‘My, aren’t we polite?’ Mr Jones said with a smirk.
‘Shut the fuck up,’ Mr Smith said.
I was one of six eleventh-grade mothers at today’s orientation. Tomorrow would be orientation for the seniors, and Wednesday school would start. Basically, one more day without killing my daughters and I’d be home free. I can do it, I can do it, I repeated under my breath, my new mantra. What I might not be able to do was put up with Collette Newberry, this year’s head of the refreshment committee. I’d been an idiot, it seems, when I turned down the ‘honor’ at the end of year last spring. If I’d taken the proffered position of head of the refreshment committee, I would have been able to tell Collette to go … well, do something organic with herself. As it was, I had to shut up and take her crap. And crap it was.
‘We decided at our meeting in July, E.J., to only bring homemade goodies for our children. And healthy ones at that. These,’ she said, handling my basket of mini-muffins, ‘are neither healthy nor homemade.’
I had so many excuses, the first of which was my emotional wreckage at having given away my son to semi-adulthood, but Collette Newberry was not someone who was want to take excuses, nor was I want to give her one. I shrugged and did not reply. She just looked at me hard, then sighed, equally hard.
‘Well,’ she said, ‘I’m so glad to see that everyone else complied with my orders from the summer. Now, if y’all …’
She went on, and I suppose on, but I stopped listening when a voice in my ear said, ‘Orders? She’s giving orders?’
I turned to find Lacy Kent, one of my neighbors, sitting behind me. ‘Can we kill her?’ Lacy whispered.
‘You go ahead and I’ll back you up,’ I said.
‘Ha! With your reputation, you’ll hunt me down and turn me in!’ Lacy whispered.
‘Not for killing that bitch!’ I whispered back.
Lacy giggled and sat back, forcing me to once again pay attention to Collette Newberry. ‘So I’ve added a few more occasions when we should bring treats,’ Collette said, ‘other than the usual six – first of year orientation, of course,’ she said with a slight twitter escaping her lips, which I could assume was supposed to be a laugh, ‘Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas, Easter, and end of school. I thought it would be nice to add the Fridays before Monday holidays, and of course teacher work days.’
There was some mumbling but no one said anything loud enough for Collette to assume they were talking to her. That didn’t sit well with me. So I stood up.
‘Excuse me, Collette, but two of those teacher work days, I believe, are for seminars and work sessions at U.T. Are we to follow them to Austin with our baskets of goodies?’
That got more giggles than just Lacy’s.
Collette turned pink around the ears. I was quite proud of myself. ‘No, E.J., of course not. But they’ll gather at the school to carpool, according to my extensive sessions with Vice Principal Mallon, and we thought it would be nice if some of the mothers were there to meet them with coffee and doughnuts. One mother from each class. Can I put you down as the junior class representative?’
I stared at her a full half a minute. She just stared back. Her ears were no longer pink, but I would have bet a donut mine were. ‘Sure,’ I finally said and sat down.
‘Great!’ Collette said, smiling her big, toothy smile. ‘I’ll jot your name down! Oh, and E.J., they need to be at U.T. by eight a.m., so you’ll need to be at the school by six.’
I vowed then and there to try to keep my big mouth shut, already knowing that vow would be shattered before the day was over. What can I say? I have a big mouth.
The kids took a break after an hour and we spread out our refreshments in the cafeteria. I was happy to see that my basket of mini-muffins was empty by the end of break, whereas Collette’s plate of homemade yogurt treats had been pawed, but was basically still pretty much intact.
An hour later the girls found me sitting in the cafeteria talking to Lacy Kent. We’d been able to trash Collette Newberry like the old pros we were, and had gone on to other people we jointly disliked. Say what you will about gossiping, but there’s no better way to bond with another woman than through that time-honored tradition.
My girls and Lacy’s son, Dex, showed up, and Lacy and I hugged.
‘Coffee, my house, Thursday morning?’ I said.
‘I’d be there even if you didn’t invite me,’ Lacy said.
I laughed and turned to my daughters. ‘Where are your backpacks?’ I asked.
‘We got our locker assignments and left them in there, with all our school supplies. Why lug it all back home?’ Bess said.
