Scuse Me While I Kill This Guy Part 5

"What a darling pug!" Diego exclaimed as the puppy betrayed me by running up to us. Oh sure, now now she ran. she ran.

Poppy wagged her rear end, no doubt delighted to be fondled by this gorgeous alpha male. Wish I knew what that was like. How pathetic was it that my dog got more action than I did? Before my brain registered what was happening, Diego scooped Poppy up in his arms.

"You're so cute!" The little traitor squirmed with glee. "You say her name's Poppy?"

"Yeah. I just got her." Okay, I'd admit I was more than a little jealous of my dog. I snapped the leash onto her harness and retrieved her from his arms.

Diego smiled. "Sorry I didn't call earlier. We had a death threat come in yesterday. You know, the usual stuff."

"Oh. No problem. I've been too busy to notice," I lied. Badly.

"So you live around here?" Diego smiled. He saw right through my clothes ... I mean lies.

"Um, yes. Two blocks away, actually."

Diego squinted into the distance. "I can walk you home."

"No," I may have said a little too quickly. "Poppy hasn't, you know, done what we set out to do." Nice save. I still wanted to get a little surveillance done, and I wasn't ready for him to see my house. My bed, yes. My house, no. Of course, I wasn't exactly sure how to pull that off.

He looked down, then at me with a smile. "Seems she just took care of business."

d.a.m.n. Poppy wagged her curly tail as best she could, next to a steaming pile of "business."

So that's how Diego ended up in my kitchen, with a diet pop and a smile. Under normal circ.u.mstances, I would have been thrilled. But somehow, it was too soon to have him in my house. Instead of l.u.s.t, all I felt was weird. And not good weird either, but the walk in on your-father-naked kind of weird.

Diego looked at his watch. "I lost track of the time. Gotta run!" He stood, and I walked him to the door. Before I opened it, he kissed me lightly on the lips. Okay. The weird feeling was replaced with l.u.s.t again. All circuits were back to normal.

"It was nice meeting you, Poppy." He crouched to pet the wriggling, delighted pug. The wh.o.r.e. Diego stood. "How about I bring a pizza over one night and meet your daughter?"

"Um, okay." I was still a little fogged up over the kiss.

"Tomorrow night all right?" Diego punctuated his question with a more pa.s.sionate kiss.

"Yeah. Sure," I think I responded.

Diego left and I slumped against the closed door, sliding down to the floor with my new compet.i.tion for the Australian bodyguard's affections. Poppy licked my hand, then curled up in my lap and promptly fell asleep.

I stroked her ears until she started snoring. "You know, I should pop a cap in your a.s.s. After all, you blew every a.s.signment I gave you today, and then you shamelessly threw yourself at my man."

In her sleepy state, Poppy stretched and rolled over, exposing her fat belly to me, waiting for a scratch.

"I guess it's a good thing I have a policy against killing animals."

Poppy ignored me, clearly getting her beauty sleep so she could seduce my new boyfriend tomorrow night. For a two-month-old puppy, she seemed to have it all figured out.

CHAPTER NINE.

"If I show up at your door, chances are you did something to bring me there."

-Martin Blank, Grosse Pointe Blank

After a much-needed cold shower and lunch, I plopped Poppy in her crate and headed out for a quick, two-block jog. I figured the neighbors might get suspicious if they saw me again with the puppy, so I altered my "disguise" a bit and left to make it look like a different woman in the throes of exercising.

Maybe I should mention that I hate jogging. I only ever did it once, at Ed's request. He was a runner and wanted me to join him. After one minute, I nearly pa.s.sed out. I just wasn't cut out for it. I can sprint like an axe-toting maniac in a hockey mask, but I simply can't jog.

Which is why I was completely out of breath when I got to Vic's place (only two blocks away). After pa.s.sing in front of it, I went around the block, looking for an alley or way to his backyard. No alley. And the foliage was too thick to see the back of the house from the yard behind. So I came around and crossed to the other side of the street, pausing across the street from Vic's mansion.

Pretending to stop and answer my cell phone, I managed to use it to take a few pictures of the front of the house. I'd have to come up with a way to check out the grounds later. Maybe Dak would come over to watch Romi for me so I could do a little recon under the cover of darkness.

The driveway was clear, but the garage door was shut. There might be a Mrs. Vic at home, for all I knew. Glancing up and down the street, I tried to find a neighbor I might know. None of the houses or addresses looked familiar. What now?

There is a fine art to a.s.sa.s.sination. It isn't like the movies where the hit man busts in, guns a-blazing. That just doesn't work in real life. I try to learn as much as possible before I even begin. I know, booooring. What do you expect? This is reality, not some movie.

