CHAPTER NINE
Stan Tomisek peered out the kitchen window, watching and listening, as Myrtle Snyder spoke. The slovenly woman's eyes shone moist and beady and her pudgy hands moved in animated gestures. The old buttinski had phoned the blonde secretary, warning her to get home immediately. Then she'd waited, cornering Blanche as soon as she'd pulled into the driveway. Now, Stan could hear Myrtle relating everything that had happened next door. That filthy cunt, Stan thought, seething with anger. What the f**k has any of this got to do with HER, anyway? The fat old slob prob'ly wishes I'd screwed HER, instead!
He saw his wife's face flush crimson, her eyes narrow to slits as she looked toward the Jamison house, then spin her blonde head around to glare up at the window where Stan stood w
