Purrfect Sparkle
Page 20
She was touched by the vulnerability he displayed. It was a side of him he rarely showed. “I’m sure that with a little tutoring from my dad—”
“But that’s just it. I listen to the guy and I blank out. Completely! It’s like listening to Coach Martin when he’s trying to introduce a new running play. I’m not smart that way. I need to see something with my own eyes—go through the motions a couple times before I get it. And this economics gobbledygook is just… gobbledygook!”
She grinned. She got it now, and patted him on the shoulder. “Don’t you worry about a thing. Just follow my lead and you’ll make it through four years of gobbledygook just fine.” Now that she knew what ailed him, she knew exactly what to do about it, too.
He gave her a curious glance. “Uh-oh,” he said. “I know that look.”
“What look?”
“You’ve got some kind of plan, don’t you?”
“Of course I’ve got a plan. Never go through life without a plan. Isn’t that what I keep telling you?”
He gave her a lost-puppy look. “Uh-huh,” he said tentatively.
She patted his shoulder again. “I’ve got this,” she assured him.
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” he murmured.
Chapter Three
As Tom drove the family Toyota Sienna out of the driveway he stared so hard at the moving van he almost clipped the mailbox.
“Watch out!” Dee cried.
He stomped on the brake and the car screeched to a standstill. “I wonder who they are,” he said as he eased the car into reverse and backed up. “First thing tonight let’s go over and introduce ourselves.” Already he was painting a mental picture of their new neighbor. A professor, just like himself—possibly in a less technical field. Archeology? Or something really cool like robotics or artificial intelligence? They could chat over the hedge—exchange ideas while their wives socialized over preprandial martinis on the patio. Or he could show his new neighbor his newly acquired collection of model trains and tracks.
In his mind’s eye he was already picturing himself and this kindly man who was a few years his senior rolling up their collective sleeves and constructing a train track in their combined backyards, just like Walt Disney did back in the day. Wouldn’t that be something?
“Do you want me to drive, honey?” asked his wife, giving him a worried look.
“Mh? Oh, no, I’m fine. Just wondering… Do people still bring over a freshly baked pie? Or is that too old-fashioned?”
“We can bring a pie,” said Dee. “Or a bottle of wine. Just not sure if they’re…”
“The pie-eating or the wine-drinking kind of people,” Tom finished the sentence. “Gotcha. Probably we should—”
“—spy out who they are before we commit ourselves to one or the other.”
Now they were both staring, as Tom drove the car at a snail’s pace past the neighboring house.
“I don’t see anyone,” said Tom. “Maybe they sent the movers ahead of them.”
“Or maybe it’s Brad Pitt and he’ll move in under the cloak of darkness and we’ll never get to see him as he’ll be coming and going through a secret passageway in the basement.”
Tom gave his wife a curious look. “Brad Pitt? Really?”
“I wouldn’t mind if Angelina Jolie moved in so you can’t mind if Brad Pitt moves in.”
“You do know that Brangelina is no more, right?”
“Of course I know. Brad is single now,” she said with a touch of wistfulness.
They stared some more. ”I just hope they’re nice people,” said Tom. With a keen interest in model trains who didn’t mind getting their hands dirty while laying track.
“And I hope they have a boy Scott’s age and a girl Maya’s age and the kids can bond.”
“Don’t forget a dog who’s Ralph’s age and a baby Jacob’s age.”
He touched his foot down on the accelerator and soon they were cruising through the neighborhood, which consisted entirely of similar houses to their own. After last year’s home invasion, the Kelly family mantra was not to stand out, and stand out they definitely did not. They drove a nice sensible family car, occupied a nice sensible single-family home, and lived a nice sensible family life. Nothing to see here, folks. Move right along!
After he’d dropped off his wife at the art gallery, Tom proceeded towards his own place of business, the university he called his home away from home. Breezing into his office, he plunked down his floppy brown leather satchel, drew a hand through his floppy brown hair and dropped down in his swivel chair, booting up his computer as he did. Before he had a chance to check his schedule, a knock on the door alerted him of his first visitor.
“Come in!” he boomed.
The door opened and a head poked in. The head was pale and festooned with red spots, the few remaining hairs on the top awkwardly combed to cover the acreage.
“Hey, Tom,” said Elliott Lusky, head of the history department.
“Elliott,” said Tom jovially. “So have you thought about my offer?”
Elliott shook his bulbous head mournfully. “No can do, I’m afraid. The wife has been nagging me to take her on one of those Alaskan cruises and she’s earmarked every last penny in our savings account for that particular purpose. Terribly inconvenient, I know.”
Tom leaned back in his chair. “Can’t you tell her you’re allergic to Alaska or something?” Ever since Tom had seen a documentary about Walt Disney’s love for model trains he’d been dreaming of building his own, smaller version of the impressive set Uncle Walt had built in his backyard in the fifties. To this end he needed allies—friends he could share his new passion with. And Elliott was just such a friend. Unfortunately the tubby little man was displaying an awful lot of sales resistance.
“I’m afraid not,” said Elliott with a look of apology on his face. “She wanted to go last year. I managed to stave off the disaster by claiming Alaska was in fact part of Canada and we’d need a visa, which we’d never get as I’ve been declared persona non grata in Canuck country ever since I got drunk and disorderly on a high school trip to Montreal.”
“You don’t need a visa to visit Canada.”
