Maggie Lee | Book 28 | The Hitwoman Pays A Debt

by Lynn, JB

  Marge shook her head and mumbled something under her breath as she moved away. “Has Dr. Dello ever done a mold of your hands?” I called after her.

  She paused and then slowly turned to face me. “What?”

  “Dr. Dello wants to do a mold of my hands tomorrow,” I told her in a voice that I hoped sounded excited about the prospect.

  She shook her head, grunted, and continued on her way.

  “I better get to my office,” I said to Missy. “Do you want to grab lunch?”

  “Can’t,” she said. “But definitely Monday.”

  I nodded, even though it was my fervent hope that I wouldn’t be there on Monday.

  Once I was in my office, I put in the earpiece and plugged the drive into the computer. “Good morning, Maggie,” the familiar woman’s voice intoned.

  “It’s kind of creepy having you around all the time,” I told her.

  “I’m just here to help,” she said with a chuckle. “You’ve heard about the change of plans?”

  “I was told,” I said, opening the brown paper bag that Susan had given me and peeking inside at the contents. I grinned when I saw that she had included some of her homemade apple butter.

  “Don’t worry,” the unseen woman told me. “I’ll be with you the whole time.”

  “Gee,” I muttered. “That makes me feel so much better.”

  My buzzing cell phone had me tell her, “I’ve got a call coming in I’ve got to take.”

  “Go ahead,” she said. “I can be quiet.”

  I answered the call, worried something was wrong. After all, it wasn’t like Griswald to call me when he knew I was in the middle of something else. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing,” he said. “But I wanted to tell you that I discovered that Alan Chilton has a criminal record.”

  “Okay,” I said, unsure of what that was supposed to mean to me.

  “I don’t think you should go out on this date with him,” Griswald told me.

  “I think it’s a perfect opportunity to get more information,” I countered.

  “Well then, at the very least, I’m going to go as your backup,” he told me. I wanted to tell him that it wasn’t necessary, that I could take care of myself, but I knew the U.S. Marshal would never believe that.

  “Okay,” I told him. “I’m coming home from work, getting changed, and meeting him at six.”

  “Where?”

  “I don’t know yet,” I admitted. “He’s going to text me the information. I’ll let you know as soon as I do.”

  “I still don’t like it,” Griswald said.

  Remembering Armani’s warning that I was in danger, I wasn’t loving the idea, either, but I thought it was necessary. “It’ll be fine,” I promised him.

  “That sounds reassuring,” God muttered from his hiding spot in my bra.

  33

  She was freaking me out.

  Armani was freaking me out the way she kept staring at me as I got ready for my date with Alan Chilton.

  “I’ll be careful,” I promised her. She, of course, didn’t know who I was going out with, or why. She was just reacting to a feeling she had that I was in danger.

  “Here,” she said, thrusting a tube of something at me. I eyed her suspiciously, worried that it was something carried by The Corset. I didn’t need to be lugging around some kind of gingerbread-scented lubricant. “It’s important you keep using this,” she said as I gingerly took it from her.

  I glanced down and read that it was just hand lotion. “Why?”

  “Just keep using it,” she told me. “Every chance you get. If you run out, I’ll give you more.”

  “I really don’t want to smell like roses,” I told her as I opened the cap and wrinkling my nose as I sniffed the tube.

  “It’s important, Maggie,” she lectured. “Promise me you’ll keep using it.”

  “Okay, okay,” I told her. “Why is it important?”

  “I don’t know,” she said. “I just know it is.”

  As soon as I’d zipped up my dress, I made a show of putting some on and rubbing it all over my hands. “Don’t forget your fingers,” she lectured.

  “Yes,” I said, rolling my eyes. “I will coat my entire hand, including my fingers.” I glanced at my watch. “I really have to go,” I told her.

  “Keep using it,” she said, biting her lip nervously.

  Nodding, I pulled on my high heels and click-clacked out of the bedroom, leaving her behind.

