1 Assault with a Deadly Glue Gun (32 page)

"What in the world have you been doing the past half hour?" I
asked my sons.

"Jeez, Mom, it's Saturday. We slept in."

"Until Grandmother Lucille woke us up a few minutes ago
when she came clomping down the hall," said Nick.

"Sorry, Zack," said Alex. He rubbed the still-red skin around
his mouth. "We didn't hear anyone knock. I guess getting bound
and gagged with duct tape yesterday kind of wiped us out."
"

"I know what you mean," said Zack.

"You do?" Both boys' eyes bugged out.

I once stuck my camera where someone didn't want it. He had
friends in low places."

I wondered if Ricardo was one of those friends. However, since
I hadn't told either the boys or Mama about my dealings with Ricardo, I slapped an imaginary strip of duct tape over my own
mouth.

"About the apartment," I said.

"What's the problem? I told you not to worry about cleaning it.
I can sweep up after the movers bring the furniture inside."

"It's a little more than sweeping. Not enough hours in the day.
I had planned to empty the apartment last night. Our intruder
had other ideas."

"The movers have another gig to pack up later this afternoon,"
said Zack. "If they don't have enough time to bring everything upstairs, they'll leave my stuff sitting in your driveway. How much
time do you need?"

"Thirty minutes. Forty tops," I assured him. Not that I had a
clue how long it would really take. And when was I supposed to
find the time to compile an inventory of all our missing possessions for the police and the insurance company? I needed those
good hands guys to cut me a check ASAP.

I glanced at Mama to see if she could tell I was lying. She answered with the slightest raise of an eyebrow, but I had fooled
Zack Barnes, and that's all that mattered.

I began issuing orders. "Alex, Nick, get dressed. You're on cleanup and hauling detail. Mama, you make Zack comfortable in the
den."

"I can do more than that," said Mama. "And the Bolshevik can
get off her fat rump and help as well if she wants to maintain her
standing in the Workers' Party."

"Lucille can't climb more than a few steps, Mama." Besides,
even if she could manage the stairs, Lucille would be more a hindrance than a help. I could do without her spewing forth a nonstop litany of complaints.

"How convenient. Laziest worker I've ever seen."

I ignored her, even though I agreed with her assessment of Lucille's work ethic.

"That woman's all talk, no action," said Mama. "Give her something to do that won't require climbing stairs. She's not the Queen
of Sheba. What about the laundry? The hampers are overflowing."

"Hell, no," cried Alex. "The last time Mom asked Grandmother
Lucille to do laundry, Nick and I wound up with pink underwear."

"Deliberately, no doubt," said Mama. "Devious old pinko battle-ax."

I turned to Zack and changed the subject. "I can offer you a
selection of books and magazines while you wait. Unfortunately,
you're out of luck if you want to watch TV or a movie."

"Or listen to a CD or play a video game or use a computer,"
grumbled Nick.

"He really cleaned you out," said Zack.

"Right down to Catherine the Great's kitty litter," said Mama.

"I'm not going to sit on my ass while you work," he said. "We'll
get done that much faster if I help you."

"Now that's what I call a worker's party," said Mama. "That
prima donna pinko should take a lesson from you, Zachary dear."

FOUR HOURS LATER MY studio had been moved from the apartment to the basement and Zack's furniture had been moved from
the van into the apartment. It had taken Mama far less time to
wrap Zack around her pinky, but then again, she'd already gotten a
head start the other night.

Mama had always gone for men her own age or older, but they
had a bad habit of dying on her. Maybe she'd decided she'd have
better luck with someone younger. Much younger. I decided I
wasn't cruel enough to tell her Zack already knew she was in husband-hunting mode and wasn't interested.

"If you're thinking what I'm thinking you're thinking," I told
her after Zack offered to pick up pizzas for lunch-his treat, "you
can forget it."

"Whatever do you mean, dear?"

"Don't feign innocence with me, Flora Sudberry Periwinkle
Ramirez Scoffield Goldberg O'Keefe. I know what you're up to, and I'm telling you right now, no way am I calling that man
daddy."

Although, if I weren't so recently widowed and burned by a
drop-dead gorgeous man, I wouldn't be adverse to calling Zack
Barnes a few other things.

Mama fluttered her hand as if banishing my words into the
stratosphere. "Honestly, Anastasia, I don't know where you'd get
such a ridiculous notion. After all, my poor Seamus is hardly cold
in his grave."

As was Karl, but I was still having certain totally inappropriate
thoughts in regards to my new tenant. But that was Karl's fault,
not mine. I wasn't the one who had screwed my spouse and kids,
leaving us at the mercy of the likes of Ricardo.

Still, life would be simpler if I'd rented to a spinster piano
teacher. Or a middle-aged gay couple.

Even though Lucille hadn't assisted with any of the packing or
moving, she arrived in the kitchen at precisely the same time Zack
returned with the pizzas. She grabbed four slices of pepperoni for
herself and fed the crusts to Mephisto. So much for the Devil
Dog's delicate constitution.

"Quite a zoo you have here," said Zack, scanning the kitchen.