“I know that. The point is that Esther doesn’t—or didn’t.” He frowned. “Curse the internet. Not only does she know I lied to her about Alaska being a part of Canada, she’s starting to suspect I made up that whole thing about being arrested in Montreal.”
“Were you ever arrested in Montreal?”
Tom’s colleague rearranged his features into an appropriate expression of contrition. “No, I was not. An exceedingly nice police officer once cautioned me for jaywalking, though.”
“I don’t think that counts.”
“I don’t think so either. Anyway, as it stands she’s already booked the tickets so it looks like I’m in for it. I’ll have to traipse along while she watches humpback whales cavort in the surf or glides down one of those wretched glaciers.”
“Do people actually glide down glaciers? I would have thought that was dangerous. People have been known to tumble down a crevasse never to be seen again.”
A gleam of hope lit up the distinguished history professor’s face. But then he shook his head, the gleam extinguished. “With my luck that will never happen.” He checked his watch. “Have to run, Tom. I’ve got a class to teach on the Borgia family.” He stared before him for a moment. “They were very fond of arsenic, those Borgias. Liked to poison their husbands. And their wives. Excruciatingly painful, death by arsenic. Very effective.”
And with these words he held up his hand and withdrew, gently closing the door.
Start reading Death in Suburbia now
About Nic
Nic has a background in political science and before being struck by the writing bug worked odd jobs around the world (including but not limited to massage therapist in Mexico, gardener in Italy, restaurant manager in India, and Berlitz teacher in Belgium).
When he’s not writing he enjoy
s curling up with a good (comic) book, watching British crime dramas, French comedies or Nancy Meyers movies, sampling pastry (apple cake!), pasta and chocolate (preferably the dark variety), twisting himself into a pretzel doing morning yoga, going for a run, and spoiling his big red tomcat Tommy.
He lives with his wife (and aforementioned cat) in a small village smack dab in the middle of absolutely nowhere and is probably writing his next ‘Mysteries of Max’ book right now.
www.nicsaint.com
Also by Nic Saint
The Mysteries of Max
Purrfect Murder
Purrfectly Deadly
Purrfect Revenge
Purrfect Heat
Purrfect Crime
Purrfect Rivalry
Purrfect Peril
Purrfect Secret
Purrfect Alibi
Purrfect Obsession
Purrfect Betrayal
Purrfectly Clueless
Purrfectly Royal
Purrfect Cut
Purrfect Trap
Purrfectly Hidden
Purrfect Kill
Purrfect Boy Toy
Purrfectly Dogged
Purrfectly Dead
Purrfect Saint
Purrfect Advice
Purrfect Cover
Purrfect Patsy
Purrfect Son
Purrfect Fool
Purrfect Fitness
Purrfect Setup
Purrfect Sidekick
Purrfect Deceit
Purrfect Ruse
Purrfect Swing
Purrfect Cruise
Purrfect Harmony
Purrfect Sparkle
The Mysteries of Max Box Sets
Box Set 1 (Books 1-3)
Box Set 2 (Books 4-6)
Box Set 3 (Books 7-9)
Box Set 4 (Books 10-12)
Box Set 5 (Books 13-15)
Box Set 6 (Books 16-18)
Box Set 7 (Books 19-21)
Box Set 8 (Books 22-24)
Box Set 9 (Books 25-27)
Box Set 10 (Books 28-30)
Box Set 11 (Books 31-33)
The Mysteries of Max Shorts
Purrfect Santa (3 shorts in one)
Purrfectly Flealess
Purrfect Wedding
Nora Steel
Murder Retreat
The Kellys
Murder Motel
Death in Suburbia
Emily Stone
Murder at the Art Class
Washington & Jefferson
First Shot
Alice Whitehouse
Spooky Times
Spooky Trills
Spooky End
Spooky Spells
Ghosts of London
Between a Ghost and a Spooky Place
Public Ghost Number One
Ghost Save the Queen
Box Set 1 (Books 1-3)
A Tale of Two Harrys
Ghost of Girlband Past
Ghostlier Things
Charleneland
Deadly Ride
Final Ride
Neighborhood Witch Committee
Witchy Start
Witchy Worries
Witchy Wishes
Saffron Diffley
Crime and Retribution
Vice and Verdict
Felonies and Penalties (Saffron Diffley Short 1)
The B-Team
Once Upon a Spy
Tate-à-Tate
Enemy of the Tates
Ghosts vs. Spies
The Ghost Who Came in from the Cold
Witchy Fingers
Witchy Trouble
Witchy Hexations
Witchy Possessions
Witchy Riches
Box Set 1 (Books 1-4)
The Mysteries of Bell & Whitehouse
One Spoonful of Trouble
Two Scoops of Murder
Three Shots of Disaster
Box Set 1 (Books 1-3)
A Twist of Wraith
A Touch of Ghost
A Clash of Spooks
Box Set 2 (Books 4-6)
The Stuffing of Nightmares
A Breath of Dead Air
An Act of Hodd
Box Set 3 (Books 7-9)
A Game of Dons
Standalone Novels
When in Bruges
The Whiskered Spy
ThrillFix
Homejacking
The Eighth Billionaire
The Wrong Woman
Copyright © 2021 by Nic Saint. All rights reserved.
Published by Puss in Print Publications.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form by any electronic or mechanical means including photocopying, recording, or information storage and retrieval without permission in writing from the author.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
Editor: Chereese Graves.