A Widow's First Love

By R L Stephens

Rebecca Stoddard is a self-proclaimed gold digger who has taken advantage of several husbands, most of which have ended up dead or ruined. It’s no wonder then that she has been called a Black Widow, by several newspapers and other media sources.

James Powell is a journalist writing for the New York Times and is assigned to interview Rebecca.
Cold hearted and manipulative it wouldn't be easy for anyone to find a way to make Rebecca a sympathetic person, but then James always tries to see the best in people. Even if there isn't much to see and they describe themselves as not being unremorseful for crimes committed. Rebecca is also the key witness in the trial of a high-ranking gangster.
In this first novella, Rebecca reminisces to James about the period between when she left University and meeting her first husband. Was he the love of her life or her first victim?

Don't forget to reveiew/rate it

• Language: English
• Publisher: R L Stephens
• Release date: May 30, 2012
• ISBN: 9781476355917

R L Stephens

I'm a freelance layabout, or at least I'd like to be. I'm just not very good at it having been mainly employed full time for a good number of years. I have though always wanted to write and like the process in of writing and world building etc.I am not limited to any particular genre, but tend to write what is in my heart and my head at the time. This can be awkward as I have number of ideas, half ideas or even quarter ideas. I'm hoping to knock out a few over the next couple of years.I'm also in the process of setting up my blog and looking into setting up a side hustle.I can be contacted at [e-mail]

Book preview

A Widow’s First Love

By R L Stephens

25 May 2012

A Widow’s First Love by R L Stephens

Copyright 2012 Smashwords Edition

Acknowledgment – book cover image

Black widow skull Victor Habbick FreeDigitalPhotos.net

This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Dedication

Out of adversity sprout the strangest of flowers and on the stoniest of grounds the most radiant of roses flourish. As such this was written during one of the most difficult times of my life and when things seemed the darkest, and certainly the most frustrating.

There are those in our lives that help us in spite of ourselves and to whom we all owe an unrepayable debt. This book is dedicated to all those people without who life would not be possible and the inspiration and example that they provide for the rest of us mere mortals

Chapter 1

She’s a real predator, said Agent Taylor as the younger man reached the elevator where he was waiting. She toyed with our shrink for about 3 days, and then asked for you.

Should I be worried? The younger man asked as he stopped and waited for the elevator to arrive.

Usually only if you’re rich, Agent Taylor replied. Or if you’ve pissed her off, he then added more under his breath than anything else.

I imagine I’ve interviewed a lot worse, the younger man who was in his mid- thirties. I take if you’re Agent Taylor, he then added extending his hand.

And you’re James Powell, the reporter, Agent Taylor said in reply.

James Powell was indeed a reporter working for the New York Times and usually covered major political stories, but had recently written a couple of pieces on inmates facing life on death row and as a result had spoken to a number of people who were considered to be the most dangerous felons in the country. So when he had gotten this assignment he wasn’t fazed by it, more curious as the subject of the story had asked for him by name.

When the elevator arrived, the two men entered and Agent Powell pressed the button for the penthouse level, where the woman in question was currently being housed. While this wasn’t by any means a high security building as it was no different from almost any other skyscraper in New York, it had seemed to James that it was a strange choice as a kind of safe house to keep for a key witness in a Federal trial. However, the more James had looked into this case, the more his interest was piqued.

As we discussed on the phone, Agent Taylor was saying as the elevator began to rise, the rules are very simple.

I didn’t think that she under arrest, James said, slightly confused.

No she isn’t, but she’s still dangerous, the other man then said, as seriously as he could. And I very much doubt she’s here by choice. As I understand it, it was this was or prison."

Ok, so what do I need to know?

First, don’t trust her, he said in the same tone as before. A few years ago, NYPD had her in custody, and the DA cut her a deal. She then disappeared for almost 14 months.

Ok, so what happened? James asked.

She was allowed home apparently to pick something up, and wasn’t seen again for almost a decade. During which time she killed a man. While she’s not under arrest, doesn’t mean we’re not trying to find something to charge her with, Agent Taylor sounded all too frustrated as he said this.

I thought she had some kind of immunity? James asked with a puzzled look on his face as he tried to recall the exactly details from the file he had been sent.

Only for crimes she’s admitted to, Agent Taylor replied abruptly and sincerely as if he had to defend an unpopular and controversial decision or policy. Secondly, don’t believe her, then added continuing his explanation of the rules.

She lies then? Hardly the sort of person you’d want to have as a key witness, James said. Oh believe me, since we’ve been dealing with her, she’s sent us on a dozen or so false leads, he said sounding ever more annoyed. It’s as if she enjoys playing games, but the evidence we have been able to corroborate has been very high quality. As he heard this James was starting to wonder whether this would turn out to be to the career defining story he had been lead to believe it would be, or whether it would be just one long wild goose chase. However, what he had been able to dig up so far was intriguing to say the least.

