Page 8

Recommended Viewing

Pam sat in Shalisa’s driveway. She switched off the engine and the temperature immediately began to creep upward. Sweat clung to the hair at the nape of her neck. If she didn’t either lower the windows, turn the air-conditioning back on, or drive away, she’d end up a news headline:

Local Woman of Retirement Age Dies in Overheated Car

The stench of Pam Montgomery’s corpse was masked by the smell of the rotting lunch she packed for work each day to save a few bucks because she was poor.

Pam only had a couple minutes to decide.

Nancy’s compact car wasn’t in the driveway, meaning she was late as usual, but at least with that huge juniper blocking the living room window, Shalisa wouldn’t have noticed Pam sitting in her minivan debating whether or not she wanted to kill her husband. That unruly bush was an eyesore in front of such a pretty house. Pam knew Shalisa had been pestering Andre for months to get rid of it, and yet there it stood.

Another way their husbands let them down.

Pam studied herself in the rearview mirror. Was she really going to do this? Did she really want to do this? It was one thing to bat around the idea of killing their husbands over a bottle of expensive champagne, two more of cheap pinot grigio, and then at the airport, but it was another to go to someone’s house with the sole purpose of meeting to plot a murder. She corrected herself—murders.

If she got out of her van, she was crossing a line she’d never be able to hop back over. Pam pictured herself handcuffed, in an orange jumpsuit with frizzy hair in a jailhouse interview with Keith Morrison, maybe even Lesley Stahl from 60 Minutes. She imagined sitting at a table with the other inmates, spooning prison hash off a tin tray. Then she remembered her fridge and her leftover pad thai and the casual way Hank had tossed “whatever”

at her as he had walked away. And the daughter she couldn’t afford to see, being 8,500 miles and sixteen time zones away. Pam collected her purse, opened the car door, walked up the driveway, and let herself in Shalisa’s front door.

“I thought Andre was going to cut that down for you.”

Pam nodded to the juniper.

Shalisa rolled her eyes. “I gave him one hell of an ultimatum the other day, but with everything that’s been going on, you know, our friend dying and all”—she smiled at her weak joke—“looks like he’s put it off again. Anyway, the way Andre does what I ask him, I’ll be sitting in a wheelchair adjusting my oxygen tube before he gets around to it. Maybe now I’ll hire a gardener. Come on into the kitchen.”

It seemed Shalisa was already spending the insurance money. Pam smiled, thinking her first purchase would be a one-way ticket to see Claire. She’d have to figure out how to ship Elmer there. Maybe she could buy him a seat in the cabin or get him deemed a service animal. That might be a stretch, but she’d cross that bridge when she got there. She followed Shalisa down the hall to her kitchen, remembering the last time she was here they had comforted Marlene around that same table.

This morning the merry widow had texted pictures of her new condo and said that she’d be back that night to officially put her and Dave’s house on the market. Pam pulled out a chair while Shalisa poured her a coffee. They’d decided to meet here because there was less chance of a husband dropping in unexpectedly. Andre ran a courier storefront as a one-man show and never left, having to receive and dispatch deliveries all day, whereas Hank at the casino, and Larry at the bank, seemed to have more flexibility, and often popped home for lunch or an errand during the day.

Pam checked her watch. “Nancy knows we said noon, right? I have to be back to the office by one.”

Shalisa raised an eyebrow and nodded. Coffees in hand, they sat in silence until Shalisa said in a quiet voice, “Are we really going to do this?”

Pam felt a weight lift from her shoulders, and she could have hugged Shalisa. “No. We’re not.”

Shalisa had committed to the idea so quicky, it was a relief to see she wasn’t on board. Pam took a sip of her coffee. “We’re just talking about it. It’s like that murder mystery game we played for my sixtieth birthday. Just for fun. We’re bandying about a crazy idea. That’s all. Maybe it’ll be the plot for a book we can write. People do that, you know. Reinvent themselves in their sixties.”

They heard the front door open and the skitter of Nancy’s flip-flops down the hall until she slid onto a chair at the table. “Did I miss anything?”

Pam looked at her watch. “What are you using to tell time these days? A sundial?”

Nancy waved her off. “I had to finish my research.”

