"I'm just an ordinary girl." The Sharon Kinne Story

I’m just an ordinary girl.

The Sharon Kinne Story

James C. Hays

Copyright 2011 by James C. Hays

Thank you for purchasing I'm just an ordinary girl. The Sharon Kinne Story. This book, along with me has been featured on Unsolved Mysteries and Discovery I. D. Channel’s Deadly Women series (Episode title: Born Bad.

I hope you enjoy this book and invite you to keep your eyes open for her. By today’s standards, she is not really that old. Her birthday is November 30, 1939.

Is she still alive? You be the judge. There are those that suggest that if she were alive, she’d still be surrendering the lives of people in her circle. To that I say this: How many unsolved murders have there been since 1969?

It’s worth noting, however that her brother, Eugene, recently passed away. In his obituary it was listed that those preceding him in death were his parents and his sister, Sharon (no last name given). Regardless, the warrant remains active as of this writing.

If you like I'm just an ordinary girl. The Sharon Kinne Story, please email me at hannibal@turnkeymailcom. Of course, email me either way. I'm interested in your comments.

Sharon? If you have ordered this book, let me know. I have some news that might interest you.

Thanking you, the reader, I remain sincerely

James C. Hays- hannibal@turnkeymailcom

Author: I'm just an ordinary girl. The Sharon Kinne Story

Father 27-Murder at the V.A. (Fiction)

COPYRIGHT 2011 by JAMES C. HAYS

Death be not proud

----------The Holy Sonnets of John Donne----------

----------------------1532-1631---------------------------

Death be not proud, though some have called thee 

Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so; 

For those whom thou think’st thou dost overthrow 

Die not, poor Death, nor yet canst thou kill me. 

From rest and sleep, which but thy pictures be, 

Much pleasure; then from thee much more must flow, 

And soonest our best men with thee do go, 

Rest of their bones, and soul’s delivery. 

Thou art slave to fate, chance, kings, and desperate men, 

And dost with poison, war, and sickness dwell, 

And poppy or charms can make us sleep as well 

And better than thy stroke; why swell’st thou then? 

One short sleep past, we wake eternally 

And death shall be no more; Death, thou shalt die.

PROLOGUE

She sat quietly at the table and glanced furtively around the room at the others. She didn’t want to draw attention to herself although her very presence commanded it. Sharon Kinne had only been in this prison for a short time but long enough to know what could happen to a lost and frightened American girl. She’d seen how some of the others had been harassed and beaten by tough jailhouse gangs while the matrons in the yard turned the other way.

Sharon didn’t know the person requesting an audience. The stern voice on the public address system only announced a visitor. The kitchen supervisor ordered Sharon to leave her duties and report to the visitation room. She knew it wasn’t Alex Peebles, her attorney, because having just been there he was already back in Kansas City, hopefully arranging extradition for Sharon on her murder charge in Jackson County.

She wondered if her mother and brother had maybe come to see her but discounted it as unlikely since neither could afford to take a trip around the block, let alone travel the nearly fourteen hundred miles to Ixtapalapa, Mexico.

Maybe Frank Puglisi, the miserable sleaze bag that’d abandoned her after the arrest had returned to arrange bail. No. He was probably still running after being deported back to the United States.

She watched the heavy-set prisoner with the two small children sitting on the dirty floor in the corner of the room, each one demanding the woman’s attention. Sharon thought of her own children. How she missed them! Her expression softened when the children came to visit her memory. She remembered the laughter and the silly little games they used to play. Suddenly her eyes narrowed.

"But now they are getting Jesus pounded into their brains by James’ Bible-thumping parents, she whispered. I never should have married that jackass, she thought. I’m glad he’s worm food now, Sharon said aloud. I wish his parents would join him"

She contemplated the dingy, gray walls and the grime covered screens over the barred windows. It’s probably some rubbernecking tourists from Independence, she decided, just wanting to take a look at the small-town girl gone bad. They came every once in a while. Silent and wide-eyed they would just sit and stare at her as though looking at some dangerous caged animal. Every so often one of them would slip her a pack of smokes or a few bucks. Most would just run back to Independence, Missouri and brag to their friends that they had seen Sharon Kinne in the hoosegow in Ixtapalapa.

