Crime & Punishment: The Prequel Ch. 01

The following is the first chapter of a long story. I have two warnings: First I haven't finished it yet, and only the first chapter has passed a final edit. Second I wrote what I wanted, and I didn't try to adhere to some arbitrary form. Accordingly, there is a long backstory before the main story begins.

This story begins before the action in Crime and Punishment and involves the other characters Steven Fitzgerald and his wife. I do bring Jimmy O'Reilly into the story at about midway.

I want to thank my friend John (JMC) who did the original edit on this chapter so long ago that he has probably forgotten it.

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The Latham Inn was the kind of low-end, out of the way place where you could expect to avoid any awkward meetings with relatives, friends, or business associates. One night a week, the Inn did karaoke and, on another, trivia, but usually, it was just dark and relatively discreet. They had a small band on the first and third Fridays of each month. It was a good discreet place to have dinner and then dance clandestinely, which made it a good place for Susan to enjoy her current boyfriend while risking no embarrassment to her husband. That was the kind of considerate woman Susan was. She might cheat, but she would never knowingly hurt or embarrass. After all, she loved her husband. He was the type of caring and considerate man a worldly woman needed.

She was Susan DeVoe Singleton, the wife of Steven Fitzgerald, and the younger of the two DeVoe Singleton daughters. She had those DeVoe looks that the New York press had been so fond of for generations. Some called them statuesque, other classical beauties, but the cruder modern photographers had terms like sultry, hot, and babes. The DeVoe women were now found more often on page three in a bathing suit than in the society section.

Of all the DeVoe heiresses, Kathrine DeVoe, the wife of Joseph Singleton, had been the most captivating and the richest. Her daughters were the most beautiful—and the most fortunate, since their wealth was vastly enhanced by their father's insurance empire. In every respect, they were blessed, with only one, small affliction. Along with wealth and beauty, the Singleton ladies inherited the DeVoes' well-earned reputation for promiscuity. This, too, was a legacy enhanced by their Singleton father.

Susan and her sister had embraced all their inheritance, but they remained good, respectable wives to their husbands. Susan believed a married woman who had an understanding husband should be discreet. People had a habit of gossiping about such things, and image, after all, was important. Susan should know; she worked in Public Relations and was, in fact, a senior partner in Kopf & Bradley. She was currently running the Albany Office, although most of her work was still performed in the great city to the south. Manhattan remained the center of her universe.

Susan's principle prospect at the moment was New York Governor Edward Kincade; her goal, a senior position during his possible presidential bid. If New York was the mountain, the White House was the peak, and Kincade was a skilled claimer.

Most of the eyes in the little dinner club were on Susan, including the members of a small band who were setting up at the back of the room. It was a fact of Susan's existence that wherever she went, people stared. At 32, she was among the most stunning of women. Only when with her sister Mary was she at risking of finding herself anything less than the most desirable woman in a room. Then, it was a toss-up—but, lately, Mary had gotten overly thin due to the trouble in her marriage.

Fortunately, Susan's husband was far more reasonable and controllable. Steven made little money as an attorney. She often felt he was ill-suited to a profession that required so much in the way of self-promotion. Steven was a shy, introspective individual. He came alive only in a courtroom. In day-to-day existence, he was too retiring for the kind of social climbing necessary for success as a lawyer.

Susan's job supported them, and, if it did not, she could always fall back on the fabulous wealth of the DeVoe Singletons. But, as with her sister Mary, a senior partner in a prestigious Wall Street law firm, Susan was ambitious to a fault. This fault was often blamed on her plebeian father, but the greed of the DeVoes was infamous, too, and Susan was a greedy woman down to her genes. She had an avarice for life. She was the most jealous and possessive with regard to her greatest possession, her husband.

As her cell phone chirped, she leaned back and hooked her stiletto heels into the bar stool. She was a tall woman married to a short man, but she loved heels and couldn't feel dressed without them. She swung her tightly closed legs to one side and read the text.