Mephisto sat beside Lucille's chair, awaiting another crust offering. Catherine the Great had curled up on top of the refrigerator, and Ralph kept an eye on everyone from his perch on the curtain rod above the sink window.

"Hmm." I spoke around a slice of mushroom pizza. "Casa Pollack's very own version of Animal House."

"How do you keep the cat, the dog, and the bird from killing
each other? They don't seem to get along very well"

"It's easier than keeping the grandmas from killing each other,"
muttered Alex out of the side of his mouth.

Nick laughed so hard he snorted root beer through his nose.

I scowled at both of them. "Apologize to your grandmothers"

"Why?" asked Nick. "It's true."

"They hate each other," Alex informed Zack-just in case he
hadn't noticed this for himself.

I continued to glare at my sons until they muttered an apology
to Lucille and Mama. "Only Ralph is a permanent resident," I said
to Zack. "Catherine the Great and Mephisto are here temporarily."

"Manifesto!" said Lucille slamming her hand on the table. "His
name is Manifesto."

"Either way he's the devil incarnate," Mama told Zack.

"Right-wing reactionary!" accused Lucille.

"Bolshevik!" shot back Mama.

Zack winked at the boys. "I see what you mean"

Lucille pushed her chair away from the table. She pointed a
gnarled finger at Mama. "That woman is insufferable. And so is
that mangy fur ball alley cat of hers."

"Why you ... you ... Stalin lover!"

"Fascist!"

"Truce!" I screamed.

Mama's mouth clamped shut.

Pounding her cane, Lucille stalked from the kitchen. As soon as
she was out of earshot, Mama's tongue once again loosened and she began batting her eyelashes at Zack. "I want to hear all about
your exciting life, young man. Don't leave out any details."

"Yeah, tell us about the guys who duct taped you," said Nick.
"Were they Mafia?"

"Or terrorists?" chimed in Alex. "Were you shooting in Afghanistan or Iraq?"

"Nothing so exciting. Or dangerous. At least I didn't think so at
the time. I try not to make a habit of winding up on the business
end of an Uzi."

"Good," said Mama. "We've had enough excitement in this
family to last a lifetime."

"But you did?" asked Alex, his eyes bugging out.

"Unfortunately."

Mama's hand fluttered to her heart. "My goodness! You must
have been terrified."

"No way," said Nick. "I'll bet he Rambo'd 'em." He turned to
Zack for confirmation. "Didn't you?"

"We could have used you here yesterday," said Alex. "Do you
have a gun?"

Zack held up both his hands. "Easy, guys. I think you're getting
carried away. I'm no Stallone."

No, you're more a Pierce Brosnan-George Clooney-Patrick
Dempsey-Antonio Banderas hunk.

Where the hell had that come from?

I felt my face flush and glanced around to make sure the words
had only popped into my head and not out of my mouth. Luckily,
Mama and the boys were too fascinated by Zack to notice the inferno emanating from my cheeks.

I gave myself a mental rap on the knuckles. Newly widowed
women-even those whose husbands had turned out to be lying,
cheating bastards-shouldn't have such thoughts for near strangers. I took a deep breath and focused back on the conversation flying across the kitchen table.

"So where were you?" asked Nick.

"Why'd someone want to kill you?" asked Alex.

Zack leaned forward and rested his elbows on the table. "I was
in rural Guatemala shooting a photo essay on Indian villages.
There's little social or political unity among the Indian communities. They even have their own colorful styles of clothing. That's
what I was focusing on for National Geographic."

Nick screwed up his face. "Sounds boring."

"Yeah," said Alex. "Who'd want to kill someone over native costumes?"

"Probably no one," said Zack, "but unfortunately, while traveling from one village to the next, I stumbled across something I
wasn't meant to see."

"What?" asked Nick.

I answered for Zack. "Drugs."

"Exactly," he said. "Guatemala's major natural resource is its
fertile soil. One of the villages had discovered they could make a
lot more money growing marijuana instead of corn. The farmers
mistook me for a drug enforcement officer. I was lucky they didn't
shoot me on the spot."

"How ever did you get out of there?" asked Mama.

Zack flashed her a twinkling eye smile. "I used my immeasurable charm"

Of that I had no doubt. In no time at all my new tenant had
woven a spell around both Mama and my boys. I was contemplating asking him to work his magic on Lucille when the phone rang.

"Quick! Turn on your television," said Cloris after I answered.

"I can't."

"What do you mean, you can't?"

"Excuse me," I mumbled to Zack, the boys, and Mama as I carried the portable phone into the living room. They paid no attention to me as Zack regaled them with how he talked his way out of
a deadly situation-once his captors had removed the duct tape
covering his mouth. "We were robbed yesterday," I told Cloris.

"Again?"

"Luck of the Irish."

"Since when are you Irish?"

"Since Flora Sudberry Periwinkle Ramirez Scoffield Goldberg
became Flora Sudberry Periwinkle Ramirez Scoffield Goldberg
O'Keefe."

"That doesn't count."

"I suppose not. Anyway, Seamus O'Keefe died trying to kiss the
Blarney Stone, so how lucky can the Irish really be?"