Maggie Lee (Book 7): The Hitwoman and the 7 Cops

by JB Lynn

  Opening my eyes, I moved toward his enclosure. “Are you okay?”

  He drew himself up to his full height, which is only a couple of inches, before responding. “Of course I’m okay.”

  “You seem a little tense.”

  “Do you have any idea what kind of day I’ve had?”

  I pointed toward the ceiling. “You heard what kind of day I’m having.”

  Instead of offering me the sympathy I craved, he turned his back on me. “He left you a note on couch.”

  Turning I spotted the note and a white paper bag. For a moment I was thrilled, thinking he’d left something for me to eat too. Hurrying over, I scooped it up and peered inside.

  There was no edible treat. It contained medications and bandages for the cat.

  Sighing, I bent and picked up the note. Like most things that Patrick did, it was cryptic. “INFO”

  Before I could decipher the message, there was a sharp series of raps against the basement door. Since it didn’t automatically swing open without an invitation, I deduced that someone other than a family member was knocking. I considered pretending to be asleep or not there.

  The knocking grew more insistent.

  “Enter,” God decreed royally.

  But to the rest of the world, his voice was just a squeak.

  “Maggie?” Zeke called through the door.

  I shoved Patrick’s note under the couch cushion. “Come in.”

  Zeke swung open the door and descended the staircase slowly, each step heavy and deliberate.

  “You don’t look so good,” I told him, noting that besides the newly-closed cut over his eye, he was pale and worry lines creased his forehead.

  “I feel worse.” He sank onto the couch, directly on top of the cushion I’d used to hide the note.

  I sat down beside him. “Thank you. For what you did for Marlene.”

  “You need to hang out with less dangerous people,” he murmured, trying to focus his gaze on me, but not quite succeeding. “Alice had her psycho ex, Gypsy and those people…” He shuddered for emphasis. “And now Marlene…”

  Considering that he’d shared that he too was a criminal and that he was sitting on a message from a hitman, I figured he was right. But I didn’t say anything. I just waited for him to get to the reason he’d come looking for me.

  “Considering everything you’ve got going on, I feel badly asking for your help,” Zeke said slowly. “But I don’t know who else to ask.”

  “Don’t do it,” God ordered sternly from his enclosure. “Don’t even think about it.”

  Zeke looked around searching for the source of the squeaking.

  Wordlessly, I pointed at the lizard who was madly puffing out his bright orange dewlap, ballooning his throat to three times its normal size.

  Utterly fascinated, Zeke watched the lizard’s antics. “I’m being blackmailed.”

  “So you said,” I murmured.

  “Blackmail means trouble,” God warned.

  “I need your help,” Zeke said again.

  “I got that.”

  Closing his eyes, he leaned back into the sofa.

  It was then I noticed the dark shadows beneath his lashes. He really did look like hell.

  “Let me help,” I urged quietly.

  “Fool!” God shouted.

  Hoping to silence him, I shot him a dirty look.

  He stuck out his tongue.

  “I want out,” Zeke confessed tiredly. “I screwed up one time and now…”

  I’d faced my own blackmailer when I’d first gone to work for Delveccio, so I understood better than most how much pressure the bad guys exerted. “Tell me about it.”

  He shrugged “I can’t talk about it.”

  “I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s going on.”

  “Actually,” God piped up. “You’re fairly adept at helping people even when you don’t have a clue what’s happening half the time.”

  At another time, I’d have taken that as a compliment from the smarmy reptile, but I was focused on Zeke, so I ignored the lizard.

  My cell phone buzzed. I reached for it, but then, deciding to ignore it, I said, “Tell me.”

  “Answer it,” Zeke muttered. “It’s probably her anyway.”

  Assuming that he thought it was Ms. Whitehat calling, I glanced at the display. It was yet another unknown number. “Hello?”

  The woman’s voice that responded was cold and aloof. “Are you ready to go to work?”

  Zeke looked at me expectantly. I nodded, confirming his guess had been accurate. Scowling, he shook his head and looked away.