"Trf NYC bd will B late meet u"

The text was from her lover, Tony Greco. He was the Governor's chief political advisor. It was how they had met. Tony was the kind of man she fancied—tall, strong, self-assured. He was a handsome fellow, good with women. What they refer to as an Alpha male. He lacked her husband Steven's physical beauty, though; Steven was a small man, but he had exquisite looks. Steve had those classic features that some Irishmen had. He was a dark-haired Peter O'Toole, a short Pierce Bosman. Steven was the sort of man you fell for on sight.

If Susan had been a one-man woman, Steven Fitzgerald would be that man. She loved her husband to distraction, but she would never be satisfied with a single male partner. She could be no more faithful than her sister Mary, who serially cheated on her loving and utterly selfless husband. It bespoke no lack of affection. Susan and Mary were the products of an intact home and two loving parents. Heredity inclination might cause them to stray, but they were bound to return. The DeVoe Singleton girls might wander, but they would never leave, and they would never put another man, no matter how much more manly, before their husbands. But, they did love to play.

Tony Greco was a fascinating and vigorous playmate. He was truly the most dominant and satisfying of her long list of lovers. The list was indeed long. Men pursued Susan. They were an unrelenting aspect of her life. At first, she feared them. At thirteen, she had begun to understand how powerful her looks were. Boys and men would do anything she asked, but their desires she feared. Male lust was mysterious and dangerous. As she grew, the male pressure increased as did the pressure from within herself.

At seventeen, she gave herself to a forty-four-year-old investment banker, a married man who went out of his way to make sure the young girl enjoyed the experience. When it was over, she had to wonder what all her worry was about. She had enjoyed herself, and, she reflected, really, what harm was there in it?

It was when she met Steven Fitzgerald that Susan learned the true power of physical desire. He was shy, almost painfully so, but handsome beyond description. She quickly discovered he was a twenty-year-old virgin, four years her junior. He should have been an easy lay, but he wasn't. She had to work to get him. The younger Steven was afraid of sex. It seemed an impossible relationship and an odd one. She was the pursuer, he the prey.

The more he resisted, the more she wanted him. In the end, she proposed and would not take no for an answer, her womanly power overcoming the handsome boy's reluctance. The wedding night was a first, for both of them, his virginity a new experience for her which she thoroughly enjoyed. Men had taken her; now she ruled her own bedroom. It was good, and it was love. But it wasn't everything, and she was a woman who wanted, and could get, all.

"Turn it up, please," Susan said to the bartender, who was idly enjoying staring at the gorgeous brunette.

The local evening news was just coming on the TV over the bar. The banner that passed over the screen read, "BREAKING NEWS—Verdict in the Hamilton trial."

The lawyer for Roger Hamilton was Steven Fitzgerald more by process of elimination than any other reason. Hamilton was so clearly guilty, the evidence against him so overwhelming. Roger, as arrogant as Susan remembered him from her undergraduate studies at Yale University, had refused all plea deals. He was sure that somehow, miraculously, his wealth and old family name would preserve him.

No attorney wanted the stigma of the crushing defeat that was to be handed out. Hamilton went through several high-profile attorneys, firing them one after the other, until, through some misfortune, Steven's firm found itself stuck with his case. The senior criminal attorney soon shuffled the loser off onto his junior.

Hamilton was unhappy with his attorney, but the judge was fed up with the delay and forced the matter forward. Roger griped ceaselessly over his trial counsel, but the case moved forward, and now had reached a verdict after weeks of witnesses and arguments. The news coverage had been extensive, even breaking into the national press. Susan, on the theory that any press is good press, had pushed her husband to stand in the glare of the camera lights.

"Just get in front of them; if not for yourself, then do it for me. Make your wife proud."

Steven was his usual, shy self, but he did give one or two brief interviews. No one expected victory. Susan prayed for some modest success. Say a second-degree verdict or, if God was merciful, manslaughter. Something to attest to the excellent courtroom skills her husband supposedly possessed.

The studio camera zoomed in on the male news anchor, "'Not Guilty,' said the Jury, and now here is Cokey with the story."

They cut to the cute little mixed-race Asian looking woman who Susan knew was carrying a way too large butt, and was, therefore, shot so you saw nothing below the waist. As usual, her coverage was as superficial as you could get, and they quickly cut to the interview with Roger Hamilton on the courthouse steps.

There was Roger, his new, overly young girlfriend at his side, the microphones in his face, explaining that he was innocent of his late wife's murder all along, and he thanked the jury for seeing the truth.

