The Hitwoman's Juggling Act

by J. B. Lynn

  Unfazed, the kid jerked his thumb in the direction of the room we’d just passed.

  “Wait here,” the purple one ordered. She hustled into the room, leaving me to lean awkwardly against a wall as a janitor rolling a giant trash can rumbled past.

  I smiled apologetically at the woman pushing the garbage, but she looked right through me.

  A moment later, purple shot back out of the room. “Wait right there. Doctor Oliver will be out in a minute.” She hurried away.

  I stayed right where I was as God whispered, “At least Susan is calling you by your name. That’s a good sign. It means her tether hasn’t fully snapped. She’s still got some ties to reality.”

  I didn’t respond because Doctor Oliver, a middle-aged woman with a streak of gray hair that flopped in her eyes, emerged from the room, clutching a pink flower. She thrust her chin at the kid, silently giving him some order that he hustled off to do. Then, she focused on me.

  “Margaret?” Her voice was calm and soothing.

  “Maggie,” I corrected automatically.

  She smiled gently. “Nice to meet you, Maggie. I’m Doctor Oliver. Why don’t we find a quiet place to talk.”

  Placing a hand on my elbow, she deftly steered me down the hall, into a small, quiet room that held six chairs, two end tables, and three boxes of tissues.

  “Have a seat,” she offered as she closed the door behind us.

  I shook my head as I realized that this was the space they brought family members to in order to give them bad news. My heart started to pound and I was glad to see that there were multiple waste baskets, since there was a good chance I might throw up. “I’d rather stand,” I choked out.

  She shrugged. “Suit yourself. But I’m going to take a load off my tired feet.” So saying, she settled into a chair.

  I realized that the flower was actually a pen made to look like a flower.

  There was a soft knock on the door and the kid entered, carrying two bottles of water. He handed one to each of us and silently left, closing the door behind him.

  I gripped the water bottle tightly. The coolness seeping into my fingers was nothing compared to the chill gripping my heart.

  17

  Doctor Oliver looked up at me, a slightly bemused expression on her face. “You don’t remember me, do you?”

  “Should I?”

  She shrugged. “We met a long time ago. I was just an intern, myself. They brought your mother in, and I distinctly remember how you held her hand and sang her that children’s song.”

  I stared at the woman across from me. I’ve only ever accompanied my mother to the hospital once in my life. Usually, Aunt Susan took care of that type of thing. But decades earlier, I’d made one visit. I remembered it well. “The itsy-bitsy spider.”

  Doctor Oliver smiled and nodded. “That’s the one.”

  I winced at the memory, both of singing it to my mother in the hopes of calming her, and the memory of singing it to Katie, in the hopes of getting her to come out of her coma.

  “I guess you’re wondering why I wanted to see you,” Doctor Oliver said.

  I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. I braced myself for bad news. I mean, why else would a doctor call you into a private room, but to tell you something terrible.

  “Your aunt...”

  “Are you trying to tell me my Aunt Susan has the same condition as my mother?” I asked, my voice reedy and strident.

  Doctor Oliver held up her hand defensively. “No. Nothing like that. I just wanted to see if there was anything I can do to help your family.”

  I tilted my head to the side and squinted at her suspiciously. “Why?”

  “Why? Because I fear that your family is under a tremendous amount of stress right now. I saw the story on the news about the Bed & Breakfast explosion. And now your aunt is here having a panic attack.”

  “So, it’s only a panic attack?” I asked hopefully.

  She shrugged. “For now.”

  “We’ll be fine,” I assured her.

  Doctor Oliver took a swig of her water and considered me carefully. “What kind of home could you possibly provide for your niece?”

  “Katie is well taken care of,” I assured her quickly and defensively. “Wait, how do you know about her?”

  A strange smile played at the corners of Doctor Oliver’s lips.

  Tripping my internal alarm system, her expression made goose bumps rise on my arms.

  “People are worried about her,” she said finally.