  Standing up, I moved away from the couch so Zeke couldn’t hear the other end of the conversation. “It’s not like I’ve got other options,” I told Ms. Whitehat snippily.

  “Certainly you do,” she replied smoothly. “You and Mr. Mulligan can go to jail.”

  “Well when you put it that way,” I mocked sarcastically. “How can I refuse?”

  “I knew you’d see things my way.”

  I glanced over and saw that Zeke had stretched out on the couch and closed his eyes.

  “Now, as I was saying. Detective Gilbert needs your help tonight.”

  I thought of the woman Armani and I had met in the hospital. “What kind of help?”

  “She needs to be stopped from taking the same path you’ve chosen.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “You’re not the only one willing to do unsavory things to pay medical bills.”

  As much as I fear and dislike Ms. Whitehat, I felt a pang of sympathy for Joy. I knew what it was like to be faced with an impossible choice. “What do you need me to do?”

  “You’ll know it when you see it, Miss Lee.”

  Zeke snored softly in the background.

  “And what do I get for helping you with this?” I asked.

  “Your continued freedom.”

  “I want more.”

  Ms. Whitehat’s sharp intake of breath indicated that she didn’t like my demand.

  Instead of filling the uncomfortable silence, I waited her out.

  “What else are you hoping for?” she asked finally, her tone icy.

  “I want you to let Zeke go.”

  “That’s what you’re asking for?” God fumed from his enclosure.

  I raised a finger to my lips, silently shushing him.

  He shook his little head.

  “I hadn’t realized he’s so important to you,” Ms. Whitehat mused.

  For a split-second I thought she was talking about the reptile, but then I realized she meant my relationship with Zeke. “We have history.”

  “So I gather.”

  I could practically hear her pursing her lips.

  I swallowed hard, bracing myself for whatever price she was going to demand for Zeke’s freedom.

  “I admire your loyalty to your friends,” Whitehat said slowly. “It is one of your more positive traits.”

  I bent to pet Piss’s head, trying hard to outwait Whitehat in this strange negotiation.

  “Let me see if there’s a way for us both to get what we want,” Whitehat said quietly.

  I paused mid-stroke, surprised that she seemed willing to work with me on this.

  “But first help Detective Gilbert.”

  “Fair enough,” I murmured.

  “If you’re outside her home by eight tonight, you should be in the perfect position to help her. I’ll text you her address.”

  “I’ve already got it.”

  A note of respect crept into her voice. “Impressive. I trust you’ll be successful.”

  “I’ll do my best.”

  “I’ll be in touch, Miss Lee.” She disconnected the call.

  I glanced over at Zeke, who was still snoring softly.

  “Now what did you get yourself into?” God asked haughtily.

  “Purple flying mice,” the cat hissed suddenly.

  Startled by her outburst, the lizard and I stared at her.

/>   Curled up in a ball, she appeared to be asleep. Her whiskers twitched and she purred. “Tastes like tuna, purple flying mice.”

  “I take it back,” the lizard groaned. “She’s not stoned. She’s tripping. Those drugs your boyfriend gave her must be pretty strong.”

  I slapped a hand over my mouth to keep a hysterical giggle from escaping.

  “You’re making a deal with the devil and the cat’s flying high.” The lizard held his head. “Dare I ask what kind of trouble is the beast getting herself into?”

  “The last time I saw her, she’d climbed into Detective Griswald’s lap,” I whispered, not wanting to wake Zeke or Piss. I tiptoed toward the cellar’s storm doors, intent on making a secret escape. “I’ve got some things to do, so I’ll see you later.”

  “Don’t you dare leave me.”

  I hesitated.

  “Please don’t leave me,” the lizard amended painfully. “I can be of assistance.”

  I doubted that, but I still walked over to his enclosure and scooped him out. “Promise me you’re going to behave?” I whispered, holding him up to my eye level.

  “But of course,” he said, as though the possibility of being on less-than-perfect behavior had never even crossed his mind.

