Chapter 3: The Fullers

Day 1, Friday

Terri Fuller parked her car in the driveway and let herself into the house. It was shortly after noon on a Friday, so it was time to get a nice, early start to the weekend. She dropped her handbag on the buffet and went up the stairs to the second floor.

The Fullers lived in a small two-bedroom Cape Cod style home in Levittown, New York. It was one of the original ‘Levittown’ style homes built after the Second World War, with a living room, dining room, and kitchen on the first floor and two bedrooms and a bath on the second. Since then, it had been modernized, but never enlarged. It was too small for a family but was perfect for a couple that could never have children.

That was a problem for Teresa Ciccolini. Her mother had seven sons and daughters, and Terri had twenty-seven nieces and nephews, an average of four-and-a-half children each. When Terri was growing up, it had been expected that she would take her place on the production line, happily pumping out Italian-American babies. Her parents had sent her to Farmingdale State, not so much for the degree but so she could meet a nice boy and marry him, thus enabling her to begin pumping out those babies. In this they were successful; Terri met a nice guy and fell in love.

Terri met Roger Drebin when they were both sophomores, and he was funny, smart, and sexy, everything she could imagine wanting a man to be. She laughed at his antics; he did stuff she could never believe a guy would do. He was wild and crazy, impetuous and spontaneous, and could always be counted on to make her laugh. He charmed her parents and agreed with their desire for lots of grandchildren. By what should have been their senior year, they were engaged.

It was only Terri’s senior year. Roger dropped out midway through his junior year, but they stayed together, with him transferring to nearby Empire State College in Garden City. They were married shortly after she graduated and moved into an apartment in Garden City, where they promptly began making those Italian-American babies.

That didn’t work out very well. Four months later, Terri miscarried. Roger’s college plans also miscarried, as he dropped out of Empire State and went to work at a nearby mall in the maintenance department. That job lasted six months, by which time Terri was pregnant a second time. Roger found a job working for a local delivery service but lost it at about the same time as Terri lost their second baby.

Her parents didn’t understand, and she tried telling them he was just finding his place in the world, but she knew she was lying to herself. Terri stayed with Roger for five years, the pattern remaining the same the entire time. She had four miscarriages, and he had six jobs. He was also arrested twice, once for public drunkenness and once for possession of cocaine, and underwent two court-ordered psychiatric evaluations. Terri divorced him after the second evaluation. She got a new apartment and joined an infertility support group.

That was where she met Tom Fuller, a man who was as solid and stable as her ex-husband wasn’t. Tom worked as an assistant dispatcher and part-time driver for a meat supply company in Garden City. Terri thought Tom Fuller was the sexiest man she had ever met. He was tall, muscular, square-jawed, blonde, and blue-eyed. He also was funny, but in a fun sense of humor sort of way, not in the manic fashion of her ex. He only shot blanks, though, which was why his first wife had divorced him.

They were also very compatible sexually. She had felt a compulsion to be with him from the first time they met. Their first two dates were dinner and drinks at a local restaurant, where they lingered over Irish coffees and closed out the bar. On their third date, they had planned on dinner and a movie, but the sexual tension had been so great they kissed off the movie and drove down the street to a nearby motel and got a room. When she got his clothes off, her mouth watered. Tom was strong and chiseled, and if his cock wasn’t the largest she had ever heard of, he sure wasn’t the smallest, and boy did he know how to use it! They spent the weekend on room service.

They were married two years later and bought a small house in Levittown. Since they wouldn’t be having children, they didn’t need a large house and three or four bedrooms. They bought a small house in Levittown; with the money they didn’t spend on children, they could afford a nice vacation every year and save for retirement. All in all, they led a nice life.

Just how nice was the reason Terri went home early on Fridays. After seven years of marriage, the Fullers were still as sexually attracted to each other as they were when they first met. Weekends were when they could spend time with each other and not worry about anything or anybody interrupting them. Terri stripped off her business clothes, a skirt suit, and took a quick shower. Then she pulled on clothing to spend the evening in. That was simple enough. She selected a sleeveless sheer white blouse that she left unbuttoned but with the tails tied under her breasts, and a mid-thigh length denim skirt that buttoned up the front. A bra and panties weren’t needed. Then she slipped on some high heeled sandals and went downstairs.

Along the way, she grabbed a copy of Pride and Passion off her nightstand; some romance and a glass of white wine would make for a fun diversion until Tom got home. She got down to the foyer in time for the doorbell to chime. Curious, she opened the door. “What are you doing here?”

Tom Fuller smiled as he drove home from work. As the assistant dispatcher at Garden City Meat Supply, he could jigger the schedule so that he could leave early on Fridays, though not as early as his wife did. Still, he would get home several hours earlier than normal, and would be able to spend a very pleasant afternoon in a bout of marital relations or two. Normally he would park on the street and then go around to the back door, where he would go through the laundry room and then head up the stairs to their bedroom. He would strip down and shower before dressing and going down to join her on the couch.

Terri was a beautiful woman, her husband thought. He knew she thought she needed to lose ten pounds, but every woman born thought that. His wife was of average height and had big, bouncy tits with big, puffy nipples. Her waist was narrow, and her navel was deep. Her hips were wide, and she sported a plush, well-cushioned ass that jiggled enticingly when he plowed her very tight and juicy pussy. Those extra ten pounds she complained about covered her curves with a smooth layer of delicious and sensitive flesh. Terri looked good in a swimsuit, and even better out of it.