  “Worried she why is?” DeeDee panted, following closely on my heels. She’d listened to our conversation with rapt attention, her ears perked up the entire time.

  “She thinks I’m in danger,” I told the dog.

  “You are?”

  “Ooh,” God cheered from my bra. “I do believe she said a grammatically correct sentence.”

  I ignored the animals because Griswald was standing by the front door, frowning at me. “It’ll be fine,” I told him.

  “I won’t be far behind,” he assured me.

  I nodded, bent over to kiss DeeDee’s snout, and said, “Be a good dog.”

  “You protect go with I will and,” she panted worriedly.

  “You can’t come to the restaurant, sweetie,” I told her. “I’ll be back soon.”

  I hurried out to the car and sank behind the driver’s seat with a relieved sigh.

  “Armani’s rarely wrong,” God felt the need to remind me from his hiding spot in my bra.

  “I know,” I said, staring down at the purse that I’d shoved the hand lotion into. I was tempted to put some on at that moment, considering how important she considered it to be, but I was afraid if I did, the steering wheel would become slippery and I could be the one to actually crash my car and be a danger to myself. I punched the address of the restaurant Alan had requested that we meet at into my GPS and began to drive.

  Griswald followed close behind.

  Alan was already there waiting for me in the parking lot. He greeted me with a big smile and a polite handshake. “I’m glad we got to do this.”

  “Me too.” I glanced over my shoulder, watching Griswald park his car as I let Alan lead me into the restaurant. It was a small Greek place, and the owner greeted my date with familiarity. We got a table in the corner, and before I could even lift the menu, we were brought a serving of black olive tapenade with rounds of toast.

  “It’s the best,” Alan told me.

  My mouth watered. “If you say so.”

  After we’d ordered and made small talk, I murmured, “It’s nice that you visit your mom’s grave.”

  He shrugged. He looked down at his plate and asked, “Are both your parents still alive?”

  “Yes,” I told him.

  “And you’re close?”

  I hesitated before answering that question. He looked at me curiously. “If that’s too sensitive a subject…”

  I shook my head. “My mother’s a patient in a nut—mental health facility,” I amended. “And my dad’s been in and out of prison.”

  “That must make for some complicated relationships,” Alan said.

  I nodded. “Were you close with your mother?”

  “I was six when she died,” he said.

  “Little boys dote on their mothers, don’t they? It must have been hard to grow up without her.”

  He nodded.

  “And your dad?”

  Alan shook his head. I didn’t know if that meant the man was dead or if they didn’t have a good relationship.

  “Not to be morbid,” I said after the waiter had delivered our meals, “but how did your mother die? She must have been quite young.”

  Alan let out a heavy sigh. “She was killed by a bomb.”

  “A bomb?” I gasped, pretending to be shocked.

  “She worked for a judge and they were both killed in the blast.”

  “I’m so sorry,” I murmured sympathetically.

  Alan looked up at me, then, a strange look in his eyes. “I know who was resp
onsible,” he said. “I’ve known for a long time, but it took me this long to get up the courage to do something about it.”

  “Do something?” I practically squeaked, suddenly nervous.

  “Justice will be served,” he told me with a firm nod. A chill skittered down my spine and I wondered if Griswald was right. Had he killed Gabriel and Martinson, making their deaths look like heart attacks? Was I sitting across the table from a murderer? Not that I’m not a murderer, but it’s still disconcerting when I find myself face-to-face with another.

  Alan shook his head as though he realized he’d said too much. “But enough about me,” he said. “Tell me about where you work.”

  Relieved to change the subject, I told him about working at the dentist’s office, continuing the lie that I was some sort of forensic medical billing expert. I even told him that I was going in the next day to have molds of my hands made. He nodded after every sentence, as though he were paying attention, but I got the distinct impression his mind was somewhere else.

  I wondered if he were planning his next murder.