"Where are you, Steven?" Susan whispered to herself.

Next came the prosecutors, the County DA and his staff, speaking of the travesty of justice that the misled and misguided jury had perpetrated. That was it for the interviews. Cokey and the anchor kibitzed a bit over the surprising verdict. Cokey observed something about reasonable doubt, and it was over.

"Damn you, Steven," Susan said, a bit too loudly to herself, bringing her the bartender's unwanted attention.

"Something the matter?" he asked.

"Oh, nothing, just a press agent with a camera-shy husband. Please get me another martini," she said, downing the one she had.

The bartender moved off, shaking his head in confusion, to get her a refill.

Twenty minutes later, Tony Greco finally arrived, during the local sports.

They kissed affectionately, if rather modestly, in such a public place. But Tony got a good feel of what was the hottest female body he knew.

"Heard the news?" she asked.

Tony, ever the good political man, suppressed a grimace and put the proper small, but approving smile on his face, "Yes, congratulations. The governor and I heard the news in his limo on the way up. The gov was very pleased for his old student, actually claimed some of the credit for himself."

Susan smiled, pleased with the governor's reaction, "Governor Kincade was actually Steven's Mock Trial coach, and a very good one, I understand. He should be very proud," she said.

"Shall we find a table? I have news for you," Tony said.

"Oh, can't we wait just for the national news? I want to see if they picked up the verdict."

Tony didn't actually hate Steven Fitzgerald, but he was certainly jealous of the man. It was really quite a strange situation. Tony had no trouble getting women, but Susan DeVoe Singleton was something very special. He was working up his nerve to propose, this being the first time that issue had ever arisen within one of his relationships. It was disconcerting to know that not only was there a rival in the picture, the woman was actually married to the other man.

Susan never complained about her husband. At first, Tony saw the small, unsuccessful man as no great competition. As he grew to know Susan, and he perceived their relationship expanding, he became aware of her great affection for her spouse. Whatever enhanced Steven hurt Tony. The current success, both unexpected and inexplicable, was not good news for him.

"Sure, why not, let me get another round," he said.

"Not for me right now; I've had two already. Just a club soda."

Tony ordered the drinks, trying and succeeding in keeping a smile on his face. The national news, when it came, was not good for him. The unexpected verdict was well covered, and the subject of one of those talking head interviews. The so-called legal experts knew just where to lay the blame and had their sound bites ready.

"The prosecution blew it. They let Foxy Fitzgerald lead the jury off into the la la land of reasonable doubt," the wizened old Los Angeles prosecutor said, from the safe distance of more than a decade in retirement.

The aggressive, middle-aged female defense lawyer was not letting him just get away with this, "Oh, come on, all Fitzgerald did was point out the improbable timeline, and then produce a better suspect. One who happened to have skipped the country!"

"But you got to admit, he sure is foxy," the young lawyer/legal news analysis said, as a picture of Steven hit the screen. It was obvious she was referring to Steven's looks as the panelists both male and female smirked, and the segment ended.

"Wow, did you see that?!" Susan said, and then, dialing her cell, "Answer your phone, Steven, this is your wife," she said into his voice mail.

Tony began to worry that his planned, and greatly anticipated, evening with his lover might evaporate.

"Still want to have dinner?" he said.

She broke into a smile and stroked his face with her hand, feeling the rough, sexy stubble of his evening beard, "You know it; I'm as horny as an alley cat, baby, and my husband won't be worth much until morning at the least."

Tony broke into a broad grin at the first part, but his puzzlement at the last must have shown.

"Steven gets sick after—vomiting, shaking, the whole bit. A kind of reverse stage fright. Cool as ice during, totally focused, but after can't even talk. He won't be celebrating his victory 'til tomorrow. Ready to step in, lover?" she said with a very wicked smile.

After a light supper, Tony broke what he had intended to be the big news.

"You're going to be offered the position of media consultant to the Governor," he said.

Susan's face exploded into a broad grin, and she leaned in and gave Tony a deep, wet kiss.

"I don't know how I'm going to thank you," she said with a sly grin that implied the opposite.

