I was watching the house through the spotter scope when the garage suddenly burst into flame like some gigantic firework, great yellow-orange ball growing swiftly. It reminded me of films I'd seen of atomic bomb tests. I shuddered, and held my breath for several seconds before releasing the scope from its tripod, returning it to its case, and placing it back in the little shed where I kept the supplies for my rooftop garden.

I walked down the two flights of steps to my office and waited for the phone to ring.

After an hour, the phone still hadn't rung, and I started to worry that something had gone wrong. But nothing could go wrong, I had planned this perfectly.

The Oxy-Acetyline torch had been bought six months before, when I enrolled in a welding class at the community college. It sat in my half of the two-car garage, next to the metal frames I was building to hold my planters. The potting table was covered with garlic bulbs and onion sets. No one could have detected the faint garlic smell of leaking acetyline gas.

This morning I had kissed Janice goodbye as she lay in bed, still not fully roused from sleep.

"I'm off. See ya this evening."

"Umm. Bye sweety."

"You go back to sleep now. The alarm's set for eleven."

"Uh huh. Bye."

In the garage, I put on my cotton garden gloves, opened the driver's side door of Janice's car, and pulled the hood release. I raised the hood and propped it on the rod. The spark plug wires were snuggled close beneath the exhaust manifold, but I had no trouble removing the ignition wire from the first one, and placing it back to within a fraction of an inch from the spark plug terminal. Lowering the hood carefully, listening for any sound from within the house. Nothing.

After making sure that the tank valve was closed, I used a pipe wrench to remove the line valve from the acetyline cylinder, and replaced it with the one I had prepared specially. The one with the large crack along the threads. I opened the tank valve and could hear a faint hiss and taste a hint of garlic.

I took off the gloves and left them on the potting table, then went out the side door, being careful to see that it was tightly closed.

After a leisurely five minute drive to the office, I made a few business calls, then at 10:30 interviewed a young woman about a position as a secretary. I made sure the interview lasted until well past eleven. At ten before noon, I went up to the roof.

Janice was a creature of habit, so I expected that she would leave for her afternoon job at precisely twelve. She didn't dissappoint me.

At one thirty, two men entered my office, one a policeman in uniform, the other a middled aged man in plain clothes.

"You Asa Johnstone?" plain clothes asked.

Want to comment on this Short Stories? Sign up to Edit Red and you will be able to comment on Short Stories and get access to: Upload your own stories and poems, get readers and their feedback, promote your work...