The guard unlocked the thick steel door and it opened with a loud groan. A well-dressed man entered and looked around the dimly lit room. Once his eyes adjusted, he strode confidently to the far table and sat opposite Mrs. Sharon Kinne.

He introduced himself as a reporter for Life magazine and had picked up on her story over the news wires. Taking a gamble, he decided to fly to Mexico City and see if he could obtain an exclusive interview.

"Your story has a national flavor, he began. With your permission, I can enhance your celebrity with an article in Life and maybe forward your cause for freedom." He looked hopefully into Sharon’s steel-gray eyes.

"How do you propose to do that?" she asked, tilting her head seductively. It was time to put on her usual display for the visitors. Sharon was scared and felt weak and helpless in this prison environment. But, she’d never let it be shown to the public. Sharon Kinne had a reputation to cultivate.

"I think we can elicit public sentiment in your favor, the reporter continued. ‘You’re not even 25-years-old yet and you already have three notches on your pistol. Some might see you as cold and calloused, but maybe we can put a reason behind your actions. The lies he fabricated for the sake of getting an interview did not roll gently off his tongue. The words turned sour in his mouth.

Sharon wasn’t buying into it either. She had learned to never trust a man. Oh, she needed what they had, but she never purchased the bullshit they’d come up with. She decided to play this guy for what she could get—a couple of packs of smokes, maybe a few sympathy pesos and possibly a quickie on the side, if she could pay off the matron.

She looked innocently at the young man sitting across the table and lit a cigarette. I don’t know why everyone is making such a big deal out of me, she finally cooed, blowing a smoke ring in his direction. After all, I am just an ordinary girl.

CHAPTER I

The Marriage

Sharon Elizabeth Hall met James Arthur Kinne at a function of the Mormon Church in the early summer of 1956. James, a shy, backwards college student home for the summer from Brigham Young University, attended the social only at the insistence of his parents. At 22, he knew that the pretty girl on the other side of the room would probably be too young for him but maybe he’d just walk on over and introduce himself anyway. If he got to know her it’d make for a more pleasant evening but, standing against the wall, he couldn’t muster up the courage to attract her attention.

Sharon maintained ambitious dreams. She wanted to find a prince who’d spirit her off to anywhere that wasn’t Independence, Missouri. She wanted to be a woman of glamour and wealth—the globetrotting wife of a successful executive. However, tonight did not seem to be the night. Sharon found herself surrounded by pubescent males jockeying for her attentions and she didn’t see any dream-weavers among the lean pickings. Then she spied the James slumped against the far wall in the dark suit. As the youthful suitors orbited, she fixed her gaze upon James

Sharon caught him staring back and his face reddened so she eased his embarrassment with a warm, inviting smile. Tilting her head to the side, she beckoned him with her eyes. Sharon’s well-developed body belied her young age and she knew all too well how to use the ample endowments to her advantage. She excused herself from the entourage and walked seductively across the room to where James stood.

I'm Sharon Hall, she purred, and held out a delicate hand for James' acceptance. I don’t think I’ve ever met you before.

James took her hand and nodded courteously. My name is James. James Kinne. A lump as large as a hot-air balloon rose in his throat. He never expected a girl could be so forward as to approach a man. The cautious women of the religious campus in Provo would never think of doing that and this boldness perplexed him

Are you new around here, Jim? She asked, sensing his nervousness. His innocence gave her a charge and the upper hand.

"It’s James, not Jim, he responded. And I grew up in Independence. As a matter of fact, I graduated from William Chrisman High School in ‘53 but now I’m at BYU. I'm just home on summer break."

Ooh, you’re a college boy, huh? Sharon cooed and pretended to pick a piece of lint from his jacket. I bet you have some stories to tell about wild parties and such. And you graduated from Chrisman too? That’s where I'm going now. I'm a senior, even though I'm a little bit old for the high school crowd; I mean I'm almost 20. Sharon paused to let the age register. But, my father moved us to Washington after junior high and I missed about a year-and-a-half. When we came back here last year, I decided to finish up and get my diploma. As she rambled on, Sharon fumbled with a button on her blouse. I wouldn’t mind going to college myself, but I don’t think I’d pick a school like Brigham Young. I need more excitement than a weekly bible bee.

