The Housewife Assassin's Handbook (28 page)

My love was never enough for him. I realize that now. 

As I look down at his head, the idea of cracking his skull open with a hard jab of my elbow is suddenly very appealing. 

Or perhaps I could crush his larynx. All it would take is a quick punch with my fist. 

My God, how easy it would be to stab him in the jugular with the car key. Then this nightmare will finally be over…

The thought of this makes me orgasm.

So much for foreplay.

Chapter 23

Well-Balanced Meals

A well-balanced meal consists of high fiber, as well as nutrient- and mineral-rich fruits and vegetables. Protein is also important, but in reality, animal proteins are not as healthy for us as what we can get from dark green vegetables. 

Just think what a world this would be if animals didn’t have to worry about being killed for food!

And just think what a world this would be if all evildoers were captured and killed for their cruelty!

“I don’t care if there is some kind of flu virus going around! I’m not spending the night at Aunt Phyllis’s! Tonight everyone is going to be the pep rally for Jeff’s game!” Mary slams the back of my car seat with her foot, as if she’s a child.

Trisha copies her, just to see how it feels.

Through the rearview mirror, I raise a brow at Mary: my signal that it is not up for debate. She turns her head so that I can’t see the tears falling off her cheeks.

It’s been like this for the full hour it’s taken us to get to Pasadena. Frankly, I couldn’t get away soon enough. Right about now, while I keep up the pretense of trusting Carl, the Acme SWAT team is storming his house.

It beats watching his perp walk to a security van, in view of all our neighbors and the children’s friends.

Or worse yet, seeing him pulled out in a body bag.

Mary is not the only one who’s upset over the family’s change in plans. Jeff’s constant outbursts are driving me crazy. “The hell I’m missing my own pep rally—just because I might catch a cold or something! I’m the star pitcher! You’re—the meanest mom in the whole world!”

All I am trying to do is save his life. Go figure.

Oh yeah, and stop the annihilation of sixteen hundred innocent people, including the four Republican presidential primary frontrunners.

We reach Aunt Phyllis’s house just in time. She comes out to greet us as she sees us pulling into the driveway.

“All of you get out of the car—NOW,” I holler.

Jeff and Mary jump out in record time, stomping past Phyllis and into the house. I guess I won’t get a kiss good-bye.

I can’t say that I blame them. I am a very, very bad mommy.

“I like staying with you, Aunt Phyllis,” Trisha sighs as she pats my darling aunt.

“Well, girlie, I’m glad someone does! I’m beginning to feel like the Wicked Witch of the West.”

Join the crowd.

She shakes her head sadly. Still resolved to win them over, she adds, “I’m making your favorite: Sloppy Joes and Rice Krispy Squares dipped in chocolate—”

They are both surprised at the big hugs and long kisses I give them. “Don’t worry, Mommy, we’ll take good care of them,” Trisha says, as she tosses herself into my arms.

This is what I live for.

This is why I’ll be back for them, as soon as I can.

The room reserved for me at the Hilton Suites is big enough for the entire family. It has two bedrooms—one with two queen beds, another with a king-sized bed—and a living room with a sleeper sofa.

I plop down onto the king. It seems forever since I’ve slept by myself.

These past few weeks, I’ve certainly made up for six years of celibacy.

I must have fallen dead asleep for a few hours, but the knocks on my door get louder. They won’t stop.

Through the peephole, I spot Jack, leaning up against the doorjamb.

I throw open the door. “What happened?”

“He was gone before we got there. Slipped out through the sewer runoff pipe by the golf course. He must have found my webcam, because the feed had been put on a loop.”

Damn it.

“I thought Abu was positioned to tail him.”

“He was—until Carl snuck up behind him and stabbed him. A couple of kids found him behind his ice cream truck. He’s on life support, but the doctors think he’ll pull through.”

“Oh my God!” I sit down, awed.

“Ryan is trying to talk the RNC into postponing the debate, but those idiots claim it’s too late for that.”

“What the hell does that mean? Don’t they know the candidates’ lives are at stake?”

“It’s politics, doll. All they care about is the press coverage—and the money they’re making on the tickets they’ve sold to their largest donors—sixteen hundred of them. The event is a sell-out. But we’ll get the Quorum. Ryan has ordered heavy security on the grounds, and within a two-mile radius. The only way Carl will get in there is if he’s a ghost.”

But Carl has been a ghost, all these years.

I don’t need to say that out loud. Jack knows that better than anyone.

He winces as he steps across the threshold.

“Jack, are you alright?”

“Yeah, sure. Just a scratch. I got hit by shrapnel.” Gingerly he sits down on the bed. “He booby-trapped the house. We lost two assets.”

