The Housewife Assassin's Garden of Deadly Delights Page 4

  “Obviously, Lee is not still on the board,” I point out.

  “Only because sitting presidents can’t be associated with corporations—a conflict of interest for any elected official. In regard to POTUS, all financial assets are held in a blind trust until they are out of office.” He shrugs. “But if the two men were on the board together, they must have met at some point prior to Lee purchasing Jonah’s companies upon his death.”

  “I’ll admit it looks more than coincidental. But this is eight years old, and there’s a possibility their paths never crossed, especially if one or the other was on the board for only a short period of time and missed the annual meeting. And even if Lee was introduced to Breck through Graffias, it doesn’t prove he knew of Jonah’s affiliation with the Quorum.”

  “Donna, come on! Carl acted as the middleman between the Breck estate and Lee. You’ve got to admit that Lee’s previous affiliation with Jonah and Carl—and therefore the Quorum—has always been too close for comfort.”

  I shake my head. “I’m sorry, Jack, but unlike you, I’m not willing to buy into the idea of Lee as one of the bad guys. Do I doubt that the Quorum has its tentacles in everything, including the highest offices of governments all over the world? Not at all. The Los Angeles hostage situation proved that. My guess is that Lee realizes this too, which is why he still needs our protection. Don’t forget, Lee’s secret weapon against Carl was Acme.”

  For good reason. As Carl’s former employer, Ryan felt it was his duty to bring Carl to justice. Jack’s reason was personal. He was under the assumption that it was his botched mission that caused Carl’s untimely demise. Just a few weeks before, his wife, Valentina, disappeared—along with a microdot containing a code to access the secure cloud holding the names and dossiers of every Acme operative. When a street security video captured Valentina with Carl exterminating an Acme agent in Hungary, Jack put two and two together: Carl had seduced her, and trained her to be one of his operatives.

  And then there’s me. Hell has no fury like a wife left with three children because her husband traipsed off to be a bad guy.

  Jack lets me drive back to the dealership. It’s a small consolation, and I take full advantage of it by breaking all speed records.

  Yes, we buy the car.

  And yes, Ryan is pissed that we’re late. “Lunch break was over an hour ago,” he growls.

  Even with Carl dead and buried at the bottom of the ocean, there is enough evil to keep Acme busy. It’s time to save the world, again.

  Chapter 4

  Prickly Thorns

  The most beautiful plants in any lady’s garden are her flowers. But while colorful petals and sweet scents are quick to beckon one forward, one nasty prick from a thorn can mar the memory of what should have been a joyous experience.

  Remember—thorns are Mother Nature’s way of protecting her plants from predators. So that those who want to admire your cuttings can do so while keeping ouchies at a minimum, follow these rules:

  Rule #1: The best time to prune is during summer or winter months. In hot weather, it’s easier to trim back new growth. In cold weather, growth is dormant. Besides, you’re too busy in the spring with planting new flora. (Or burying dead bodies.)

  Rule #2: Make sure your shears are sharp! Pull out the sharpening tools, such as a benchstone, waterstone, or whetstone. The rough side of these items is perfect for filing your blades. (Or for grinding a nose out of joint.)

  Rule #3: Thin out the oldest branches first. If it’s dead, chop it away! This can be done with hand shears. However if the branch is larger than a couple inches, use a handsaw (which is also useful for the wandering fingers of untoward gentlemen who might also be described as nasty pricks).

  A bee has landed in my ear.

  No—

  I guess I’m dreaming.

  Then why won’t that damn bee shut the hell up?

  My arm reaches out to swat it away. Yes, I smack something. From his bad-tempered grunt, I realize that I hit the side of Jack’s head. Oops, wrong direction. I turn on my side and force one eye open. From the way in which it is trembling on my nightstand, I realize it’s my cell phone that is buzzing—

  At five-twenty in the morning.

  Who in hell has the nerve to call me at this ungodly hour?

  Oh, my God—Ryan. Maybe we’re too late, and the killer seeds are already out there.