  I wasn’t sure that I believed him, but I slipped him into my bra, knowing I was in need of a sounding board.

  “Thank you, Maggie,” he piped up from between my breasts as I clambered up the steps to the storm door and left the B&B without anyone knowing.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “I don’t know why we had to come here. It’s cold.”

  God squeaking complaints coming from my chest got me some strange looks as I boarded the hospital elevator.

  “I told you,” I whispered once I disembarked and was making my way toward the room I was told Templeton occupied, “it’s been crazy.”

  “That’s an understatement.”

  “And Loretta is going to lose her shop if I don’t help her.”

  “You do remember that Armani’s clue was dingbat right? Maybe that’s somebody’s way of saying she deserves to lose the store.”

  “Quiet,” I murmured just before striding into Templeton’s room.

  I should have knocked first.

  Templeton was propped up on a pile of pillows, eyes closed. Loretta sat in a chair beside the bed, but her hand was busy working underneath the bedclothes.

  Spinning around to avert my eyes and hopefully save my scarred psyche, the earlier Chinese food threatening to return, I cleared my throat loudly.

  “Oh hello, Maggie,” Loretta trilled happily. “I’m so glad you stopped by.”

  Without turning to face them, I said, “I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

  “Templeton’s awake.”

  “Hi, Maggie,” Templeton said, confirming his status.

  “How are you feeling?” I asked.

  “Turn around, dear,” Loretta ordered.

  Keeping my eyes half-closed I slowly shuffled so that I was facing them. A quick glance in the direction of Templeton’s nether regions revealed that Loretta’s hands had vacated the area.

  I let out a relieved sigh.

  “Did you need something?” Templeton’s voice was strained with pain.

  For the first time, I focused on his face. He was obviously uncomfortable.

  I felt a twinge of guilt. Perhaps Loretta’s sexual ministrations had been providing him some distraction from his discomfort.

  “I needed to talk to you,” I said to Loretta pointedly, thinking it wasn’t a good idea to discuss her possibly violent ex in front of her latest fiancé.

  “Is it about Leo?” Templeton asked on a pained whisper.

  Surprised, I looked to Loretta for guidance.

  Loretta drew herself up to her full height and raised her chin proudly. “There are no secrets between us. That’s the secret to a good relationship you know.”

  Considering how many times the woman’s been married, I was pretty sure she didn’t know, but I kept that opinion to myself.

  “Guess that means you and the redhead are doomed,” God muttered. “Star-crossed lovers.”

  I didn’t correct him by saying that Patrick and I weren’t lovers. Life kept getting in our way.

  Loretta and Templeton stared at my squeaking chest.

  I tried to keep the conversation on track. “About this Leo character.”

  Loretta scowled. “Leroy Braun.”

  “I thought you said his name was Leo.”

  “Well that’s what I call him.” Loretta tugged on her earlobe nervously.

  “But his name is Leroy,” Templeton gasped.

  Loretta patted his shoulder. “Maybe you shouldn’t talk, dear.”

  “Okay, tell me about this Leroy Braun.”

  “He’s a bad man.”

  While that might be an accurate description, it wasn’t very helpful.

  “Bad, bad Leroy Braun,” God sang softly.

  Loretta and Templeton stared at my chest again.

  “It’s the lizard,” I explained off-handedly. “Have you figured out what dingbat means?”

  Loretta shook her head. “I’m not sure your friend is that great a psychic.”

  “Me either.” But I knew from experience that Armani’s predictions usually turn out to be right, even if it’s in the most bizarre ways. “When’s the last time you remember seeing this note from Braun giving you the title to The Corset?”

  “Not to The Corset, dear,” Loretta corrected. “To the building.”

  I bit my tongue as I waited for her to get around to answering my question.

  “Answer the girl, ‘Retta,” Templeton wheezed. Deathly pale and breathing heavier than the prank callers who sometimes bothered me at Insuring the Future, he really didn’t look or sound good.

  “When Mama died.” Loretta used the corner of Templeton’s bed sheet to dab away a couple of tears from her eyes. “Bless her.”

