear and shivering. But at least she was rational. I was holding her tightly. I hoisted myself up on one arm, to look into her frightened eyes. I said, "What happened Mavis?"

It took a second for her to speak. She wet her lips and said panicked, "I saw it! I saw it all!! It was horrible!!!"

I said, "What did you see Mavis? Tell me what you saw??"

Instead of telling me, she grabbed me roughly by the back of the head and dragged my mouth down to hers. It was a steamy, open mouth kiss, her tongue frantically seeking mine. She moaned loudly and then aggressively shoved over, so that she was plastered against me. It was the first time I realized that she was completely nude.

I had fought the good fight. But a man can only resist so much temptation. I also had the thought that perhaps it would calm her down if we had sex. I know. THAT was a rationalization. What can I say? It HAD been five years since I had made love to a person I had feelings for.

I stroked her back and she shivered. My hand ended on her prominent butt. It was very muscular and rock hard, and it was gyrating agitatedly, as she shoved her pussy against my rapidly rising interest. She was emitting little shrieks as she undulated.

I was still in my boxers, which she stripped off me like she was skinning a squirrel. I moved my hand down her flat stomach while she tugged my shorts down. I encountered a very hot joining. She moaned loudly. I dipped two fingers in her essence and it set her off like a skyrocket.

She growled deep in the back of her throat, rolled violently over on her back and dragged me on top of her. She inserted me in one swift move and I slid up into boiling honey. She let out an unearthly groan as she elevated her legs and her hips began the age-old rhythm.

I looked into that flawless face, which was lost in passion. This was clearly a life-affirming act for Mavis. She needed to do this to chase the demons away.

Her eyes were rolled up in her head. Her flawless lips were formed into an exaggerated "O." She was panting loudly and wildly, whipping her hair back and forth. Her arms were extended back over her head, exposing her entire upper body to me.

She had big, full, immaculately shaped tits. Which were jiggling like a couple of torpedo shaped Jello molds. The nipples were mud brown, prominent and looked like little Nuks. I took one of those red-hot things between my lips and ran my tongue over it. Mavis lost it, right then and there.

Up to that point the sex had been smoking-hot. Now I was plugged into a wild animal. She shrieked so loudly that I was sure that the wildlife fled the area in panic. Then her body went rock hard, like every muscle in it was tensed to its maximum. That included the ones that were currently holding my cock. It was like she had grabbed it tightly in one hand.

There are orgasms, and then there are ORGASMS. As she worked through hers, Mavis began to flail around underneath me making desperate noises of profound sensation. Her heels beat a tattoo on the mattress. Her teeth were gritted so tightly that I could hear them grinding. Then she shrieked again and went completely limp.

That was the point where I was finishing my own business. So, pardon me for not noticing. I arrived back on planet earth to discover that I was lying on top of an intensely panting woman who appeared to be lost in Never-Never-Land.

I was about to freak out myself when she opened her eyes. She, looked freaked. She started to flail again. Given that I was still inside her that movement almost accomplished the miracle of waking the dead. But she had so thoroughly drained me that I could have gone another five years without help.

I said, "Easy Mavis. It's just me."

Her eyes came into focus and she gave me a look that embodied more profound devotion than I thought was possible. She said simply, "I love you Erik."

It abruptly struck me that; against my personal history and all evidence that she wasn't normal, I loved this woman body and soul. I moved her sweat-soaked hair off her forehead with a gentle stroke. I said, "I love you too Mavis."

We made love all night. It should have been exhausting. But, it was incredible. She was both giving and taking in the extreme. Her sheer enthusiasm and out of control sexuality kept getting my booster out to the pad for one more super-spectacular launch.

She said that she had seventy years to make up for. I hoped that was her idea of a joke. But, she was so insatiable that I almost believed her.

I woke much later in the morning than usual. The bed was wrecked, and I would have to burn the sheets. Mavis was lying on her back next to me, covered to the waist by the blanket. Her broad full breasts were rising and falling as she slept. Her hair was tousled, and she had no makeup on. She looked like Sleeping Beauty. Which was unfortunately, too appropriate.

I was making us one of my special omelets when she finally appeared in the kitchen. It sadly dawned on me, that I had not made my specialty since the day that I surrendered my wife to the Marshalls. Worse, I had not felt so happy and fulfilled since that miserable day.

Mavis was wearing another one of her tunic and skin-tight jean combinations. She looked like a living statue of a goddess. I just looked at her. She looked at me. We didn't have to say anything. The situation was perfectly clear, and we were both at peace with it.

I didn't want to break the mood but there was still an investigation going on. So, I said, "What happened last night?"