  My other eye pops open in order to verify that, no, it’s not Ryan calling to tell us that the world has blown up. (I know this because his Caller ID shows the name and telephone number of a local pie shop that acts as a front for Acme. It was Abu’s idea, really. He sells the pies, and I make them. But due to our mission schedule, we’re not exactly raking it in. Still, the pin money is always appreciated.)

  Then, if not Ryan, whom?

  I fumble with the cell phone until it clicks on. “Hello?” I sound as if I’m talking underwater.

  “Donna, dear? Did I wake you?”

  “What do you think?” I croak.

  “Ah, such a pity.” The mock sympathy in the woman’s purr is all too familiar. It’s Catherine Martin—Evan’s mother. “Guess what happens on Friday?”

  “Um…no idea.”

  “Go ahead, take a wild guess,” she hisses.

  “What…is it Black Friday? Friday the thirteenth?”

  She sighs. “You could say that. It’s my birthday.”

  “Congratulations. Don’t expect a cake with a file in it.”

  She laughs raucously. “I expect my son—you remember—the one you stole from me, using your whore spawn daughter as bait.”

  A ray of sun slips through the slanted blinds. It’s going to be another glorious California day. That being said, this is not the way I wish to spend a beautiful sunrise. “Goodbye, Catherine.” Her accusations are meant as barbs to make me wince with guilt, but sorry, I’m not playing her little game.

  “Wait, Donna! Don’t…don’t hang up!”

  I don’t, but only because it’s the first time I’ve heard such desperation in my old frenemy’s voice. “I…I’d like to see Evan. He’s avoided me since he moved in with you.”

  “He’s seventeen, Catherine. I can’t force him to see you.”

  “You’ve got more influence over him than you’re willing to admit,” she insists. “If the shoe were on the other foot—”

  “Don’t go there, Catherine. We both know that if it were me in jail, you’d do what you could to make sure I fried.”

  She snickers. “Okay, I’ll admit it, if I’d been President, I wouldn’t have minded seeing you hang at the end of a rope. Sadly, the best they can do these days is lethal injection—not that I’m worried for myself, mind you.”

  “I know. Your ‘get out of jail’ card is already secured.” Evidence that our president-elect ordered a hit on her spouse was discovered prior to her inauguration. She resigned, which gave way for Lee, the vice-president-elect, to be sworn into the highest office of the land and allow the nation to recover from the shock and awe of learning of her heinous deed. Her future reward for doing so was a pardon on his last day in office.

  In other words, politics as usual.

  The fact that Lee was Carl’s safety pick gnaws at Jack. I find it politics as usual. Since he took office, Lee has proven to be an outstanding president, as well as a true supporter of Acme.

  “I’m not out of the woods yet,” Catherine insists. “Which is where you come in. As much as it annoys me to be at your mercy—both as it pertains to my son, and my life—you’re the only person I can trust with both.”

  “What the hell do you mean by that?”

  “I mean that I’ve got the last tidbit you need to put the Quorum to rest, once and for all. But I won’t let you have it unless Evan visits me on…on my birthday.” Her voice cracks.

  Is it the pain from her son’s abandonment? Or her desperation to say, or do, anything to see him again?

  Or maybe she’s testing my sympathy with her well-practiced bul
lshit. I have to admit, it wouldn’t be the first time. “You can’t play me, Catherine, so don’t even try.”

  “I’m dead serious. Even my telling you this is putting my life on the line!”

  “If that’s the case, why tell me at all?”

  “Trust me, I wish I didn’t have to, but you’re the only person who can get the message to the one person who can save me.”

  “If you mean Lee, don’t count on it. We no longer share any mutual interests.”

  Her laugh verges on hysterical. “Did I say it was our illustrious president? Ha! If only I could be there, to see the look on his face when you tell him. But I plan on being long gone—with your help, of course. Trust me, Donna Stone, you’ll want to hear what I have to say because it’s about the Quorum. You see, the second part of this deal is that when I’m sprung, Acme comes through with a new identity for me. But I’ll only talk if Evan is with you. See you at noon on Friday.”

