As in:
On the third Wednesday, of every other month, Viv drove the dark blue Monte Carlo down to Farges, for breakfast (always with Kate, and usually with Ava and Diamond), and then walked down the block to Pauline’s to get her hair properly repaired. It was a pleasant routine, one of several she enjoyed in Henryville, which has its roots as an old railroad town but had, in its most recent edition, become garnished with touches of prosperity on account of its location. Twice in the past five years, movie makers had come, and Daryl Hannah had even posed for that wonderful photo with Pauline, the one where Pauline was jokingly aiming her hand-held hair dryer toward the camera.
Pauline sometimes joked that there was more drama in Henryville between the movie shoots than in the times when the cameras were there. And Viv was about to demonstrate why that could be so.
She was sitting there beneath the big dryer, settled and convivial as all, when she noticed that someone was trying to parallel park a brand new, dark green, Ram 1500 pickup truck right there in front of Pauline’s. Nevada plates, it turned out, a couple ATV’s strapped in the bed.
And damned if it wasn’t Earl. And damned if she didn’t notice clearly, that it was him, that it couldn’t possibly be anybody but him, even though she hadn’t seen him in precisely 34 years. Geez, she thought to herself, 34 years, and I still hate his guts.
Now the woman with Earl, wearing the cute khaki outfit, with cleavage, and the white iPod, well, she was new. And Viv watched as they held hands and headed off down the block.
“Excuse me,” she said to Teresa, who had filled in while Pauline was on the phone.
And she walked out of Pauline’s, right over to Eight Buy Four Pawn and, on account of the state’s relaxed weapons purchasing law, shortly emerged with a new, rather snub-nosed, BF10 Olympic Magnum .380 revolver. Sheriff Wiley would later cooly assess that it was about the perfect weapon for Viv’s purpose, given the point blank nature of the crimes. If Earl had been running down the block, away from her, and she was aiming for him, then it would not have been such a wise purchase.
Viv sauntered up to Earl’s truck and proceeded to walk, unhurriedly, all the way around, stopping at each corner to shoot out the tire.
People mostly ran for cover upon hearing the first shot, though after Pauline dropped the phone upon hearing the loud report, she moved closer to the window to watch as Viv finished executing the tires.
Viv then calmly put the pistol in her handbag, and came back into Pauline’s to finish getting her hair repaired. And that is where Sheriff Wiley personally arranged for the arrest. After a short conversation with Earl and his now hysterical third wife, he drove Viv down to the jail on court street, booked her, and had her don the traditional orange uniform that was supposed to equally embarrass all criminal suspects, on account of that’s the way the sheriff liked to do it.
Shortly after reading her the Miranda rights (and he had a great voice for doing such, she thought) he asked if Viv wanted to explain.
“Sure,” she said. “The bastard had it coming. What’s the bail going to come to?”
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