  34

  I was eager to tell Griswald about what Alan Chilton had said, but the moment I pulled up in front of the house, with Griswald right behind me, I realized that Aunt Susan was lying in wait on the porch.

  “How was your date, Margaret?” she asked.

  I could tell from her tone, that wasn’t what she wanted to talk about. I glanced over my shoulder at Griswald getting out of his car. “Enlightening.”

  “I had an interesting conversation with Katie,” my aunt said. There was no mistaking the barely reined-in fury in her voice.

  “Oh?” I slowly climbed the steps toward her, not sure it was safe to be too close to her personal orbit.

  “She tells me that you’re bringing the mobster’s son here.”

  “Grandson,” I corrected automatically.

  “I forbid it!” She jumped to her feet, balling her hands into fists.

  Griswald, who was coming up behind me, asked, “What’s going on?”

  “She wants to bring the criminal’s grandson here,” Susan said. “Can you imagine anything worse?”

  “I thought you liked Angel,” I reminded her. She’d been enthralled with Delveccio’s nephew when he’d served as Katie’s manny.

  I watched in amazement as her whole body seemed to freeze at my words. “That was different,” she said.

  “Because he wasn’t going to influence Katie?” I mocked.

  “You can’t just decide to bring that child into our living space,” Susan said through gritted teeth.

  “I didn’t decide,” I told her firmly. “Katie told me her fears about Dominic not being a good reader and she’s the one that’s insisting that he come learn with her and Alicia.”

  Susan frowned. “A child can’t dictate what happens here.”

  “Agreed,” I told her. “But—”

  “There is no but,” Susan interrupted. “Delveccio is a dangerous man.”

  I lowered my head in acquiescence. “But Dominic is just a boy.”

  “But—” Susan began.

  It was my turn to interrupt. “What if I was judged by who my parents are?”

  Again, Susan froze, hearing the challenge in my voice.

  “You always told me that I would not be defined by my parents,” I reminded her. “Are you telling me the same doesn’t apply to Dominic Delveccio?”

  She sank weakly down into her seat. “But it will look like…”

  I knew what it would look like. I actually didn’t blame her for being concerned about it, or for being worried about Dominic’s influence on her grand-nieces, but I also knew he was a sweet boy who deserved a chance.

  “I haven’t even mentioned it to Delveccio,” I told her. “Nothing is written in stone. It would have to be a family vote, anyway, for something like that to happen.”

  She nodded ever so slightly.

  “I liked Angel,” Griswald murmured from behind me.

  His wife raised her head to meet his gaze. They shared some sort of unspoken communication that I didn’t understand.

  “Do what you think is best, Margaret,” Susan said tiredly. She stood slowly and headed into the house. She paused in the doorway and looked back at me. “Your date was enlightening?”

  “I think that’s the best word to describe it,” I told her.

  “But you’re still bringing Zeke to the party, right?”

  “Of course.”

  Nodding her approval, she disappeared inside.

  “Walk with me,” I said to Griswald, turning around to face him. I climbed back down the stairs and we began to walk up the driveway. I was unsteady on my heels, and he offered me his elbow. I looped my arm through his gratefully.

  “First,” I said, “I just want to point out that I made it out alive.”

  “Congratulations,” the U.S. Marshal murmured drily.

  I relayed what I had learned from Alan Chilton.

  Griswald was quiet for a long moment as we walked, absorbing the information.

  “So he could have killed them?”

  I shrugged. “That’s not for me to determine. I’m just telling you want the man said.”

  “I appreciate all the effort you’ve put into this, Maggie.”

  “I was just trying to help.”

  “I’ll speak to Cheever and Stevens about it in the morning,” he said. “Maybe I can get Brian to pick Chilton up for questioning.”

  I nodded, thinking it must be handy to have a police detective as a nephew, for any time he needed to ask somebody questions under the guise of authority.

  “You smell nice,” Griswald said suddenly.

