Maggie Lee | Book 28 | The Hitwoman Pays A Debt

by Lynn, JB

  “It’s me,” Missy called softly.

  I opened the door and smiled at her.

  “This is a terrible space,” she said, glancing around at the windowless room.

  I shrugged.

  “We’re still on for lunch, right?”

  I nodded. I pointed to the picnic basket that Templeton had packed. “I brought food, if that’s okay.”

  She grinned. “Free food is always okay. I’ll see you in about fifteen minutes.”

  She turned to go away, and then turned back. “Don’t forget to get out of here as soon as it’s lunchtime,” she warned. “You don’t need to mess up twice in one day.”

  I nodded my understanding. She hurried away and I closed the door.

  “At least she doesn’t hate you,” God said.

  “The others don’t hate me,” I told him.

  “But they don’t like you,” he pointed out.

  I shrugged. “I’m not here to be liked. I’m here to do a job.”

  “You’re not doing too well with that, either.”

  “Do you think you could just keep these pep talks of yours down to a minimum?” I snapped.

  “But you did make a date with Griswald’s suspect,” he said, changing his tact. “That’s progress.”

  “I’m glad you approve,” I told him drily. I observed my watch carefully, and the moment that the lunch hour was about to begin, I jumped up out of my seat, grabbed the picnic basket, and hustled toward the front door. Lynette was coming from the other direction, and I made sure not to make eye contact with her, as though I was afraid she was an angry bull that was about to charge. I tried to remember if Dello had a bull on his wall. I rushed outside and found that Missy was close on my heels.

  “Do you want to eat in the car?” I asked.

  She laughed. “No,” she said. “Follow me. I know a place.”

  We got into our respective cars and I followed her out of the parking lot. As I drove, I removed my earpiece.

  “Not a good idea,” God warned.

  Suspecting that my car was bugged, I didn’t answer him. I needed a break from being eavesdropped on all day long.

  Missy led me a few blocks to the library.

  She parked her car and got out, and I rolled down my window. “You know they won’t let us eat in there, right?”

  She nodded. “But they can’t stop us from eating at the tables outside. Come on, it’s a nice setup.”

  Nodding, I grabbed the picnic basket and followed her. She was right. The picnic tables were set up at the rear of the lot under the shade of some trees. “Nice,” I said. I’m not really an outdoors person, but after having been locked up with no windows, I appreciated the view.

  “You must have been pretty desperate to take this job,” Missy said.

  I put the picnic basket down on the table and began to slowly unpack it, choosing my response carefully. “It’s not like I had much of a choice,” I told her. Technically, that wasn’t a lie. Saying no to Ms. Whitehat was never a good idea.

  “Me either,” she said. “But I’m looking for another job.”

  I nodded. “Doing what?”

  She shrugged. “I really don’t care. Just anywhere but there. Dr. Dello gives me the creeps. And Marge…” She trailed off, shaking her head. I understood her feeling about Marge, though I hadn’t gotten the same vibe about the dentist until I’d walked into his office.

  “It’s nice to have a friendly face there,” she said with a smile. She peered into the container that Templeton had given me. “Is that hummus?”

  I glanced at it. “I think so.”

  She looked up at me. “You don’t know?”

  “My…uncle,” I said, labeling Templeton as such even though he wasn’t, “packed it for me.”

  “Wow,” she said with an appreciative sigh. “It must be nice to have such a supportive family.”

  God, hanging out in my bra, began to chuckle uncontrollably. Missy’s eyes went wide at the sound of the squeaking.

  “That’s just my pet lizard,” I told her. “He squeaks sometimes.”

  “I do not squeak!” God bellowed, proving my point.

  “You’re a weird one, Betty,” Missy said. “But I like you. I’m glad we’re friends.”

  “My friend Armani and my aunt own a lingerie shop,” I blurted out. “They might have a job for you.”

  Missy blinked. “Really?”

  I nodded. Armani’s psychic guidance was rarely wrong.