Her face turned pale and she got a look of dread. She said, "I'll tell you after we check something out."

I said, "What?"

She said, "I want to go back to the District Office. Can your friend pull up the teacher records from the high school for 1946?"

I said, "I imagine so, those are probably on a database somewhere. I think they have to keep that stuff for the State and they probably computerized all the old records."

She gave me a look like she didn't know what I was talking about. But, she trusted me. She said, "Let's go right after breakfast. I think I know what I'm going to find."

Jake Jensen was the District AD, not the guy in charge of teacher records. But he introduced us to the Assistant Superintendent who was.

He was one of those little, impeccably dressed weasels with a pencil slim moustache. He was a dude you would viscerally NOT want near your child. Maybe that was why he was working in an office. I hesitate to guess why those types of guys get into teaching.

Nevertheless, he was a stickler for protocol. So, I had to play the, "Sheriff investigating a potential crime," card with him. He in turn, gave Mavis a thorough going-over. I didn't blame him.

I said, "Your Mavis Pritchett is this Mavis's great-grandmother. There are issues that the Sheriff's Office has been looking into for her."

The Superintendent could have been an asshole and demand a warrant. But 1946 was a long time ago and administrative niceties approach the threshold of pointless for something that far in the past.

So, he turned to his desktop computer and said proudly, "We computerized the old teacher records a couple of years ago. These go back to the 1930s. If Mavis Pritchett taught here, we'll have her file."

He typed a bit and then said surprised, "Oh my, I understand why you are interested in her."

That sounded ominous. I didn't want to get into a discussion with the guy. So, I said, "Can you print out what you have?"

He said, "Well it happened seventy years ago so I suppose it's okay to release them to the Sheriff. Nobody who was involved could still be alive." He clicked the print icon and I heard the printer in the main office start up. A helpful secretary put the output in a manila envelope and we exited the Office, headed for the Hot Spot.

I said, "Does the Superintendent's comment have anything to do with what happened last night?"

She said, "I don't know for sure. Let's go someplace where we can read this. What I suspect it contains, should clear up the matter."

*****

They certainly did. What we call sexual harassment today, was filed under the heading of, "boys will be boys," back then. I might add, not much has changed in the intervening seven decades. But at least now, the allegations are written down and investigated. Back in those days they didn't even record it.

That is, unless the culprit was caught in the act. Mavis said that she had constantly complained to the Principal that a fellow teacher, named Felix Wynn, had been fondling her. Of course, this was chronicled as, "Miss Pritchett makes unfounded accusations."

Then Wynn physically attacked Mavis after school. Fortunately, other teachers and some of the students were still in the building. Mavis's loud cries for help were answered by students and teachers alike.

Wynn, who had, by then, ripped Mavis's blouse and panties off, was waving his dick around prior to inserting it. Mavis was frantically trying to fight him off.

A couple of the male teachers hauled Wynn off Mavis. The problem for the District was that, the incident couldn't be swept under the rug. There were too many witnesses. But they COULD expedite the firing of BOTH of them, Wynn for attempted rape and Mavis for "leading him on."

Mavis, was understandably distressed. Rather than getting justice, she found herself out of a job. What can I say? It was the 1940s, and, there were a lot fewer lawyers to litigate the shit out of the District for pulling a stunt like that. Those varmints CAN be useful in their own way.

The trail went cold after that. But, now I had a target of investigation and a theory of the crime.

We were sitting at a two top at the Hot Spot as I read the records. She was looking at me nervously. I said warily, "You knew about this didn't you. It was part of your dream." It didn't take a genius to figure out that more was coming.

She looked like she was going to throw up. The anxiety must have been killing her. She said, "Yes, but I didn't know if it was a dream, or a reality. Do you think Wynn is still alive?"

I chuckled and said, "THAT's something I CAN find out." I queried the County database. The census showed a Felix Wynn as being alive and a resident of Falling Water, which was the local residential care facility for the elderly.

I said, "I'm going out to talk to Felix. Are you up-to coming along? You don't have to if you can't take it." I marveled at how perfect her face was. I could almost understand how a woman as beautiful as Mavis could push an unbalanced man over the edge.

She gave me a determined grin and said, "I have to see how Felix turned out. So, YES, I want to confront him." I hadn't said anything about confrontation. But I also didn't have a problem with the idea. Mavis Pritchett was one hell of a strong woman.

Falling Water is a County facility. It houses elderly people who simply have no means of taking care of themselves. So, it's basically a charity, and the building gives new meaning to the term, "Shit-hole."

