The Housewife Assassin's Handbook (21 page)

He smiles when he sees the concern in my eyes. “Missing me already?”

Yes, I am, but I’d never admit it to him. Not in a million years. So instead I change the subject. “Arnie is coming here because he has to show us how to use it.”

Emma blushes. I’ve always suspected she’s had a crush on him. “So, how and when will you rendezvous?”

“At Billy’s birthday party.”

“That brat?” Emma wrinkles her nose. “I’ve seen him threaten every other kid on the playground.”

I sigh. “Yeah, well, his father owns a large technology firm: SkorTek. He feels he can buy Billy a few friends by throwing the biggest party of the year. All the kids in Hilldale are invited. Their parents will be there, too, scoping out all the adult toys filling that mausoleum. Guess who’s hired as the clown?”

“Arnie,” Jack and Emma say in unison.

“You got it. By the way, you two are coming along, to give me cover.”

“That should be easy,” says Emma. “Just wait until Billy starts opening gifts. He’ll be sure to throw a fit or something.”

She’s right. Billy is so sugared up by the chocolate fountain gushing in the back lawn that he’s even more surly than usual.

He complains if he can’t break the line for the merry-go-round. When the Ferris wheel reached the top, he tried to push his seat partner, Morton Smith, over the rail.

Then he locked Wendy in the petting zoo with the chimpanzee.

All of his antics roll off the back of Billy’s father, Grover Earhardt, a tall thin man who looks and acts like an aging rocker, gray ponytail and all. 

“Billy, dude, cut it out,” he murmurs, even as Billy throttles Cheever Bing in front of his parents, Penelope and Paul. They wince but say nothing. I guess they figure if Billy commits a crime and the Earhardts have to sell their estate to make his bail, Paul will have a better chance of getting the listing if they keep their mouths shut.

When finally the cake is being cut (with a machete, by Billy; thus far only one kid was nicked badly enough to merit first aid by the stand-by 24/7 in the Earhardt household) and Billy is finally ready to open his gifts (if only to frown in disappointment, then throw them into a heap behind him; trust me, it’s a tradition), I slip away to the “Fun House,” which is really the pool’s four-room cabana where, all afternoon, Arnie has been performing magic tricks and making balloon animals for the younger children.

“Finally,” he mutters. “My fingers are raw from twisting balloons into puppies. I swear, if one more middle-schooler asks me to give him a hit of helium, I’m going to scream.”

I pat him on the shoulder sympathetically. “So what have you got for me?”

He glances around to make sure that we’re alone. Then, he reaches behind the helium tank and hands me a key chain attached to a pink heart charm.

“Wait … it’s this little thing?”

“Yep—but guard it with your life! It’s a prototype: one-of-a-kind. We rushed testing because of this mission, so we haven’t even had time to manufacture any duplicates.”

“Got it. What does it do, exactly?”

“Simple: it puts out a force field that blocks any wireless signals that may be used in detonating the bomb. For it to work, you unclasp the heart—” He snaps the clasp with his thumb, and it pops open. “—then twist it so that it re-clasps inside out. You see? Child’s play!”

“Ooooh, fun! Can we play with that, Mrs. Stone?”

Arnie and I look up to see Trisha standing there with two of her little friends: Valerie Clemmons and Cindy O’Connor. Cindy is shy, a follower. Valerie, what with her freckles, red hair, and that sweetest gap-toothed smile, has no qualms about asking for what she wants even if it belongs to someone else.

Especially if it belongs elsewhere.

“No!” Arnie and I declare in unison.

Tears fill her eyes and cascade down her round cheeks. Lacking a parent’s thick skin, Arnie is defenseless against her emotional onslaught. He starts hyperventilating.

“I know!” I say brightly. “How about I treat you girls to a ride on the Ferris wheel?”

Trisha and Cindy squeal as they run out of the fun house toward the rides. But Valerie’s nod is half-hearted at best.

That’s okay. Once she’s filled with cake, ice cream, and more chocolate fountain fizz, she will have forgotten all about Arnie’s little gift to me.

After slipping the key chain into my purse, I grab hold of her hand as we head out after the others.

As our Ferris wheel car glides to the top, Trisha and Cindy jump and wave and shout down to our neighbors. They are so boisterous that I have to pull them away from the safety bar. Valerie, on the other hand, slumps into a pout, refusing to look out and over the treetops.

From up here, we can look down on all of Hilldale. I watch as the ever-vigilant Abu sells ice cream from his truck, and Emma—with her ubiquitous Swedish/English dictionary—pretends to practice her English on the party’s fast-moving clown. Arnie can’t get out of here fast enough. If those two ever get hitched, I’m guessing kids aren’t in their future.

