A Clean Kill

into their driveway. She stared at the house for a second and thought she was hallucinating. All the lights were on.

'Mike,' she cried, alarmed because they were always careful to turn the lights off when they left in the morning.

'You tell me, querida,' he said in that voice that meant he thought her parents were involved.

'Oh, no, it can't be,' she said. Her parents had no way to get there.

The house was perfect in every way except one. The garage was not attached to the house. In the rain it was a small annoyance. They had to park the car behind the house, close the garage door, then walk a few short steps to the back door. Or they could walk around to the front and go through a gate. There were a few obstacles to getting into their house. Tonight there was no sign of any vehicle, but as Mike killed the engine and they emerged from the car, the sound of a barking dog tipped them off. The dog sounded like Dim Sum, the pricey poodle that was April's surrogate in the Woo family.

'Jesus,' Mike muttered.

April held up her hands in defense as they came out of the garage. 'I don't know anything about this. I didn't have anything to do with it. I swear.' . He gave her a look. How did they get here? How did they get in?

'I have no idea. Really.' She touched his arm, annoyed that neither of them had changed the lightbulb that was burned out at the back door. 'I hope everything's all right,' she said anxiously.

'Stay behind me.'

He took the lead and they circled the house cautiously. It was a little scary at midnight to think that someone, even a loved relative, was in the house and not know the reason why.

Wa wa wa wa wa. The dog had its own signature bark.

'That's definitely Dim,' April said.

The toy poodle was making a racket. They went through the front gate, but no one responded to the barking dog or came to the door to greet them. If April and Mike had been ordinary people, they might have put the key in the lock and gone in without any real concern about what they might find in there. But April and. Mike had too much experience with random acts of violence to be relaxed in such a situation. Once before, two killers had been waiting for April in her parents' house when she went home to visit them. Her father, who was at least sixty, had killed one of the intruders with his meat cleaver. Now she had a sick feeling in the dark, remembering that bloody day.

Then she saw it all. The picture window in the front room framed Dim Sum, sitting up on the back of the sofa, barking her poodle head off. Them TV was on, set to Skinny Dragon's favorite channel, where a surgery was in progress. Skinny was paying no attention to the dog. Her head was bent over in concentration, her fingers moving needles and yarn.

'They're here,' Mike said, as if the enemy had landed. He opened the door.

Dim jumped off the back of the sofa in a great flying leap and ran to the front door. April caught her up and hugged her. Skinny Dragon, however, was so busy knitting and watching a two-headed baby being born that she didn't register that her daughter and son-in-law had returned. Beside her, Ja Fa Woo, April's father, had made himself comfortable. He had his shoes off and had imbibed the last of Mike's only bottle of brandy. The empty bottle was beside him, and he was snoring loudly, a hot-blooded killer out cold.

'Ma, what are you doing here?' April cried.

'Ayeeiiiie,' Skinny shrieked with delight, and held up her knitting, which looked like it was going to be a tiny yellow sweater. 'Babysitting. Making crose for baby. Hao?' [Good?] she demanded.

Not good at all, Ma, April thought, since she wasn't even pregnant.

Twenty-three

At six thirty, Andrew threw back the quilt exposing Alison to the cold morning air. 'Hey,' she mumbled. She felt like a land mine had gone off in her head.

She'd taken too much coke the day before. First because she was upset about Maddy—and Derek— and then because she wanted to delay the inevitable crash as long as possible. By early evening she hadn't been able to avoid it any longer. She'd started drinking and taking painkillers. She'd finally slept, but now the war was on in her body again. And pain always made her focus on everybody else's faults. What she saw at the moment was her naked husband yawning widely and scratching his hairy belly. It never failed to provoke her.

Unlike her, a perfectionist, Andrew didn't care that he was a mess and getting fatter every day. The rolls started in his jowls and moved down to his neck. His shoulders were padded and soft, and his belly was so big he said he couldn't see his dick anymore. Although he was very critical of her, he didn't think his own weight was a problem. In fact, he thought it was. funny. His belly shifted as he planted his feet on the floor and stood up.

Alison turned away and felt for the comfort of her dogs, but they weren't there. No wonder she was cold. Plus Andrew had opened the window. Even though it was June, it was still cold at night. He'd turned off the furnace for the summer, and it was just freezing in the room. She reached for the quilt. Her arm was so heavy she could hardly lift it. She struggled to remember what happened last night. In the haze of an alcohol and Vicodin hangover everything was fuzzy. Then she remembered the important things. Maddy was dead, and Derek had been her lover. She groaned.

'You're drinking again. I hate that,' Andrew said coldly.

'No, it's Maddy. I'm so sad for Maddy.' She started crying.

'Get up. We have to talk,' Andrew said sharply.

Yes, they did, Alison thought, but not right now. Painfully, she pulled herself to a sitting position. 'Can't we do it later?'

'No, we can't. Why didn't you wait up for me last night?'

Now she remembered. 'I did, but you never came.'

'Alison, you were out cold by nine thirty. Sacked out on the fucking sofa. I don't like you drinking like that. It's terrible for the girls.' His voice rose angrily.

'It was not nine thirty. I was watching the eleven o'clock news when my eyes closed. I couldn't stay up any longer. It was a terrible day. And you left me alone,' she said in a little-girl voice. Alison was sure he hadn't come home at nine thirty. She'd been talking with Lynn and Leah then. He was trying to confuse her, the way he always did to get the upper hand.

'I had to find Wayne a criminal lawyer.' Still naked, Andrew moved to a chair by the bed so he could face her.

'Why?' Alison was confused.

'He's acting like a complete idiot. He was cooking for the detectives last night at Soleil. I told him to close the restaurants for a few days, but all he could think of was the food spoiling. It doesn't spoil in a day, does it?'

'He didn't close the restaurants?' Alison was shocked. Then she said, 'If Soleil was open, why didn't we go?'

'Don't you ever listen? I told you Wayne was playing chef to the cops. His wife gets herself murdered, and food is all he can ever think about.'

Look who's talking, Alison would have said if she hadn't felt so rotten.

Andrew ruffled his bushy hair. 'The fool didn't even think of calling me until after they were gone—can you believe that?'

Alison tried to absorb what he was saying. Why would Wayne keep the restaurant open after Maddy was killed? Why would he cook for the cops? She shook her head. 'I feel so sick, Andrew. I think I have the flu.'

He made a disgusted face. 'You do not have the flu. You have a hangover.'

She didn't answer. It didn't matter what she said to him. He never believed her anyway. 'Why does Wayne need a lawyer?'

'In a murder case no one should talk to the police without a lawyer present. Haven't I told you that before?'

No, he'd never told her that before. No one they knew had ever been murdered. Without a dog, she had to resort to hugging a pillow. She happened to have talked with a policewoman for hours, and he knew that. 'What's the big deal?' she asked meekly.