James shuffled, pretending not to notice Sharon’s sensuous fingers massaging the button, allowing him to catch a glimpse of the lacy bra underneath. Well, BYU isn’t as stuffy as you might think, he stumbled. I mean, there are clubs and things like that to join. Besides, I'm not much of a partier anyway. I mean, my parents worked hard to send me to the finest school in the nation and I don’t intend to disappoint them. Anyway, there’s not much partying at BYU. It’s not accepted, you know. She stared into his eyes as he spoke and the balloon in his throat began to deflate. Thinking his college status impressive; he was not prepared for the biting comeback.

Well, we wouldn’t want to disappoint Mommy and Daddy, would we? she snapped. The sarcasm hit him like an uppercut and he staggered on the ropes. Sharon finished with a one-two combination. If Mommy ever lets you out to play, give me call. I think you're cute and I’d like nothing better than removing some of the stiffness from your personality and placing it where it really belongs, she purred, staring down at his crotch. James blushed as Sharon turned abruptly, flipping her blond hair in the process. She felt his eyes chasing her as she crossed the room.

Sharon’s attitude dumbfounded James but he couldn’t get her out of his mind. She carried herself like a debutante yet possessed the manners of a slut. He decided to get to know her better.

Sharon wouldn’t allow him to see that her interest extended beyond the sassy parting shot. Unlike the immature gropers in her circle, his naiveté lent itself to sweetness. He could possibly be the one to deliver her from this cow town. She could ride along, as he became somebody. He might be the ticket she’d been trying to purchase since her family returned from Washington. She shouldn’t have been so sarcastic, but at least she’d made an impression.

Sharon believed that James fell for the pack of lies she delivered about being an ambitious 20-year-old trying to finish high school and examining college prospects. In reality, Sharon Hall’s physical maturity and sophistication contradicted her true age of sixteen. She knew she’d see him again before the end of the summer.

When James got home from the gathering, he told his parents about the mysterious, young woman. They seemed pleased that he’d met and liked a local girl.

She’s obviously a girl of religious upbringing, his mother said, otherwise why would she be at the church social?

I think so, James nodded. I’m going to try to call her tomorrow.

The multiple listings for Hall in the Independence, Missouri phone book didn’t dampen James' spirit. He could think only about how he felt as he talked with Sharon and how her suggestive comments lit the fuse on his libido. Sure, she shocked him, but that just added to the allure and after the fifth attempt, he found himself talking to the residence of Eugene and Doris Hall.

Hello, a stern voice answered.

Yes. My name is James Kinne and I'm trying to locate a girl I met last night by the name of Sharon Hall.

Sharon’s my daughter, the voice said. What do you want with her? Doris looked at her watch. It is 8:15 in the Goddamn morning, she coughed. Her throat felt as rough as an abandoned alley.

Well, Mrs. Hall, Sharon invited me to call her while I’m home from college. I hope I didn’t wake you up? I met her last night at the...

SHARON! SHARON ELIZABETH! James held the receiver at arm’s length away from his ear. Sharon, you’re wanted on the Goddamn phone.

Thus, the romance between Sharon Hall and James Kinne began. They saw each other frequently and exclusively, or so James believed, throughout the warm days of summer. They went for long drives in the country and talked of the future. James’ love, or lust, commanded him to spend every waking moment with Sharon. He invited her for lunch every day at the print shop where he worked with his father just, so they could be together. He enjoyed her company.

She surprised him by picking up on the printing business, mastering the complexities of setting type with remarkable aplomb. Sharon became a fixture around the shop, her lunchtime visits growing longer as his summer vacation grew shorter.

But if she endeared herself to James, she distanced herself from his father. Haggard Kinne felt very uneasy around his son’s girlfriend. He could sense that she played James like a dime store kazoo. He tried to relay his fears, but his son would shut him out. James, confused about the concept of love, fiercely protected his relationship with Sharon.

Away from the print shop, she showed him the other side of life. Their rides often ended up at the abandoned rock quarry and marathon petting sessions.

