Page 22

Some Gals Knit

Pam peed her pants a little at the sight of police uniforms and was happy to be wearing the special underwear she’d ordered online. Twenty bucks a pair was beyond her budget, but in that moment, it was money well spent.

How much had the police officers heard? Had Hector tipped them off? Could he have been wearing a wire? Did Nancy google the sentence for conspiracy to commit murder, because surely that’s what they were being charged with?

Oh, the shame. My grandma’s in jail.

Now they would end up on TV, for sure. Pam looked through the newly unobstructed view from Shalisa’s front window to check if there were any news cameras. At least not yet. And when had that juniper come down? Wasn’t it there when she picked Shalisa up earlier? Do handcuffs hurt?

Pam perked up. If the cops had been listening, they must have overheard their decision to cancel the hit. Maybe Pam could blame it on postmenopause and low estrogen. Some gals knit; others pretend they’re killing their husbands.

She felt faint.

There was murmuring at the front door and checking of names and notebooks. Pam had to sit down. She might need a glass of orange juice. She stumbled across the living room and sank into an armchair. She looked up at Nancy, who hadn’t moved. Pam forced herself to breathe. She felt like she was floating underwater. She had a sense of something going on but couldn’t quite grasp what it was.

“Pam Montgomery?”

She surfaced.

A young police officer towered over her. He couldn’t have been more than thirty. Had he gone to school with Claire or Paul? Perhaps Andre had coached him in soccer. Maybe he’d go easy on them, at least be gentle when he loaded them into the cruiser’s backseat. He wore a name tag, but she didn’t want to pull out her readers to see if she recognized his surname.

“You’re Hank Montgomery’s wife?”

He squatted to be at her eye level. “The same Hank Montgomery who keeps a boat at Seven Winds Marina?”

Pam nodded. The officer exchanged a look with his partner. Nancy came over, perched beside her on the chair’s arm, and entwined her fingers through Pam’s. The partner guided Shalisa to the sofa, and then both officers stood before them, feet splayed, hands on belts.

One spoke. “We are here with some unfortunate news.”

She took a breath, looked again at her partner, and then said, “There has been an incident involving your husbands.” She referred to her notebook. “Witnesses report three men, identified as your husbands, took a boat out the channel to open water. Just after sunset there was a catastrophic explosion in the vicinity where they were last seen. Theirs was the only vessel in the area.”

The other officer spoke. “The Coast Guard is there now with their search-and-rescue team, including helicopters. It’s dark. They are doing their best, but early reports are that—”

The partner interjected, “The preliminary inspection of the site has shown a wide field of debris. They are still looking for survivors. But we think you should prepare yourselves.”

In the quiet Pam heard the officer swallow.

Pam looked at him. “But it’s only Friday.”

“I beg your pardon?”

he replied.

She’d specifically told Hector to kill them on Sunday.

Pam hated when people screwed up simple instructions.

But Hector didn’t seem like the type to screw up.