We haven’t been able to work whether she’s some kind of psychopath, sociopath or just plain evil, Agent Taylor then said, as the elevator was just about to reach its destination. But in any case, don’t tell her anything personal.

Why not? James, not as if it were the case that he would tell anyone he interviewed his life story anyway.

Because, Agent Taylor said as the elevator stopped.

Oh come in, it’s not as if she’s Hannibal Lecter or anything, James said interrupting the FBI agent.

No, Agent Taylor said, but whatever game she is playing, it’s one that benefits only her, and one that only she knows the rules to.

What makes you think she’s playing a game? Again James felt rather puzzled by what was being said.

Because, it wasn’t some great leap of law enforcement investigative inspiration, or because of some tip off that she’s here, Agent Taylor said as he held the elevator doors shut, she just walked into a field office one day and handed herself in.

Tired of running perhaps?

I doubt it, Agent Taylor said as he released the elevator doors, if so she got tired of splitting her time between the Cayman Islands and Switzerland.

With that the doors opened and Agent Taylor led James out of the elevator and to a door a female uniformed police officer on each side. He then opened the door and walked in. James Powell then followed the FBI man into the room and at the far side, her saw a slender, youngish woman who was perhaps in her mind to later thirties, but could have passed for several years younger. She was sitting on the window ledge, with her legs hugged to her chest.

I’ll leave to it, but if you need any help just call and one of the officers outside will come, Agent Taylor said as he moved towards the door.

Hello James, the woman said staring out of the window at nothing in particular. That is if I may I call you James?

Just remember what I told you, Agent Taylor said just before he left the room.

Sure, I guess, he said as his gaze moved back from the door to the woman. He then made his way to the coach in the middle of the room and placed his brief case on the coffee table that was in front of it. It was an old style leather case that had a certain battered or used look to it that James had always thought that had given the case a character to it that these laptop type cases that people seemed to prefer these days didn’t.

The bag had also been a gift from his parents he had graduated from college and had told them he had an entry level job on a big paper and even though he was no more than an office junior and basically did all the dirty jobs no one else wanted to do, he loved every minute of it. In fact it was then that a true passion for journalism had been ignited in him.

So, you’re Rebecca Stoddard then? He asked as he started to take out various folders, note pads and a mini tape recorder from the case and laid them out on the table.

Yes and you’re James Powell, Rebecca said as she watched intently from where she was sitting as James prepared himself for the interview. The famous reporter, she then added with a lopsided smile and a mildly sarcastic tone to her voice.

You’re then one who asked for me, remember, he said not rising to her.

Yes, I suppose I did, she said with a any hint of sarcasm gone from her tone, which now sounded more fed up than anything.

You could have been interviewed by any one of a number of reporters, you know, he said almost absentmindedly as he tried to think if there was anything that he had forgotten, and remembering the envious looks he had gotten from just about everyone else in the office. I know, she said turning to gaze out of the window again, but looking at nothing specifically. So, how do you want to do this? She then asked after a couple of minutes passed.

Well it would probably be easier if you came over here, James said as he indicated the easy chair that had been placed on the other side of the coffee table and would allow them to be able to sit directly opposite each other. She then looked James up and down in such a way that it reminded him of a tiger or some other big cat eying up its prey. Then it he couldn’t help think of a documentary that said that in a pride of lions it was typically the lionesses that did the hunting.

Rebecca then got up from where she was sitting and crossed the room, and in James’ mind, as she walked towards him, she even had the swagger of a lioness casually strutting across the Serengeti, safe in the knowledge that he couldn’t do her any harm an almost as if she were showing off a little for his benefit. She then sat down on the chair just as casually, with her right leg looped under her left.

Ok, so you’re Rebecca Stoddard and were born on 16 April 1976 in England? He asked as he also sat down, directly facing the woman.

Isn’t that in your file? She asked, arching her neck as if to serendipitously get a look at what was recorded there about her.

Yes, but I like to make sure of my facts, he replied smiling in order diffuse the seriousness that he felt in the atmosphere. After all someone is hardly going to open up if there are tense and on edge, a more relaxed subject is more likely to trust you and then, hopefully, reveal something previously unknown when their guard is down.

Yes, I am and I was, she said answering his previous question. Before we start, can I just clarify something? He asked.

Sure, I guess, she said nonchalantly.

Ok, so why are you here? He asked. I mean, why aren’t you under arrest? After all you’ve accused in various media of several different crimes, he then added for clarification.

Honestly? She asked with a slight twinkle in her eye and made of gesture of openness with her arms.

Yes, he replied with sincerity.

I made a deal with the Feds, she said in a tone that was almost mockingly similar to something you might have heard in an old gangster film.

What sort of deal? He then asked hoping she would open up.

Immunity, in return for evidence and testimony, she then paused in a rare moment of hesitation. This article, you’re going to write, she said with an even rarer hint of nervousness in her tone, "it’s not going to come out until after