Innocently, she told him about some of the wilder girls at school and an abandoned farm house on Phelps Road where young people could park without fear of police interruption. James and Sharon became regular visitors to the lover’s lane. She offered experiences that he’d spent a lifetime of prayer fighting. Sharon surrendered her body selflessly, albeit to satisfy her own sexual desires and James willingly accepted these contributions to exorcise his innocence.

School break soon came to an end and James prepared his return to Utah. But the summer of 1956 would be a memory he carried until the day he died. He bid farewell to his Haggard and Kattie and gave an especially emotional and generous good-bye to Sharon. Reluctantly, he headed west.

The torrid summer weighed heavily on Sharon. What if he found someone in Utah to take her place? After all, now that James experienced sex for the first time he may be too eager to show the world what he’s discovered. She feared that co-eds with sexual curiosity and incarcerated by religious upbringing might freely avail themselves to him. Sharon hatched a plan, even before his car crested the hill, to keep James as her own.

She could not forget the dream of him delivering her from a life of ho-hum domesticity and taking her on wonderful exotic adventures. She believed that she could ride this comet to the end.

As a child, her favorite readings encompassed tales of Greek and Roman mythology. She fantasized about being part of those stories. The goddesses in her books traveled to breathtaking and romantic locations in the company of their selected lovers. With James, she could become that heroine. She saw him taking her places that other people only visit through television travelogues or read about in glossy magazines. Places where she could be somebody. She needed Sir James in her future.

Scarcely back at college, James received a startling letter from Sharon. The time they spent together meant everything, the letter began, and how in the throes of passion, she gave of herself for the first time. He felt titillated and read on.

Yes, she assured him, you were the first man I’d ever given myself to totally, completely, and without reservation. Maybe it’s wrong, but I feel no shame." The letter spoke of the special love a woman has for her first partner and how she never felt as close to anyone before.

But now, she continued, the sins of summer have produced a child in my womb. But don’t worry, I don’t expect you to sacrifice your education and return to Independence. I’ll handle the situation. At the very least, I’ll look upon the child and be reminded of the only man I ever truly loved.

Agitation replaced titillation. Indeed, Sharon meant something special, but he didn’t know if he loved her. He remembered times when she could be affectionate, desirous and romantic, but other times when she’d be contradictory, aloof and angry. His initial observations about her being enigmatic were correct. But now she carried his baby and he felt morally required to quit school, marry her, and support their new and accidental family.

Confused, James confided his dilemma to a female college friend, allowing her to read the letter. Although the friend suggested a ruse; James argued the letter’s sincerity. Realizing his gullibility, she tried to school him in the wiles of a woman in love, but he wouldn’t hear of it. He believed that a woman would not lie about being pregnant.

The only thing I can do, he surrendered, is go back to Independence and get married. I don’t think I love Sharon, but it’s the right and moral thing to do.

In early October 1956, James Kinne took leave from BYU, packed a few of his belongings and headed back to Missouri. He drove east to a marriage he didn’t want.

He bade farewell to his college plans and motored across the mountains and plains, considering the sins of summer. James steered the little Nash Rambler down the highway and into the final chapter of his life.

On October 17, James, his father, and Sharon entered the Jackson County courthouse to apply for the marriage license. Sharon’s attitude changed since James’ return from Utah. She no longer shared complicity in the pregnancy but instead blamed the child solely on him. She scolded him for the lust that interrupted her college plans and shamed him into believing the situation bore his signature alone. And she hinted at having been through this before, further emasculating the man she was about to marry.

As they walked the courthouse corridor, Sharon told James, When I lived in Washington, I married a fellow by the name of ‘Big Jim.’ He loved camping, hiking, and anything to do with the open spaces. He was a good man and I loved him very much. She paused to register his reaction. So, this shit’s nothing new to me.

She didn’t apologize for deceiving him about being her first and instead ridiculed him for not knowing the difference. If you weren’t such a rube, you’d know that I’ve been with someone before you. God, you’re an idiot!

The trio arrived at the applications desk where a middle-aged woman catered to a giddy young couple. They glowed as they told Mrs. Kennedy their honeymoon plans.

We’re going to get a cabin at Bennett Springs State Park. Tom wants to do some trout fishing, the woman blushed. But I don’t think he’ll be up to answer the morning fishing bell. They laughed and continued with the application.

