The Hitwoman and the Neurotic Witness

by J. B. Lynn

  Putting the car into gear, I asked, “Why did you want to bring her along?”

  “She’s sad.”

  “So you took pity on her. Why didn’t you just tell her to let out her inner Chiquita?” I mocked as the car’s headlights swept over Gypsy and DeeDee. They were standing on the side of the road, staring up at a billboard.

  “I don’t think she has one,” Armani confessed. She rolled down her window and shouted, “Get in. We’ve got to get On the Wagon Leslie.”

  Both the dog and the woman quickly got into the car.

  Catching Gypsy’s gaze in the rearview mirror I asked, “No ghost?”

  She shook her head.

  “She must be staying with Katie,” I murmured.

  “Hang on a second,” Armani interrupted. “Are you telling me there was a ghost in this car?”

  “That’s what she says,” I said, jerking my head in Gypsy’s direction.

  Armani twisted in her seat to look at the medium. “Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t I sense it?”

  “Maybe your aura’s off,” I said drily.

  “Shut up!” she snapped at me. Focusing on Gypsy, she asked, “What was the ghost like? What did it want?”

  Gypsy looked to me for permission to respond.

  I nodded my agreement.

  “She’s Katie’s mother,” Gypsy told Armani.

  Gasping, Armani covered her heart with her good hand. “Oh, wow. Like a Guardian Angel.”

  “She did seem benevolent,” Gypsy agreed.

  “Did you talk to her?” Armani asked.

  “Yes.”

  “What did she say?”

  I glanced at Gypsy’s reflection, wanting to know that myself. Did Theresa think I was doing a terrible job with Katie? Had she thought I was a horrible person for driving her around without a car seat?

  “You’re not really buying this poppycock, are you?” God interjected from his hiding spot in my bra.

  Armani looked at me sharply. “Where’s the lizard? I heard him squeaking.”

  “I don’t squeak!” God thundered.

  “Squeak! Squeak!” DeeDee panted.

  Armani leaned over to peer down my shirt. “Is it in there?”

  “Do you mind?” I huffed. “I’m trying to focus on my driving.”

  “Tell her I don’t squeak,” God ordered imperiously.

  “Squeak!” DeeDee barked.

  “Everyone shut up,” I shouted.

  Mercifully they all fell silent as I turned into the church parking lot.

  The meeting had let out. People stood around in small clusters, scattered around the parking lot, talking to one another.

  “No one says a word about Katie or ghosts to Leslie,” I said sternly. “She’s in a fragile enough state as it is. Is that understood?”

  Armani and Gypsy nodded.

  “I’m going to go find her.” I got out of the car. “Be good.” I shut my door firmly for extra emphasis.

  “She’s not talking to Theresa’s ghost,” God said quietly.

  “Just like I can’t be talking to you?” I said, crossing the parking lot slowly.

  “That’s different.”

  “They both sound crazy,” I muttered, spotting Leslie talking to an older woman just a few yards away. “Hush now. It’s time to deal with my aunt.”

  Pasting on a smile, I approached Leslie from behind, unsure of what kind of mood she was in. “Hi, Aunt Leslie.”

  She turned around. “Margaret!” Grabbing my hand, she dragged me forward to introduce me to the woman she’d been conversing with. “This is my niece, Margaret. The one I was telling you about.”

  The woman smiled kindly. “Nice to meet you. I’m Diana.” She extended her hand. “It’s always such an honor to meet someone’s inspiration.”

  Her handshake was surprisingly firm for a woman her age.

  “I’m sorry. I don’t follow,” I said.

  Diana looked to Leslie.

  Leslie smiled at me. “I shared with everyone how impressed I was with how you’ve stepped up for Katie and how I want to do the same.”

  “You’re giving me too much credit,” I told her.

  Leslie shook her head. “No. We’ve all seen it. Even Susan is impressed.”

  I fought the urge to roll my eyes. Hadn’t she seen the way her sister had been treating me lately?

  “I’ll see you tomorrow,” Diana told Leslie, walking away.

  “Where are you parked?” Leslie asked scanning the parking lot.