  My stomach flipped nervously. “What people?”

  Again, the doctor gave me an enigmatic smile. A chill skittered up and down my spine, a sure sign that something was very, very wrong.

  “All I’m asking,” the doctor said in a kind tone, “is whether or not you can handle her.”

  I stared at the white-coated woman for a long moment, my heartbeat drumming in my ears. “Handle her?”

  Doctor Oliver nodded.

  I leaned back in my chair, instinctively putting space between myself and the woman sitting across from me. I tried to tamp down the geyser of panic that was welling up inside me, threatening to explode.

  Doctor Oliver leaned forward, as though aware of what I was doing and not allowing me to even have that slight advantage. “Are you capable of handling the responsibility of having a child? Because if not…” She sat back in her seat and crossed her arms over her chest and waited for my reply.

  I swallowed hard. “Is that a threat?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t think it’s a threat as much as it’s a warning. You have a lot to lose, Margaret.”

  “Maggie,” I corrected automatically.

  The doctor gave me that smile that scared me so much, once again. “It sounds like Katie’s custody issue is in the air, your mom’s situation is perilous, and—”

  “Wait, now you’re threatening not only my niece, but my mother?” Unable to contain my emotions any longer, I jumped to my feet. The panic that I had been experiencing subsided as anger rushed in, burning everything in its path. “Who do you work for?”

  “I’m just a concerned citizen.”

  I advanced on her, imagining wrapping my hands around her neck and giving it a good squeeze. Nobody, nobody threatened my family and got away with it.

  The doctor’s eyes widened, and she leaned back in her chair. “What are you going to do—hurt me? If you do that, you’ll lose Katie for sure.”

  I froze in place, knowing she was right. “You’re not going to get away with this,” I told her on a whisper. Spinning on my heel, I stalked out. I almost knocked over the kid who’d supplied the water. “Where is my aunt?” I barked at him.

  He flinched and pointed.

  I strode down the hall in that direction, knowing that I had to get Aunt Susan out of the hospital. She wasn’t safe here. I didn’t know if anyone I loved was safe anywhere. I stalked into the room and found Griswald staring out the window with his back to me, while Susan inspected her fingers, which were clasped in her lap as she sat on the hospital bed.

  “Margaret,” Susan said with obvious relief.

  Griswald turned and gave me the side eye but did not acknowledge me otherwise.

  “I was thinking it would be nice to have an art studio in the new house,” Susan murmured.

  “For what?” I asked.

  “Painting. I gave it up as too frivolous a pastime for an adult, but…”

  I crossed quickly to her bed and grabbed Susan’s hands in mine. “How are you?”

  “I’m fine,” she assured me, sounding like her regular self. “Everyone was worried, just because I had a bad moment, but I’m really fine.”

  “Great.” I tugged on her hands. “We have to leave.”

  At that, Griswald turned and looked at me.

  “We have to leave now,” I told both of them.

  “But—” Aunt Susan protested.

  I locked eyes with Griswald and tried to communicate my fear and the urgency of the situation
. “We have to leave now.”

  He gave me a long look and then a slight nod of agreement. “Let’s go, Susan,” he said, crossing the room and grabbing her behind the elbows so that he could help her pivot off the bed.

  “I don’t understand what the rush is,” Aunt Susan said, slightly confused.

  “I don’t, either,” Griswald said, “but if Maggie says it’s time to go, I’m willing to believe her.” Together, we hustled my aunt out of the room, past the nurse’s station, and out of the hospital.

  18

  I followed Griswald as he drove back to his home, not sure if this was the best plan.

  “If he says he can protect her,” God said from his vantage point on the dashboard of my car, “he means it.”

  “I know,” I squeeze the steering wheel tighter, “but I don’t know what the threat is, I don’t even know what to tell him the threat is. If anything happens to somebody…”

  “Breathe, Maggie,” the lizard ordered. “You’re not going to be good to anyone if you hyperventilate, run low on oxygen, and pass out.”