“Oh my God!” And to think that Jack could have been one of them. My voice trembles at the thought of it. “Take off your pants. I want to see it.”

“Gladly.” For once, that seductive smile of his warms my heart. “You just can’t keep your hands off me, can you?”

“Ha! You wish.” He stands up slowly to unzip his pants. I try to keep my eyes to the bandaged area on his lower thigh…

Still, it’s good to know that I excite him that much, even after my temporary fall from grace.

My gentle touch makes him curse. He yanks my wrist away from his wound. I calm him as I would my children: by shushing him, by placing my palm on his face.

It’s my kiss that does the trick.

Now it’s my turn to fall into his arms, to be hushed by him. But nothing will silence my sobs.

“You’re thinking of him, aren’t you?” His grimace has nothing to do with the pain from his leg, and everything to do with a wounded heart.

Not mine, but his.

Now I know: he loves me.

But I cannot lie to him, so I nod.

Yes, I am grieving the husband I never really had, even as Jack is mourning me.

Will I ever be able to love the man who wants to be at my side forever?

We lay there, wrapped in each other’s arms, all night long.

Chapter 24

Ring Around the Collar

What works best on those horrid soil and sweat rings around shirt collars? A pre-wash spray is a good start, as is the correct use of detergents, bleach (white shirts), or bluing. Remember: always follow the directions!

What causes this problem? Too tight collars are the culprits. This problem is doubly troublesome when the wearer has been hanged first, so ask him to take off his shirt before you string him up, and voila! You’ve avoided the problem completely…

Every seat here at Edison Field is taken up by rabid baseball aficionados, fans, and the proud parents of the two teams facing off today: the Kennesaw, Georgia Generals represent the Eastern Division, while our team, the Hilldale, California Wildcats represent the West. 

As Aunt Phyllis, Trisha, Mary, Wendy, and Babs rock out to the climax of the pre-game festivities—two former American Idol winners, warbling the national anthem as a hip-hop duet—I gnaw my knuckles in worry over the Republican primary debate, which started two hours ago.

Jack’s text message updates, sent from a cell phone taken out in Trisha’s name, then tinkered so that the GPS coordinates mirror my own, are innocuous enough:

LETS PLAY HIDE AND SEEK means that there has been no terrorist activity. 

MOMMY IM BORED means it is presumed that the Quorum aborted.

I HOPE JEFF WINS means that Jack is already on his way here. He may even make it before Jeff’s game has started.

When Jeff looks up at me from the pitcher’s warm-up box, my thumbs-up informs him that Jack will be here in no time.

Relief floods his face. He considers Jack his good luck charm.

I do, too.

I’m shocked at what comes next on my cell phone:

It is Carl’s voice. “You stupid little fool! I told you to get the kids out of town!”

How does he know we’re here?

“What are you talking about?” I try to sound calm, but I’m in a total panic. Did he have a GPS in the car that Acme missed in the sweep? Did Carl have a tail on me that I somehow missed? Was he staking out Aunt Phyllis’s house?

“If what you say is true, then why am I staring at my son, warming up in the pitcher’s bullpen?” Carl’s voice is filled with genuine panic—

With despair.

Carl—is here? What the hell!

This means that bomb is here, too.

Oh my God! It was the souvenir baseball on his dresser—

Just then, over the stadium’s intercom system, an announcer booms, “And now, a very special guest will be throwing out the first ball of the game: Democratic Presidential primary candidate, Senator Robert L. Dunlap—”

And now I know why Carl is here. Dunlap is the Dem’s frontrunner.

But because the primary election is still eighteen months away, he’s yet to be granted a Secret Service detail.

Security here at Edison is child’s play for an assassin like Carl.

“Damn it, Donna! When all hell breaks loose, just remember: our children’s blood is on your hands.”

To my ear, the click on my cell phone is a loud death knell.

My reverse GPS system tells me that Carl is somewhere below me—

In the bowels of the stadium.

“I’ll be right back. I want to check out the refreshment stand,” I tell Aunt Phyllis.

Instead I follow the digitized map of the stadium through some broad hallways, until I find an unmarked staircase. It only takes a moment to pick the lock.

BAD BOY IS HERE I text to Jack. 

BE THERE SOON is the message I get back.

But by the time he gets here, it may be too late.

The body of the man in the corner of the final stairwell is dressed only in his underwear. I take a picture of him and transmit it to be scanned by Emma’s facial recognition software. A moment later she calls to tell me what I already suspect, “He’s the home plate umpire, a guy by the name of Frank Bello.”