  “Over there. I’ve got Armani and Gypsy with me. We went for ice cream.”

  “Lovely.”

  As we approached the car, Armani got out and climbed into the back so that Leslie could sit in the front. Gypsy was forced to sit in the middle, sandwiched by Armani and the big dog.

  “You okay?” I asked the patchouli-wearing medium.

  She nodded.

  As I drove back toward the Bed & Breakfast, Leslie twisted in her seat to look back at Armani. “I don’t know how to thank you.”

  “Thank me for what?” Armani asked.

  “For sharing your gift. For telling me my future is to be on the wagon.”

  “No problem,” Armani said flippantly. “You’re welcome.”

  “I would have never gone to this meeting tonight,” Leslie continued.

  Turning serious, Armani told her, “It’s only a possible future. You have to do the work to fulfill your destiny. If you leave it up to Fate, she can be a fickle master. You must stay true to the course.”

  While I appreciated that she was giving Leslie a much-needed pep talk, it took all my self-control to not roll my eyes. Instead, I focused on the traffic, which was uncharacteristically heavy for the hour.

  “I will,” Leslie pledged whole-heartedly. “I’ll stay the course.”

  The car’s occupants fell silent. I imagined that Leslie was pondering her future, Armani was reveling in her gift, DeeDee was thinking about her next meal, and Gypsy was just altered from inhaling her patchouli fumes. Meanwhile I was worrying about how to find the bomber in order to keep Delveccio happy and Patrick safe.

  We were stopped at a red light when Gypsy suddenly yelled, “Stop!”

  “We are stopped,” I said drily.

  Before I knew what was happening, she fumbled with the door handle and stumbled out of the car just as the light turned green and I’d started to accelerate. Slamming on the brakes, drawing the deserved ire of the horn-honking driver behind us, I yelled, “What the hell are you doing?”

  Parking the car on the side of the road, I opened my door to chase after her.

  “That girl is loco,” Armani muttered as I jumped out of the car.

  DeeDee barked her agreement.

  “Gypsy!” I shouted hurrying after the deranged medium who’d run to stare into the window of a doll shop.

  She didn’t respond.

  “They’re not open,” I told her as I drew closer, mentally cursing Zeke for saddling me with yet another unstable person. I had enough of those in my life, thank you very much.

  “I remember,” she whispered.

  “Remember what?”

  “Everything.”

  I waited a long moment for her to expound on “everything” on her own, but she remained silent, seemingly entranced by the glassy-eyed stares of the dolls.

  All those pairs of unblinking eyes gave me the creeps. “Zeke said I should call him if you remembered something,” I prompted gently. Glancing back at the car, I saw that Armani and Leslie seemed to be engaged in conversation. Only Doomsday was watching us.

  Gypsy didn’t move. She didn’t speak. She was as still as the dolls.

  “Did the odiferous woman suddenly become mute?” God asked from the cradle of my bosom.

  His squeaking seemed to snap Gypsy out of her trance. She turned to look at me.

  Startled to see her eyes were filled with tears, I asked, “Are you okay?”

  “They killed him,” she whispered.

 
; “Killed who?”

  “Derek.”

  “Who’s Derek?”

  “My boss. He’d sent me to pick up lunch.”

  I didn’t follow the connection between lunch and death, but I decided that it wasn’t the time to ask for clarification. “Who killed him and why?”

  “We broke the code. We figured out when the delivery is being made.”

  I had the distinct impression that I didn’t want to know the details of the delivery. I had enough problems of my own. I couldn’t afford to get involved any more than I already was.

  “We’ll call Zeke,” I told her.

  Whirling away from me, she looked back at the dolls.

  “We have to help them,” Gypsy’s voice cracked with emotion as she stared at the toys.

  “The dolls?” I asked, confused.

  “The girls.”

  Apprehension made the hairs on the back of my neck tickle.

  Gypsy turned slowly so that she was looking me in the eye. For once her gaze was clear and sharp. Her sudden clarity was disconcerting. “The girls being sold into human slavery. That’s why my boss was killed, because we’d figured out how to disrupt the delivery system of a human trafficking ring.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  “I’ll call Zeke,” I told her, fumbling for my phone.

