The Hitwoman and the Neurotic Witness

by J. B. Lynn

  “Like you said, I’ve had a rough couple of days.”

  Her gaze narrowed, like she knew that what had happened wasn’t the real reason I was on edge, but I couldn’t very well tell her that my murder mentor had done something to piss off our mobster bosses.

  “Do you believe in ghosts?” I blurted out.

  She blinked, surprised.

  “Do you believe people can see ghosts?” I took another slice of pizza while I waited for her to reply.

  “Yes.”

  “To which?”

  “To both.”

  I frowned. I’d been hoping that my semi-psychic friend would tell me that there were no such things as ghosts, or at least that it wasn’t possible for them to be seen.

  “Why the sudden interest in the spirit world?” Armani asked, tearing off the crust of her pizza and eating it first.

  “There’s a guest at the B&B who claims she sees death around me.”

  Armani lifted an eyebrow. “And you believe her?”

  “She seemed pretty convincing.”

  “I need to meet her.” She slapped the table with her good hand for emphasis.

  “Why?”

  “Because she could be playing you. Your family is in the news more than Angelina Jolie. It wouldn’t take much to figure out you’ve been touched by death.”

  I took a moment to chew my mouthful of pizza, trying to figure out how to handle this latest wrinkle. If Gypsy really could see ghosts and I was being haunted by the men I’d killed, did I really want my friend finding out about it?

  “And if she’s a real medium I’ve got to meet her,” Armani added, giving me her best hopeful puppy dog look.

  I sighed, wondering what kind of trouble I’d just invited. “Okay. Can you come by the B&B around 8 tonight?”

  She nodded excitedly.

  “No guarantees she’ll want to socialize,” I warned.

  “Understood.” She grinned.

  I took another bite of pizza wishing I understood what the hell was going on.

  ~#~

  When I left work, I almost drove home to my apartment. Then I remembered it no longer existed, which meant I had to return to the B&B. After a day’s worth of listening to people complain that “someone else” had backed into them in a parking lot, the idea of dinner with the witches was enough to make me pop a mint Lifesaver into my mouth, rest my head on the steering wheel of my car, and take a couple of shaky breaths.

  A sharp rap on my window had me jerking my head up, smashing my nose into the steering wheel, and choking on the little ring of candy. Coughing, spluttering, and gasping for air, my eyes filled with tears, blurring whoever it was who’d scared me half to death. I’d have told them exactly what a jerk they were if I wasn’t so busy trying to breathe.

  Once I’d finally dislodged the mint, spitting it onto the speedometer, I blinked away my tears and glared at the offending party.

  Patrick cocked his head and offered me a bemused grin, not the slightest bit impressed by my death glare.

  “Did you want something?” I snapped at him.

  He indicated I should lower my window. I did so grudgingly.

  “I didn’t mean to startle you,” he apologized.

  “You didn’t.”

  He raised an eyebrow.

  “You gave me a heart attack.”

  “Do you want me to call 9-1-1?” He reached for his phone.

  “No one likes a smartass,” I told him.

  “I do,” he teased with a wink. His voice dipped lower as he bent down and stuck his head in the car. “Of course if you’d like me to perform mouth-to-mouth…”

  With his breath caressing my cheek, making my heart speed up, it was tempting to close the distance between us. I swayed toward him, but then shook my head, not about to be won over so easily. “We may have a problem.”

  The redhead grew serious. “What’s up?”

  “Besides the fact that the B&B is suddenly home to a U.S. Marshal and his FBI agent brother?” I complained.

  He shrugged. “Just be careful what you say and do around them and you’ll be fine.”

  “I take it you haven’t met the other guests.”

  “If you mean the guy you were hugging last night….” He let the accusation hang in the air.

  “Zeke isn’t the problem,” I said, not bothering to correct him. “It’s his friend. Gypsy.”

  “He has a friend who’s a gypsy?”

  “I don’t know if she’s a gypsy. It’s what she calls herself.”