Of course, you don’t have to write that down, the bride-to-be suggested. Tom doesn’t know that yet. She put her hand in front of her mouth and sniggered.

Well, you’ll have to do something pretty special to keep me from my fishing, her beau laughed.

Sharon scoffed and derided the young couple as being immature. I think it’s nauseating to see people act like you two, she sneered. Haggard and James ignored Sharon’s observations and took seats in the waiting area.

While the other people finished their application, James asked about Big Jim. Sharon answered mockingly.

It’s really none of your Goddamn business, she snorted, "but since you nosed in I’ll tell you. We were out one night with a friend drinking beer and driving around out in the country. Big Jim always chased his beer with Jack Daniels and it made for great fun. We always had fun!

The friend drove, she went on, I sat in the middle and Jim hung out the window shouting obscenities and flipping off the wildlife. The car made a curve too fast and Big Jim fell out. He bounced and splattered down the asphalt like 250-pounds of whale blubber. By the time we got the car stopped and ran back, we found him on the median bloodied, fucked up, and dead. And, that’s all I’m going to say about it.

Sharon’s story didn’t carry any melody of remorse as she told it to them now for the first time. They sat dumbstruck beside her. The couple at the desk quit giggling and turned to Sharon. The festive mood of the room became as dead and cold as Big Jim.

It surprised Haggard that she’d talk of such an intimate period in her life so openly and coldly, and with him present. He didn’t like her insensitivity or the way she’d embarrassed them in public and decided to challenge her on the tale.

How come you never said anything about this before? I think it’s something that we should have known before now, don’t you? I mean, my son is…

Shhh! I told you, I'm not speaking about this anymore, she interrupted sharply. "Besides, it doesn’t concern you anyway. She turned to watch the other couple leave the room. C’mon, it’s our turn." She moved up to the applications desk.

James sat embarrassed as Mrs. Kennedy handed him the application. He knew she’d heard Sharon’s angry spout. He also felt uneasy with the way Sharon talked to Haggard. He reluctantly filled out the top section of the application and handed the form to Sharon, wondering if he should follow through with the marriage. His thoughts went back to a conversation they had during the summer.

I just don’t understand church people, Sharon said, as they stared up at the stars. They seem to live such boring lives with their whole world revolving around church and religion. I mean you guys believe that if it doesn’t have something to do with Jesus, it just isn’t worth doing.

Well, it is called faith, James tried to explain. Faith provides stability. I don’t know where I’d be if it wasn’t for my parents, the church and my faith in God.

Well, I don’t buy it, she responded. What do you do? Slip the Savior a quarter for the movies while you and I climb into the back seat?

James remembered the ride home after that date as being a drive of shame.

He watched as Sharon filled out her section of the application.

You know, when a girl gets married she wants it to be memorable, she mumble to Mrs. Kennedy. But Haggard says God wants me to get married in a house on Walnut Avenue instead of a church. She stopped writing and looked over at Haggard. Sometimes I think God and Haggard are one-in-the-same.

Sharon couldn’t understand the Kinne family and their relationship with the Mormon Church. She knew that Haggard carried the title of Bishop and religious overseer of a large area in Independence and the surrounding county. He carried the responsibility of making holy decisions concerning the welfare of his people and yet he determined that his only son could not marry in the Mormon Church. Bishop Kinne made the decision that James would be married in the living room of their home on Walnut Avenue. She perceived Haggard’s denial of a church wedding as a direct slam against her and she wanted Mrs. Kennedy to know about it.

James didn’t have trouble understanding and accepting his father’s decision. He knew intimately the workings of their religion. Sharon carried his child out of wedlock and to have a righteous Mormon service would be an affront to all that Haggard believed. It would be a discredit to his position.

Sharon took the application and studied it for a long while. The fingers on her left hand tapped on the tabletop as she calculated the year of her birth. If Sharon honed her skills as an accomplished liar, her arithmetic talents needed to be polished.

She stuck to the story she told James in the beginning about being nearly 20-years-old, which made her birth year 1936. However, in the section of the form reserved for age, she wrote 18. Her true birthday was November 30, 1939.

On October 17, 1956, Sharon Hall sat at the marriage license bureau and lied on her application. She knew she’d only be seventeen on her next birthday. The 22-year-old James unwittingly applied to marry 16-year-old minor.