  It rang just once before going to his voicemail. “It’s me. Leave a message.”

  “Gypsy remembered,” I said breathlessly. “She remembered. Call me back.” Disconnecting the call, I assured her. “He’ll know what to do.”

  “We have to stop them,” Gypsy said again. This time her tone was strong and determined. She stalked back toward the car purposefully.

  I stayed where I was. “What should I do?” I asked God.

  “Assuming she’s not spouting more nonsense,” he said slowly. “You can either turn a blind eye to the situation or help her.”

  “I don’t need more trouble in my life,” I protested weakly.

  “Nobody is going to hold a gun to your head and force you to help,” the lizard said quietly.

  “Come on,” Gypsy shouted from beside the car, waving me to follow her.

  Grudgingly I started to move in her direction.

  “I’m just getting everything back on track,” I muttered.

  “So don’t help her,” God said.

  “You’re not helping.”

  “You’re a grown woman. Do you really need my help to make this decision?”

  I shook my head. Then, realizing he couldn’t see me from his vantage point in my bra, I said, “It’s a no-brainer.” I picked up my pace, hurrying toward the car.

  “There isn’t much time,” Gypsy said when I was within earshot. “It’s happening now.”

  “Now?” I sort of squeaked, the instant pressure getting to me. I’d wanted to have a plan. I’d wanted to think this out. I’d wanted back-up. At the very least, I wanted a gun, but now I was being told, once again, that time was of the essence.

  “No time like the present,” God quipped from my chest.

  I considered yanking him out and leaving him there on the side of the road. Instead, I nodded my understanding to Gypsy and hopped into the driver’s seat.

  “Everything okay?” Armani asked.

  “I’m dropping you and Leslie at the Ten Pins.”

  “Oooh,” Leslie clapped her hands in delight. “I love bowling.”

  Armani waved her mangled hand in my field of vision as I pulled the car onto the road. “I can’t bowl.”

  “Have you ever tried?”

  “Well, no, but….” She trailed off.

  “Ask them to give you a kid’s ball,” I suggested.

  “But I don’t want to bowl,” she whined.

  “Oh, let out your inner Chiquita,” I snapped. “Maybe you’ll meet an interesting man while you’re there.”

  “Loretta met one of her husbands there,” Leslie interjected. “What was his name? Something that started with a vowel. Was it an A name?”

  “Oooh,” God mocked. “We’ve got our own game of Wheel of Fortune going. Can I pick another vowel?”

  Armani’s whining, Leslie’s prattling, and God’s sarcasm made it difficult to concentrate on the important things: namely driving and figuring out how to stop the human traffickers.

  “His name was Eugene,” I announced. “Now everyone shut up and let me drive.”

  The occupants of the car fell blessedly silent…except for Armani.

  “Why are you taking us to Ten Pins?” my semi-psychic friend asked.

  “I have to run an errand with Gypsy,” I replied smoothly.

  “So you’re just going to dump us in the world of smelly shoes and polyester shirts?”

  “It’s a time-sensitive errand,” I said.

  “There’s time to take them back to the Bed-and-Breakfast,” Gypsy said quietly.

  “But I wanted to bowl,” Leslie pouted.

  I did my level best to squeeze the life out of the steering wheel as I drove the rest of the way to the B&B. When we got there I said to Gypsy, “Maybe we should talk to the Griswalds.”

  She nodded. “That’s a good idea.” Jumping out of the car, she hurried inside.

  Leslie and Armani took their sweet time getting out.

  “Thanks for picking me up.” Leslie wandered toward the house.

  “That was officially one of the weirdest nights I’ve had,” Armani groused.

  “Sorry,” I muttered.

  “I’ll see you at work tomorrow?” she asked.

  I nodded, thinking, if I don’t get myself killed tonight. “Thanks for your help with Leslie.”

  Leaning against the car, she bent down to say, “My prediction for you came true too.”

  “How’s that?”

  “You drew my ire.”