  28

  When Missy and I returned from lunch, it looked like Dr. Dello was waiting for us. I got a funny feeling in my stomach as I looked at the man in the Mr. Rogers sweater, trying to sync it with the dead animals on his walls.

  “Nice lunch, ladies?”

  “Yes,” Missy said with a bright smile. Considering she’d just spent the last ninety minutes telling me how much she disliked and distrusted Dr. Dello, I was actually pretty impressed by her acting ability.

  “I need a moment with Betty,” he told her.

  She cast me a nervous look and then scurried inside.

  “How are you liking things here, Betty?” he asked. His mild tone, and the way he was searching my face, had my heart beating triple time.

  I tried to follow Missy’s lead and smiled as widely as I could at him as I answered. “It’s working out well.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “You’re enjoying the work?”

  I nodded. I really hoped he didn’t ask me for any specifics, because I had no idea what I was even supposed to be doing.

  “Lynette told me that you were looking at my collection earlier,” he said.

  I gulped. “The animals?”

  He nodded. “Why don’t we go continue this conversation where it’s more private?” He led the way into his office.

  Missy, behind the front desk, was biting her lower lip worriedly as she watched us. Lynette, standing behind her, arms crossed over her chest, smirked.

  I followed Dr. Dello back to his office and tried not to flinch when he closed the door, cutting us off from everybody else.

  “My handiwork,” he said, waving his arm to encompass the entire room. I nodded, unsure of what the appropriate response would be.

  “It must have taken you a long time.”

  “My life’s work,” he agreed, settling into the leather chair behind the desk.

  He didn’t invite me to sit, so I stood there shifting uncomfortably from one foot to the other.

  “You came with the highest recommendation,” he said, steepling his fingers and tapping his lower lip with the apex of the triangle.

  “I try my best,” I told him weakly.

  “I was wondering if you would be interested in taking on some additional work,” he said.

  “Excuse me?”

  “Work that doesn’t really have anything to do with the office,” he said.

  I nodded slowly. While I didn’t want anything to do with the man, I was sure that Whitehat would want me to stay as involved with him as possible. At that moment, I realized I’d forgotten to put the earpiece in, so she wasn’t listening in on this conversation. Nobody was. I had no back up. “What kind of work is it?” I asked, my mouth dry.

  “As you can see,” he said. “I’m an artist.”

  I blinked. I certainly did not see that. Again, he waved his arm to encompass the room, swiveling in his seat so that he could take in every last animal head. I suddenly had the terrible idea that he might want me to help him with mounting them. “I don’t know anything about taxidermy,” I blurted out nervously.

  He chuckled. “Neither do I. I pay people to do that kind of thing.”

  I let out a shaky sigh. Even though I’ve killed people, I still have my squeamish moments.

  “I’d like you to be one of my subjects,” he said.

  “Subject?” I asked, the hair on the back of my neck standing up at something that I heard in his tone but couldn’t exactly define.

  He nodded. “A model.”

 
I chuckled. “I’m not model material.”

  He shook his head and flashed that sweet, disarming smile. “You have beautiful hands, exquisite fingers.”

  I swallowed hard, wondering what kind of fetish he had for hands. Whatever it was, Armani had tried to warn me about it.

  “I want to make a mold of them so I can sculpt them.”

  I blinked, wondering if that was code for some depraved sexual act. “Sculpt them?”

  “I’ll pay you,” he said. “Let’s say, one hundred dollars an hour on Saturday?”

  I stared at him. “You’re going to pay me a hundred dollars to sculpt my hands?”

  “Well, to mold them. It will probably take three or four hours.”

  “You could just take a picture of them now,” I said, feeling like there was something very wrong with his offer and I should try to get out of the situation.

  “No,” he said. “It must be a mold.”

  Inadvertently, my gaze met that of the stuffed moose centered over his head.

  I gulped hard, remembering I was there to do a job, not react to my feelings. “Okay,” I said. “What time Saturday?”