The lower section of the form required that a parent or legal guardian grant consent of the marriage of a minor. The lower section allowed for the Recorder of Deeds to imprint a notarized seal as legal witness to the approval and truth of the entries. It allowed for the couple to enter into a legal marriage in the State of Missouri. The lower section remained blank.

In the area of the form reserved for marital status, Sharon placed a large X through the box marked Widowed. She held it out in front of her, at arm’s length to examine its completeness and glanced at James and Haggard to make certain they saw the X before handing it back to Mrs. Kennedy. The older woman reviewed the entries and notarized the application.

On Tuesday, October 18, 1956, Sharon Elizabeth Hall became Mrs. James Arthur Kinne. The Rev. Glaude A. Smith, Pastor of the Stone Church on Lexington Avenue, presided over the sparsely attended ceremony. The Kinnes prepared their house for the wedding and surprisingly, it went off without any problems.

Caveat emptor! Let the buyer beware!

After the nuptials and a brief stay at the Kinne home, James packed up his new bride and headed back to Provo. He put great stock into his education and felt even more compelled now to get his degree. With the added responsibility of a family, he wanted to become the best provider possible. The plan didn’t last long.

Back at Provo, they moved in with a friend. The small one-bedroom apartment made for cramped living—with a premium placed on privacy. Sharon complained constantly about the situation. She enjoyed being in the mountains, but James never found time to take her anywhere. He always seemed too busy studying or attending religious functions. Her persistent carping made it difficult for him to continue school. After the semester ended James decided to put his education on hold and move the family back to Missouri. Sharon didn’t like the idea of returning but said nothing.

In December 1956, the newlyweds moved back to Independence, Missouri. Haggard owned a small bungalow next door to his house and offered it to them. James thought it would be ideal living next door to his parents. Sharon thought the idea smelled like a Limburger cheese and onion sandwich.

If simplicity defined the wedding of James and Sharon, it certainly didn’t describe their marriage. From the very beginning, Sharon made outrageous demands on James. She believed that the husband’s main responsibility was to make money for the wife to spend and she despised living in the small rental house next door to her in-laws.

Yeah, it’s convenient for you, she argued. You’re over there most of the time drying your tears on your Mommy’s apron. The only things we do for relaxation always revolves around them or the Goddamn church. I want to go dancing or for a few drinks. You never consider what I want.

In the same way that Haggard became wise to the personality of his new daughter-in-law, Kattie remained naive. She believed in storybook relationships. She believed that a mother and her son’s wife should be close. She’d invite Sharon on shopping trips to Kansas City or bake pastries to take next door. She’d offer to slip the struggling new family a few dollars if they ran low or pay the utility bills if they got behind. Kattie, a generous and loving woman always sought out the good in a person and overlooked their weaknesses. She showed kindness to everyone and carried her religious beliefs proudly. Sharon hated her guts.

Sharon’s own mother didn’t concern herself with generosity or culinary deeds. She had no extra money and only spent time in the kitchen to freshen up a drink. But she reserved one day a week for her daughter. They went to the Independence Square for shopping and lunch, usually at Sharon’s treat. Their day passed with Doris talking about her job as a legal secretary with the law firm of Quinn and Peebles and how Eugene Sr., Sharon’s father, remained unemployed. Eugene Hall, a steelworker, collected a small stipend from the government for an on-the-job injury. He fell into his cups after the accident and never swam out.

Sharon told Doris that she considered James a rube. He’s a mama’s boy and always goes running home after an argument. His naiveté no longer amuses me.

One afternoon, while sitting at a crowded lunch counter, Sharon wanted to discuss her sex life. It’s straight and boring—and seldom, she complained. "Being raised in a home of male dominance and female subservience, he doesn’t care one Goddamn whit about my needs or desires. As soon as he gets off—he gets off, if you get my drift."

Doris sympathized as she passed along the meal check to her daughter. Well, Sharon, at least he has a good job and doesn’t spend his time and money at the bars. And, he is mild mannered and a good provider. For that you should be grateful.

Sharon worked. Her intelligence and talent could be measured by all the careers she began, but never finished. She worked at a printing shop and a photo shop. She also baby-sat for the Mormon day care center. By all accounts of the latter and the children she tended, Sharon made a good babysitter. She showed warm and loving attentions around the kids and played with them constantly.