"Hey, you are the best choice; this is a merit thing," he said. They both knew that this was not completely true. She would not have gotten this opportunity without him. He had planned to use this occasion as a springboard to a proposal, but with the unexpected news about the Hamilton trial, he hesitated. Why couldn't that little wimp Fitzgerald have fallen on his face? With his picture plastered across the TV, he looked both bigger and more formidable.

Better to wait on a proposal at a more opportune time. Next month's Governor's ball would be good. Neither Susan nor her husband rated an invite, but the Governor's principal aides did. He could take Susan as his guest to the very exclusive affair, justifying her attendance as the Governor's new outside media consultant. It was barely respectable for him to be accompanied by another man's wife, but it would show them formally as a couple. He could pop the question while he basked in the reflected glory of a governor who would soon be a leading candidate for President.

Susan's beauty was only rivaled by her ambition. Tony knew what Susan's goal was. The position of Presidential Press Secretary was the Holy Grail of the PR business. The very top of the heap, it was a position that Susan DeVoe Singleton seemed born to fill. Tony was determined that when she did, she would not be DeVoe Singleton anymore, but Mrs. Anthony Greco.

****

The moon was long set when the headlights of Susan's BMW sport broke the early morning dew along the Old Altamont Road. Her GPS was worthless, here, as her tired eyes sought the turn onto the old farmhouse road. It wasn't all that far a drive from Tony's side hall colonial in Loudonville. But the last five miles plunged you into the countryside.

Susan made the turn off the county road onto the farm road—which she owned. A mile up the road she turned again into the steep incline of her driveway. This was no place for her Beemer in winter; then, she would switch to the Jeep Rubicon. She had personally picked the house out in the country. A sharp contrast to her Manhattan apartment, it had been a small farmhouse with two old barns on twenty acres of rocky pasture.

"Had been" were the operative words, for now a five-thousand-square-foot home with a four-car garage sat at the end of a cobblestone drive. The old house had been incorporated into the new; its old barns refurbished into a guest house and an entertainment building for lavish parties and business functions. But the house's true purpose was in the small upper story. The upper floor had four small bedrooms in addition to the master bedroom. They were all cozily arranged around the master bedroom suite. These were the rooms for Susan's children.

Steven was a trophy husband—smart, handsome, and possessed of a respectable if modest profession. He was the perfect spouse for the ambitious career woman. Steven made no demands and was amazingly reliable. Susan planned, at least, three children, but possibly four. She intended to give her father what her sister Mary had failed to: at least one grandson. In point of fact, it was her mother who wanted the grandson, a DeVoe male heir.

The last conversation with her mother had been pointed.

"When am I going to see babies?" Kathrine DeVoe had said.

"Soon after the first of the year," Susan answered.

"Steven is on board?"

"Please, mother, I can handle my own husband."

"And the other one?" Kathrine asked.

"As always, I will work my lover out."

"If only your brother..."

Mother didn't complete her thought. Susan's brother Jonathan was sterile and gay. He ran the family business with their father, but Dad and he knew that eventually, Mary would replace them both. The problem was Mary had only daughters. Kathrine DeVoe wanted a grandson at the head of the family business.

Kathrine loved Mary's husband, Jason, who was a math professor, but he had let her down, producing only daughters. Steven had been a harder sell, but Kathrine had appreciated how smart Steven was.

"No great intellectual, but I've never met a shrewder man, not even your father," Kathrine had said on meeting Steven.

The porch light was on for her, as was the downstairs hall light. Very considerate of Steven.

"Now if he could only have got his face in front of a camera," she thought.

Heading upstairs, she could feel the post-sex leakage between her legs. Tony had been loaded after ten days of abstinence. Their lovemaking had been passionate and physical. He had bent her to his will, begun by forcing her to her knees to suck him, hard, then pushed her to his bed and fucked her rear entry. He slapped her ass for good measure while he stroked forcefully into her.

Susan had little doubt her lover was trying to reclaim her from her husband. Tony, she had come to realize, was a bit jealous of Steven. She had long since learned that her affairs were not necessarily easy for the other man. Still, and perhaps because of his jealousy, Tony had performed well, even taking her again vaginally after their round of anal sex. He had not offered her oral sex, and she did not want that from him.