Shalisa said, “Listen. Pam and I were just chatting. I know we had a couple of bottles of wine the other day, and then we got emotional dropping Marlene off. But we talked about it and all, and just to be upfront about everything, we’re not really going to do anything. I know—”

“—Oh. We’re doing this.”

Nancy reached into her purse and withdrew folded papers. “Larry made me choose between him and my son, and I’ve chosen my son. And Shalisa, if you want to know what you mean to Andre, just look at that juniper at your front window. How long have you been asking your husband to take care of that for you?”

Shalisa grimaced.

“Exactly.”

Nancy unfolded the the papers and pushed them to the center of the table.

Pam glanced at the heading at the top—OPERATION HUSBANDS.

“Are you fucking kidding me? You typed this on your computer. When? Right after you googled how to kill my husband? Look. Even if we were crazy enough to go ahead with this, we’re already off on the wrong foot.”

Pam tapped the pages with her forefinger. “We are begging to get caught. We are literally Lucy and Ethel plan a murder.”

Nancy cocked her head. “I’m not stupid. I did it at the library.”

Shalisa squinched her face and asked, “Who are Lucy and Ethel?”

Pam ignored Shalisa and clutched her chest. “Where you work! You realize if someone dies violently, spouses are the first suspects, and the police will do due diligence and investigate us and our computers. Work computers too. That’s the first place they’ll look in a murder investigation. Don’t you watch any TV?”

Then she turned to Shalisa. “How did you spend your childhood? The I Love Lucy show. You know, Lucy Ricardo and Ethel Mertz.”

Shalisa tilted her head. “Wait. Weren’t they kind of bumbling—? Ohhh.”

She nodded slowly.

Pam locked eyes with her. “Exactly.”

Then turned back to Nancy.

Nancy straightened the papers and tapped her list. “Point number one. Make it look like an accident. No investigation. Look what happened to Dave. He died in a freak accident, and Marlene had the money within the week.”

She handed them each a sheet.

Pam said, “You made copies! Did you leave the extras in the library wastebasket?”

“No, I did not. And you each owe me two bucks.”

Pam recoiled. “Seriously? You’re charging us for photocopies?”

Nancy had the decency to look a touch abashed. “Well. I had to pay for them. I’m just trying to keep things fair.”

Pam leveled her gaze at Nancy and crossed her arms. “The last time we were together I drove the four of us to the airport. That probably cost eight dollars in gas, so you each owe me two bucks. We’re even.”

Shalisa sat quietly on the other side of the table as though watching a tennis match, her mouth closed tight.

Nancy put her hand up. “Sorry. Point taken. Sometimes I go overboard.”

Pam tapped her chin. “And I’m pretty sure you used my Wet Ones to wipe up the coffee you spilled in my backseat. The coffee that I bought for you and did not charge you for. Those Wet Ones are at least two cents each. I think you used ten.”

Nancy squinted. “Well, you did come in pretty hot on that corner.”

“What do you think, Shalisa? Or did she use twelve?”

Shalisa shook her head. “Nope.”

“Let’s leave it at ten. So you owe me twenty cents.”

“I get it!!”

Nancy said. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be so petty.”

“Ah.”

Pam pointed at her and smiled. “That’s the word. It’s bad enough when you pull out a calculator at lunch, but really . . .”

Nancy scowled at Pam. “Okay, okay. I’m sorry. I got carried away. I’ve had some money issues the past few years. In case you didn’t know. What can I say? Can we please get back to business? I’ll pay for the photocopies. Satisfied?”

Pam nodded, and Nancy continued. “Okay. So, it may interest you to know, I’ve taken a couple courses on cybersecurity. We have to, at the library. I used the public-access computers, I did my searches using incognito mode, and just to be safe, I created phony usernames and logins. Anyway, nothing I searched online is incriminating, and I mostly went old school.”

Pam and Shalisa looked at her blankly.

“Books. I looked things up in books. No cyber trail. There are only so many ways to kill people, and it hasn’t changed much over the years. So the research is done, and this is what I’m thinking.”

Nancy picked up her piece of paper. “And we’ll burn these before we leave here.”

