Maggie Lee | Book 25 | The Hitwoman Owes A Favor

by Lynn, JB

“You know you have a dilemma,” God whispered in my ear.

  “Now isn’t the time,” I muttered.

  “Will you let him take The Lion to the cops or Delveccio, or will you deliver him to Mia and save your dad?”

  I stumbled and had to take a second to regain my balance. He had a point. Patrick and I were working at cross-purposes in regards to Klugman. “And you neglected to point that out until now?”

  “I didn’t want you to be without back-up,” he explained. “If one was to assume that you die because you tried to handle this alone, it makes sense that your chances of survival improve with a partner.”

  “So you figured Patrick was the one to keep me alive?”

  “No, you chose Patrick. I would have preferred Zeke or Gino, but someone’s better than no one.”

  “Why didn’t you just tell me to call one of them?” I paused at the top of the stairs. The voices were coming from a back room.

  “You wouldn’t have listened. And they come with the same baggage. They each need to bring Klugman to their bosses. But the most important thing is that you stay alive.”

  Deciding that there was no point continuing the conversation, I whispered to Piss, “Can you go see how many there are?”

  “Sure, sugar.” She pranced ahead.

  I waited.

  “Scared,” DeeDee panted.

  “Of what?” I asked, rubbing the spot between her ears to try to calm her.

  “Dying Maggie.”

  “I’m not going to die,” I told her.

  “Said Armani,” she countered.

  “Armani’s wrong about a lot of things,” I assured the dog.

  “No,” God argued. “She’s really not. She may not get everything exactly right, but she gets close.”

  “You’re not helping,” I muttered at him as Piss returned.

  “Three,” she reported.

  I held my breath, hoping she’d say Klugman wasn’t among them.

  “He’s in there,” the cat confirmed.

  “Let your dad go back to prison,” God urged. “He’s not your responsibility.”

  I shook my head. “I can’t.”

  “What about what you told Susan?”

  “Susan?”

  “You told her to let people pay the consequences for their actions,” the lizard reminded me.

  I hesitated. I had said that. I’d meant it, too.

  He was right. Dad wasn’t my responsibility. Katie was.

  I turned and slowly began to walk down the stairs.

  Suddenly, there was shouting and crashing. Realizing Patrick hadn’t waited for me, I spun back.

  “Run!” God urged.

  He meant for me to run out of the factory, but instead, I raced toward the fight, DeeDee beside me.

  Two goons I hadn’t seen before had Patrick pinned to the ground. Leo Klugman was preparing to stomp on him.

  “Stop!” I yelled.

  It was enough to startle Klugman.

  DeeDee launched herself at one man, and I jumped on the back of the other.

  “No! No! No!” God complained.

  If I hadn’t been riding the guy like a cowgirl on a bucking bull, I would have pointed out that he, too, was sounding like Benny.

  DeeDee pinned her opponent pretty quickly, but the guy with me on his back thrashed around wildly.

  Thankfully, Patrick got to his feet. “I’ve got him.”

  I let go and dropped off the man’s back. I let those two engage in hand-to-hand combat while I chased after Leo The Lion.

  “This way,” Piss called, leading me in the direction he’d disappeared.

  “This is not the way,” God warned.

  “Shut up,” I gasped breathlessly, running down a maze of corridors. “This is the only way.”

  “We need to split up,” Piss said. “I’ll go one way, you go the other.”

  “Okay,” I agreed.

  “I want to go with Piss,” God declared.

  “Because you don’t want to die with me?” I asked, even as I lowered him onto the cat’s back.

  “Because I want to be in a position to help you,” he countered. “Yell if you find him.”

  Then, we ran off in opposite directions.

  I raced down a series of hallways, until I reached a narrow metal catwalk that extended over the wide-open area with all the steaming vats on the main floor.

  Since I’m not afraid of heights, I walked out on the catwalk, leaning over the railing overlooking the main floor, trying to spot Klugman. “Where’d he go?” I muttered to myself.