  “But you heard what that woman said.”

  “I heard,” the little guy assured me. “I don’t think you’re overreacting. I think there is a threat, I just believe that if Griswald says he can protect Susan, he means it.”

  I nodded. “I’m sure you’re right.”

  We drove in silence for a long moment, me replaying the conversation I’d had with Doctor Oliver and God doing God knows what.

  “But what about everyone else?” I asked. “I can’t protect them all. I can’t be in all places at once.”

  “Well, from what I’ve seen of Darlene, she’s pretty capable of protecting her family,” God reminded me.

  “Yes,” I agreed. “But she’s got a house full of people now. She’s not only got her kids, she’s got Katie. Plus, she’s got Leslie, Loretta, and Templeton, too, and somebody’s got to watch out for Marlene. And what about Armani?” I sucked in a big breath. Just listing the people who were in danger was exhausting.

  “You’ll figure it out,” God said. “You always do.”

  I didn’t find any reassurance in that, but since we were pulling into the driveway of Griswald’s place, there was no point continuing the conversation. I was lucky the marshal had believed me up to this point. I didn’t need to have him catching me engaged in conversation with my favorite reptile. It might strain his faith in me.

  Once Griswald had his new wife set up in the kitchen, sipping a cup of her favorite tea, he joined me just outside their front door. He eyed me suspiciously. “I don’t suppose you want to tell me what’s going on?”

  I shrugged helplessly. “I don’t really know.”

  “Does it have to do with Archie?”

  I frowned. “His name didn’t come up. But who knows? Half the things that go wrong in this family have something to do with him.”

  He crossed his arms and leaned against the doorframe. “So why did we hustle Susan out of there?”

  I relayed my conversation with Doctor Oliver to him. The more I spoke, the closer his brows drew together and the deeper the scowl lines around his mouth grew.

  “And you have no idea what this is about?”

  I shook my head. “All I know is that a social worker checked on Katie today, this morning. And now this…”

  “I’ll put out some feelers,” Griswald said.

  “Thank you.”

  He rubbed the space between his brows, as if to banish the tension gathered there. “What are you going to do?”

  I knew I had to choose my next words wisely. I didn’t need the U.S. Marshal to know about my criminal activities. That could put a big wedge in our family dynamic. “I have to go pick up my pets from Ian,” I told him. It was the truth, and Griswald seemed to accept it.

  “And then?”

  “I have to go feed Armani,” I said. “Unless, of course, Jack Stern did it.”

  Griswald raised his eyebrows. “Now there’s an interesting couple.”

  “I don’t think they’re a couple,” I said. Something in his expression made me doubt my own statement. “Do you?”

  “I’ve studied human behavior for a long time,” my newly minted uncle told me. “I’ve seen stranger things happen.”

  I tilted my head to the side and considered that for a moment. “Me, too.”

  “You go run your errands,” Griswald said. “I’ll check in with you in about ninety minutes?”

  I nodded. I turned to walk away, but he reached out and grabbed my shoulder. Surprised, I turned to face him.

  “Be careful, Maggie. Leave your phone on. Check in. If you feel like you’re in danger, drive to the nearest police station.”

  I nodded, not trusting myself to speak because I was too choked up by his concern.

  “I’ll talk to you soon.” He patted my shoulder and released me.

  I headed back to my car a little afraid I’d start to cry in front of him.

  “Lawrence isn’t such a bad guy,” God said.

  As I climbed behind the steering wheel, I retorted, “I never thought he was a bad guy. I think it’s dangerous to have law enforcement in the family.”

  I hadn’t driven more than two blocks before a car honked at me. I was fully prepared to use a hand signal to tell the other driver what I thought of them, when I realized it was Gino, Delveccio’s bodyguard.

  I rolled down my window so that we could talk. “Are you following me?”

  “The bosses want to see you.”

  I frowned. “Now?”