We arrived at the check-in desk. I did my official, "The Sheriff needs to talk to one of your residents," thing. The badge and ID convinced the nurse that we meant business. She led us down the dank and forbidding cinderblock hall toward a room at the end.

The nurse said emphatically, "Mr. Wynn is very frail. So, try not to upset him."

I thought, "What I have in mind will more than upset him." Being questioned for murder after seventy years of skating is going to be quite a shock.

The nurse knocked and we all quietly entered. Wynn looked like a mummy. He was a husk of a human being; lying there, cheeks sunken, very sallow, with the covers pulled up to his chest and his arms outside them next to his body.

The nurse said gently, Mr. Wynn, there's somebody here to see you." Wynn opened his eyes and made a papery sound that might have been a laugh. But, it sounded more like a death rattle.

He said, "Nobody I know, is still alive." Then he slowly turned his head and his rheumy brown eyes fastened on us.

Mavis and I were standing next to the left side of the bed. He looked at me without acknowledgement. Then his eyes shifted to Mavis.

They had the same dull lack of recognition; that is... at first.

Then it hit him!! His eyes opened super-wide, he made a gargling sound and began to hyperventilate.

The nurse rushed to him grabbed his arm and started to take his pulse. She said frantically, "Mr. Wynn, what's wrong?"

Wynn shot straight up in bed. It was like somebody had yanked his string. He pointed his finger at Mavis and said, "Mavis!!! It's YOU. God!! I'm SORRY!!! I'm SOOO SORRY!!! I didn't mean to do it. I just lost control!!"

Then it looked like all the air went out of him. He collapsed back on the bed. The nurse ran out of the room shouting Code Blue!!!

I shut off the digital recorder. I had already logged the arrest statement and I had started the Miranda warning. I didn't need it. I could attest beyond the shadow of a doubt that that what I'd filmed was a convincing death-bed confession, and that the killer was now deader than the proverbial door-nail.

Therefore, the case was closed.

I took Mavis by the hand and led her unresisting from that place. She was silently weeping. The implications were clear. I said, "Was that your dream?"

She looked at me haunted and said, "In my dream it was the middle of the night and I was at Wynn's. He looked like he did back then, not like he does now. I think he'd already raped me while I was drugged. But, I don't know for sure. I DO know that I wasn't wearing anything."

She looked terrified as she said, "We were on a bed. He was holding me in his arms like a lover and telling me that I was his woman now. Then he tried to kiss me. I bit his lip HARD - hard enough to draw blood. Then I called him every vile name I could think of."

She added, her voice breaking, "He slapped me. I fell back. The last thing I remember was him closing his fingers around my throat; his face was absolutely wild with rage."

I chalked up the resolution of a very cold case. I would write it up with the confession that I'd recorded and put it in the file. The killer was Felix Wynn and he had died in custody.

Both Mavis and I knew what that implied about her mysterious reappearance. But, there was no rational basis for assuming that my Mavis was the one who had been murdered. I just couldn't accept that it was supernatural. Plus, I still didn't have a body.

It would have been a lot more logical to assume that the old Mavis had survived. And that this Mavis had heard a family story about her grandmother's near brush with death at the hands of Felix Wynn.

The fact that that the grandchild looked eerily like her grandmother, might have motivated her quest. I presumed that the woman sitting next to me; the one who I loved so completely and utterly, was just a coincidence, perhaps a long-lost-grandkid.

Mavis's spontaneous appearance on that dark road and her displaced memories could be explained by a lot of things; insanity, a traumatic brain injury, perhaps a blow to the head, or a stroke. That was certainly a more plausible explanation than thinking that this Mavis had come back from the dead.

There was one final step that I could take, if I wanted to be absolutely certain. I said with hesitancy, "What do you think about your situation now? I am willing to take care of you, even marry you, if we don't take the next step."

She looked interested. She said, "What do you mean by that?"

I said, "We have two obvious options. One is to close the case without the body. That will let sleeping dogs lie. The other is to find the body. But if we find one, it will confirm that you are NOT the Mavis Pritchett who you think you are."

There was one other option. But I didn't want to explore that one. That's because, the same two people can't exist in the same place at the same time. That's a rule of quantum physics, or something like that.

Mavis said, clearly distressed, "What would you do if you were in my situation?"

I said, "Personally I would drop the whole thing and marry me. We can get treatment for the amnesia, or whatever it is that is going on in your head."

I added pleadingly, "You seem to be a permanent resident of this time; and you are perfectly functional in the here-and-now, not likely to fade off into some ghostly afterlife. There are a lot of things to see in this brave new world, as you call it. And I want to experience all of them with you."