The Hitwoman and the Neurotic Witness

by J. B. Lynn

  “It’s just Gypsy,” she replied quietly.

  “Like Madonna?” Armani asked.

  Gypsy shrugged. “I guess.”

  “Or Cher?”

  She nodded.

  “Or The Rock?” my semi-psychic friend continued.

  “He has a real name,” I interrupted.

  “Gypsy is my real name,” I was informed snippily by the patchouli-wearer.

  “It’s a good name,” Armani soothed. “Valuable.”

  “Valuable?” Gypsy asked.

  Knowing where the conversation was headed, I grabbed a cookie. Armani connected the Scrabble point values of people’s names to their worth as people.

  “It’s worth 14,” Armani told Gypsy. Looking across the table she asked the FBI agent, “What’s your name?”

  “Aaron.”

  The dark-haired beauty shook her head. “Six. Not a good name.”

  Before Armani could make her way further around the table to tell Susan she’s a paltry five, I offered my friend a cookie and asked Gypsy, “You’re finding your room comfortable?”

  She nodded.

  I took that to mean it wasn’t haunted.

  “Care to have your fortune told?” Armani asked the table at large. She shook the purple bag, filled with tiles, enticingly.

  “Can you tell me whether I’ll win my case?” Aaron asked taking another cookie.

  “You’ve got all the evidence you need,” his brother interjected.

  “So I shouldn’t be able to screw it up?”

  The older Griswald flinched at the sarcastic barb. “That’s not what I meant.”

  “No, no,” Aaron said, standing up. “I get it. After all, if it wasn’t for your interference in my case, I wouldn’t have the evidence.”

  “I wasn’t interfering.”

  “That’s what you say,” Aaron shot back.

  “I was chasing after an escaped prison convict,” the Marshal reminded him. “That’s my job. I certainly didn’t plan that Archie Lee would hold the key to your case.”

  “Wait!” Armani interrupted excitedly. “You’re the one who was trying to put Maggie’s dad back in jail?”

  Griswald nodded.

  “And now you’re staying here?” Armani continued. “Aren’t you afraid she’ll stab you in your sleep or poison your cookies or something?”

  Griswald slid a sideways glance at the plate of cookies.

  “I would never poison you,” Susan assured him. “I’ve never even liked Archie Lee.”

  “That’s reassuring,” Aaron murmured, taking yet another cookie. “What about you, Maggie? Are you in the habit of killing people while they sleep?”

  I’m pretty sure that for a long moment my heart stopped beating. I know that I stopped breathing. Was this how I was going to get caught? Sitting at the dining room table? Inadvertently outed by one of my best friends?

  Prison orange is so not my color.

  When I didn’t respond right away, the whole table watched me curiously.

  I offered them a weak grin, forcing myself to take a shaky breath. “I’d never stab anyone while they slept.”

  “Ah, but you admit you do it when your victims are wide awake?” Aaron teased.

  Swallowing hard, I pasted a smile on my face. “But of course.”

  “See,” Aaron said, “if all killers were so forthright my job would be a hell of a lot easier.”

  “It’s not about the job being easy,” his brother chastised.

  “You were born without a sense of humor,” Aaron sniped. “We’re just fooling around.”

  “Who’s fooling around?” a sexy female voice asked.

  We all turned to find Marlene lounging in the doorway, wrapped in a red silk robe emblazoned with an “L,” a cigarette dangling between her fingers.

  “Smoking!” Susan shrieked, jumping to her feet.

  “Chill, Suzie,” Marlene drawled. “It’s not lit.”

  Susan and I sucked in equally horrified breaths. No one dared call her Suzie.

  “Who’s she?” Armani asked.

  “My sister.” I muttered, sending Marlene my strongest “shut the hell up before the witches boil us alive and we scream like lobsters” look.

  “Wow,” Armani said breathlessly. “I’ve never seen a dead chick before.”

  “She’s not dead,” I said, but that was only true because looks can’t kill. If they could, Susan would have smote her with her glare. “She’s my other sister, Marlene.”