She tried her hand at being a legal secretary and succeeded. She left that to become a receptionist at a hotel and was advancing when she quit. Whatever she did, she did well, especially the manipulation of everyone and everything in her environment. A prosperous and successful future opened its doors before her. Sharon Kinne could have been somebody, save her mental unrest.

She kept James in constant financial duress. When between jobs, Sharon spent her idle time shopping. Dollar bills didn’t fall from heaven like manna in the desert but that carried no consequence to her. She kept neatly coifed and fashionably dressed; all on her husband’s tab. She became a frequent visitor to the Independence Square boutiques. The shop owners loved her. If she found something she liked, she charged it and asked that the bill be sent to her house in care of James.

When she worked, she demanded that her money not be considered as family income. What James earned belonged to them and what she earned belonged to her. Sharon needed her own money for more important things such as illicit, extra-marital dalliances on the side. She found different ways, during off hours, to supplement the boring sex life that she grumbled about at home.

Shortly after they returned from Utah, Kattie suggested that James apply at the Bendix Aviation Corporation in Kansas City. In college, he studied electrical engineering and Bendix would be the ideal place for him. It paid well and gave an opportunity for plenty of overtime. Maybe with the extra money he could satiate the spending habits of his irresponsible wife.

After World War II, Bendix became a prime contractor for the Atomic Energy Commission. It manufactured non-nuclear, mechanical, and electrical components for nuclear weapons. As a government contractor it demanded good fiscal responsibility and unblemished character of its employees. The highly classified work required that each person maintain a secret security clearance. Kattie worked at Bendix, as did Haggard’s brother, Jessie. With very little problem, James started work there also. The new job gave him a more stable financial setting in which to raise his new child. But, the baby in Sharon’s womb never came.

One morning, after James left for work, Sharon decided to end the pregnancy charade. She tired of all of Kattie’s doting attention and mother-to-be advice. Besides, the baby story served its purpose—it got her a husband.

When James came home that day, he found his wife in a frantic, emotional state. Sharon told him that she miscarried shortly after he left for work that morning.

I tried to call, she wept, but couldn’t get past the Bendix operator. Because of the classified work being done at the plant, personal calls were not accepted.

Why didn’t you call the Bendix Security emergency number? They could’ve gotten in touch with me. The two grieving parents sat on the sofa holding each other in tight embrace. Or, at least you should’ve called my parents.

Playing on his sympathies, Sharon responded. I’m sorry, James. I didn’t think to call Security. Instead, I just kept trying to call the Bendix switchboard operator, but the lady wouldn’t help me. She kept saying that employees couldn’t receive personal calls, so I just hung up. Sharon’s face lay deep in James’ shoulder. "I couldn’t call your parents because of the humiliation I felt at losing their grandchild.

Everything happened so fast, she continued. After cleaning the kitchen, I sat down on the sofa and suddenly felt very nauseous. I ran to the bathroom and knelt down beside the toilet to throw up. I thought it was just another round of morning sickness, but it felt different, she sobbed. My legs felt wobbly and I started getting a strange, damp feeling down there. It felt warm. When I looked, my pajama bottoms were wet and red with blood. She pulled from James’ shoulder, buried her head in her hands and whimpered noisily. She wanted James to only hear her shame and guilt. She didn’t want him to see her dry, cold eyes.

He put his arms around her and whispered consolations into her hair. Sharon buried her face in his shoulder again and forced her body to quiver. She could not only win awards as a world-class liar but also garner rave revues as an actress extraordinaire.

I sat on the toilet and let our child go, she whispered. I’m sorry. I’ve failed as a mother. I spent the afternoon crying and cleaning up the bathroom. I wrapped my pajamas in a sack and threw them out with the garbage. I didn’t want any reminder of what might have been. Sharon pulled from his embrace and ran from the room.

James watched as she went stoop-shouldered into the bedroom and shut the door. His eyes ached, and he wanted to cry for the loss of his child and the pain of his wife, but he couldn’t. Maybe shock wouldn’t allow tears to flow and his emotions refused to accept the trauma. Or, maybe he