Free How to Kill Your Husband by Keith Thomas Walker Page B

on?”
    â€œYeah, unfortunately .”
    â€œHe hasn’t left yet, has he?”
    â€œHe’s getting ready now.”
    â€œAll right. I’m sitting over here in my car waiting.”
    â€œWhere are you?” Claire asked.
    â€œDown the street. Don’t worry. I’ll see him , but he won’t see me .”
    * * *
    At 6:19 Becky showed up wearing the most ridiculous getup Claire could have imagined. She had on black jeans, a black sweater, a black bandana on her head, and black combat boots. Claire stepped out onto her porch quickly and closed the door behind her.
    â€œBecky, what are you doing?”
    Her friend held her arms out. “What do you mean?”
    â€œWhy are you dressed like that?” Claire hissed.
    â€œWe’re doing a stake-out ,” Becky whispered. “I thought we were supposed to, you know, dress like the night.”
    Claire cracked a smile and couldn’t help but laugh. “Okay, so why are you wearing combat boots ?”
    â€œThese are the only black shoes I have,” Becky explained. “Except for heels, and I didn’t want to look crazy .”
    â€œAll right,” Claire said. “But take that handkerchief off at least.”
    Becky did, and Claire muffled her chuckles with a hand over her mouth as she led them inside.
    George Jr. was in the living room waiting. He really did like Becky’s daughter, but not for the reasons Claire would have preferred. Courtney was of average height and medium build. She was blonde and blue-eyed, and pretty—but it was her busts that made her special. Courtney was one of few high school sophomores toting around perky 32C’s, and she was already starting to harness their power. Almost every time Claire saw her, Courtney had on something with a V-neckline.
    Today she wore blue jeans with a red tube top. George Jr. jumped from the couch and ran to greet her.
    â€œHi, Courtney!”
    â€œ Georgie Porgie !”
    She bent to hug him, and George grinned like a Jack-o-lantern with his face smushing her bosoms. Claire rolled her eyes at him. If she didn’t know any better, she’d think he knew what a lucky guy he was.
    * * *
    George Sr. came downstairs at 6:29 wearing dark-colored slacks with a short-sleeved, gray golf shirt. His loafers were black and polished to perfection. He brought the smell of Michael Jordan cologne down with him. He gave Claire a kiss goodbye, as he always did, and he didn’t look like he was about to do anything even remotely evil.
    * * *
    At 6:35 Melanie called and said the dreaded deed had begun; she was three vehicles behind George on McCart Avenue. They were headed north, towards the freeway.
    Claire and Becky left a few minutes later. They took Becky’s monster truck, although that thing was just as conspicuous as Claire’s Lexus. Claire called Melanie back as soon as she buckled her safety belt.
    â€œHey. Where are you now?”
    â€œWe’re on 20,” Melanie said, “headed towards 35. Where is he supposed to be playing poker anyway?”
    â€œOn the east side,” Claire replied. “Near Bridge Street.”
    â€œWell, we’re headed in that direction,” Melanie said. “Where are you? Did y’all leave yet?”
    â€œYeah, but we just got on McCart. I don’t know if we can catch up with you.”
    â€œDon’t worry,” Melanie said. “I got him in my sights, and he ain’t going nowhere .”
    â€œThanks, Melanie. I really appreciate it.”
    â€œIt’s cool. How you holding up?”
    â€œI still feel like shit,” Claire admitted. “If I’m wrong, I’m never going to forgive myself.”
    â€œDoesn’t look like you’re wrong,” Melanie said.
    â€œWhat do you mean?”
    â€œHe’s got his blinker on. He’s about to get off on Hemphill.”
    â€œ Hemphill ? What’s over there?”
    â€œI don’t know,”