  “She,” Armani said admiringly, “knows how to let her innerChiquita loose.”

  “She is loose,” Susan said.

  “Really?” I snapped, outraged by both my sister’s and aunt’s behavior. “You’re really going to do this now?”

  “And there goes Maggie. The Great Defender,” Marlene mocked. “Ready to leap to the defense of the downtrodden.”

  “Why don’t we go for a walk?” Bob suggested to Susan. “It’s a beautiful night and I could use the fresh air.”

  I shot him a grateful look, thankful to have an ally interested in keeping the peace.

  “Who’s he?” Marlene asked.

  Getting to his feet, the big man lumbered over to her, held out his hand, and smiled down. “We haven’t met. I’m Bob, Susan’s friend.”

  Faced with his good-natured openness, Marlene was forced to respond in kind. “Nice to meet you, Bob.”

  I let out a shaky sigh of relief.

  Armani leaned over and whispered, “You have another sister?”

  “Later,” I ground out through gritted teeth.

  “And who are you gentlemen?” Marlene asked in a sultry tone, her hooded gaze drifting over first one Griswald brother, then the other.

  “Lawmen,” I warned.

  Marlene threw back her head and laughed. “Lawmen? What is this? The Old West?”

  “Cut it out, Marlene.” I jumped to my feet, brushed past Bob, grabbed her arm, and hustled her out of the dining room.

  “We’ll have to get better acquainted later, lawmen,” she called as I dragged her away.

  Ripping her arm loose from my grip, she stalked into the kitchen and turned on one of the stove’s burners.

  “What the hell is wrong with you?” I asked, crossing my arms over my chest to prevent myself from reaching out and strangling her.

  “Me?” Sticking the cigarette between her lips, Marlene bent down to use the flame of the burner to light her smoke. The tip glowed and she let out a puff of smoke as she straightened.

  “Take that outside,” I said.

  “What the hell is wrong with you?” Marlene asked, sashaying toward the door. “Since when did you apply for membership in the witches’ club?”

  Following her outside, I pulled the door shut firmly behind me and took a deep, steadying breath before answering. “This has been hard on everyone,” I said gently. “We all just need to cut each other some slack.”

  “And then what?”

  Since it was dark out, her expression was hidden in shadow, just beyond the reach of the floodlights that lit up the backyard. I didn’t need to be able to see her face to know she was upset.

  She flicked ash to the ground, signaling her disdain. “We go back to being a normal, happy family?”

  “What would you know about this family?” I snapped angrily. “You’re the one who took off and never came back.”

  She rocked back on her heels as though I’d physically struck her.

  An uncomfortable silence stretched between us. I waffled between whether I owed her an apology or she owed me one. I never decided because footsteps crunched along the side of the house.

  Marlene and I both turned to see who was coming.

  Patrick rounded the corner, his skin deathly white beneath the harsh glare of the lights. He stopped the moment he spotted us, his gaze flitting from me to Marlene and back again.

  “Hey,” I said awkwardly.

  “If it isn’t the hero cop,” Marlene drawled sarcastically, taking a long drag
on her cigarette as she gave him the once over.

  “Ladies,” Patrick said, dipping his head in greeting.

  “If you’re looking for Griswald, he’s inside,” I told him helpfully.

  He nodded his thanks and scooted past us, avoiding eye contact with Marlene.

  Once he was out of earshot, I asked, “You know him?”

  “We’ve run into each other once or twice on a professional basis,” she said coyly.

  I tamped down the surge of jealousy that had me wanting to strangle her again. Whatever the history between my murder mentor and my sister, the friendly neighborhood hooker, was, it wasn’t worth getting into it now. I had other battles to fight. “If you’re going to stay in Susan’s home, you’ve got to live with her rules.”

  Marlene blinked as though the change of conversation topic had given her a case of conversational whiplash. She recovered quickly though. “Like you’re following her rules bringing that giant, ugly dog into the house?”

  I glared at her. “DeeDee is not ugly.”

  “She’s a dog. Susan hates dogs.”