  He beamed. “Is eleven too early?”

  I shook my head. “That should be great.” It would allow me enough time to get home and change for Griswald’s party. “But I can only stay for three hours.”

  He nodded. “That would be perfect. Don’t let Lynette scare you,” he said with a smile. “She’s harmless.”

  I nodded.

  “Now, Marge on the other hand…” he trailed off and winked at me.

  I stared at him, unsure of how to respond.

  “I’ll see you Saturday, Betty.”

  I nodded.

  “Get back to work.”

  I practically ran out of his office and sucked in a huge amount of air into my lungs as soon as I was in the hallway. Marge was standing just outside the door, her expression, or scowl, unreadable.

  “I’ve got to get to work,” I told her breathlessly.

  She grunted.

  I hurried away, went into the windowless room, leaned on the door, and fumbled to put the earpiece in.

  “It’s Eve,” the woman from earlier said impatiently.

  “You do have a name,” I teased.

  “You’re late.”

  “I forgot to put the earpiece in,” I admitted. “I wasn’t alone so that I could do it,” I said, deciding it would be better to try to at least save face. “But there’s been a development.”

  “And that is?”

  “I have plans to meet with Dr. Dello on Saturday.”

  Eve didn’t respond. “Did you hear me?” I asked.

  “I heard you,” she said, her voice flat. “I’ve got to tell the boss.”

  29

  I drove straight from work to the address that Patrick had given me so that I could stake out his partner, Brody.

  “It’s creepy,” God complained for the dozenth time.

  “And I haven’t argued with you about that,” I told him. “But if I’m supposed to figure out a way to get into Dello’s safe, one would think that spending more time with him would give me an in.”

  “You could chop off his thumb,” he suggested.

  I shook my head.

  “Seriously,” he said. “If it’s a biometric safe, and what you need is his thumbprint to open it, you could chop off his thumb.”

  “I’m not chopping off his thumb,” I muttered at him. I took a deep breath and said louder, to make sure that anybody that was listening in would hear me, “I am not chopping off his thumb. End of story.”

  “I think that would work,” the lizard grumbled.

  I took the earpiece out, put it into the box, and threw it into the glove compartment of the car as I drove.

  This made the car weave, which made the lizard scream, “You’re going to kill us.”

  “Not at this exact moment,” I muttered. Then again, I wasn’t completely convinced that going out with Alan Chilton or meeting Dr. Dello on Saturday wouldn’t get me killed.

  I spotted Patrick, slumped down in his seat at the address that he’d given me. I pulled up and parked across the street from him, not even acknowledging his presence. My phone buzzed. I answered the unfamiliar number, guessing that it was him.

  “Thanks for this, Mags,” he said. “If he goes out, just give me a call.”

  “He is out,” I felt the need to bring to his attention. “We’re sitting outside a taco place.”

  “He’ll spend hours here,” Patrick told me.

  “How do you know?”

  “Because if he doesn’t have anybody breathing down his neck during the workday, he spends hours here.”

  “I don’t suppose you got me any tacos,” I suggested mournfully.

  “Couldn’t,” he said. “I’ll see you later. I’ll be back in about three hours.”

  I nodded and slouched in my seat, watching Brody, who was sitting at an outside table. He sat alone, a pitcher of beer in front of him.

  “He didn’t feed you,” God groaned dramatically. “Since when does he not feed you?”

  I shrugged. “I’m guessing the timing didn’t work out.” I wasn’t about to tell the lizard how disappointed I was that the redhead hadn’t provided me with sustenance. I sat and watched Brody, sipping his meal, occasionally talking to the waitress, for thirty minutes. Then, my stomach began to grumble.

  “Mmm, tacos,” God tempted.

  “It’s not like I can go in there and get some,” I said. “He might see me.”

  “Who cares? It’s not like he knows who you are,” the lizard countered.