I shrugged. ‘I hope nobody needs anything before Wednesday,’ I said, leading them out to the car.
The dark blue rental Ford pulled back to the spot across the street from the high school. There were two large Slurpee cups in the cup holders. They could see both the school and the minivan from this vantage point. Finally, after half the junior class had taken their leave, the woman, Mrs Pugh, and her daughters came out of the school.
‘Where’s the bag?’ Mr Smith said. ‘Where’s the fucking bag?’ he screamed.
‘She doesn’t have it,’ Mr Jones said. ‘Look, none of them have the stuff they came in with, ’cept the mom has that basket. I bet they left their backpacks and the satchel inside.’
‘Ya think, dumbshit?’ Mr Smith snarled. Then he sighed. ‘OK, we wait an hour, for everyone to leave, then we break in and find the bag.’
‘I dunno,’ Mr Jones said. ‘That’s an awful big school.’
‘Shut the fuck up,’ Mr Smith said.
We dropped by the Goodwill on our way home, then went straight to the house. We’d barely been back half an hour before all three girls were back downstairs dressed in swimsuits and cover-ups.
‘Can we take the minivan to the pool?’ Bess asked. ‘There’s going to be an impromptu party there in half an hour.’
‘How can that be impromptu?’ I asked.
‘Huh?’ Bess said.
‘Never mind. Sure. Who’s driving?’ I asked.
The three girls all said, ‘Me!’ in unison.
‘Rock, paper, scissors,’ I said.
They did. Megan won.
‘Be careful!’ I cautioned as they piled out the door. ‘Dinner’s at seven! Be back by then.’
No one answered. ‘Do you have your phones?’ Again no one answered. They were already in the minivan.
After they left I looked around my domain. I could clean up the breakfast dishes, wash a couple of loads of laundry, vacuum the living room, or read a book. I settled onto the sofa, my feet on the coffee table, a can of almonds in my lap, ice tea at my side, reading glasses on my nose, and the newest Maggody mystery in my hands.
No one had left the school for thirty minutes, which meant all of the people were probably gone. Mr Smith and Mr Jones left the rental car at the curb across the street from the school, and walked up to the front doors. They were shut, but unlocked. Mr Smith opened the door and walked in, followed by Mr Jones. Then Mr Smith stopped short.
‘Shit!’ he said. In front of him was a sea of lockers.
‘What?’ Mr Jones asked.
‘If you were in high school, assuming you ever went to one, and I’m assuming a lot here, where would you put your shit?’
‘I dunno,’ Mr Jones said. ‘One of these lockers?’
‘Yeah, dumbass, one of these lockers. But which one?’
Mr Jones shrugged.
‘Shit,’ Mr Smith repeated. ‘Come on,’ he said in resignation, and led the way back to the rental.
I almost choked on an almond I was laughing so hard at the antics of the Buchanans, when the phone rang.
‘Hello?’ I managed.
‘Hey, babe, what’s wrong?’ my husband asked.
‘Nothing. Just busy,’ I lied.
‘Doing what?’
Well, there’s only so much I’ll lie about. Evasions, half-truths, a yes when a no is in order, or vice v
ersa, but a total invention? Not so much. I sighed. ‘I’m reading. So sue me.’
Willis laughed. ‘It’s OK. You’re allowed. Now that you’re the one bringing in the big bucks.’
‘And don’t you forget it, buster!’ I said.
‘Where are the girls?’
‘At an impromptu swimming party at the pool.’
‘Are they closing the pool tomorrow?’
‘I have no idea.’
‘You want to meet me in town for a sexy one-on-one dinner tonight?’
‘Ooo, baby,’ I said. ‘Meat and everything?’
‘I can even make it red.’
‘Let me check and see if the girls have their phones. I’ll call you back.’
They did. At least the first one I called, Bess, had hers.
‘Your dad and I are meeting in town tonight for dinner. You three are on your own. I’ll leave pizza money on the kitchen table.’
‘OK, Mom. Y’all have fun!’
I planned to.
‘That’s new,’ Mr Smith said, as they sat in the Taurus across the street from the Pugh home.
‘Huh? What’s new?’ Mr Jones asked.