  Chuckling, I waved her away. She limped off toward her car.

  Gypsy came flying back out. “They’re not there.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “The only ones there are a pair of elderly lovers who are doing indescribable things with whipped cream.” She shuddered with revulsion.

  “I’m so sorry,” I gasped, wondering if seeing Loretta and Templeton re-traumatized her. “Let me call Zeke again.”

  “We’ve got to get to a warehouse,” she said climbing back into the car. “That’s where the girls are being held. It’s at 90 Oak Street.”

  “I don’t know where that is,” I said, as my cell phone reached out to Zeke’s. It went straight to his voicemail. I disconnected the call. “Maybe we should call the police.”

  Gypsy looked at me like I was the crazy one. “Don’t you read your own newspaper? The police here are all corrupt.”

  “Not all of them,” I protested. “Besides, I don’t have a map and I don’t know where this Oak Street is.”

  “But you do have your phone, Luddite,” God boomed.

  Startled by his squeak, Gypsy jumped in her seat.

  “Huh?” I said eloquently.

  “Your phone has maps and a GPS system and all kinds of modern wonders,” the lizard informed me in his haughtiest of tones.

  I wanted to tell him where he could stick the modern wonders, but I thought that would inflict mental suffering on the poor medium. I handed Gypsy my phone, saying, “Maybe you could find it on here?”

  Nodding, she tapped away like a crazed woodpecker on the screen. “Yes. Yes, of course. Why didn’t I think of that?”

  “Because you’re as deficient as Maggie,” God groused.

  I clapped my hand against my chest to shut him up.

  “Sensitive skin!” He yelled, but took the hint and didn’t offer any more commentary.

  “Got it,” Gypsy said. “Make a right at the corner.”

  Putting the car into drive, I followed her directions while trying to figure out how to convince her that our only hope of saving those girls was to call Patrick. Of course that assumed that the girls really did exist and that he’d believe the ravings of my patchou
li-scented passenger.

  “What’s a Luddite?” I asked.

  Gypsy shrugged.

  “Someone opposed to technology,” God piped up.

  “I’m not opposed to it,” I said. “I just don’t know how to use it well.”

  “Opposed to what?” Gypsy asked.

  “Never mind,” I muttered. “Just tell me where to turn next.”

  Fifteen minutes later, having entered the industrial area of town, Gypsy said, “I think we should park here.”

  “But this is Pine Street,” I told her, not liking the look of the dark, abandoned street.

  “Oak is one block over. We can’t just drive up to the warehouse. We have to sneak up.”

  Coasting to a stop, I grudgingly put the car into park. “I don’t know about this.”

  Instead of replying, she leapt out of the car and rushed down the street. Since she still had my phone I couldn’t call Zeke who’d gotten me into this mess, Patrick who’d no doubt tell me I had no self-control, or the police, who are apparently corrupt. Drew ire indeed.

  “Worst. Plan. Ever.” Jumping out of the car, I ran after her, afraid that if she got too far ahead, I’d never find her on these darkened streets.

  “Me too take!” DeeDee barked.

  “Don’t you dare,” God roared. “She hasn’t recovered from being stabbed by your homicidal boyfriend.”

  “He wasn’t my boyfriend,” I muttered, hurrying back to the car.

  “I need you to stay here and guard the car,” I said to the Doberman. “Can you do that?”

  “Yes!” she barked.

  “But quietly,” I told her. “Guard it quietly.”

  “Guard quiet,” she panted.

  “Good girl.” I turned around just in time to see Gypsy round the corner, onto what I assumed was Oak. I raced after her, Gasping for breath with a stitch that made it feel like I’d been stabbed in the side, I couldn’t help but think that maybe my friend Alice was onto something for suggesting I take up running. I was so focused on that thought that I almost plowed into Gypsy who’d come to a dead stop in the middle of the sidewalk.

  “Shhhh!” Grabbing my arm, she dragged me against the side of a building. Her fingers that wrapped around my wrist were ice cold.

  We watched as a man, fiftyish, carrying a large knapsack approached a building further down the street.