  “Look out!” God bellowed.

  The warning came too late. As I started to turn, I spotted The Lion behind me. Swinging a bolt of fabric like a baseball bat, he knocked me off-balance, and I tumbled over the railing. For a split-second, I thought I could save myself when I was able to grab some metal, but I couldn’t hold on and I fell.

  Tumbling through the air, my last thought was that Armani had been right. I was going to die.

  29

  The impact knocked the breath out of me as I belly-flopped into one of the vats.

  It hurt and I choked. Instinctively, I kicked out, trying to swim to the surface while my lungs burned and my heart raced. The water was cold, not hot like so many of the steaming vats, and it made my legs feel like they were turned to stone. Swimming was made even more difficult because of being fully dressed, and I panicked, thinking I wasn’t going to make it.

  But then, I broke the surface and greedily, desperately sucked in air.

  I was distantly aware of God cheering, “She’s alive! She’s alive! She’s alive!”

  Benny would have been proud.

  I looked around the vat, looking for a handhold so that I could claw my way out. I finally found a pipe and managed to shimmy my way to the top of the container, but then I had no way to get to the ground without sliding down the outside pole like a fireman.

  They must practice that particular skill because when I attempted it, I swung around gracelessly and landed in an undignified heap with a loud thump.

  Still, I was on solid ground. That was something. I lay there, trying to catch my breath, until Piss ran over with God hanging on to her collar.

  “Just breathe, sugar,” she coached. “You’re okay.”

  I nodded and pushed myself into a sitting position.

  That’s when God laughed. I’d never heard him really laugh before, but he took one look at me and let out a loud guffaw. Then, another and another and another. Wave after wave of laughter came out of him.

  “What’s so funny?” I asked impatiently.

  “You’re…you’re…” He was overcome with another paroxysm of laughter.

  I glared at him.

  “You’re blue!” he blurted.

  I looked down at my hands and realized he was right. I looked like a pale Smurf.

  “You were dyed!” the lizard shouted with joy. “Dye with a ‘y’!”

  I started to chuckle. I wasn’t going to die. I was going to dye.

  “I dyed!” I whooped, throwing my hands in the air.

  “You don’t sound dead,” Patrick yelled from the second floor.

  “I’m blue,” I replied. “Literally blue!”

  “Klugman got away,” Piss reminded me.

  I scrambled to my feet. Not an easy task, considering everything I wore was sodden. “Which way did he go?”

  “Follow me,” Piss declared.

  “Mags?” Patrick called out.

  I didn’t answer. I knew he would tell me to wait for him and I wasn’t about to do that.

  I ran out the front door, dripping a trail of blue dye.

  “He turned this way,” the cat revealed.

  We hurried down the street, past the leather factory, looking for any sign of him.

  A guy coming out of a seedy bar to light a cigarette looked me over. “Gallery’s three doors down.”

  I didn’t bother to explain I wasn’t some sort of interactive art show. I kept hunting
Klugman. I was almost past the art gallery when a painting caught my attention. I stopped and stared at it for a long moment. I’d seen portraits like it before, portraits where the eyes were replaced with hearts, in Klugman’s storage unit.

  I read the sign beside the portrait and realized the artist was appearing at the exhibit. Now.

  A paper bag mask, with hearts cut out for eyes, was propped up next to the About the Artist placard.

  I didn’t even finish reading the bio. “The Lion sees all…” was enough to send me charging into the gallery.

  In any other setting, a blue woman, trailed by a one-eyed cat, might have been considered out of place. But in an art gallery where every patron was wearing a paper bag over their head, I’m pretty sure I looked like the normal one.

  “Take off your masks,” I ordered them, determined to find Klugman.

  They hesitated.

  “Is this part of the show?” a nearby woman asked.

  “There he is!” Piss declared, bounding toward one of the taller people in the room.

  I had no idea how she made that determination, but I followed after her.

