The BLT

By Philip Lear

 

After being on the road for a month Wally was coming home a day early.  He was overjoyed that his Friday appointment had been cancelled and couldn’t wait to get home. He drove for six hours straight not stopping to eat because he wanted to surprise Lila.

Lila and Wally had been married for eight years and he had been working on the road for all that time. He still loved the thrill of coming home and seeing her after those long weeks. He thought it was better for them this way than it was for couples who saw each other every day and led repetitive dull existences. 

When he’d return home it was as though they were coming together for the first time. She’d answer the door and he’d pick her up off the ground, swing her around and hug her. Later they’d go out for drinks and dinner at one of their favorite places. They’d tell each other about all that had happened. After dinner they’d return home and make passionate love.

As he drove down his block, he noticed a blue Pontiac parked in his driveway. Millville was a small town and he knew that the car belonged to Rusty Saunders, the High School Basketball coach, but it was unusual for it to be in his driveway. Wally and Lila hardly knew him. Instead of pulling into the driveway behind Rusty, he drove past the house and parked a little ways up the block.

He walked up on the front porch and peered through the windows but saw no one in the living or dining rooms. He went around the back and looked into the kitchen and den windows, but no one was there either. Just sneaking around his own house and peering in the windows he found very vile.  Could they be upstairs, he wondered? How dreadful that would be. There must be some other explanation. That wouldn’t be at all like Lila. She’s true blue. All these years when I was away she was all I thought about. All those nights in blank motel rooms thinking of her was all that kept me going. There must be some other explanation.

 But the ugly thought returned and with it a wave of rage swept over him. Could this guy really be up in the bedroom screwing my wife? Ist be some other explanation. Bf they were up there, he wouldn’t stand for it. He’d make them pay.

In the kitchen he grabbed a large knife, stuck it in his belt and tiptoed upstairs. As he walked down the hall what he heard confirmed his ugliest suspicions. He could hear Lila crying with joy.

“Oh, Rusty, Oh! Oh! Oh! Yes.”

And then he heard Rusty moaning heavily and saying, “Oh baby.”

He was in a frenzy as he ran into the bedroom. When they saw him they looked surprised.

“Wally, you weren’t supposed to be here until tomorrow,” Lila said.

“I wanted to come home early to surprise you. I guess I did,” Wally said.

Wally raised the knife and plunged it into Rusty’s chest. In his last conscious moment, Rusty sat there astonished as he looked at the blood gushing from his stomach.

“You stabbed me,” he said.

“I couldn’t let this go,” Wally answered.

Blood was pouring from Rusty’s chest as Wally stabbed him again and again until he fell off the bed. The Medical Examiner said later that he had been stabbed twenty times.

Lila was lying there screaming.

He turned to her and said, “Now it’s your turn, sweetheart. All these years I thought you were here waiting for me. How wrong I was.”

“No, Wally, don’t!” was all she could manage before he stabbed her.

The knife plunged right into her heart. And then he stabbed her many more times.

“Die, die, die, die,” he repeated emphatically with each plunge of the knife.

When it was over, he was shaking from the force of his own rage. The bed was a sea of blood as were his hands, shoes and clothes.

In the shower, he soaped himself up and let the hot water run over his head and down his arms. After a few minutes he forgot about what had happened and just felt the heat of the water hitting his back. The steam rose and he breathed in deeply many times. It was like meditation. He didn’t think about what he had done or what they had done. Afterwards he toweled himself off and changed into some fresh clothes.

Wally, who hadn’t eaten all day was dying of hunger.  He went downstairs and looked in the refrigerator. There was an unopened package of hickory smoked bacon. His mouth watered as he looked at the thick slices in the package. Next to it was a loaf of twelve-grain bread and, on the shelf below, a big, red, Jersey tomato and some fresh lettuce. 

Wally heated the frying pan, peeled off six strips of bacon and flipped them into the pan. He put the bread in the toaster.  The aroma of the bacon soon filled the room. Smelling the cooking bacon and listening to it sizzle was magical. Despite all that had happened he felt exhilarated.

He sliced the juicy, red tomato, put it on the toast, and placed the strips of bacon neatly on top.  As a final touch, he spread an ample coating of mayonnaise on the top piece of toast. A BLT was just the ticket, he thought.

He poured himself a glass of milk and sat savoring the taste. It was the best BLT he’d ever had.

Later, down at the Millville police station, he described the crime in complete detail, holding back nothing.

“Why did you do it?” detective Swanson asked him.

“He was in my house, in my bed, fucking my wife.”

“Didn’t you think about what you were doing?” the detective asked.

“I was boiling mad I wasn’t thinking about anything but making them pay.”

“Why did you stab them so many times?”[GP1] 

“It was very satisfying. Each time I stabbed them, it was like killing them again. I could have done it to each of them a hundred times.”

“What did you do after you killed them?” the detective asked.

“My clothes and hands were soaked in blood, so I took a long hot shower and cleaned under my nails. After that I toweled myself off and got dressed.”

“And what happened next?”

“I fried up some bacon and toasted two slices of twelve-grain bread and made the best BLT I ever had.”

“A BLT?” the detective asked incredulously.

“Yep. It was just the ticket for a hungry man.”

“You stabbed them forty times and then sat down and ate a BLT?”

“There’s something about the smell of bacon cooking that I like. Smelling that smoky aroma calmed me down.”

Later, when his lawyer Stan Fleck interviewed him, Wally told him the same story.

“Didn’t you know that killing them was wrong?” he asked.

“I didn’t think about it. All I could think about was them fucking in my bed, in my house. ”

Before the trial the media had a field day. Headlines called him the BLT killer. There were panelists of  psychologists and lawyers discussing the case on practically every talk show. Anyone who ever had anything to do with Wally, Lila or Rusty was interviewed. 

During the trial, Jack Gould, the prosecutor brought out Wally’s cold-blooded actions. He pointed out that after the murder, after stabbing the victims forty times he calmly took a shower and fixed himself a BLT. This clearly showed his callous disregard for human life.

Stan Fleck objected, saying that his client had fully cooperated with the police and confessed to everything and what he did after the crime was irrelevant. The Judge instructed the jury to disregard the prosecutor’s comments.

Fleck said that Wally was so enraged during the crime that he didn’t know right from wrong and two psychologists confirmed that. Fleck also brought out that Wally had never even had a parking ticket, and that he had been class Valedictorian and an Eagle Scout. Bill Sullivan and Stan Cohen, two of Wally’s neighbors, testified that he was a quiet, responsible neighbor. Stan tried to show that Wally’s commission of this crime was totally out of character for him.

Gould called Diane Bowser, a close friend of Lila’s. She said that Lila had told her about her three year affair with Rusty and that Wally knew about it. 

But, when Fleck cross-examined her, she couldn’t say for sure that Lila had told Wally about her affair or how else he might have known. He also brought out that Diane had other charges pending against her for forging illegal prescriptions and had made a deal with the prosecutor in return for her testimony. By the time he was finished, her character and credibility were shot.

In the end, the Jury acquitted Wally. They said that he was temporarily insane. After the trial he tried to put his life back together. He sold the house and moved into a place out in the country. He couldn’t stay in the house with all those memories. But sometimes when he’s in the mood he still likes a BLT. He’ll put the bacon in the pan, and smell that aroma. Then he’ll toast some bread, slice a tomato and for a finishing touch he’ll spread an ample coating of mayonnaise on the top slice.