  “She has a soft spot for DeeDee. The dog saved her life and she’s saved my life. So I’d appreciate it if you didn’t go around insulting her. You’ll hurt her feelings.”

  “You’re worried about a dog’s feelings?”

  I nodded.

  “Geez, Maggie. You’re getting to be as crazy as Mom,” Marlene muttered, walking away from me, out toward the street.

  I watched her leave, wondering if she was planning on coming back, but making no move to stop her.

  “She’s a charmer,” a lady-like Southern drawl came from the shadows.

  I peered into the darkness. “I thought you’d left.”

  “I went exploring,” Piss the cat said, walking up to me and wrapping herself around my legs. “Don’t worry, I’ll say goodbye before I leave for good.”

  “You’re leaving?” A lump rose in my throat. I’d grown fond of the one-eyed feline in the short time I’d known her.

  “Eventually. But not today.”

  “Where’d you go today?” I asked.

  “Exploring. I got bored.”

  “Curiosity killed the cat,” I reminded her, bending down to stroke her silky coat.

  “Spending a day with God made me want to kill myself.”

  I chuckled at the thought of having to listen to the insufferable lizard all day. “That’s understandable.”

  “Why does your sister hate dogs?” Piss asked.

  “I think she hates everyone,” I sat down so that she could climb into my lap. “I can’t worry about her right now. I’ve got too much else going on.”

  “You sound stressed, Sugar,” she purred soothingly. “Want to talk about it?”

  I hesitated, unsure if I was willing to reveal to the cat that I kill people for money. It wasn’t like she could tell my secret to anyone, but I didn’t want her to think less of me.

  As though she could read my mind, she said, “God says you’re a predator too.”

  “What?”

  “He told me about the arrangement you have with those organized crime thugs. He said you’re like me, a hunter. Maybe that’s why I like you.”

  I swallowed hard. The idea that we were both hunters chasing down prey wasn’t exactly something I wanted to bond over.

  “I’ve gotta eat. You’ve gotta take care of your family,” the cat continued, addressing my unspoken fears.

  “And Patrick,” I whispered.

  She looked up at me with her one good eye. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Patrick is in deep shit,” I confided to her.

  “Why’s that?” the redhead asked from behind me.

  Chapter Ten

  “Holy crap!” I squeaked, jumping so high that I knocked Piss from my lap. “Don’t do that! You scared the hell out of me.”

  “I seem to be doing that a lot lately.” Walking around to face me, he held out his hands, an offer to pull me to my feet.

  I couldn’t see his face, so putting my hands into his was a leap of faith. With one strong tug, he yanked me to a standing position.

  I steadied myself against his chest with one hand, feeling his body heat leech into my palm. He smelled like minty Lifesavers.

  Taking a step back, putting space between us, he asked, “Who were you talking to?”

  “The cat,” I said, gesturing to where she stood, licking a paw, watching us like we were the latest blockbuster movie.

  “And why were you telling the cat I’m in deep shit?” He didn’t sound amused.

  I hesitated for a moment. “Rule number one,” I whispered stepping back from him. “Let’s take a walk.”

  Patrick’s Rule Number One is don’t get caught. I didn’t think discussing our murder-for-hire activities in the vicinity of an FBI agent, his U.S. Marshal brother, a woman who claimed to see ghosts, or anyone connected to my meddling family was a good idea.

  So I strolled off the property and down the street. Patrick fell into step beside me. Piss hurried in front of us, waving her half-eaten tail like a beacon for us to follow.

  Once I was certain we’d put enough distance between ourselves and potential eavesdroppers, I said, “You’re in deep shit because the Delveccios think the bombings are somehow your fault.”

  My murder mentor stumbled a bit. I would have liked to believe he tripped on a crack in the sidewalk but I knew it was because my revelation had thrown him off balance.

  “Are they?” I asked.

  He rubbed the back of his neck, a sure sign he was worried. “Maybe.”

  We walked along in silence for a few long uncomfortable moments.