Pam and Shalisa looked at each other. Was Shalisa concerned Nancy was full speed ahead on murder highway and they were riding in her backseat? Pam couldn’t read her expression, but if she had to guess, she’d say Shalisa was impressed.

Operation Husbands

The Plan

Needs to look like an accident—no murder investigation.

Need identifiable bodies—for insurance claims.

Need to die in one event—too coincidental for the 3 of them to die separately.

Recommended Viewing:

Strangers on a Train—Alfred Hitchcock Synopsis: Two discontented husbands meet on a train and agree to murder each other’s spouse.

Horrible Bosses—with Jason Bateman Synopsis: Three disgruntled workers hire a hitman who advises them to murder each other’s bosses.

Bad Sisters—with Sharon Horgan Synopsis: Four sisters plot to get rid of the fifth sister’s horrible prick husband. They try 5 times.

“Five times!”

Pam said. “They had to try five times!”

“Well, it’s a TV series. They had to keep it going for ten episodes. They couldn’t very well have him die on the first try, could they? That wouldn’t be a series—that’d be a movie.”

“I guess so,”

Pam said, and Shalisa nodded.

“But the point is, those women were smart. I won’t spoil it for you. But you should watch it. It’s really good.”

Nancy nudged her glasses up her nose. “And it worked.”

Pam pushed her paper away. “The only thing I see here that we could use is hire a hitman. I don’t know how else we do it. I’m not personally killing anybody.”

Pam had her limits, and they included poor upper body strength. She knew enough to avoid heavy lifting, and she couldn’t envision a way to kill three men that didn’t involve moving them. If there was ever a job to outsource, this was it. Especially since their husbands had packed on the pounds in the last few years. She raised an eyebrow at Nancy. “Do you think you can find a hitman on Craigslist?”

Nancy offered a weak smile. Shalisa refilled their coffees and set a plate of chocolate chip cookies on the table. They each took one and started nibbling.

Pam shook her head and looked at Shalisa. “Are we sure we want to do this?”

Then she looked at Nancy. “No offense, Nancy. I can see how angry you are with Larry, and I get it. I honestly didn’t know he was . . . such a close-minded prick. Maybe we can talk some sense into him. Surely being married to him can’t be so bad you’ve gotta kill him?”

Nancy broke her cookie in half, studied it a moment, and then said, “It didn’t used to be. Even as angry as I was at Larry for ruining everything financially, he was still okay to have around. He’d catch mice, change the hallway lightbulb, mow the lawn, and shovel the driveway. Better than doing it myself. But the night he told Paul he didn’t even want to meet Estuardo, we were done.”

Nancy drew her finger across her throat. “From that moment on we were roommates, Pam. Nothing more. And not even good ones. We watch TV in separate rooms, we sleep in separate beds. The only meals we eat together are if we’re out with you guys. So now that there’s another option in front of me, I want to take it.”

Pam swallowed and turned her luck to Shalisa. “Do you really want to do this? There’s no turning back.”

Shalisa took a bite of her cookie and chewed it slowly before she answered. “You know what I was just thinking?”

Pam and Nancy shook their heads.

Shalisa held her cookie up. “I was thinking this is the first cookie I’ve eaten in my kitchen in months. Maybe even years. I only bake them when Andre’s out, and then I hide them in the back of the freezer, under the frozen fruit. If Andre’s home and I want something sweet, I sneak them up to my bedroom. Sometimes I sit on the floor of my closet with a magazine and a stack of cookies. I’m a grown-ass woman and that man is always on me about my diet and keeping active. ‘Move it or lose it.’ He has me sneaking food in my own home. Hell, yeah. I want to do this. Like I told you, I’m tired of my life being not that bad. I’m ready for my life to be what I deserve it to be. Fucking fantastic.”

Pam tapped her fingers on the table and then said, “We could just leave them.”

They considered that for a moment, and then Nancy answered, “But then we wouldn’t have the money. Larry’s the one thing I can cash in. Don’t get me wrong. I’m not killing him out of spite. I’m killing him for the money. I’m not being vindictive. I’m making a business transaction.”

Shalisa said, “Me too. I don’t want Andre dead for revenge. In my mind I’m trading him in for a million dollars. And it’s a good deal.”

