The Housewife Assassin's Guide to Gracious Killing by Josie Brown Page A

strictly a social visit. Hayley, Tiffy and I were talking about you just the other day: how it seems that… well, since Nola’s sudden move out of the neighborhood, you haven’t quite been yourself. We know how close the two of you were, and it pains us to see you so lonely."
    What a bitch! Penelope knows quite well that I couldn’t stand Nola. For that matter, there wasn’t a woman in Hilldale who liked her. 
    How could they? She was the neighborhood slut.
    And unbeknownst to me, until her grisly and untimely death—at the hands of the real Carl—she was an Acme agent under deep cover. Her assignment: to watch over me and my family, should the Quorum somehow coming knocking on my door in search of what Carl left behind. 
    The Quorum did show up, and with the best Trojan horse it could send in: Carl.
    Nola’s reconnaissance allowed Acme to pull the ultimate endgame: put Jack in Carl’s place. After a five-year disappearance on the day after we moved into the neighborhood, who would know he wasn’t my husband?
    Me. Yes, I balked at first, but I soon got over it.
    He is now the spy who loves me. 
    Cozying up to Carl cost Nola her life. But before she died, she was able to pass vital intel to Jack, which allowed us to stop Carl and the Quorum from pulling off one of the most horrendous terrorist acts ever conceived.
    I realized too late that Nola was really a friend. 
    I said so, too late. Unfortunately, it was at her funeral, which was attended only by her Acme colleagues. 
    Acme’s cleaning service made it look as if she left town suddenly. The neighborhood gossips (three of whom have brought me this chocolate Bundt cake to die for) thought this may have had something to do with Jack’s late night encounters with Nola, which, apparently, were the talk of the town.
    Little did they—or I—know, at the time, Nola would soon sacrifice her own life in order to save the whole Los Angeles metro area.
     This is why, when Hayley pats my hand and murmurs in mock sympathy, “You must miss her terribly,” I must resist the urge to shove her face into what’s left of Penelope’s Bundt cake.
    Instead, I look her right in the eye when I say, “Yes, Hayley, I do.”
    “Well, we think it’s marvelous that you’ve reached out to some of our new neighbors, in the hope of filling the gap,” Penelope declares briskly. “And you, too, Carl.”
    Jack chokes on his cake. “Um… come again?”
    Penelope honors him with an innocent smile. “Seems that Donna is great friends with Babette Breck.”
    “Tiffy saw you at ballet practice with Trisha, Carl. She noticed you seemed quite chummy with Babette, too.” Hayley can’t wait to get that out. She gives me a sidelong glance. I’m sure she’s hoping for an explosive reaction.
    Well, she isn’t going to get one. “Oh? I didn’t know your son, Logan, takes ballet, Tiffy.” 
    Tiffy blushes. Logan is nine and a bruiser. Her husband, Rex, is a Neanderthal. He would bust a gut if his kid participated in anything but football or wrestling. “Oh… no! Logan wouldn’t be caught dead in a ballet studio. I was at the pharmacy when I saw Carl with Babette, and...” 
    Her voice trails off. We can all figure out why, but I want to rub it in, anyway. “That’s odd,” I say as innocently as possible, “the pharmacy is four blocks away, on another street. You must have ex-ray vision.”
    Penelope’s fork clatters onto her plate. “The point Tiffy is trying to make is that we find it admirable that you’ve taken Babette under your wing.” She waits for the others to nod in agreement, which they do vehemently, like Bobbleheads in an Orange County tremor. “That said, we presume you’ll want to introduce her around at the next Hilldale Women’s Club luncheon. You know, membership has its privileges.”
    “Really? No, I didn’t know. Maybe someday you’ll invite me to join.”
    The women look from one to the other. I guess it somehow slipped their minds that I’d