  “You’re crazy! There is no way in hell you’re walking out of prison earlier than promised, as if none of this ever happened.”

  “Oh no? You better figure out a way—before it’s too late for you and your family. Because once you hear what I have to say, no one is safe.”

  Before I can say anything, I’m listening to a dial tone.

  If she thinks dangling intel that puts me in front of Lee is an enticement, she’s got another think coming.

  Like me, Catherine Martin is a mother, first and foremost. It’s why she begs to see him. It’s why she’s using such a desperate ploy.

  But if it’s something that Acme should know, Ryan will insist I go.

  What if I can’t convince Evan to come with me?

  Jack rolls over and places his arm around my waist, drawing me close.

  Despite how safe I feel in his arms, I have to leave them. SeedPlenish won’t appreciate it if I’m late for my first day at work.

  An even harder task at hand is convincing Evan to see his mother.

  It’s going to be a hell of a day.

  Since I’m already up, I feel I should take advantage of the time difference between our two coasts and check in with Lee.

  So that I don’t wake anyone, I dress quietly in the bathroom, then head downstairs and out the back door. To assure I’m not overheard I climb into Mary’s treehouse—well, it used to be Mary’s, until she outgrew it. Then it became Jeff’s hangout. These days, it’s Trisha’s domain.

  Lee picks up on the fifth ring. “I hope you didn’t get out of bed on my account.” The tone of his voice is much too playful for this early in the morning.

  And it’s certainly too playful for a president.

  As Lee should know by now, it’ll get him nowhere with me.

  Here’s one way to drive that point home yet again. “I’m up because Catherine Martin woke me. She called with a request to see her son.”

  “I don’t envy that boy.”

  I could say the same about his stepdaughter, Janie, regarding her mother, but I don’t think POTUS would take too kindly to my po-mouthin’ his missus. Instead, I say, “Evan’s not going to be happy to hear her idea. She knows this, and decided that the best way to make him come was to enlist my aid in convincing him.”

  “Drama queen,” he mutters under his breath. “I’d think you were the last person who would help Catherine Martin do anything.”

  “You’re right—except for the fact that she’s still the mother of someone I care deeply about. So I cut her some slack.” I pause, wondering if I should say more.

  Okay, yeah, why not? “She feels she has a bargaining chip to make it all worthwhile,” I add.

  “She’s played it. I’ve already agreed to pardon her my very last hour in office.”

  “That’s what I told her. Still, she claims it’ll happen earlier because her intel involves the Quorum. If she speaks out, her life will be in danger.”

  He’s silent for a moment. “If it’s something we can use to shut down the Quorum…sure, I’d reconsider an earlier release date.”

  “Well...” How do I put this delicately? “Don’t ask me why, but she’d rather tell me than you.”

  He’s quiet for so long that at first I think I’ve lost the connection. “Lee?”

  “If what she says is valid and something you feel you should pass forward, I’m sure you will. I trust you, Donna, to always do the right thing.”

  If only I felt the same way about him. “Thanks for that, Lee.” I’m glad he can’t see me blushing. “Now with regard to the killer seeds, I’ll be embedded in SeedPlenish, along with four other agents.”

  “I presume Jack will be there too.”

  “Yes.” Don’t go there, Lee. “Mr. President, at this point, we don’t know the containment situation. If the seeds are already in the ground—or God forbid, in the food chain—”

  “Donna, Acme discovered the problem. As always your agents are exemplary in the area of discovery and containment. And as soon as Acme brought it to our attention, I discussed the situation with the Secretary of Agriculture, Howard Harkness. Obviously, he’s very upset about it. He’s personally acting as point man. He has the FDA standing by to provide HazMat coverage in addition to search-and-seizure backup.”

  “Good, then.” For too long of a moment, neither of us says anything, so I guess he wants me to take the lead. “So…are you and Babette planning a trip west anytime soon?”

  “Separately, perhaps.” Again a pause. “Maybe you’ll have dinner with me.”

  “Jack and I would be honored.”