  “So you have a problem with people with stupid names?” he asked.

  “It’s not her name. It’s her…ability.”

  “Ability?”

  “She says she can see ghosts.”

  “So she’s a little delusional. With your family history, I wouldn’t think that would be too challenging to deal with.”

  “Leave my family out of this.” It’s perfectly okay for me to say my family is nuts. But I draw the line at anyone else pointing it out. “She said I’m surrounded by death.”

  He squinted at me and I got the distinct impression that he was wondering whether I’d cracked under all the recent stress I’d been under.

  “This could be serious,” I said.

  “Relax, Mags. I’m sure Loretta told her your entire life story.”

  “I hope you’re right,” I muttered. “If she takes one look at you, screams, and runs from the room you’ll know why.”

  He leaned down to whisper, “That’s not usually the effect I have on women.”

  If the way everything in my body tightened with need was any indication, he was probably not exaggerating. My mouth went dry, my throat constricted, and I’m pretty sure I squirmed in my seat.

  Amusement danced in Patrick’s green gaze and a cocky smile lifted the corners of his mouth.

  “You never told me why you’re here.” My voice came out as a strained whisper.

  The light faded from his eyes. “I wanted to let you know that I don’t think the Lubovskys are trying to kill you.”

  “Because their warehouse was blown up?”

  His mouth flattened into a thin line. “How do you know about that?”

  “Delveccio told me.”

  “When did you talk to him?”

  “I went to visit Katie before work.”

  “And he just happened to be there at the crack of dawn?” Tension threaded through his tone.

  I shrugged. “He’s pretty keen on finding out who’s blowing things up. He seems to think it might be your fault.” I held my breath, carefully watching Patrick’s expression as I dropped the bombshell.

  His gaze clouded over. “Did he tell you that?”

  I nodded.

  “Dammit!” He slammed his palms into the door frame, rocking the car.

  “Hey!” I protested.

  Straightening, he stared off into the distance, his eyes cold and unyielding.

  For a second, I considered telling him that Delveccio might want me to kill him, but my self-preservation instinct kicked in. I liked Patrick, and I trusted him to a point, but telling a hitman that I might have to off him, seemed a bit foolish. Swallowing hard, I held my tongue, watching him.

  Except for the muscle twitching in the redhead’s jaw, he stood as still as stone.

  Reaching out of the car window I touched his wrist. “Whatever you’ve gotten yourself into, I can help.”

  He looked down at where our bodies made contact. A slight smile played at his lips. “You kill me, Mags.”

  “I’d rather not,” I whispered, stroking my fingers up his forearm.

  He swooped in to press a quick, hard kiss to my lips before walking away without a word or backward glance.

  I watched him leave, struggling to breathe against the invisible vise tightening around my chest.

  Chapter Eight

  My need to avoid Delveccio outweighed my desire to see Katie, so I went straight back to the Bed and Breakfast.

  DeeDee bounded up to m
y car the moment I pulled to a stop. “Maggie! Maggie!”

  I couldn’t help but grin at her exuberant greeting. “Did you have a good day?”

  “Gave hamburger Susan me,” she panted excitedly.

  Rubbing the spot between her eyes, I bent down and whispered, “What about God and Piss? Did they have a good day too?”

  “Left bored Piss.”

  “Piss left?” I asked, surprised.

  “Gone. Bored God. Fortune no wheel.”

  “Oh crap,” I muttered. “I forgot to leave the TV on for him.”

  “Trouble Maggie.”

  “You have no idea,” I told her.

  She licked my chin sympathetically and then bounded away to sniff something at the far end of the yard.

  I tiptoed into the B&B hoping to make it down to the basement before anyone realized I was there.

  No such luck.

  “Is that you, Margaret?” Aunt Susan called from the dining room.

  “Nope,” I yelled back. “I’m a burglar, here to steal your silver.”

  Without missing a beat, she said. “It’s all in here.”

  Sighing heavily, I made my way to the dining room.

