Wright knew that he had to move fast. He was right about one thing from the beginning, Shirley had wanted him out of the picture. It was just a good thing that she always used the same method, the same poison. He was able to anticipate it and stay one step ahead. That **** plastic bitch. There was no way his sister, well, adopted sister (and he was glad she wasn't his blood for two reasons, first, she had tried to kill him and second, as a teen he had often spied on her in the shower and flogged the bishop), was going to beat him at his game.

   After that back-stabbing Cuban had dumped him into the pool, Wright had to work fast. He was sure that part of the plan entailed him being in the pool for hours, so by the time it was discovered that he was not the corpse floating there Shirley would already be in Detroit. He slipped into the hedges at the side of the poolhouse and quickly stripped down, re-dressed himself in the clothes he had stashed, dressed the corpse in the clothes he had been wearing, and dragged the body poolside. The trick was going to be tossing it in with no sound.

   After depositing the body of the transient into the pool, Wright slipped through the yards to a waiting car. When Shirley made it to Detroit, she would have one hell of a surprise waiting for her. It would be the biggest, and last, of her entire life. He was going to cut those huge fake **** off and feed them to her as she died. **** bitch. After everything he had done for her and those ugly little whores in training that she was raising. The sad part was that those two little girls had no idea that they were the product of a kidnapping gone wrong. Their parents refused to pay, didn't want them or couldn't handle them, so Shirley, the sap that she is, decided to keep them as her own.

    Wright's mind wandered to Toby. Poor shmuck. Was he still alive? Or did Egg already do him in? It didn't matter, really. One way or another, Toby wasn't going to live through this. Wright was a little disappointed. He really liked that kid. There was just something genuine about him. As Wright climbed into his car he saw Shirley's car pull up to the intersection. He ducked quickly and lay down on the front seats. After waiting a few seconds, he sat up and opened the bag that was on the floor of the passenger side and went to work.

   *********************************************************************

   Wright took one last look at himself in the bathroom mirror before going to the ticket counter. The wig still sat a little crooked but there really wasn't much he could do about that. The thick, gray mustache obscured his top lip almost completely. Sure that no one could possibly recognize him, Wright made his way to the ticket counter. He hated the thought of going to Detroit, but things were starting to unravel and he didn't want to lose everything to that ****, Shirley.

**************************************************************************

    Wright sat in the rental car across the street from the Broderick. He watched as it was being engulfed in flames. A car sped out of the area as a familiar gray Ford pulled up. Three figures were clearly visible in the sedan. Wright raised his binoculars to his eyes to see who it was that Toby had with him. Suspicion and surprise overtook Wright as he recognized Egg and Frau. Suddenly, a struggle ensued in the car and Wright watched in amusement as the queen in the back seat's head exploded.

   Wright watched as Egg bolted into the building and Toby sped off. He started the motor and turned the little Japanese import toward the airport. He hated these **** cars. Here he was in Motor City, the birthplace of American muscle, and he was driving a goddamn Mazda. He pressed the accelerator to the floor. The faster he got to the airport, the sooner he could feel like a loyal American again.

************************************************************************

   Wright was just starting to nod off when he saw Che, that **** back-stabbing Cuban, walking up the aisle of the 747. He watched as Che leaned down to talk to someone. That someone looked an awful lot like a ridiculously dressed, clean shaven Egg. Christ! They were all on this flight. He had followed Angelique and Brett to make sure that they got onto the plane without a hitch. He had no idea why the **** they were going to Missouri instead of good ole Mexico, but he was sure that his baby girl had a good explanation and he would get that shortly after landing. He was just hoping that the explanation didn't include Shirley. The sight of Toby with Angelique brought up a million questions though? Was he in on it all? How much had he figured out? Or was he still just oblivious and rolling with the tide?

    A flight attendant tapped him on the shoulder, snapping him out of his daze.

   "Sir?"

   "Oh, sorry, was just drifting off?"

    "Just wanted to know if you'd like a drink."

   "Scotch... on the rocks, please."

   Wright settled back in his seat, eyes locked on that cocksucking Cuban and the former fallguy. One way or another, when this plane landed, both of them were going to die. He was going to see to that personally. A cold smile crept across his lips as he visualized the many different ways that he could send them both to a slow, agonizing grave. The drink arrived a few moments later, but he didn't even really notice. He just wrapped his hand around the cup and held onto it tightly. This was one flight he wouldn't be enjoying round after round of his favorite drink. Scotch on the rocks.