Back at home, an Internet search yielded some good stuff. Through his company's Web site, I discovered that Vic was in the Chamber of Commerce and the Rotary Club. That made me smile. I enjoyed hitting Rotarians almost as much as I enjoyed waxing Junior Leaguers. Something about those stupid clubs makes me itch.

On Google, I found out that Vic has no Mrs. Vic and no little Vics. That's good. Oooh! He doesn't give to charity either! Score! I love that! If he gave to the Humane Society or something, that would bother me. Unless he left it in his will. You know, I always thought it would be a good idea for these foundations to set up a contract with us. That way, shortly after naming a charity in their wills, we could pop them. Everybody wins!

Okay, so I had a little information. I still needed to know more personal stuff. I went to my next professional source-the Kennedy Elementary Student Directory. The school district would probably disapprove of the directory's use for this purpose, but Vic lived in the neighborhood, and maybe one of Romi's friends lived nearby. I could pump the parents for info and no one would be the wiser.

I scanned the directory, looking at addresses first. I figured I could come up with just about any excuse to visit a fellow Kennedy parent, even if they had no connection to Romi.

Voila! I found one. And right next door, nonetheless. Yay! Looking at the header, I saw that it was even someone in Romi's cla.s.s. Bonus!

d.a.m.n. The victory was short-lived. Guess who the neighbor was? That's right. Vivian Marcy. For once in my life, that woman had something I needed. I hoped the G.o.ds were whooping it up in Valhalla over that one.

Get over it, Gin. You have a job to do. Hey! Maybe you can find a way to make it look like Vivian killed him! My day just got a little brighter. Now I needed a pretext. Vivian would get suspicious if I just showed up on her doorstep. What I needed was a very good excuse. My day just got a little brighter. Now I needed a pretext. Vivian would get suspicious if I just showed up on her doorstep. What I needed was a very good excuse.

"Mommy!" Romi cried as she plowed into me after school.

I chatted with my daughter about her day as we walked back to the car. At home we went through our ritual, snack and backpack review. I pulled out a large envelope.

"What's this?" I asked Romi.

"Oh. We're s'posed to sell stuff. It's for the playground," Romi sputtered through a mouthful of cookies.

Great. School started two weeks ago and already we had to sell junk. I flipped through the booklet: candy, candles, calendars-all the "c" words were there. Was it just my imagination, or did kids have to sell a lot of c.r.a.p (hey, another "c" word!) these days? The only thing I remembered selling in school was Girl Scout cookies. And I think in high school, the Future Farmers of America had sold oranges or something. Last year, Romi's preschool had peddled junk in the fall and spring. I didn't want to mess with it, so I just walked into the office and handed them a check for $100. It seemed a lot easier than ...

That was it! I grabbed the phone and dialed Vivian's number.

"h.e.l.lo?" Vivian sounded bored. Must be rough to break up a day of polis.h.i.+ng your Tiffany jewelry by answering the phone.

"Vivian? It's Ginny."

"Who?" said the bored voice again.

I clenched my teeth. She knew d.a.m.n well who it was. "Ginny Bombay."

"Oh, Virginia," she responded, with my full name, just to p.i.s.s me off. "I've been meaning to call you."

I dug my fingernails into my palms. "Really? I want to talk to you too. Are you free tomorrow morning? I could stop by?" I cringed at the thought of entering her home. Maybe I should take some holy water with me, just to be safe.

"Fine," she replied. "I'll see you at ten." She hung up before I could confirm. I figured I'd better pack a mirror too. Just in case she was really a gorgon underneath all that Chanel makeup.

The next morning found me doing something I would never have imagined in a million years. I was walking to Vivian Marcy's house. And chances were, we would have a cup of coffee. Just the thought of accepting hospitality from that woman made me nervous. I couldn't remember whether she wore any large rings that might conceal poison.

My fingers flew up to the heart-shaped locket around my neck. Inside, behind a photo of my daughter, was my mandatory cyanide pill (death before captivity). Dak kept his in his watch. Liv had hers in her medical-alert bracelet-she was allergic to bee stings.

Vivian's house was almost a complete replica of Tara. I rang the doorbell. It even played the theme song from Gone with the Wind Gone with the Wind. Yeesh. What an ego.

"Come in, Virginia." She stood in the doorway, this time in a pink Juicy Couture jogging suit. I followed her down the hall to a three-season room in the back of the house. It had a perfect view of Vic's yard. Despite being in Vivian's sinister lair, this was a definite bonus.

"Thanks," I said, accepting a cup of coffee from my hostess. "You have a lovely yard." My teeth were clenched, but I believed I sounded sincere.

