Jackson eyed the huge hole in the wall. “Oops.”
“Coffee … lots of coffee, then you patch the wall and I’ll replace the tank and fish.” Jillian moved to all fours then lumbered to vertical.
Jackson took her offered hand. “Where are you going to get fish and a tank in the middle of the night?”
“Sam Walton’s.”
“Jillian wouldn’t know that.” Jackson flicked her ear with his finger, reaffirming their sibling antics would stay frozen in time at age ten forever.
“Everyone knows Sam Walton founded Walmart, you idiot.” She rolled her eyes at his paranoia.
Their grandfather had been a professor at UC Davis and thanks to him they knew the founders’ names of the top Fortune 500 companies before they knew the states and their capitals. Ever since then she referred to major businesses by their founder’s name.
Chapter Three
Senior Master Sergeant Monaghan was career air force. When his son, Cage, was ten, his wife—a dental hygienist—left him for her boss. At the time he didn’t care; Sarge was happily married to his job. At least that’s what he told himself to keep the pain at bay.
“Son, are you ready to talk about the fish tank?” Sarge asked as he inhaled his eggs, hash, and sausage at the kitchen table. He’d already run seven miles, surged through an hour of weights and abs, spit shined the bathrooms, and devoured the paper cover-to-cover.
Twenty-year-old Cage, starting quarterback for the Huskers, made the short hour drive home most weekends to hang out with his dad. He lived on the football field—hardworking, dedicated, and focused just like his father. But on the weekends he did what most college students did over summer break—drank too much and slept until noon.
“Yeah, Dad, I’m dying to know how you managed to break the tank, replace it with the cheapest piece of crap I’ve ever seen, fill it with Betta fish, which are known for fighting to the death, and then paint the wall behind the tank a completely different shade of gray than the rest of the wall. Are you having issues again?” Cage raised a cautious eyebrow.
“I’m not laughing.” Sarge cleared his throat, a stern glare shooting over the rim of his coffee cup like a missile taking aim at its target.
Cage poured nearly an entire box of cereal into a popcorn bowl and flooded it with milk, then took a seat opposite his father. “Of course you’re not. Come to think of it … I’m not sure I’ve ever seen you laugh.”
“I don’t mind you staying with me on the weekends, but I have zero tolerance for parties.”
Cage paused mid-shovel, milk dripping from his spoon as he leaned over the trough. “You’re serious? I arrived around noon yesterday, met up with a few buddies downtown, then crashed by eleven. The tank and fish massacre happened before I arrived here. Maybe Ryn broke the tank and replaced it.”
Sarge studied his son through narrowed eyes. Not only was Sarge a human lie detector, he’d also raised his son to value integrity and honesty.
“Ryn came last week. I was home three days ago.” Sarge knew his housekeeper would not try to hide something as blatantly obvious as that from him.
“What else could it be? You had some nice fish but they weren’t anything worth stealing. Besides, when someone breaks in to steal something they don’t replace it with a cheaper version … or replace it at all for that matter.”
“If this is some prank or practical joke …” Sarge warned.
Cage shook his head. “I don’t have a death wish, so stop trying to pin this one on me. Maybe you should ask the new neighbors if they heard anything going on over here.”
“New neighbors? They’ve moved in?”
Cage nodded. “Mrs. Housby dropped off an invite for tomorrow’s association picnic. She said they’re young and ‘utterly delightful.’ She thinks it’s going to be ‘fun’ having a young married couple in the neighborhood.”
“Kids?”
“I don’t think so. She didn’t say. I haven’t met them, but I saw the woman when I arrived yesterday. She was …” Cage shifted in his chair.
“She was …?” Sarge looked up at him while loading the dishwasher.
“Getting the mail … in a white tank top…” Cage cleared his throat “…no bra, lace panties, and red rain boots.”
Sarge straightened with a stiff air of readiness. “I see. Was anyone else outside witnessing it?”
Cage grinned. “Oh yes. It was like the second coming of Christ. The women gasped, nearly fainting, and the men…” Cage winked with an easy nod “…well, a part of them was most likely resurrected.”
Sergeant Monaghan thrived on order and regimen. He couldn’t shake the unsettling feeling Cage’s revelation gave him about the new neighbors. Peaceful Woods was a quiet development free from the chaos of young children and even barking dogs. Only a few of the residents had pets and most were cats or small dogs that used piss pads indoors. The forty pound weight limit on pets served both to discourage ownership and keep the peace.