  Our quarry bolted, which led me to believe she was right.

  Dashing about bagged people, I chased Klugman out into the street. It was dark now and the shadows made it challenging to track him, but I couldn’t let him get away. Not with a child’s life hanging in the balance.

  “You should call for help,” God urged.

  I knew he was right. I fumbled with my phone as I ran, but nothing happened since it had been submerged in the vat. “It’s dead,” I panted.

  “So are you,” Klugman said from behind me.

  I tried to turn, but the blow struck the back of my head.

  I stumbled away, holding up a hand to keep him at bay, but he kept on coming. I couldn’t see straight and I was swaying weakly.

  “She said you’d show up alone.”

  “Who?” I gasped as I felt myself falling to the ground.

  And everything went black.

  30

  I’d been so relieved about my dyeing, that I’d gotten reckless.

  And now I really was going to die.

  I knew that because, as I blinked my eyes slowly open, I saw the gun pointed right at me. It took longer for the person holding the gun to come into focus.

  “Mia,” I sighed with relief at seeing a friendly face. Then, I looked back at the gun she held and blinked, confused. I tried to sit up and realized my hands were cuffed behind my back. Looking around, I saw we were in a small windowless room. A fluorescent light flickered and buzzed overhead. “Where are we? We have to get out of here.”

  “You are not an easy person to frame, Margaret May Lee,” Mia said, shaking her head.

  I went cold, hearing the menace in her voice. I fought the panic clawing at my brain, forcing myself to stay calm. “What do you mean?”

  “The job, should we choose to accept it,” she intoned dramatically, “was to frame the daughter of Archie Lee.”

  “Frame me for what?” I asked.

  She shrugged. “Pretty much anything. Anything that would take you out of the picture.”

  I twisted my wrists, trying to see if I could free myself from the restraints. “I don’t understand.”

  “No,” Mia agreed with a sly smile. “You never did. You always went by your heart more than your head. Even now, you were willing to do the impossible to help dear old dad.”

  “Why are you doing this?” I asked, hating the note of hysteria that crept into my voice. “We’re friends.”

  She let out a harsh laugh. “Don’t take it personally, Maggie. This was totally a business deal. Leonard owed people money and this payday lets me start over somewhere new.”

  “And what about Bundy?” I asked. “What’s going to happen to him?”

  She smirked. “I can’t believe you even fell for the stupid names. There’s no Bundy. And that brat Manson? He’s a child actor. We’d convinced his parents he was auditioning for a reality show. You must admit, I did a good job acting the part of a heartbroken mother, didn’t I?” She made her lower lip tremble for emphasis.

  I looked away. I felt like a fool. And I was angry. Plus, I was scared. But what I really needed to be was focused. I needed to think, not feel, in order to get myself out of this mess. I wished that God was with me, but he and Piss were nowhere to be seen.

  “She said that dangling a child in danger would be the perfect bait to lure you in.”

  I felt sick to my stomach as I started to understand the scope of their plan. “Who did?”

  “The one footing the bills.”

  “And who’s that?”

  “You don’t know?” She cocked her head to the side. “You really can’t guess?”

  The only person who came to mind was Ms. Whitehat, but this didn’t seem like her style. As God had pointed out, I’m useful to her. She had other ways of destroying me if she wanted to.

  “It’s so obvious,” Mia mocked. “Maybe you’ll work it out in prison. You and your dad can be pen pals and write to each other through the prison mail system. They have one of those, don’t they?”

  “Why try to kill my dad?” I asked.

  She shook her head. “Oh, that wasn’t us.”

  I stared at her, trying to determine whether she was lying. Not that she had a reason to lie about that or anything else, at this point.

  “Really, Maggie,” she said, like it was important I believed her. “The job was to frame you.”

  I swallowed hard. “What will I be accused of?”

  “Murder,” she said with a satisfied grin.

  I unclenched my teeth long enough to ask, “And who will people think I killed?”