Then she looked at Pam. “We have to be all in or all out. What about you, Pam?”

Pam cradled her mug and watched a squirrel traverse the branches of Shalisa’s backyard maple tree. She thought about how Nancy wanted to see her son. How Shalisa wanted her life to be fucking fantastic. What did she want? She sniffed her coffee and remembered how Hank’s morning kiss used to taste like roasted chicory. She touched her fingers to her lips and tried to remember the last time she’d been kissed. It’s not that she needed to live in the fire of some great love, but did she want to live in the ashes of hers? Could anything be sadder than not knowing when it’s time to let go?

Shalisa repeated, “What about you, Pam?”

Would Hank ever again bend down to kiss her cheek as he passed by? Would he?

“No. I mean yes. Yes, I’m in.”

“All right, then. Let’s get a move on. I have to get back to work and find a hitman.”

Nancy looked at Pam. “That’s how you want to do it, right? We hire a hitman?”

Pam nodded. “I think that makes the most sense. You?”

She looked at Shalisa.

Shalisa nodded. “Agreed.”

And looked at Nancy. “Do you have recommended viewing for that?”

“Just Horrible Bosses. It’s on the list”—Nancy pointed to her paper—“but in the end, Jamie Foxx didn’t work out.”

Shalisa took another cookie. “So, where do we find ours?”

Nancy looked out the window and traced her fingers along her lips. Pam drummed hers on the table. Then Nancy turned to them and said, “Hector.”

“Fuck. Yeah. Hector,” Pam said.

“Hector?”

Shalisa said.

“Hector the barber. The guys have been going to him for years. Remember? Hank always said if he ever needed to hire anyone to do . . . how did he put it? To do ‘whatever needs doin’,’ he’d hire Hector,” Pam said.

“Oh! Hector!”

Shalisa said. “I remember them talking about him. What do they call him?”

“Dead Eyes,”

Nancy said.

“Right. Hank said when you look at his eyes in the mirror, it’s like they’ve seen too many bad things to have any life left in them,”

Pam explained.

“I used to take Paul there, but I think that was right about when he was realizing he was more of a salon type of guy.”

“Could be. I imagine gay men would probably prefer more upscale aftershave than the one Hector uses. His Bay Rum special reeks,” Pam said.

Nancy scrunched her nose. “I can always tell Larry’s had his hair cut without even looking at him. Just by that smell.”

They sipped their coffees.

“What’s the going rate for murder, do you think?”

Shalisa said.

“Thirty thousand dollars,”

Nancy answered.

“You google that too?” Pam said.

Nancy shook her head. “Mr. Inbetween. Another really good show. We should add it to the recommended-viewing list. It’s Australian. It’s about a hitman who’s also raising his little girl. In one scene he goes out and knocks someone off—like, violently hacks them to death—and in the next scene he’s telling his daughter he believes in unicorns. It’s really good. Anyway, he charges thirty thousand dollars.”

“Each! For three that’s almost a hundred thousand dollars!”

Shalisa said.

Pam suggested, “Maybe we can get a deal if they’re all together. Kind of like buy two, get one free. Because, really, it’s just one job. Let’s offer forty-five. That’s one and a half times the thirty.”

Nancy said, “Mr. Inbetween negotiated like that once.”

“Where are we going to get forty-five thousand dollars?”

Shalisa asked.

Pam thought about her bank account with its three-digit balance and her maxed-out credit card.

“Marlene,”

Nancy said.

“What?”

Pam and Shalisa said at the same time.

“Marlene will lend it to us,”

Nancy said.

Pam said, “You should add to your list. Point number four: We need to not tell anyone else about this. That’s how people get caught. We can’t tell anyone, especially Marlene. She has no filter.”

Nancy shook her head. “We won’t tell her what it’s for. We’ll make something up. Like, tell her you want a hot tub. We’ll figure it out.”

She waved away their concern. “We’ll make it a business proposition and offer her interest, like an investment. She knows she’ll get it back, eventually. She knows we’ll have insurance money coming to us. The guys are going to die sooner or later. We’re just making it sooner.”

Shalisa nodded. “So, we’ve got the money, we just need the hitman.”

Pam checked her watch. “How do we get to Hector?”