The Housewife Assassin's Killer App by Josie Brown Read Free Book Online

counting the moles on some naked nympho’s breasts than he is, tell him to stay away from it.
    Or to get his own computer.  
    Should his porn obsession get out of hand, spill a little soda on the problem.

    I’m icing all three cooled layers of cake when Jack, Jeff and Trisha get home from the game.  
    Despite the fact the he’s soaked to the bone, Jeff gives me a peck on the cheek. “We would have won by three if the game hadn’t been rained out.”
    I give him a hug. “Did you pitch?”
    “Give me a break! What do you think?” He flexes a muscle.
    Like his father, he’s not exactly the modest type.  
    By that, I mean Carl.  
    The thought that he’ll soon know the truth makes me want to throw up.
    Jack takes my left hand and holds it up, so that he can examine my bandaged palm. “Don’t tell me you cut yourself with the shears.”
    I flinch—not because my wounds are still tender, but because I don’t want to tell him the truth. That is, not yet, anyway. “No, I…had a run-in with some…rose thorns.”
    He sticks a finger in the icing bowl and licks it. “So, now, you’re drowning your sorrows in chocolate cake?”
    I slide the bowl away from him. “How dare you!”
    He frowns. “What’s wrong? You told me to remind you whenever you’re tempted to go off your diet.”
    I shove the whole cake in his direction. “I’m not making it for me. It’s for you! Remember?”
    “Since when?”
    “Since ten-thirty this morning, when you texted me.” I grab my cell phone off the counter and thrust it in his direction. “See?”
    He takes it and reads the message. Then he stares at me, shaking his head. “Donna, I swear I didn’t send this.” He takes his phone from his pocket and hands it to me, so that I can see his list of recent texts for myself.  
    “But then…who?”
    He shrugs. “I guess your phone has been hacked.”
    “That’s impossible! At least, if you’re to believe Arnie.”
    “Even Arnie isn’t infallible. In any event, he needs to know as soon as possible.” He’s about to punch Arnie’s number into his phone when it rings. Caller ID shows that it’s Ryan. I can’t hear what our boss is saying, but Jack’s face has a curious look on it. “Will do, boss. We’ll leave immediately,” he mutters.
    “What did Ryan want?” My heart is pounding. My guess is that the call is about what I heard from Lee last night. Still, I have to pretend that I don’t know what it’s about.
    Jack shrugs. “He wouldn’t say, but he wants us in the office, pronto. Do you think Aunt Phyllis can cover for us?”
    I nod nonchalantly. “I’ll see if I can rustle her up.”  
    I text Aunt Phyllis:

    Calling in a chit. Can you watch the kids for the rest of the afternoon?

    A minute later, she texts back:  

    Hola! I’ll head over as soon as my samba class is over. Besos!

    Jack is reading my cell screen over my shoulder. He winces. “Couldn’t she throw out a hip?”
    “After thirty-some years of yoga, I’d say the odds are good that she’ll outlive us both.”
    He opens his mouth to say something, but then realizes it’s something I already know: In our line of work, longevity is questionable anyway.
    I look over at Jeff. “I’ll need you to watch your sister until Aunt Phyllis gets here. It should be an hour, tops.”
    “No problem.” He licks his lips. “Can we have cake?”
    “Yes, but after dinner. I’ll text Mary now, so that she knows to make spaghetti if we’re not home by seven.”
    He wrinkles his nose. “Her noodles are too soft. She never hears the timer, because she’s always on her cell phone.”
    “With Trevor ,” Trisha says with a knowing grin.
    The last thing I need to worry about is Mary and Trevor’s raging hormones. “Her noodles will be just fine for tonight,” I assure him.  
    To guarantee it, I text Mary: Need you at home.
    She texts back : Still with BFFs, studying.
    The library closed a half hour ago. My next text tells her I know it: WITH