‘Wake the hell up, asshole. We have a new vehicle in the mix,’ Mr Smith said.
‘Huh?’
Mr Smith sighed. ‘The woman. Mrs Pugh. She’s driving one of those new Audis. The two-seater.’
‘Cool,’ Mr Jones said, watching it turn out of the driveway.
‘The truck’s gone, the minivan’s gone, now this. That means nobody’s home, dumbshit. We can go in,’ Mr Smith said.
‘Why?’ asked Mr Jones.
Mr Smith rotated his neck, hearing and feeling the satisfying clicks. It came from gritting his teeth every time he had to communicate with Mr Jones. ‘Because maybe we can find out what locker number the bag is in,’ he said, enunciating each word, and saying it slowly. Hoping for a response other than Mr Brown’s usual ‘huh.’
‘Yeah, OK,’ Mr Jones said. ‘Both of us or just one?’
‘There are three girls,’ Mr Smith said. ‘We might have to split up.’
‘Right.’
Mr Smith got out of the car and walked casually across the street. He knew exactly how to play this. If they acted like normal visitors, no one would bat an eyelid. Deliberately making a bit of a production, he rang the doorbell, looked at his watch, rang the doorbell again, and said, out loud, ‘I guess we’ll try the back door.’
They were walking up the driveway toward the back of the house, when the door to the house with the neighboring driveway opened and a woman came out.
‘Hey,’ she said.
She was a big woman, Latina, with a scowl on her face.
Mr Smith turned to her and smiled. ‘Hey, yourself!’ he said cheerfully.
‘The Pughs aren’t home right now,’ the Latina said.
‘That’s OK, they said we could leave something for them in the backyard,’ Mr Smith said.
‘Really? What would that be?’
The smile on Mr Smith’s face was getting tight. ‘That’s between the Pugh family and us, ma’am,’ he said.
‘I’ve seen your car parked across the street several times today, and last night,’ the woman said. ‘I find that suspicious.’
‘I’m afraid you’re being paranoid, ma’am,’ Mr Smith said.
‘No,’ she said, pulling a badge out of her pocket. ‘I’m just being a cop. Now who should I say stopped by?’
Mr Jones sprinted off and, cussing himself – and Mr Jones – Mr Smith saw no alternative but to follow him.
I was halfway to Codderville when I got a call from Luna. ‘Two guys just tried to break into your house,’ she said.
‘Excuse me?’
‘I really think you heard me the first time.’
‘Did you call the cops?’
‘I am the cops, Pugh. Remember?’
‘I mean the on-duty cops.’
‘No, but I got the license number. It’s a rental out of Austin. Rented to a Mr Brown on a Visa card.’
‘What’s Mr Brown’s first name?’ I asked her.
‘As far as I can tell it’s “mister.” The kid at the car place – first day solo, of course – actually wrote that down. “Mister.” Go figure.’
‘Did they break anything? Any windows or anything?’
‘No, I nailed them in the driveway. I’d noticed that car parked across the street last night and on and off today.’
‘Well, gee, thanks for telling me!’
‘You know, Pugh, here’s the thing: why in the hell did I call and even tell you about these assholes if all you’re going to do is give me grief ?’
‘You know, Luna, I’m not that sure myself—’ I started, but I was talking to dead air. She’d hung up on me. She is so sensitive sometimes.
I called Willis. ‘Hey, babe,’ I said after he said hello. ‘Luna just called. Two guys tried to break into the house—’
‘What the—’
‘So I’m turning around. We’ll have to do date night another time. I don’t want the girls coming home alone with these guys on the prowl. Luna said the car has been hanging out across the street last night and on and off today.’
‘Why didn’t she—’
‘I know! I said the same thing!’
‘I’m coming—’
‘Home? Good. I’d feel better if we were all there. Should I call Graham?’
‘E.J.—’
I sighed. ‘I know, I know. ’Bye.’
‘We’re gonna have to change rental cars,’ Mr Smith said into the phone.
‘Why?’ Mr Brown asked.
‘Because we’ve been spotted in this one.’
‘Who saw you?’ Mr Brown asked.
