I Smell a Rat

Freud once commented that a child would destroy the world if it had the power.

Finding time to write is always a problem. It is compounded by the many unpleasant emotions that underlie the memories of those days. I find it a real effort to focus clearly on the events of that time without being repulsed by the feelings that accompany them. Not just the feelings related to Adelle’s death, but those that were part and parcel of my life falling apart. While my narrative of Adelle’s demise is accurate, I find that the time-line of that tragedy and the concurrent events in my life are not synchronized. I offer no apology for these minor discrepancies.

The facts were pieced together later. While she slept, her son assaulted her first with a baseball bat, then a gun and finally with an axe or hatchet. Evidently it took a lot to kill her. For the next week or two he continued to live in the house, and even had a bunch of friends over for pizza. When one commented about the rank smell, he told them it was a rat that had died behind the wall. Finally he ran away with a friend. He had a new pickup truck, a gift from Adelle, in which to make his getaway.

You are, like so many people at that time, assuming that he was a surly, moody, bedraggled, disrespectful, class-cutting juvenile delinquent. On the contrary, he was a straight-A student. His employer described him as the best employee ever. He was a well-liked, good looking, clean cut, friendly and respectful young man. He called his mother faithfully at 3:30 everyday after arriving home from school. The company that Adelle and I worked for was small, and office parties were usually family affairs. He was a nice kid and was always willing to play with the smaller children. No early warning signals could be seen outside the home.

His father became anxious when, after a week, the phone was not answered and messages were unreturned. He finally drove to the house, found it locked and dark. Peering through the window of the garage he saw the totaled car and called the police.

I was able to answer the coroner’s question about body disposal; I knew from the papers she left that Adelle requested cremation. The difficult job of contacting her mother, who lived in Europe and spoke no English, was done by Adelle’s ex-husband to my deep gratitude. The next obvious job was planning her funeral service. This was not easy because, to risk a suit for trade name infringement, Adelle was the Smoking Non-Christian.

During this whirlwind of several days I made other trips to the house. Did you know that Servicemaster offers a complete array of bio-hazard cleaning services? I completed my inventory and had the safe in her closet drilled. I met with a realtor who opined that selling a home where a murder had occurred could prove to be challenging.

Two or three times a week, I dropped Hansel and Gretel off at that candy-covered cottage in the deep dark woods. I cried every time.

Still, less than a 20 minute drive away, that old man continued to do those unspeakable things. Our paths had crossed once, and they would soon cross again.