Perilously Fun Fiction: A Bundle by Pauline Jones (best fiction novels of all time .TXT) 📕

was a narrow embellished Victorian built just prior to the turn of the century. Set on a corner lot, it had long settled into the midst of an abundant tangle of shrubbery and flowers barely confined by the high wrought-iron fence that circled the property.

Their handyman, Boudreaux, a small Cajun with a speech impediment that made it difficult for the non-Seymour to understand him, kept the house in pristine condition. His tall, spare and mute-by-choice wife, Louise, cared for the aunts. Both had been with the aunts for as long as Luci could remember.

Coming down that first morning, Luci ran into Louise in the hallway outside the breakfast room. She carried a covered tray, so Luci held the door open for her, then followed her in to where the aunts were seated around the long light table in the even longer, lighter dining room.

Despite the long passage of time, they were just as she remembered them. Well, maybe a bit more transparent. They had always looked like they’d just marched off a Russian assembly line, since they were as similar in looks as folk art nesting dolls and not similar in height. Easy to believe that they’d emerged from inside each other rather than the more conventional birthing.

Each had a round white bun on the crown of her head, a round face, round eyes, and round spots of rouge on each cheek. Their skin was white and crepe thin, like tissue paper that had been crushed and then smoothed. Their mouths were crumpled pink bows. Their now faded blue eyes still reflected constant, utter delight with life and living.

Miss Weena, the youngest and shortest, was also the trendiest, favoring caftans in wild colors that were too long and constantly tripped her. She was, Luci recalled as the past made a return engagement, the adventurous sister and the only one who had ever held a brief, but real, job. It was a source of wonder to the family that anyone had actually hired Miss Weena, let alone armed her. Her employer had paid a brief but painful price for his lack of judgment, to his heart and his manhood. But as Miss Weena was wont to point out, he was too old to have children anyway.

It was one of Miss Weena’s caftans that Luci had donned for her first foray outside her bedroom. That it landed just below her knees didn’t trouble her . Vanity wasn’t part of the Seymour profile.

Miss Hermi, the middle sister, favored gray and lavender, which suited her drift-through-life personality. She suffered from the illusion she was a gardener, much to Boudreaux’s dismay, and she had a gentle passion for cement gargoyles. It must make the back garden a nightmare to tend but had been a delight to small children with big imaginations.

Miss Theo, the eldest and tallest sister, still wore black, plain and classic. She was considered the sensible sister, though non-Seymours might find this assessment hard to swallow. Her eyes were bright and intelligent, if somewhat remote. She tended to look at life as something quite interesting, but not her concern.

Luci waited until Louise arranged the tray on the table before greeting her. Louise needed both hands free to scribble a greeting on the chalkboard that hung by a chain from her belted waist. Out of deference to Louise’s carpal tunnel syndrome, the greeting was brief. Luci kissed each aunt’s papery cheek before taking her own chair, feeling most of her twenty-seven years peel away. So little had changed here, she felt like a time traveler.

Until Louise lifted the lid from the tray.

No succulent eggs and sizzling bacon. No pancakes dripping with real butter. Luci looked at what was there, then looked up to ask, “Can I have the Fruit Loops?”

Designed in the early 1950s by the Israeli government to use against the PLO, the Uzi submachine gun is capable of firing 950 rounds per minute. Over time, improved technology has made it the choice of military forces worldwide, including the U.S. Secret Service.

It was also Fern’s choice.

She didn’t want it because it had a 9mm chamber or a folding metal stock. She wanted it because it was cute and compact. Neat. Manageable. Especially the mini version that they finally chose from Chainsaw Teddy’s supply of deadly hardware. On his advice they got the semi-automatic version, which, because of the higher firing cyclic rate, would be easier to control.

Teddy had a smirk on his meaty face when he told them this, but they chose not to respond. Explanations of what had gone wrong were unnecessary. He’d seen the news and been expecting them. Donald didn’t even give the AK-47 a regretful glance as they left.

“So, what do we do now?” Fern tucked the Uzi out of sight under the seat of their stolen Ford.

“We head over to where the broad is staying and scope things out.” He tossed her a map of the city. “I marked it on the map. But let’s get some grub first.”

“Drive-through okay? Wouldn’t like to leave our Uzi alone in case someone steals our stolen car.” Fern rubbed the Uzi with the heel of her shoe and smiled.

“Yeah, just keep it outta sight. Bulls are still jumpy after last night.”

“Yeah.” Fern looked grimly cheerful. “Read in the paper that they think we’re part of a radical senior citizens group. It’s too bad we had to be so visible for so long last night.” Fern thought back to the moment when it seemed like the Seymour woman was looking right at her. How observant was she? And if she had fingered them? It would make the stakeout more difficult. “We should never have tried it at the airport like that. Planes are never on time.”

“Damn Artie.”

“Are you quite sure you don’t want to be Unabelle’s flower girl?” Miss Theo asked, her spoonful of Lucky Charms quivering just shy of her mouth.

“Completely quite sure,” Luci said. She’d polished off the Fruit Loops in crunchy short order. The roof of her