CHAPTER SIX
THE STAKEOUT
Claire got the kids started on their homework, and then she showered and changed for her night out with the girls. She had no idea what to wear to a stake-out, but she figured the less flashy the better. She put on blue jeans with a white T-shirt and white sneakers. She pulled her hair back in a pony tail and went back downstairs to start dinner.
Melanie called while she was rinsing carrots.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Claire. It’s me. I’m just now getting off.”
“I’m getting the kids’ dinner ready,” Claire said.
“It’s still on?” Melanie asked. “You haven’t changed your mind, have you?”
“No,” Claire said. “I’m still going. I already showered and got dressed. George will be here at six, and he leaves at six-thirty. We need to get in position before then.”
“I’m gonna go home and change, and I’ll be ready,” Melanie promised.
“You don’t have to cook dinner?” Claire asked.
“No. I already told Rodney I was going out with you. How you feeling?”
“Like shit. My stomach’s upset. Stacy got caught cheating on a test today. I had to yell at her on the way home. I’m already stressed.”
“You need to beat her ass,” Melanie advised.
“Maybe,” Claire said, but they both knew she wasn’t going to do it. In fourteen years of parenting, she hardly ever had to get physically violent with her offspring to get them to mind.
“You still want me to go after him first?” Melanie asked.
“Yeah,” Claire said. “When he gets here, I’ll tell him I’m going to the movies with Becky. I’ll wait for him to leave, and you can get behind him as soon as he backs out of our driveway. When you call and say you’re on his tail, me and Becky will leave and catch up to you.”
“Damn, Claire, you sure you never did this before? You sound like you know what you’re doing.”
“George told me a lot of war stories,” Claire said. “I guess some of those military tactics stuck with me.”
“For real!” Melanie agreed. “You’re on some old, Desert Storm type of shit. Some counter-surveillance type of shit.”
Claire didn’t bother telling her friend she was using that term inappropriately.
* * *
Becky called at 5:45 while Claire was setting the table.
“Hello?”
“Hey. It’s me.”
“You just get home?”
“Yeah.” She sounded out of breath. “I’m changing clothes now. What time did you say we were leaving?”
“George will be here in about fifteen minutes,” Claire said. “He’s leaving at six-thirty, and I only want to give him five minutes, just in case he forgets something and doubles back.”
“Okay. Me and Courtney can be there at six-fifteen.”
“What about Craig? You don’t have to cook for him?”
Becky had one boy and one girl, ages seventeen and sixteen, respectively. Claire figured they could probably feed themselves, but she had no idea how things went down over there.
“He’s not even here,” Becky said with a chuckle. “He spends the night with his girlfriend a lot.”
“Girl, you’re letting Craig get down like that?”
“Like what?”
“Like openly sleeping with his girlfriend?”
“You don’t want them to hide it from you,” Becky warned. “It’s better this way. I keep telling you, these are different times.”
* * *
George came home, as expected, at 5:59 p.m. He came in from the garage wearing khaki Dockers with a long-sleeved, blue button-down. He was comfortable, but his shirts always looked too small for him because he was such a big man. His pecs stood out in this outfit as much as they would in a T-shirt.
George toted his special briefcase in one hand and his car keys in the other. He stepped into the dining room with a swagger like John Wayne. He had a big smile on his face. He stopped at the table and looked proudly upon the family God gave him.
“Y’all sure are some good-looking people,” he said.
“Daddy!” George Jr. started to get up, but his father stepped forward and palmed the top of his head.
“Naw, sit there and eat your food. Don’t leave the table until you’re finished.”
Today Claire had a succulent meal of chicken and dumplings prepared. The rolls were still warm. Nikki’s salad was fresh and colorful. Claire sat at the head of the table with George Jr. on her right and two ebony princesses on her left. Everyone was clean and neat. Everything was perfect, just as Claire wanted it to be. She stared up at her husband, wondering if he saw what she saw. Didn’t he know life was wonderful just the way it was?
“Hey, baby,” he said to Claire. “How y’all girls doing?” he asked his daughters.
“Fine,” they said in unison.
“That looks good,” he said to Claire and licked his lips. “I wish I had time to eat with y’all.”
“You going to play cards tonight?” she asked.
“Friday night is my time to shine,” he confirmed.
“I can fix you a plate,” she said. “Can’t you be late? They’ll be there all night.”
George grinned. “Maybe, but I want some of that early money.”
Claire nodded. “I’m going out tonight, too,” she said, “to the movies with Becky.”
George looked puzzled for a second, and then he smiled. “That’s great, baby. What are you gonna see?”
It suddenly struck Claire that she hadn’t come up with a lie for that. Her eyes widened, and she blinked quickly. “Um, I, I don’t know. What’s playing?”
The kids giggled.
George’s eyes narrowed. Claire’s face felt very warm. But then George smiled again.