Terri’s inability to conceive was another reason her figure was so nice. He had met too many women whose measurements had gone to hell after having children. He had heard his sister, who had four children, tell her husband it was because their stomach muscles and ligaments stretched away from their pre-pregnancy condition. She had also flipped her husband the bird while she told him; it seemed to be a sore subject.

After seven years of marriage Tom and Terri Fuller still had a very active sex life. Their vacations, for example, were usually in the wilds of northeast Pennsylvania, in the Poconos, a place filled with silly resorts containing heart-shaped beds and glass tubs in the shape of champagne glasses. For their tenth anniversary they were already planning on a Caribbean cruise that would involve orgasms in as many different ports and as many different positions as possible.

Most weeknights, Monday through Friday, were simple. They both got home around six, cleaned up, had dinner, and then watched Jeopardy and Wheel of Fortune. Then after a bit more television, they would head upstairs and put on their pajamas and go to bed. Technically, however, they only put on a single pair of pajamas. Tom wore the bottoms and Terri wore the tops, and they almost always made love before going to sleep.

Weekends were different. Tom was anticipating that when he joined his wife on the living room couch, he would be getting a blowjob within just a few minutes. Afterwards he would probably be pushing her skirt up to her waist so he could lick her pussy out, after which they would screw on the couch. They would then clean up and head out for a date night; later Terri would change into a short and lacy nightgown, and they would fool around some more. Saturday and Sunday would involve even more fornication. Thank God he had stamina!

These pleasant contemplations changed when Tom arrived home. Terri’s car wasn’t in the driveway, but an old Chevy junker was parked on the street in front of their house. Was his wife not home? Something seemed off. He parked in the driveway and got out of the car, heading to the front door rather than the back. The screen door was closed, but the front door was open. He went inside, calling his wife’s name.

The living room was a shambles, with the furniture moved around and the coffee table and end tables on their sides. Terri Fuller was laying on her side on the carpet, a pool of blood under her and the left side of her head bashed in. It was obvious she was dead. Weeping, Tom Fuller sank to his knees and reached out to touch her. He pulled his phone out and called 9-1-1, and then just stayed on his knees next to her.

Detective Sergeant Jordan Comstock received the call to investigate a homicide at 1637. Comstock worked out of the Nassau County Police Department’s 8^th Precinct, which covered Levittown, and was headquartered in Bethpage. They didn’t get a lot of murders in Nassau County, but they did get some, so when the call went out, it was assigned to the senior detective in the precinct. The only detectives above him in the precinct were the detective shift supervisors and commanders.

Comstock rolled up on the scene to find two patrol cars and an ambulance already present. The ambulance drivers didn’t seem to be doing anything other than waiting around, so that meant it really was a homicide. A uniformed officer was standing on the lawn next to a guy sitting on the porch, and a second was standing at the front door. Up and down the street the neighbors were out on their front lawns wondering what was happening. He parked and walked to the front door, where he recognized the officer standing next to the man on the porch as Julio Rodrigues. “Julio?”

“Jordan, this is Mister Tom Fuller. He says he’s the one who called it in. That was at 1622. I was nearby so I got the call. I rolled up and found Mister Fuller kneeling inside next to his wife. I brought him outside. He says he came home and found his wife dead on the living room floor, so he called it in on his cell phone.”

Comstock looked at Fuller, who was a handsome and muscular man wearing a khaki shirt with the logo of Garden City Meat Supply. There was a bloodstain on his right knee of his khaki work pants. “I’m sorry for your loss, Mister Fuller. Can you tell me what happened?”

Tom looked up and shrugged. “I don’t know. I mean, I came home early, so we could get a start on the weekend, you know. Anyway, Terri, she’s my wife, her car wasn’t here, and the front door was open. I went inside and found it all torn up and Terri was dead on the floor, so I called 9-1-1.”

Comstock looked at the patrol officer. “I rolled up and found Mister Fuller kneeling next to the vic ... Mrs. Fuller, so I brought him outside. The EMTs got here five minutes later, and they went in and declared her, but I didn’t want to move Mrs. Fuller until you got here.”

“Thanks.” He looked back at Fuller and said, “I’m going to take a quick look. You stay here, please.” He climbed the stairs and went past the officer at the door. Inside he saw the chaos of a murder scene. Comstock slipped on some rubber gloves and looked around. The victim was a young and pretty brunette wearing a short skirt and a sheer top. It was obvious what the early start to the weekend was going to involve. Now the top was torn open, and the skirt was almost to her waist, but was that part of a fight or because of a rape? Several books and a Kindle were laying on the floor, and a purse had been dumped out and strewn around. A bottle of wine and a wine glass was broken next to the couch. He pulled his cell phone and took pictures from several angles, then went back outside.

“Mister Fuller, you said your wife’s car wasn’t here. What kind of car does she drive?”

“A Toyota Corolla, two years old.”

“So, whose car is that?” Comstock asked, pointing to the Chevy on the street.

“No idea.”

“Does it belong to one of the neighbors?”

Tom looked at the old clunker and shook his head. “I’ve never seen it before.”