  “I’ve got to find the bomber,” I said finally. “Any idea how I could do that?”

  He grabbed my arm in a tight, punishing grip. “You need to stay away from this.”

  “How am I supposed to do that? Delveccio gave me a direct assignment.” I tried to tug my arm free. While he loosened his hold, he didn’t release me.

  “I’ll take care of it,” he muttered.

  I glanced up at Patrick, considering whether or not to tell him that Delveccio had told me the next contract I had might be on his head. His face was hidden in shadow. All I could see was the determined set of his jaw.

  “What’s going on?” I asked, needing answers.

  “Curiosity’s a killer,” Piss piped up from ahead of us.

  I could hear the frown in Patrick’s voice. “It doesn’t concern you, Mags. Visit your niece. Get to know your sister again. Just stay away from this thing.” He shook my arm for emphasis. “Understand?”

  Yanking free of his grip, I reminded him, “This thing blew up my home and almost took me with it.”

  “Good thing I was there with my nine lives,” Piss opined.

  I ignored her.

  “You’re obviously in trouble,” I continued. “Let me help you.”

  “I can handle it.”

  I didn’t believe him, but I saw no point in continuing the argument, so I fell silent.

  “How are things going with Jewel?” He asked, changing the topic of conversation.

  “Marlene. Her name is Marlene.”

  “Sorry. How’s Marlene doing?”

  “She’s acting like a spoiled brat.”

  Patrick chuckled. “Sounds about right.”

  “How well do you know her?” I hoped I sounded curious and not madly jealous.

  “We’ve run into each other a few times.”

  “And she knows you as the Hero Cop?” What I really wanted to know was whether she’d known him as a paying customer. Or maybe just a customer since I’d heard cops get all sorts of freebies.

  “Jealous, Mags?” He teased softly, draping an arm over my shoulders.

  “Should I be?” I asked, fighting the urge to lean into his solid warmth.

  “You shouldn’t be.” He pulled me closer. “But I kind of like that you are.”

  Before I could protest, he covered my mout
h with his. His kiss was hot and demanding, leaving me with no option but to cling to him as he stole my ability to breathe, my ability to think. I suddenly didn’t care about Marlene, or Delveccio, or the bomber. All I wanted, all I needed, was to stay lost in the kiss.

  “Someone’s coming, lovers,” Piss hissed, breaking through the spell of our heated embrace.

  It took a superhuman effort, but I tore my lips from Patrick’s and tried to extract myself from his arms, but he was not letting go. Swaying unsteadily, gasping for breath, I told him, “Someone’s coming.”

  “Who cares?” He murmured, caught up in the passion of the moment. He pulled me in for another kiss.

  “Rule Number One,” I said breathlessly as he trailed a line of hot kisses down my throat.”

  “I taught you too well.” Even though I couldn’t make out his expression, I could hear the smile in his voice and the corners of my own mouth lifted in response.

  Releasing me, he crossed his arms over his chest, as though it was the only way he could keep his hands off me.

  Turning around, we headed back toward the Bed & Breakfast.

  “Promise me you’ll stay away from the bomber,” Patrick said.

  I shook my head. “Can’t do that. How would it look to the Delveccios?”

  “It’s dangerous.”

  “Then fill me in. Better that I know what’s going on than I end up walking into a situation blind.”

  “It’s complicated.”

  “Give me the Cliff Notes version.”

  Reaching into the pocket of his jeans he pulled out a roll of Lifesavers. “Mint?”

  I took one, but what I really wanted was an answer.

  “There are three kinds of people who would target both the Delveccios and the Lubovskys,” he said slowly, choosing his words carefully. “Law enforcement, but they wouldn’t go around setting off bombs. A rival crime family, but they’d have to be crazy to declare all-out war.” He trailed off.

  The only sounds were the distant chirping of crickets and our footsteps scuffing along the asphalt.

  “You said there were three,” I reminded him.

  He sighed heavily. “Someone with a personal grudge.”

  “Against both families?” I asked incredulously. I talked to animals and killed people for money, but some things are too far out there to be believable.