Mr Brown was a bit of an unknown to Mr Smith. He’d never worked with him before. He was paying big bucks for the job, but Mr Smith hadn’t seen a penny of it yet. The gig had been set up by an older partner of Mr Brown’s, who had also set up the annoying Mr Jones. Mr Smith had still not actually met Mr Brown, only doing business over the phone. But he was aggressive and paying a whole lot more for this gig than it seemed worth – which made Mr Smith think maybe Mr Brown was connected – like with the Mexican cartels, or the Mafia, or even worse, the Russians. Mr Smith had heard some hairy things about those Russians. So he planned on being just as nice to Mr Brown as he could possibly be, and to hedge his bets whenever possible.
Should Mr Smith tell him the ‘who’ was a cop? Probably not a good idea. ‘The wife,’ he said. ‘I saw her writing down the license plate number.’
‘Maybe you were too fucking close?’ Mr Brown said.
‘Yes, sir, you’re right. We were too close. We’ll use the binoculars from now on,’ Mr Smith said, thinking it wise to agree.
‘Jesus!’ Mr Brown said and hung up.
He couldn’t really tell how pissed off Mr Brown was, as he didn’t know the man, but if heads were going to roll Mr Smith had big plans that that head would belong to Mr Jones and not to himself.
I was pacing the family room when I heard Willis’s monstrosity of a pickup pull into the driveway. I ran to the back door and opened it, meeting him as he got out of the driver’s side.
‘They’re not home yet!’ I yelled.
‘Did you call them?’ he asked, propelling me back into the house.
‘Are you an idiot? Of course I called them! I called all three of them and nobody, not one of them picked up!’
‘They’re OK. It’s a party, they probably didn’t hear—’
‘I told them to come home by seven, and now it’s seven-thirty!’
‘E.J., how many times have they, individually and as a group, been more than half an hour late? I’ll tell you. Hundreds!’
‘But there’s somebody out there trying to break into the house! What if they’re after the girls? I can’t lose another child!’ I said, burst into tears and fell to the sofa.
I could hear my ever-supportive husband sigh. ‘Ya think maybe you’re overreacting? Jus
t a smidge?’
‘Shut up!’ I mumbled into the sofa.
‘We didn’t lose Graham. We know exactly where he is. And we know where the girls are. Do you want me to go pick them up?’
‘They have the minivan,’ I said into the sofa cushion.
‘I know that. But I can round them up and make them come home,’ he offered.
I was just about to demand that he do just that when I heard the not-so-subtle sound of the minivan’s muffler.
I jumped up and started to run for the door.
‘You really want the girls to see you like that?’ Willis said.
I looked at my reflection in the shiny aluminum toaster on the counter near where I stood. I was a mess. Mascara smeared, eyes blotchy, snot – the whole nine yards.
‘Shit,’ I said and headed for our bedroom right off the kitchen.
When I came out, all three girls were on the sofa watching TV, wearing flannel pajamas and their hair in towels. Except Megan – her hair was not in a towel. She’d taken some babysitting money last week, gone to a hairdresser and had all her beautiful, strawberry-blonde curls that almost reached to her waist cut off. She now sported a short, curly bob. As much as I hated to see the hair I’d so lovingly tended all these years gone, I had to admit the new do looked great on her. The other two, still sporting long hair, had towels twisted around their heads.
Willis was sitting in his recliner watching TV with them. I leaned in and whispered, ‘Did you tell them?’
‘Tell them what?’ he whispered back.
‘Yeah, tell us what?’ Megan said. My God, that girl has ears.
I took the remote out of Willis’s hand – I’ve found if you don’t telegraph the move, just make a smooth grab for it and surprise them, it is possible to take a remote away from a man. It’s not easy, but it can be done. I muted the TV.
‘Hey!’ four voices said in an echoing pattern.
‘Mrs Luna saw two men trying to break into our house today. She said their car has been sitting outside our house off and on since last night. Did any of you notice anything out of the ordinary?’
Alicia: ‘No.’
Bess: ‘Uh uh.’
Megan: ‘What does “ordinary” mean?’
I rolled my eyes. Leave it to Megan. ‘Ordinary: as in the usual, the same, what has been deemed expected.’
Gone in a Flash Page 3
