“No clue.”
“He said that after an exhaustive study, it was the unanimous recommendation of the PR Committee that the town of Salina not toot its own horn.”
George laughed. “The PR Committee guy said that?”
“Yep.”
“Isn’t the very definition of PR tooting your own horn?”
“I thought so.”
“So, what did you do?”
“I disbanded his committee on the spot.”
“One less committee for mankind.”
“You can search every park in every town in America, and you will never, ever see a statue of a committee.”
“That’s my girl. Disband ’em all. Don’t leave a single one standing.”
“Turn that thing off and come to bed,” Monie said, running her fingers through George’s soft but thinning brown hair.
In the bathroom, pulling a shorty see-through black negligee over her head, she remembered the phone call while she was taking the mac and cheese out of the nuker.
“Honey,” she said, cracking the door an inch or two.
“Yeah?”
“Did I forget our anniversary or something?”
“Nope, that’s next week. Why?”
“I got a call from some bakery. Said they were delivering the surprise and wanted to make sure someone was home.”
“The bakery? Not me.”
“That’s weird. I thought maybe you were springing some big news or something. That promotion I keep hearing about.”
“I’m springing something big, all right. Come out here and have a look.”
“George! You ought to be ashamed of yourself!”
At that moment, the front doorbell rang.
“Who the hell could that be? It’s almost nine o’clock,” George said, pulling her to him, pressing his erection against her belly.
The little nightie that could, Monie thought, smiling up at him. “Probably the bakery.”
“What did you tell them?”
“I said I hadn’t ordered anything. Of course, I wasn’t completely sure you hadn’t.”
“I’ll go get rid of them,” George said.
“Not with that thing sticking out, you won’t. I’ll put a robe on. As for you, mister, go directly to bed. And hold that thought.”
George went to the window and peeked under the shade at the driveway below. “Bakery, all right. Big white truck.”
She grabbed her blue terry robe from the hook on the bathroom door, slipped it on, and padded down the stairs barefoot, knotting the sash around her waist.
“Hello,” said the very fat bakery man when she opened the front door. He was all in white, even his shoes. You could barely see his face because of the huge white box in his hands, tied with a bright pink ribbon.
“Hey. I think you guys made a mistake,” Monie said. “We didn’t order anything.”
“This is the Bailey household, correct? You’re Mayor Monie Bailey?” he asked, peering at her over the top of the box.
“It is. I am.”
“Well, then, ma’am, this is the right place.”
“But, like I said on the phone, we didn’t order anything.”
She felt uncomfortable and realized the guy was staring at her breasts. Not openly, but she’d caught him looking. She was suddenly aware of how cold she was and looked down. Well, no wonder. Her sash had come undone somehow, and her robe had fallen open. The little black see-through wasn’t covering up much cleavage. Her “strategic assets,” as George called them. She quickly pulled the robe together at the throat and managed to tie the sash with one hand.
“That doesn’t mean someone somewhere doesn’t want you to have a very special surprise, does it, now?”
“N-no, but we-look, it’s nine o’clock, and we’re plumb tuckered out, so could you just-”
“Could I just come in and set this beauty down? It weighs a ton. And it’s definitely for you.”
“Well, I-okay, what is it?”
“A cake. A gorgeous chocolate cake with coconut icing.”
“And who ordered it for us?”
“Name’s in the envelope inside the box. You have relatives in Topeka?”
“Only my mom. Oh, Mom, that’s it, her old-timer’s kicking in again. She’s starting to get dates mixed up lately. And next week is our anniversary, so I bet-come on in. Sorry to keep you standing out there in freezing cold. Put it in the kitchen, if you don’t mind. Right through there.”
“Sure thing, lady,” the fat man said, moving past her toward the kitchen.
“Through the swinging door,” Monie called out, turning on a couple of living-room lights and following him toward the kitchen. She paused at the foot of the stairs and called up to George.
“It’s okay, honey. I’ve got it. It’s a surprise from Mom. One week early.”
“Okay,” came the muffled reply from upstairs, and then she was through the dining room and pushing open the swinging door into the kitchen.
He’d put the box down on the butcher-block center island and was leaning back against the counter by the sink. He had a big smile on his face and, what the hell, a gun? It was black and stubby in his chubby white hand.
It was pointed straight at her heart.
“Oh, my God.”
“My name’s Happy. I’ll be your worst nightmare this evening.”
“Sweet Jesus, what is this all about?” Her heart was suddenly pounding against her ribs, threatening to splinter them. She flashed on Debbie and Carrie upstairs in their beds and knew she had to stay calm somehow, suppress the sudden terror and panic threatening to overwhelm her sanity, and somehow get through this alive, get this maniac out of her home.
He smiled.
“Not good, is it? Ruin your day, something like this.”
“Omigod, omigod, omigod. Who-who are you? What do you w-want?”
“Well, that depends. I only came here to make a delivery. But sometimes life throws you a bone. Bone. Get it?”
“What the hell do you want? Huh? Tell me! It’s yours! Money? Jewels? Just take what you want and leave, okay? Please. Just, just leave.”
“First I want to see exactly what you got on under that robe. Then we’ll get to the other stuff I want.”
“Oh, Jesus, oh, sweet Jesus. My God, a stalker. You’re a stalker? You’ve been following me? That it?”
“Just a week.”
“A week? Why? Why me?”
“The robe, honey. Now.”
“My husband’s upstairs. If I scream, he’ll-”
“He’ll what? Come running down here to find a guy with a gun more than happy to put his brains on the wall? C’mon, mayor. Take the robe off, and we’ll see how this plays out. Maybe everybody gets out of this alive, you play nice. Otherwise, maybe not.”
Her entire body was suddenly shaking uncontrollably. Terror. Anger. The freezing cold. All of the above.
“Look, if it’s money you want, we’ve got plenty. There’s a safe. I’ll show you. Hidden behind a mirror in the linen closet. There’s twenty thousand in there. Cash. And all my jewelry. Take it all, and get the hell out of here. I’ll even give you an hour headstart before I call the cops.”
He pulled back his sleeve and showed her the chunky gold Rolex with the diamonds encrusting the dial. He’d bought it at the Blue Diamond King on West Forty-seventh with his first paycheck since the new job. “I’m up to my ass in jewelry right now. What I want is for you to lose that robe. Do it. I got a gun in my hand and a rap sheet two miles long, cupcake. One more dead broad in my life just ain’t all that significant, believe me.”
“Oh, God…can’t we-”
“Do it, lady!”
36
With trembling hands, she loosened the terry sash. Then she shrugged out of the robe and let it fall to the floor, puddling around her bare feet. She’d turned the heat off downstairs. It was already freezing in the kitchen. She could feel goose bumps all over. She saw the wooden knife block sitting on the counter. Eight brand-new German knives from Kitchenworks.com. Knife against gun? Paper against scissors, but better than nothing.