CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
MARY JO HATED everything to do with the funeral for her husband. The entire town was a mess, actually. Three detectives killed, another young cop drops dead, a writer murdered for no reason.
Mary Jo hated the sitting and pretending to mourn, she hated the questions that the poor cops had to ask and kept apologizing for asking.
And she really hated not being free to move around the way she wanted. This was always the worst part about killing a target you had made into a spouse.
Finally, a week after the funerals, things seemed to be starting to calm down. But she didn’t drop her guard at all, since somehow some amateur killer had found out about her and Jean.
She had no idea how that might have happened, but she would figure it out. Something she or Jean had done had let the client on to who they were and where they were.
On the ninth day after the funeral, she decided she needed to get some answers. So just after ten in the morning, with a bottle of the Absolute Crystal vodka and a thermos of orange juice in a bag, she headed three houses up the block to Jean’s house.
Jean answered the door after one knock, smiling and offering for her to come in.
Mary Jo for an instant had trouble even moving. She had thought a lot about Jean over the last two weeks, but now, facing her, she was more beautiful than Mary Jo remembered.
This morning Jean’s blonde hair was pulled back and her green eyes seemed to shine. She had on no make-up and wore a white blouse with a sports bra under it and jeans. She was also barefoot, something that Mary Jo did around her house as well.
“I come bearing drinks,” Mary Jo said, patting her bag.
“Ah, a neighbor after my own heart,” Jean said, leading the way through the entry and toward the modern kitchen beyond.
Actually Mary Jo wanted to say she was after Jean’s body, but instead said nothing and settled for watching the wonderful ass of the woman in front of her. She normally never looked at women’s asses, instead preferring eyes and smiles and hands. But for Jean, Mary Jo was making an exception.
Mary Jo pulled out the bottle of vodka and the thermos of orange juice and set them on the counter.
Mary Jo had left the vodka in its original container now that she didn’t need to hide it from her husband.
“I see you have great taste in vodka,” Jean said, smiling.
“You like screwdrivers?”
Jean’s eyes lit up and then Jean laughed, a wonderful sound Mary Jo could come to enjoy. “My favorite drink. How did you know?”
“My favorite as well,” Mary Jo said, laughing along with Jean.
And what little bit of tension between the two eased as Jean got them tall tumblers and filled them with ice and Mary Jo poured their drinks.
They took the drinks and went to the kitchen table and sat down, both sipping at the same time.
“So,” Mary Jo said. “You have this house protected?”
Jean nodded, taking a second sip. “Completely. No one can hear a word we say or get close enough to cause any damage.”
“So who hired you?” Mary Jo asked. Then she went ahead and volunteered her client’s name. “Stanton Cobble the Third was mine.”
Jean nodded. “Same jerk. And I bumped his final fee to four times the two million he owed me and he paid me only a million.”
Mary Jo laughed. “I did the same and the guy only paid me a million as well.”
Jean smiled as she took another sip from her drink. “Seems we have some fees to extract from a client.”
“And teach him a lesson as well,” Mary Jo said. “But first we have to figure out how he found us.”
“The phones we used to call him,” Jean said so easily that Mary Jo was surprised.
Jean smiled. “I called the order and asked them if two of us had been hired for the same client.”
“They don’t keep records so they wouldn’t know,” Mary Jo said, surprised that Jean had called the order. That wasn’t something she had done in the modern world.
“I told them about our rookie assassin and they called me back with how the client would have found us. Seems he had someone trace the phones somehow to our homes.”
“So more than one person knows about our involvement in the events of a few weeks ago?” Mary Jo asked. She wasn’t happy at all with the sounds of that.
“The order says no,” Jean said. “They traced it all, so we are clear there, but I am taking no chances just in case.”
“I agree,” Mary Jo said. “Very slow. Guard completely up.”
“So next spring we think of moving on the client?” Jean asked.
“Next spring,” Mary Jo said, nodding and smiling. “Give the bastard time to relax a little. And us time to make sure the order is right about only the one amateur.”
“And to plan,” Jean said. “Sometimes that’s half the fun.”
“I agree,” Mary Jo said, raising her glass. “And sure sorry about killing your husband?”
Jean laughed. “Nice guy, dull in bed, and a mediocre writer. I was going to have to kill him when I moved on the target anyway, so I owe you one.”
“Ouch,” Mary Jo said, laughing. “Nice, dull, and mediocre. I hope you didn’t put that on his tombstone.”
Jean laughed again and Mary Jo just watched and listened and enjoyed. She hadn’t been looking forward to the winter, but having Jean so close was sure going to make it a lot more fun.