  She hadn’t been kidding. The table was laden with every bit of silver or silver-plated junk the B&B held. Some of it was tarnished, almost black. Some of it gleamed brighter than the sun.

  All of it fell under the watchful eye of U.S. Marshal Griswald who held a polishing cloth in one hand and a silver napkin ring in the other. “Hi. Susan just went upstairs,” he said cheerfully, as though it was an everyday occurrence to come home and find a lawman shining knick-knack crap. “How was your day?”

  I blinked.

  “My brother says you make a mean scrambled egg.” He rubbed the polishing cloth against the metal, making sure to get into all the nooks and crannies.

  “I grew up in a Bed and Breakfast,” I said slowly. “I can make breakfast and I can make beds….besides that I’m woefully bereft of life skills.”

  He chuckled.

  “You don’t have to do that,” I told him.

  “I don’t mind.”

  “Are you paying for your bill through some sort of barter agreement?” I asked. “Because if she makes you scrub the bathrooms, you should request an extra free night or something.”

  “I find this to be satisfying.” He admired his handiwork before pulling another tarnished item from the pile. “I can see my progress. There’s a definite beginning and end.” He waved at the collection of gleaming metalware. “That’s not something I usually get in my line of work.”

  I nodded like it made sense, but really I was thinking that it was only a matter of time until everything would turn dark and cloudy again.

  “Besides,” he continued. “I’d rather sit down here than listen to Loretta and Templeton’s afternoon delight adventures.”

  I winced, suddenly feeling sorry for the guy and understanding why the mundane task held so much appeal. “Sorry about that.”

  Griswald shook his head. “No need. Someone should be happy.”

  The clatter of footsteps hurrying down the stairs announced Susan’s arrival before she breezed into the room with an indignant huff. “The makers of Viagra are responsible for the downfall of modern society.”

  Griswald chuckled.

  I nodded sympathetically.

  “Do you have any idea how long they’ve been at it?” Susan asked.

  “I’d rather not,” I muttered. Desperate to change the direction of the conversation I told her, “My friend Armani is coming over around eight.”

  “Why?”

  “Why?” I couldn’t very well tell Susan that she was trying to figure out whether or not Gypsy was really able to communicate with the spirit world.

  “You know we have a full house,” Susan complained. “And that friend of Zeke’s….” She rolled her eyes, signaling her displeasure.

  “Armani’s coming to visit, not to stay,” I assured her.

  Sinking into a chair, she frowned. “I don’t know how you all expect me to keep up. I’m only one person.”

  Unused to hearing her complain, a surge of worry shot through me. “What’s wrong? If you need help, just tell me what you need done and I’ll take care of it for you.”

  Her expression softened. “I know you will, Margaret. It’s just that it’s all been so much…”

  “I know. I know,” I soothed, realizing that while I might have been able to take my father’s escape from prison, Paul’s attempt to kill me, and my apartment being blown to smithereens in stride, not everyone could. That stress, coupled with the sudden influx of guests, was obviously too much for her to handle. “I’ll tell Armani to come by another time.”

  Susan shook her head. “It’s not that…have you spoken to Marlene?”

  “I don’t think she was up when I went to work and I just got home,” I said slowly. “She was smoking in her room. Smoking!” Susan practically screeched.

  Out of the corner of my eye I saw Griswald flinch, but he was wise enough to remain silent.

  “She probably just forgot the rules,” I said.

  “But she’s a smoker!” Susan wailed, as though she thought that was the equivalent of being a serial killer.

  I bit the inside of my cheek, resisting the urge to point out that since Marlene had spent who-knows-how-many-years working as a prostitute that she’d probably picked up more than one vice Susan wouldn’t approve of. Instead I said, “I’ll talk to her.”

  “And tell her she can’t leave her dirty dishes in the sink.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Your mother likes Armani,” Susan said.

  “Huh?” I asked, the change of conversation giving me whiplash.