  He nodded. “Park in that lot,” he pointed to a nearby supermarket parking lot, “and I’ll drive you over.”

  I considered telling him that I was perfectly capable of driving myself, but realized he was probably just following orders.

  I parked and got into his car, but not before God muttered, “This should be good.”

  We rode in silence as Gino drove to the other side of town. It was an area where I wouldn’t have wanted to park my car and I was grateful that he’d driven, after all.

  He parked in an alley behind a dilapidated warehouse.

  I got out of the car slowly.

  Hearing a series of quick, sharp snaps emanating from inside the building, I paused.

  Gino looked back at me. “It’s not what you think.”

  Considering I’d just been wondering if he was about to lead me into a dangerous situation, I eyed him skeptically. No one knew I was down here. Not even Patrick would know since I hadn’t brought my car with its tracking device.

  If the Delveccio twins had decided I’d served my purpose and they were done with me, perhaps because certain members of my family kept attracting the attention of law enforcement, this would be as good a place as any to knock me off.

  I squinted at Gino, trying to get a read on his intentions.

  He waited patiently.

  Unlike Vinny, Delveccio’s old bodyguard, I’d never had reason to dislike or fear Gino. In fact, I’d always had a pretty favorable rapport with him. Maybe because he respected me. Maybe because we’d had the common goal of keeping his boss safe.

  He offered me a reassuring smile and gestured toward the graffiti-covered door. “We really don’t want to keep the boss waiting.”

  Nodding, I lifted my chin, squared my shoulders, and marched into the warehouse like I didn’t have a care in the world.

  19

  I was expecting grey and grim when I stepped inside, but I was greeted with bright flashing lights, and the smell of popcorn, cotton candy, and, if my senses weren’t playing tricks on me, zeppole.

  Gino stepped in behind me and pulled the door shut.

  I blinked a couple of times, trying to focus on what I was seeing. The repetitive cracking sound echoed off the walls.

  It was a rare thing, indeed, to spot both Tony and Anthony Delveccio in the same place at the same time, but there they were, in the same outfits, wearing the same glittering pinkie ring.

  One of them waved
me over. “Come play Skee-Ball, the game of kings.” He pointed to the pair of Skee-Ball machines they stood in front of.

  I was pretty sure that an arcade game was not the game of kings, that distinction belonging to chess, but who was I to argue with a pair of mob bosses.

  “What on Earth is Skee-Ball?” God asked from the hiding place in my bra.

  In tandem, the two mobsters raised their eyebrows at the squeaking of my chest and then shook their heads.

  “It’s been a while since I’ve played. You just roll the ball up the slanted board, over the hump and into the holes?”

  “Up the lane, over the ball hop, and into the bulls-eye to get the highest point totals possible,” one of them confirmed.

  “Like this,” they said simultaneously. Moving in unison, they each began to hurl a set of nine wooden balls up their respective machines in rapid succession.

  When they were done, the one I’d mentally labeled Anthony, who had the lower score, trundled away, muttering something underneath his breath that I couldn’t make out. Deciding it was some sort of sibling rivalry, I didn’t worry about it too much.

  Tony pushed the button on the machine next to me and said, “Let’s play.”

  I picked up a wooden ball, felt the weight in my hand, eyed the machine, and sent it rolling up the incline. It hopped over the hump and fell into a designated hole.

  “Nice,” Tony grunted appreciatively. He picked up his ball and let it fly.

  We played in silence for a few minutes, each of us throwing our nine balls up the machine, accumulating points. When the balls returned to their holding slot, they made the mysterious clickety-clackity noise that I’d heard from outside.

  Finally, once Tony had quadrupled my score, he turned to me and said, “So…our timetable has changed.”

  Relieved to not have to play the stupid game anymore, I turned to face him.

  “We need you to get Frank Griffith tonight.”

  I shook my head. There was no way I could do that, not with everything that was going on.

  Tony Delveccio gave me a hard look. “Are you telling me no?”