  He’s gracious enough to say, “I’ll be looking forward to it.”

  I doubt that, but I let it slide.

  Then again, Jack won’t like it, either.

  They can both suck it up. Sometimes a lady needs all of her admirers around her. If nothing else, it ensures she won’t eat a bite.

  I walk into the house. Now that I’m fully awake, I desperately need a cup of coffee. I head back into the kitchen to make a pot.

  Imagine my surprise to see that Mary has beaten me to the punch.

  She stands in the kitchen, downing a glass of orange juice. She is dressed in her jogging sweats, and most of her hair is pulled into a high ponytail. Tiny beads of sweat cling to the tendrils around her face.

  I lean in to hug her good morning, but she holds up her hand to stop me. “I appreciate the sentiment, Mom, but you look too nice, and I’m too sweaty.”

  I laugh as I model my prim suit for her. After earning her thumbs-up, I ask, “And why, pray tell, are you up so early, my sleeping beauty?”

  She bends a leg behind her back and pulls it tight with her hand—one of her many stretches after jogging. “I don’t have gym class today, so I wanted to get in a run before school. That way, I’ll be pumped before basketball practice.”

  “Impressive,” I assure her. “I’m sure you’ll wow your new teammates.”

  “I hope so! I’m certainly going to do what I can to pull my weight. They’ll expect me to, since we’re ranked number two in our division. That’s thanks to our top scorer, Sara Lowell. The team is practically built around her.”

  “Which one is Sara?” I ask.

  Mary opens her cell phone and clicks onto a web browser. A few more clicks and we’re looking at the school’s webpage for the girls’ varsity basketball team. She points to a girl standing center, on the front row:

  Oh boy. It’s Orgasm.

  “What do you know about her?” I ask.

  “Not too much. Juniors rarely mix with sophomores. They prefer to hang with seniors, if they can.”

  “I hope…” I don’t know how to put this delicately. “I hope they treat you with respect.”

  Mary shrugs. “It’s like most things in life, I guess. I’ll have to earn it.”

  “I think you have. I don’t just mean your hard work on Hilldale High’s junior varsity squad, Mary.”

  She nods. She knows what I mean. She took the news that Jack wasn’t really her father pretty hard, and the new
s that her real father, Carl, was a traitor to his country even harder. Besides the mixed emotions toward Jack and me for living this lie for the past few years, she’s also had to endure the taunts of her classmates for Carl’s acts of violence and cowardice.

  Her brother’s brush with death at the hands of Islamic terrorists put so much into perspective.

  A little sweat can’t come between a mother and her daughter. As I wrap her in my arms, I whisper, “I’m proud of you, Mary.”

  “I know, Mom.” She kisses my cheek. “And I also know there were times when I should have trusted you to do what was right for all of us. Thank you for bearing with me—and for forgiving me for being angry at you.”

  I bow my head. “’Every experience, even the tragic ones, are an opportunity to grow stronger.” I’d learned that first with my own mother’s death, then with my father’s, then through my marriage to Carl. And yet, I want to spare my daughter any more pain.

  She doesn’t deserve the cruelty Sara may have in store for her. “Mary, should something happen that makes you at all uncomfortable in your place on the team, don’t feel you have to stick it out.”

  She looks up at me, curious. “Why would you say that?”

  I shrug. “Things don’t always work out the way we want. The varsity team seems so—so competitive. By that, I don’t mean just against their rivals, but amongst themselves too. You’re there to do your best, yes. But you’re also there to have fun. When you forget that, it’s easy to lose perspective.”

  “I won’t, Mom, I promise. Since the news came out about my father, I’m just happy to be accepted to anything at all.” Her smile fades. “I just…I just want to be normal again.”

  She will never be that.

  She will always be extraordinary.

  I keep the smile on my face until she’s halfway up the stairs.

  To keep my mind off of what I can’t control, I pull out eggs, milk, and bread for my brood, who seem to be stirring upstairs.

  Maybe when Sara and her friends know Mary better, they’ll change their minds about trying to make her miserable.