“Baby, I don’t know what’s playing. You the one who said you’re going to the movies. This must be some mess Becky talked you into.”
Claire nodded; happy for the escape. “Yeah.”
“All right, darling. Well, have fun.” He turned and headed for the stairs. “Is somebody watching the kids?” he called over his shoulder.
“I’m old enough to watch the kids!” Nikki shouted.
“And I’m not a kid,” Stacy said.
“Me, neither,” George Jr. tacked on.
“Becky’s bringing Courtney,” Claire said.
“I like Courtney,” George Jr. said.
* * *
At six-fifteen Melanie called Claire on her cell phone.
“Hello?”
“Is it still on?”
“Yeah, unfortunately.”
“He hasn’t left yet, has he?”
“He’s getting ready now.”
“All right. I’m sitting over here in my car waiting.”
“Where are you?” Claire asked.
“Down the street. Don’t worry. I’ll see him, but he won’t see me.”
* * *
At 6:19 Becky showed up wearing the most ridiculous getup Claire could have imagined. She had on black jeans, a black sweater, a black bandana on her head, and black combat boots. Claire stepped out onto her porch quickly and closed the door behind her.
“Becky, what are you doing?”
Her friend held her arms out. “What do you mean?”
“Why are you dressed like that?” Claire hissed.
“We’re doing a stake-out,” Becky whispered. “I thought we were supposed to, you know, dress like the night.”
Claire cracked a smile and couldn’t help but laugh. “Okay, so why are you wearing combat boots?”
“These are the only black shoes I have,” Becky explained. “Except for heels, and I didn’t want to look crazy.”
“All right,” Claire said. “But take that handkerchief off at least.”
Becky did, and Claire muffled her chuckles with a hand over her mouth as she led them inside.
George Jr. was in the living room waiting. He really did like Becky’s daughter, but not for the reasons Claire would have preferred. Courtney was of average height and medium build. She was blonde and blue-eyed, and pretty—but it was her busts that made her special. Courtney was one of few high school sophomores toting around perky 32C’s, and she was already starting to harness their power. Almost every time Claire saw her, Courtney had on something with a V-neckline.
Today she wore blue jeans with a red tube top. George Jr. jumped from the couch and ran to greet her.
“Hi, Courtney!”
“Georgie Porgie!”
She bent to hug him, and George grinned like a Jack-o-lantern with his face smushing her bosoms. Claire rolled her eyes at him. If she didn’t know any better, she’d think he knew what a lucky guy he was.
* * *
George Sr. came downstairs at 6:29 wearing dark-colored slacks with a short-sleeved, gray golf shirt. His loafers were black and polished to perfection. He brought the smell of Michael Jordan cologne down with him. He gave Claire a kiss goodbye, as he always did, and he didn’t look like he was about to do anything even remotely evil.
* * *
At 6:35 Melanie called and said the dreaded deed had begun; she was three vehicles behind George on McCart Avenue. They were headed north, towards the freeway.
Claire and Becky left a few minutes later. They took Becky’s monster truck, although that thing was just as conspicuous as Claire’s Lexus. Claire called Melanie back as soon as she buckled her safety belt.
“Hey. Where are you now?”
“We’re on 20,” Melanie said, “headed towards 35. Where is he supposed to be playing poker anyway?”
“On the east side,” Claire replied. “Near Bridge Street.”
“Well, we’re headed in that direction,” Melanie said. “Where are you? Did y’all leave yet?”
“Yeah, but we just got on McCart. I don’t know if we can catch up with you.”
“Don’t worry,” Melanie said. “I got him in my sights, and he ain’t going nowhere.”
“Thanks, Melanie. I really appreciate it.”
“It’s cool. How you holding up?”
“I still feel like shit,” Claire admitted. “If I’m wrong, I’m never going to forgive myself.”
“Doesn’t look like you’re wrong,” Melanie said.
“What do you mean?”
“He’s got his blinker on. He’s about to get off on Hemphill.”
“Hemphill? What’s over there?”
“I don’t know,” Melanie said. “That’s your husband.”
Claire waited in silence and she racked her brain for answers, but none were forthcoming. Melanie filled in another piece of the puzzle half a minute later.
“Okay, there’s a Chevrolet dealership on the corner up here. He’s turning in there.”
Claire knitted her eyebrows. “A car dealership?” She thought and prayed and hoped beyond hope but couldn’t make any sense of it. Their oldest child was two years from even taking driver’s ed, and neither Claire nor George drove a Chevy.
“Are you going in there with him?” she asked Melanie. Her voice was shaky and her hands were as well.
“Yeah. I’m turning in now, but I had to give him some slack. There’s not a lot of traffic in here. Where are y’all?”
“We just got on the freeway,” Claire said. “I don’t think we’re going to make it in time.”
“That’s all right,” Melanie replied. “As a matter of fact, you probably shouldn’t get too close in your car.”
“We’re in Becky’s truck.”