  Personally I wasn’t all that sure that her mother, my grandmother was worth blessing, but I bit my tongue again and kept the thought to myself. “But that was…” I mentally calculated how long it had been since my grandmother, the one who’d delighted in calling me extraordinarily ordinary, had died. “Ten years ago.”

  Loretta stared at me blankly.

  The shadows of a suspicion formed in the back of my mind, but I couldn’t quite grasp what my subconscious was trying to tell me. “Where was it?”

  “Why in my jewelry drawer of course.”

  “Of course,” God mocked. “Where else would one keep important papers?”

  Not caring that Loretta and Templeton were eyeing me strangely, I pulled out the collar, looked down my shirt, and said, “Shut up.”

  He stuck his tongue out at me, but mercifully fell silent.

  “Of course we’ve looked in the jewelry drawer,” Loretta continued. “And everywhere else we could think of in the B&B. Poor Templeton told me he even ventured into the attic.” She shuddered with revulsion.

  Since I’d encountered Templeton in the attic not long before the wedding of my friend Alice, and had thought he was acting suspiciously, I could confirm he’d searched up there.

  “You’ll find it, won’t you?” Loretta’s voice was filled with unshed tears.

  “I’ll do my best.”

  “There isn’t time,” Templeton gasped.

  I stared at him, trying to determine whether he was paler now than when I’d walked into the room. “When’s the last time the nurse checked on you?”

  He waved me off. “Just a bump on the head.”

  “And the bump on the head is making it hard for you to breathe?” I didn’t always like Templeton, but he had saved my hide a couple of times and I found myself worried.

  “The doctor in the emergency room said he’s fine,” Loretta said hesitantly.

  “Get a second opinion,” I urged. “In the meantime, I’m going to leave so you can get some rest. Feel better, Templeton.”

  He
reached a hand out, beckoning for me to come closer.

  I did and he grabbed my hand. “Thank you, Maggie.”

  “Don’t thank me yet.” Instinctively I bent and pressed a quick cheek to his pale cheek.

  I don’t which of us was more caught off guard by my surprise show of affection, but he offered me a grateful smile.

  I rushed out into the hospital hallway, trying to decipher where that had driven me to demonstrate my fondness for him.

  Before I could figure it out, a voice asked, “Chocolate pudding?”

  Whirling around, I found Delveccio leaning against the wall, watching me. As usual, his shirt was unbuttoned halfway to his naval, flashing a disturbing amount of pudgy flesh. The skin was so distracting that I almost missed the dark stains on the fabric. Almost. But I’m a semi-pro assassin and details are important to people like me (at least that’s what Patrick has tried to drill into my head).

  “Is that blood?” I tried to sound nonchalant as I pointed at his shirt.

  He glanced down. “Could be.”

  “Are you hurt?”

  He narrowed his gaze. “Why would you ask that?”

  I shrugged. “Because we’re in a hospital and there’s blood on your shirt?”

  “Not mine.”

  Since he’s a reputed mobster who pays my assassination fees, I thought it best to not ask whose blood it might be. Instead I asked, “Where’s the gorilla?”

  The corners of Delveccio’s mouth twitched with amusement at the mention of his bodyguard. “Vinny’s watching over my grandson...”

  “I heard he’s doing better.”

  Seeing the crime boss’s expression darken suspiciously, I added hurriedly, “At least according to Katie.”

  He relaxed a bit. “Smart kid that girl.”

  I nodded.

  “Yeah. Dominic’s doing better.”

  “That’s wonderful.”

  He nodded. I was pretty sure some moisture shimmering in his eyes before he gruffly cleared his throat. “What are you doing here?”

  “Visiting my aunt’s fiancé.”

  “I admire your loyalty to family.”

  “Thanks.”

  “You know where Archie is?” he asked too casually.

  I tensed, not knowing if he wanted my father to testify against the Lubovsky family or if he’d prefer for Archie Lee to disappear off the planet. “Afraid not.”