in the midst of some erotic asphyxiation gone horribly wrong, an illegal animal porn magazine laying open on the floor in front of the ottoman he’d “stood” on. His posthumous reputation would be completely destroyed once the cops showed up. She couldn’t keep the smile off her face. After glancing behind her to make sure the kids weren’t there, Becky did a little happy dance and let out an excited little squeal. I saw her look up at where she knew I would be and whisper, “Thank you.” Then she straightened her face, composed herself, and prepared to play the role of grieving wife.
With my super-awesome uber-powerful vampire hearing, I heard Becky head back downstairs to the kitchen and pick up the phone. She took a deep breath before dialing 911. After a hushed conversation with the operator on the other end, adding that she hadn’t told the kids yet as way of explanation for her calmness, Becky hung up and went into the family room. Her stepdaughter was likely curled up on the excessively expensive couch, still glued to crappy evening soap operas.
“Jana, can I talk to you?”
“Sure, mom. Can we wait for a commercial?”
“Of course.”
As the Tampax ads started to roll, Becky told Jana about her father, accidentally letting slip a few disconcerting details about his not-so-glamorous death. Both girls were forced to bite back grins and appropriately turned to tears when doorbell rang. While the cops proceeded upstairs to the crime scene, Becky and Jana retrieved the little boy from his bedroom and took him to the family room. By the time the coroner arrived, the three were a perfect picture of a horribly distraught family. But poor boy was alone in his grief.