The Housewife Assassin's Handbook by Josie Brown Page A

her hands on.
    At least, she thinks I’ve got him.
    Instead of twisting tissue paper into a turquoise wave of pom-poms that will line the stage under the dance band, I should be out scouring the neighborhood for clues to the whereabouts of the Quorum. 
    “You’ll still be doing your bit,” Jack assures me. “You never know. All those middle-aged gossip girls may be the key to cracking this case. Use the time to question some of the other womenfolk about any strange neighbors. Keep their jaws flapping.”
    “You’d probably get more out of them than I will,” I retorted.
    He smiled. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”
    So here I am, twisting pipe cleaners around squeezably soft Charmin as I eavesdrop on Hayley’s gripes about her new neighbors, the Kelseys, who always keep their windows drawn, day and night.
    “Is their house the one with the magnolia tree in the front?” I ask casually.
    “No, they’re in the stucco on the other side of mine. You know, the one with that puke-ugly green door.” She sticks her finger down her throat to make her point. Little known fact: Hayley has had practice barfing. She’s a binge eater who considers purging a form of weight control.
    She turns to me suspiciously. “Why do you ask?”
    “Oh, no reason.” I feign innocence, but all I can think to say is something totally stupid. “I thought they might have been the ones who’ve let their dog run wild and make in everyone’s yard.”
    Tiffy wrinkles her nose in disgust. “That’s Nola’s mutt, Rin Tin Tin. That great Dane makes some humongous piles!”
    Penelope snickers, “Yeah, well, he’s big all over, if you catch my drift. That’s the way she likes all the men in her life.”
    Her pals giggle.
    My God, their own lives are so dismal that they have to fantasize about Nola’s?
    “Speaking of all ‘men,’ I can’t wait to finally meet Carl.” Penelope’s purr has all heads swiveling in my direction.
    “Oh… I’m sure you will. Soon.”
    “You mean tonight, don’t you? Remember, I’m Mistress of Ceremonies at the dance.” She smiles supremely. “By the way, the cafeteria ladies aren’t on duty tonight. I told them you’d cover. Bring an apron and a hairnet.”
    “But—I can’t do work here tonight! I’ve got to stay home with Jeff and Trisha—”
    “Just ask your foreign exchange student to sit for them. She’s got nothing better to do, right?”
    Oh, no, nothing at all, just saving Los Angeles from being blown off the face of the planet sometime in the next three weeks. And instead of slinging Tater-Tots, I could be checking out the weirdos who live next door to Hayley.
    “By the way, Hayley, you’re on kitchen duty, too,” adds Penelope with a vicious smile.
    “What? Why me? Why not Tiffy?” Her voice tells us she’s frowning, but we certainly can’t see it. Those weekly Botox injections have paid off in that ghastly smile and glass-smooth forehead.
    “Because I need Tiffy at registration, and then out on the floor, making sure all the girls are having a great time.”
    “Oh yeah? Then what will you be doing?” I presumed the question sounded innocent, but from the stares I’m getting from Penelope and her entourage, I guess I’ve overstepped some boundary.
    “Oh, don’t you worry. I’ll be taking care of the men.”
    I’ll just bet you will.
    I’m so angry about getting roped into kitchen duty that I poke my thumb with a pipe cleaner. Blood spurts out. Quickly I grab one of the tissues and wrap it tightly around the cut.
    Hayley snatches it away. “Oh my goodness, Donna! We’re short on the pale blues. Couldn’t you just suck on it?”
    Rarely have I let the phrase “suck on it” go without a good pistol-whipping. I carry a Lady Derringer for moments like these.
    But yeah, okay, I’ll suck it up. For now, anyway.

    “Mom, you’re not going to school—looking like that, are you?”
    Mary has every reason to be horrified. Besides plain black pants and a severe black