My DH’s been jonesing to kill something. Yesterday he asked me to aid and abet him in cold-blooded murder. I said what any good wife should and quietly cranked open the window to give him a better shot.
Let me preface this by stating we have an intruder. A Peeping Tom if you will. He boldly travels about our yard, stealing from us and vandalizing our property. At times he’s been rude enough to urinate on our lawn–throwing us the metaphorical finger.
The one time I actually saw him sneaking around, I sicced the dog on him. He cowered behind the outdoor fireplace, unmoving. Lucky for him our geriatric lab was more interested in my bagel and he bounded away unharmed.
Call the cops, you might say. Well, I would if I thought the sheriff would do something. Now I love Sheriff Delaney, but I know he woudn’t touch this case. Our DA wouldn’t prosecute, nor would our judge convict if we could actually capture our nasty little perpetrator. I’ve worked with them before and know I would have their blessings on taking care of business.
So, I now find myself a participant in planning a heinous crime. As I contemplate my role, some of my favorite novels come to mind.
I love books about crime and law and justice. A good psychological thriller grabs hold of me until my body shakes involuntarily at the thought of such people running around this earth. Westerns, aka survival of the fittest in a untamed land, kept me busy between 10th and 11th grade. My heart beats for cowboys books about cowboys.
Spies, wars, man against nature…all these and more have found their way onto my bookshelves over the years. They currently pave the way for me to go from law-abiding citizen to a criminal mastermind. After all, if it was good enough for Grisham’s characters to skirt the law, it’s good enough for me.
DH leans out the window, gun in hand.
Dusk falls over our back yard like a curtain at the end of a play. And it is curtain time for our trespassing thief.
I turn away, unable to watch, afraid I’ll see the body fall. It will be bad enough to witness the red splash of blood against the white snow. I hear a pop and DH slides off the kitchen counter. “Did I get him?”
I shrug from around the corner. “I wasn’t watching.”
DH goes down stairs to put his gun away. I peek outside, relieved to find the snow intact and empty. Tracks dart across the yard from the bushes to under the shed.
No hassenpfeffer stew tonight.
Sadly, spring will bring me plenty of dead perennials–a biproduct of DH’s window-impeded aim and Mr. Hare’s voracious appetite.
I would like him gone. But then again, I’m just a little too squeamish to continue my life of crime.
I guess I’ll have to read about it instead. My current book: The City and The City, a Christmas present from my baby brother.
What’s on your night stand?