Mary and her gal pals have congregated around the Earhardts’ humongous skateboard ramp, watching the middle school boys show off their allies and jumps. After every move he makes, Trevor looks over at Mary for her reaction. Her sly grin is all the proof he needs that she is impressed.

She is making me smile, too. She has much more confidence, now that Jack has come into our lives.

Where is Jack, anyway?

I scan the Earhardt estate for him. Thank goodness he’s not by the pool, hovering around Nola’s chaise like half the men in the neighborhood. Just how many times can she go “Oops!” as she pretends the strap on her bikini top falls down by accident, giving everyone within view a peek at her nipple? 

Apparently as many times as she wants. The men love it.

Finally I spot Jack: he’s playing one-on-one catch with Jeff.

Yes, I’ll admit it: my heart soars to see Jeff so happy—even as I know that his heart will break when, inevitably, Jack leaves our lives.

But I don’t want to think about that now. As it turns out, I’ve got bigger fish to fry: the car that was used in Jeff’s attempted abduction is sitting just a block away from them.

The girls join me in yelling and waving in the hope of catching Jack’s attention. But only the driver of the car notices us, and he speeds off. When, finally Jack looks up, he honors us with a thumbs-up.

Darn it! I hope Emma can find the car through the digital playback on one of Hilldale’s security cameras, and we can hone in the driver’s face.

When the Ferris wheel finally comes to a stop, I herd the girls off, despite their pleas to go around once more.

It’s gone.

The anti-detonation keychain is not in my purse.

Like a madwoman, I retrace my steps through the whole Earhardt estate: through the fun house, by the pool, below the Ferris wheel—

Ryan is going to kill me.

At the very least, he’ll pull me off the assignment because of my gross negligence.

I can barely see, now that tears are filling my eyes. At this point I’m walking around in circles.

Maybe that’s why Jack notices me and comes over. “What’s wrong?” he asks.

I hesitate to tell him because I’m unsure as to what his reaction will be: that I’m an idiot. 

Worse yet, that this is proof positive that I shouldn’t be on this mission.

“I—I lost the anti-detonator,” I whisper.

His eyes get big, then he closes them with a sigh. “I guess I don’t have to ask the obvious. You’ve searched everywhere, right?”

My nod is shaky, dropping tears on a velvety bed of mowed Fescue. 

“Now that the cake has been cut, the crowd is thinning. Anyone could have picked it up.  Think, Donna: was anyone watching you or trailing you?”

“No—but I saw the car again: the one driven by whoever tried to kidnap Jeff.”

I know what he’s thinking: that, perhaps, it was lifted off of me when I wasn’t looking.

Instead he says, “Let’s split up. Go find Grover and ask him if anyone’s turned it in, then position yourself at the door and ask the neighbors before they go home. I’ll grab the kids so that they can help us search for it.”

His pat on my back should make me feel better, but it doesn’t. I feel as if I’ve let down my team.

No, in truth I’m angry at myself because I’ve let down Jack.

Grover meets my question with a blank stare and a shrug. He’s got bigger fish to fry: Billy is making kids “walk the plank” by threatening them onto the pool’s diving board with his machete. Sweet.

No one leaving owns up to seeing the keychain. A half hour later, though, Jack walks up to me. He is holding Trisha’s hand. She’s been crying.

I kneel down to her. “What’s wrong, baby?”

Through her sniffles, she wails, “I told her to put it back, Mommy! Really I did!”

I don’t understand. “Told who what?”

She wipes away her tears with the back of her hand. “I told Valerie to give you back your heart thingy! She took it out of your purse when we were on the Ferris wheel, but she made me pinky-swear not to tell you. Is she going to stick a needle in my eye because I told Daddy?”

Valerie! I should have known.

I shake my head. “No, honey, she won’t. Where is Valerie now?”

“She went home!”

As Jack and I run down the block to Valerie’s house, I motion for Emma and Mary to take the kids to our home.

“I beg your pardon? Are you accusing my daughter of stealing?”

I blink innocently at Jane Clemmons. “No, of course not. I was just hoping that Valerie may have seen where I put down my key chain. Maybe she’s saved it for me.” I glance over at Valerie. “Sweetie, do you have it?”

Valerie shakes her head firmly.

“You see?” says Jane. “Valerie doesn’t know anything about it.” She opens the front door even wider. “And it’s her bedtime.”

I can take a hint. But I can’t let Valerie get away with sticking out her tongue at me when her mother isn’t looking.

I stick out mine, too. Right back atcha, girlie… 

I left Jack out on the sidewalk but he’s nowhere to be seen—

At least not at first. I’m shocked to see him jump headfirst out of one of the Clemmons’ windows. “Mission accomplished,” he shouts as he runs past me. He grabs my hand and pulls me along with him.