Vivian waved me off. "Oh it's nothing. My gardener does it. I don't even know what's all out there."

Trying not to appear too eager, I responded, "I was a botany minor in college ... mind if I look around?" I was out the door before she could stop me.

d.a.m.n. It really was a gorgeous spread. Early autumn hadn't yet touched her flowers, and they bloomed brightly against the well-manicured lawn. Vivian walked alongside me, saying nothing as I "oohed" and "ahhhed" over her a.s.sortment of lilies, wildflowers and hostas.

From time to time, my eyes crossed over into Vic's yard, but I didn't see any toxic plants. No rhododendron, lily of the valley or black-eyed Susans. Not even a stray mushroom. Obviously, the FBI took its witness protection program seriously.

"Is that an elderberry bush?" I walked toward a shrub filled with berries at the border between Vivian's and Leonard's property. It was! Hmmm ... maybe I had found something useful after all.

"I don't know," Vivian said tersely. "Let's go back inside. I'm not that fond of the outdoors."

I rolled my eyes and followed her inside. Now I had to make her forget we were ever out there.

"Vivian, I see the PTA has sent home a fundraising brochure."

"Yes, for playground equipment." She sounded bored again.

"Well, there are so many fundraisers this time of the year, I had an idea for raising money."

"Really?" Her eyes widened, as if she were surprised I was capable of intelligent thought.

I ignored her expression. "I was thinking I'd rather just write a check to the school and be done with it. That way, all the money goes directly to the project, not just a percentage. And there's no work involved with taking orders, delivering orders and collecting money."

"Good for you. But how does that help?" I could see she didn't think I had an idea.

"If I would rather do that, my guess is other parents would rather do that too. The school could make a lot more money and the parents would be happy they didn't have to sell junk to everyone they know."

Vivian leaned back and took a sip of her coffee. She was frowning, which probably meant that she was p.i.s.sed she hadn't come up with the idea herself. Even though this idea was just a pretext to scope Vic's yard, I thought it had real merit. I didn't need any pumpkin spice candles or tins full of cashews any more than the next guy.

"I like that," Vivian responded with a frown. Only she could make a good idea feel bad. "Of course, we've already started the fundraiser, but maybe I could turn your little idea"-she waved her hand at me, dismissively-"into a real, workable project for the spring."

I suppressed a rising tide of fury. It didn't matter what she thought, or that she was planning to put her name on it and reap the glory. I had done what I wanted to do. Vivian would do everything she could to forget I even stopped by so she could claim the idea as her own. Mission accomplished.

"Now, Virginia, there is something I wanted to talk to you about as well."

I'm pretty sure my expression registered fear and surprise. "What?"

"I want you to start a Daisy troop for the kindergarten cla.s.s." She looked like Cleopatra handing down an edict. I wished I had an asp handy, but they're not native to this area.

"I don't have time for that.... I don't even know what that is!" I protested.

Vivian continued, "I'm sure you don't. In our day, we started Girl Scouts with Brownies. Now, it starts with Daisy Scouts in kindergarten. It's very easy. Even you can do this."

For a moment, I thought about holding her down and shoving handfuls of raw elderberries down her throat. It would take quite a few, but it would be worth it to watch her go through the stages of dizziness, headache, nausea, vomiting, gastroenteritis, respiratory difficulty, convulsions, and if I was really lucky, death. I imagined sitting there, calmly, drinking my coffee and watching her body convulse on the floor. Of course, I'd wipe everything down before leaving. Because she was completely ignorant of what was in her backyard, the coroner would probably rule the death accidental.

"You're not listening to me, Virginia!" she snapped.

"Oh, sorry," I said. I'm just imagining. your painful death I'm just imagining. your painful death.

"Look, it's very simple. You aren't allowed to go camping or sell cookies. Just have a meeting or two each month."

"I don't think so, Vivian. I've got a lot on my plate right now...."

She raised her hand to silence me. "It's very easy. Romi can even join."

Again, I fought back the urge to race to her backyard with a bowl to begin collecting berries. "What do you mean by that?"

"I don't mean anything by it. Really, Virginia. You are so touchy." She handed me a piece of paper with a list of names and dates for training. "Call Sarah Wendt. I'll let the three kindergarten teachers know you're recruiting."

Before I knew it, I was standing on the other side of her closed front door, holding a piece of paper and wondering what happened.

I had barely made it home when the phone rang. The caller ID said it was none other than Sarah Wendt.

"Hi, Ginny! I'm so glad you're going to lead our troop!" The bubbly blonde on the other end of the line started before I could say so much as "h.e.l.lo."

"But Sarah, I don't know anything about running a Girl Scout troop! I didn't even tell Vivian I would do it!"