Standing outside, just at the edge of Bree Van der Kamp's porch, was none other than her neighbor Zach Young, who had a pair of binoculars around his neck.
"Zach, what on earth are you doing in my yard?" asked an appalled Bree Van De Kamp.
"I was up in that tree," he pointed to a shady oak tree across the street, "and you never went into your bedroom to change clothes like you do everyday at 5:14."
"But, Zach..." she stuttered, "why?"
"Because I'm in love with you," confessed Zach "I loved you ever since the day I laid my eyes on your lovely..." he looked down as his cheeks reddened "your lovely socks."
"But... what will your father say?"
"That's okay, I knew he wouldn't approve of our relationship, so I went ahead and killed him."
Bree's face turned pale and she could hardly utter a word.
"Zach, I have a husband," she muttered.
"Killed him too, my love, right when he stopped by the bakery this afternoon."
"You little..." she stopped short as a police patrol car came around the block. The police officer with his bright blue uniform stepped hastily out of his car and wasted no time in taking out his automatic pistol.
"Son, get down!" No sooner had Zach hit the ground than a pop sounded throughout the neighborhood.
Bree's gun clattered onto the floor, and her forehead burst open.
Right between the eyes.
Point Blank.