“Damn. That’s even worse. Take the exit before Hemphill and wait at that Stop ‘N Go. I think that’s Crowley.”
“Yeah, it is,” Claire confirmed. “We’re coming up on it now. Exit here,” she instructed Becky.
“He’s stopping,” Melanie said. “Yep. He just pulled in front of a building. He’s not parking, though. He’s sitting in the fire lane.”
“What building?” Claire asked. “What’s he doing?”
“I don’t know,” Melanie said, “but I need to find somewhere to park or I’m going to—oh…”
“Oh? What’s oh? What the hell does that mean?” Claire was frazzled, nearly frantic. Becky looked over at her and put a hand to her mouth.
“He’s picking someone up,” Melanie said softly, and there was a long pause.
Claire’s eyes blurred over before she could get the question out: “Who, who is it, Melanie?”
Melanie sighed loudly into the phone. “It’s a female, Claire, about your age. She’s wearing a business suit. She’s smiling, getting in on the passenger side.”
Claire felt like a punctured balloon; she exhaled hot breath and really didn’t want to take another one in. She felt light-headed. Streams of gray and black flowed in her peripheral vision. Her sick heart struggled for one pitiful beat, and then another, and Claire realized she wasn’t going to die. And that was a shame. Moisture leaked from her eyes and nose like acid rain.
Becky pulled into the Stop ’N Go on Crowley Avenue and reached in her purse for a tissue. She had plenty. There were more in the glove compartment and another box under the driver’s seat, just in case.
* * *
The rest of the evening didn’t make a lot of sense to Claire. She felt like she was intoxicated, watching someone else’s life crumble before her tear-filled eyes.
George and his unidentified passenger exited the dealership with Melanie still on their tail. Claire wasn’t much good with the phone anymore, so Melanie started giving her directions to Becky. They got back on the freeway headed east, and George didn’t exit again until they were near the Six Flags Mall.
He pulled into the parking lot of a Saltgrass Steak House and Melanie did the same. She got there in time to see him get out with his date, but by the time Becky made it, the adulterers were already in the safe confines of the restaurant.
Melanie got out of her car and came to sit in the truck with Becky and Claire, but they were without a leader by then. Claire was more distraught than they had ever seen her. No amount of consoling or promises of revenge could dry her eyes.
For a while Claire could barely speak. Her sorrow brought Becky to tears as well, but Melanie’s heart became more cold and calloused by the minute. She wanted to vent her anger on George’s vehicle. She wanted to go into the restaurant and attack George’s tramp as well, but Claire wouldn’t condone it.
Claire didn’t have any alternatives in mind, but she knew she didn’t want to confront anyone with snot running from her nose. The most obscure reference saved her from a hasty decision she might later regret: Her no-good husband once told her, “If you’re not sure what to do, then sit your fool ass down and don’t do anything. Never run in half-cocked, and never breach a perimeter unless you have a game plan.”
“Take me home,” she told Becky between sniffles.
Melanie thought that was asinine. “Why, Claire? We’re right here! She’s in there right now! Don’t you want to wait so you can see what she looks like? Don’t you want to confront your husband? I know you’re not going to let that bitch get away with this.”
“I’m not,” Claire sobbed, “but I’m not right. I’m no good right now.”
“But—”
“It’s all right,” Claire assured her friend. “I’m going to take care of it. I promise. I appreciate what you did for me, but this is as far as I can go. Take me home,” she told Becky again.
Melanie looked defeated, but then her eyes narrowed. Fire burned behind her pupils. “I’m not leaving,” she said abruptly. “You’re not mad right now, but I’m gonna be mad for you. I’ma wait for them to get out, then I’m gonna follow them some more and find out where that bitch lives.”
“Don’t say anything to them,” Claire pleaded.
Melanie sneered at her. “Why are you taking up for them? I can’t believe you’re gonna let them do you like this. We got they ass right now!”
“I’m going to get them!” Claire growled, and everyone within earshot knew she meant it. “This is my deal,” she said, “and I’m going to handle it myself. They’re not going to get away, Melanie. I swear to God they’re not.”
Melanie stared into her eyes for a second, and then she nodded. “All right, Claire. We’ll do it your way.”
* * *
Melanie got back in her husband’s car and continued her stake out, and Becky left the restaurant without incident. Halfway home, Claire forced herself to stop crying. She refused to show this weakness in front of the kids—no matter how bad she felt.
And Claire knew she would have to wear a mask for George, too. He would come home from his bullshit poker night around one, and Claire wouldn’t let on that she knew he was a low-down, dirty, two-timing, adulterer asshole.
She went over a few scenarios in her head as she stared out at the crowded freeway. She knew she wasn’t strong enough to hold a pillow over George’s face, but she figured she could drop a radio in the tub while he bathed. Stuff like that happened all the time, and she wouldn’t even have to explain why her fingerprints were on the murder weapon.