  “Your mother met Armani at Alice’s wedding,” my aunt explained to me slowly as though I were mentally deficient. “She liked her.”

  Deciding the safest response was to say nothing at all, I nodded.

  “You should have her come over,” Susan decided.

  “I thought you said—” I began.

  “I think the dog wants to be let inside,” Griswald interrupted. He raised his eyebrows at me, which seemed to indicate that I should escape while I was still in possession of some of my sanity.

  Nodding my thanks, I practically ran from the room.

  I let DeeDee into the basement through the cellar storm doors just so I wouldn’t have to risk another run-in with Susan. The moment we stepped inside, I realized I hadn’t made a clean getaway.

  “It’s about time,” God complained from the shadows. “You left me here all alone with nothing to keep me entertained. I almost died of boredom.”

  “Poor thing,” I said sarcastically. “How did you ever manage to survive?”

  “Sleep,” DeeDee panted.

  The lizard stuck his tongue out at her. “Hush, beast.”

  “You slept all day?” I asked.

  “There was nothing, absolutely nothing, else to do,” God declared haughtily.

  “I’ll make you a deal,” I told the lizard. “I’ll turn on the TV to whatever you want to watch, if you’ll let me nap for an hour.”

  “Tired Maggie?” DeeDee asked.

  “Exhausted,” I confessed without exaggeration. I hadn’t gotten a decent night’s sleep in almost a week.

  “E!” God said.

  “Does that mean you agree?” I asked, confused.

  “E!”

  I frowned at him. “You’re going to have to give me more than a letter to go on.”

  “I want to watch E! Entertainment Television, you moron,” God thundered.

  “Why?” I asked, shuffling toward the remote control.

  “Letter!” DeeDee barked excitedly. “Letter Y.”

  The lizard twitched his tail, signaling his annoyance. “That’s what I get for teaching her the alphabet. Just turn on the channel so that I can keep up with the Kardashians.”

  “Who?” I asked.

  My reptilian companion sta
red at me, “Do you live under a rock?”

  “I’m a busy woman,” I said defensively.

  “The Kardashians…they’re like American royalty.”

  “Like the Kennedys?” I turned on the television.

  “No, no!” The little guy actually stamped his foot. “They haven’t held public office, or been convicted of crimes, or been assassinated.”

  “So what makes them royalty?” I asked, scrolling through the channels.

  “E!” DeeDee woofed helpfully.

  “Wrong, beast,” God said with a smug flick of his tail. “It all started with a sex tape.”

  Dropping the remote beside the set, I went and took a nap on the couch.

  ~#~

  “Wake up, Sleeping Beauty,” a man whispered, gently shaking my shoulder.

  I smiled before I opened my eyes. I’d been dreaming about Patrick, and here he was. I sighed my contentment.

  Except when I focused on his features, I realized it wasn’t Patrick hovering over me.

  “Aaaaaah!” I screamed, shoving the man.

  Stumbling away, barely able to remain upright, he said, “Easy, Maggie. No one’s going to hurt you.”

  Struggling to sit up, I glared at him. “What the hell are you doing?”

  Zeke raised his hands defensively. “Susan asked me to wake you. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

  “Why didn’t you just knock?”

  “I did, but you were out cold.” Straightening, Zeke lowered his hands and watched me carefully.

  “Snoring,” DeeDee confirmed on a quiet whine.

  “What the hell kind of watch dog are you?” I asked.

  Cocking her head, she looked at Zeke. “Dangerous?” Jumping to her feet, she snarled softly at him.

  Poor Zeke froze.

  “No, he’s not dangerous,” I told the dog.

  Relaxing, she lay back down.

  “I’m trying to watch my program,” God yelled. “Can you keep it down?”

  Zeke turned his head in the direction of the squeaking noise.

  “It’s the lizard,” I offered as explanation.

  “Okay.” He slid a nervous gaze toward the Doberman. “I really didn’t mean to startle you. It’s just that Susan’s on a tear and she asked me to get you.”