  I must admit that I considered it. I hadn’t eaten much lunch because Missy’s attitude about Dr. Dello had put me on edge. I was starving.

  There was a knock on my window, and I let out a startled yell. Looking up, I saw Gino bending over, grinning down at me. “Open up, Maggie,” he called.

  I hit the unlock button of the door, and he walked around the car and climbed into the passenger seat. He came bearing food.

  “Date night,” he said enthusiastically.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “I brought you dinner,” he said, pretending that he was hurt. “Doesn’t that count for anything?”

  “You followed me to the stakeout that I’m doing for Patrick,” I said incredulously, wondering if he was jealous.

  “Who are you staking out?” He peered out the front windshield, trying to find my mark. “Oh,” he murmured thoughtfully, “Mulligan doesn’t trust his partner.”

  I didn’t say anything. I was too busy staring at the white bags that he held in his hand. “What did you bring?”

  “Can I stay?” he asked. “Because, quite frankly, if you’re not going to let me stay, I’m not feeding you.”

  “Fine,” I said, holding out my hand. “Give me the food.”

  “You’re always so charming, Maggie,” he teased, handing me a white bag. I opened it and unwrapped a sausage and pepper sandwich.

  “It’s delicious,” he assured me.

  Even if it wasn’t, I was so hungry, I was going to scarf it down.

  We ate in silence, watching Brody sip his beer.

  “Why does he want him watched?” Gino asked as he wiped the last of the marinara sauce off his chin and balled up a paper napkin to toss into the bag.

  I shrugged. “He really didn’t say.”

  “Interesting.”

  I glanced over at him. “Do you know something I don’t?”

  “I know a lot of things you don’t, Maggie. You’re better off that way.”

  I considered warning him that the car was bugged by Ms. Whitehat and company but decided she might be angry if I did that. Instead, I changed the subject. “Can Dominic read?”

  Gino whipped his head around so that he could stare at me. “What?”

  “Dominic,” I said. “Can he read?”

  “Of course.”

  “Because Katie seems to be of the opinion
that he can’t. She brought him that book…” I trailed off, letting Gino fill in the blanks.

  “You think he’s behind on his reading level?”

  I shrugged. “It would be understandable, considering he was in a coma for so long and all.”

  Gino nodded thoughtfully but didn’t say anything.

  “Do you think I should say something to his grandfather about it?”

  Gino shrugged. “That could be a sensitive subject.”

  I nodded. “I know. But he also wants the best for Dominic.”

  Before we could continue the conversation, Brody was joined by a cute, perky blonde.

  “Again,” I muttered as my brother Ian’s girlfriend, Kristen, sat down to join Brody at the table. We watched as he poured her a beer and they clinked glasses in some sort of toast.

  “Know what I know about that?” Gino asked.

  “What?” I asked, gritting my teeth. I did not like the fact that Ian’s girlfriend, who I already didn’t trust, seemed to be a bit too cozy with the cop.

  “They’re siblings.”

  I stared at him, dumbfounded.

  Gino smirked.

  “You’re sure?”

  He nodded. “I told you I know a lot more than you do.”

  “And when were you going to tell me that?” I asked.

  “When I thought it was important you knew.” He inclined his head in the direction of the two sitting at the table. “I figured this was the time.”

  “Do you think Patrick knows?”

  Gino glanced over at me. “Do I think that Patrick knows that his partner’s sister is a mob doctor?”

  “Yeah. Do you think?”

  He shook his head. “I think it’s none of my business what Mulligan knows.”

  “She canceled a dinner on me last night,” I confided.

  “I’m sure you were dying to go.”

  I shrugged. “Still, she told Ian she had to work. Was she doing work for you?”

  Gino held up his hands defensively. “She doesn’t work for me.”

  “Fine,” I said, then restated my question. “Was she doing doctor’s work last night?”

  “Not for us,” Gino said.

  “She’s up to something,” I said. I didn’t like her the first time I met her. I haven’t trusted her since. She was definitely up to something.