  I chuckled. “Armani is impressing upon me the importance of using hand lotion, for some reason.”

  “She seems worried about you,” Griswald murmured.

  “That’s what friends are for,” I told him, not saying that it was directly tied to her psychic abilities. I didn’t know where he stood on those, and I didn’t think it was worth broaching the subject when it was so late at night.

  “You’ll be at the party tomorrow?”

  “Of course,” I told him, squeezing his arm. “I’m terrified of what Susan would do to me if I didn’t show up.”

  He threw back his head and laughed. “That’s my sentiment, too.”

  We turned around and headed back toward the house.

  DeeDee bounded out to greet us. “Maggie you safe are?” she panted as she grew near.

  “Does she look like she’s not safe, you grammatically challenged bag of hot air and fur?” God piped up from my bra.

  “There is another thing you should consider,” I said to Griswald carefully.

  “About the party?” he asked.

  “About Alan Chilton,” I said. “What if he’s figured out who’s responsible and he somehow signaled to the bomber that he knows who they are? Maybe the bomber is the one cleaning up loose ends.”

  Griswald shook his head. “I love you, Maggie, but your insistence on always seeing the best in people makes you an easy target.”

  I stumbled, surprised both by his declaration of love and the fact that he thought I saw the best in people.

  “I’m going to agree with Griswald on that one,” God said from my bra. “You can be too trusting.”

  35

  As I slathered on the rose hand lotion the next morning, I wondered if it had something to do with the mold of my hands Dello was going to make. Maybe Armani was doing something that would keep them protected from his actions. I smelled like roses when I stepped into the kitchen, trailed by DeeDee and Piss, and Aunt Susan sniffed the air appreciatively. “You smell good.”

  I bit my tongue to keep from pointing out that her husband had told me the same thing the night before.

  “I’m glad you’re using it, chica,” Armani said. She was seated at the kitchen table, a cup of coffee in front of her. She nodded her approval at me.

  “Better for holding Zeke’s hand,
” Susan offered.

  “You do know that Zeke and I aren’t really a couple, don’t you?” I asked.

  “But I eternally hold out hope,” Susan told me. “Besides, with him coming to the party tonight, it means there’s a much better chance that you’ll actually get there on time.”

  “I’ll get there, I’ll get there,” I muttered, pouring myself a cup of coffee.

  “Marlene is taking the girls for manicures,” Susan told me. “Are you going with her?”

  I shook my head. “I’ve got to go into the office to do some … modeling work.”

  Putting her hands on her hips, Susan scowled at me. “What does modeling work mean?”

  “My boss wants to take a mold of my hands,” I told her, shrugging.

  Susan looked to Armani. “Did you know about this?”

  Armani shook her head slowly, observing me thoughtfully.

  “I don’t like it,” Susan declared.

  “He’s paying me,” I told her.

  “Well, just make sure you’re at the party on time.” She huffily stalked out of the kitchen.

  I settled into the seat opposite my friend.

  “I’m bringing a date,” Armani confided.

  “Jack?”

  She shook her head. “Somebody you haven’t met before.”

  “That’s good, I guess,” I said carefully. Armani had a history of not dating the best guys. While I had my problems with Jack Stern, mostly because I was afraid that he could find out the truth about me and reveal it in a newspaper article, I hadn’t thought he was a bad influence on her.

  “You sounded an awful lot like Susan when you said that,” she told me. I couldn’t tell by her tone if she was annoyed or amused.

  Griswald burst into the kitchen with a pep in his step that hadn’t been there in a while.

  “What’s up, G-man?” Armani asked him.

  Griswald glanced at me. “Brian is going to bring in Chilton for questioning.”

  “Hopefully, you’ll get the answers you’re looking for,” I replied. I really didn’t think that Alan Chilton was a murderer, but what did I know?

  Templeton strode into the kitchen and took a look at the three of us. “You look hungry.”