  “Why, Leo, of course!” she crowed with a triumphant grin. “Everyone knew you were looking for him. And your fingerprints are all over his belongings at the storage area. Plus, all those witnesses saw you chase him out of the gallery.” She leaned closer to reveal, “He was pretty pissed about that, actually. You ruined his big night. The fool really believed himself to be an artist. He never figured out that I was the one who bought all his paintings.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I liked being married to a rich and powerful man. Even if he was a putz. And every time he sold a painting, he stopped talking about divorcing me for at least six months. But then, he had to go blow everything and, well, desperate times call for desperate measures.” She shrugged.

  “You killed him?” I asked.

  “Have you ever killed anyone, Maggie? It’s easier than you’d think. Just one little pop from this thing.” She waved the gun. “And a gurgle or two from him, and the job’s done. Now, I keep the entire payout. I don’t have to share it with the hubs.”

  I stared at her. I’d killed for Katie, not for personal profit. I’d killed bad people for good reasons. Mia was just a monster.

  “Oh! And soon my…co-workers,” she smiled at her own joke, “will be here with your cop friend and you’ll be blamed for his death, too. Tragic.” She shook her head, feigning sadness.

  My heart dropped at the knowledge that Patrick would die because of me. I hoped she was lying and that Patrick had gotten away, but Mia looked all too happy with herself. There was no way she wasn’t telling the truth this time.

  “You just sit tight,” she said. “I’ll be back for you soon.”

  She walked out of the room and switched off the light, leaving me alone in the dark.

  My head was pounding, and I felt sick to my stomach. If I didn’t find a way out, Patrick would die, and I would go to prison. But no matter how much I tried to work my wrists free, I couldn’t escape the handcuffs. I struggled, but nothing happened. My whole life was going up in flames and I couldn’t do anything.

  I was certain that Patrick was faring better than me, if they, whoever they were, really did have him.

  “I’d rather die than go to prison,” I muttered under my breath.

  “I’d rather you not do eit
her,” God whispered.

  I let out a cry of relief. I wasn’t alone.

  “Help’s coming,” God assured me.

  “Patrick’s in danger,” I told him.

  “Yes, I know. I listened to her whole explanation.”

  “She’s evil,” I said, my voice shaking.

  “She is,” God agreed.

  “There’s something I don’t understand,” I mused aloud. “If their made-up son didn’t get the stolen heart, who did?”

  “One of Whitehat’s men,” a familiar voice said in the darkness.

  The overhead light flared to life. I blinked against it as Zeke moved toward me.

  “But you made it seem—” I began.

  “You accused. I just didn’t correct your assumption.”

  “Why?”

  “Because Whitehat wanted you involved.” Zeke moved behind me.

  “Why?”

  “She must have her reasons. He’s a good man, the guy who got the heart. You’d like him. A real hero type. He was injured in a bomb blast and would have died without a new one.” While he spoke, he jiggled the handcuffs. By the time he reached the end of his explanation, my hands were free.

  “Let’s get you out of here,” he said, pulling me to my feet.

  “Mia—” I began, rubbing my wrists.

  “We know.” He grabbed my shoulders and stared into my eyes. “It’s going to be okay, Maggie. She’s failed. You’re not going to prison. You won’t lose Katie.”

  I blinked, surprised by the last sentence. I wondered how much my old friend knew about what I’d done in the name of my niece.

  “You never liked Mia,” I said with a weak smile.

  He shook his head. “Never.”

  “Patrick?” I asked, remembering the threat she’d made against him.

  “He’s been rescued,” Zeke assured me. “And DeeDee’s fine, too.”

  Tears of relief stung my eyes. “Thank you.”

  “Wasn’t us,” he said with a casual shrug.

  Before I could ask what that meant, Piss strolled in.

  “No offense, sugar, but you stink,” she purred.

  I chuckled. “I smell like death.”

  31

  I took the longest shower of my life in a cheap motel.