Maggie Lee (Book 19): The Hitwoman and the Gold Digger

by Lynn, JB

  The mobster nodded in reply.

  “He’s just a friend,” I assured Delveccio, knowing that I had to answer him because he wasn’t going to drop the subject otherwise.

  Leaning back in his chair, he gave me a hard look. “And what is Angel?”

  “Currently undefined,” I answered quickly.

  “I love my nephew and I’m fond of you, but I’m not sure about the two of you.” He raised his hands defensively. “Not that it’s any of my business.”

  I nodded. “I understand.” I glanced at Jack. “I should probably get back to him.”

  “Keep your eyes open,” my favorite mobster warned.

  “I will.” I stood up, smoothing my dress down over my hips.

  “And order the mushroom risotto.”

  I frowned. “Is mushroom risotto code for something here?”

  He shook his head. “It’s just…” He kissed his fingers and threw the invisible kiss away.

  “Really?”

  “You won’t regret it,” he promised.

  I returned to Jack’s table. He politely stood while I slipped into my chair.

  “Sorry about that,” I apologized.

  Jack shrugged. “You keep interesting company.”

  “You mean, like you?” I teased.

  He grinned. “I took the liberty of ordering an appetizer so that poor Bert would have something to do.”

  “Have you seen anything suspicious?”

  “Besides the three old guys who are here with women who are obviously not their wives? No. But speaking of which…”

  As if on cue, a woman at a nearby table began to cry.

  “Stop it,” her companion, a man who looked uncomfortable enough to star in a commercial for hemorrhoid cream, practically begged.

  Bert arrived, placing a plate of fried mozzarella between my supposed date and me.

  The woman sobbed loudly. “How can you do this to me?”

  The man crossed his arms over his chest, leaned back in his chair, and waited for her to finish her theatrics, pretending not to notice that they were the center of attention for most of the diners.

  “I did everything for you,” the woman wailed. “Told the nanny to take care of your snot-nosed kids, stayed on top of that lazy housekeeper, made dinner reservations…”

  “She sounds like a real catch,” Jack muttered under his breath.

  The woman jumped to her feet and yanked down the already plunging neckline of her dress, revealing perky breasts barely encased in red lace.

  Everyone in the restaurant stared, transfixed.

  “I got these in just the size you ordered.”

  A couple people in the room chuckled. Somebody applauded.

  The guy shot a dirty look in the direction of whoever was clapping.

  “This is worse than a cheesy soap opera,” God grumble-whispered.

  I glanced over at Jack to see if he’d heard the lizard, but he was staring hard at the woman and her date.

  “And what about the time…” she began.

  “It’s such an obvious attention ploy,” God continued to complain.

  “…when I covered for you with your mother. Your own mother!” the woman shrieked.

  The room tittered, both knowingly and nervously.

  “Attention ploy,” I murmured, picking up my fork. There was no reason to let hot, gooey cheese go to waste while the woman had a public temper tantrum. I speared a piece of mozzarella and transferred it to my plate, inhaling the delicious aroma.

  “Or the time you asked me to help,” the woman made air quotes with her fingers, “your brother out because he was so tense?” The woman put her hands on her hips, causing her made-to-order boobs to jut out, and waited for an answer.

  I picked up my knife to cut into the fried goodness when God’s observation finally penetrated my hungry brain. “It’s an attention ploy,” I muttered, raising my head and quickly surveying the room. “A distraction.”

  That’s when I spotted him. Blondie. The man who’d broken into Armani’s place. My attacker.

  But he wasn’t threatening me at the moment. Dressed in a waiter’s uniform, he was coming up behind Delveccio, balancing a tray of food.

  The mobster, enthralled by the soap opera being acted out a few tables away, didn’t see him coming. Neither did Gino, his bodyguard.

  I caught a glint of metal hidden beneath the food tray.

  “Look out!” I screamed, jumping to my feet.

  Startled by my outburst, the attention of everyone pivoted to me. Everyone except Blondie, who was practically on top of Delveccio.

  I sprinted toward them as best I could in the high heels.

  I heard Jack call my name.

  Delveccio looked alarmed by my wild woman approach.

  Blondie was almost on top of him.

  So I threw my knife at him.

  Now, I’m not a knife thrower and it was only a butter knife, so it couldn’t have done any real damage, but Blondie instinctively raised the tray as a shield, dumping food everywhere.

  That exposed the knife he was carrying and bedlam broke out.

  Women screamed.

  Delveccio cursed as he rolled his rather bulky figure out of the path of his would-be assassin.

  Gino charged into the fray, tackling and disarming the attacker.

  And me?

  I fell flat on my face.

  Chapter Eighteen

  I don’t know what I tripped over. A chair leg, maybe, or a woman’s purse? Who knows? All I know is that I sprawled in an undignified heap onto the faded carpet that smelled of chianti, giving myself rug burn on my knees in the process.

  “What the hell is going on?” God scrambled out of my bra to survey the situation as I awkwardly tried to get back up.

  “Get back in there,” I ordered on a sharp whisper as a strong hand grabbed my upper arm and steadied me.

  “You okay, Maggie?” Jack asked, his gravelly voice tickling my ear.

  “Yeah.”

  “You want to stand up?”

  I nodded.

  He hauled me to my feet and wrapped a steadying arm around my shoulders as we watched Delveccio lean in close to Blondie, who Gino had in a headlock.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the arguing couple hightailing it out of the restaurant while the attention of everyone was on the mobster and his prey.

  “Come on.” Grabbing Jack’s hand, I hurried after the disappearing soap opera actors.

  “What are you doing?” Jack asked.

  “Chasing down a lead.”

  To his credit, Jack didn’t hesitate or argue. He kept pace with me. “How’d you know that Delveccio was in danger?” he asked as we weaved our way through the tables, heading toward the exit.

  “The argument was straight out of a soap opera,” I explained.

  “That was MY observation,” God reminded me haughtily.

  Ignoring the fact that my chest was squeaking, I continued. “I figured they had to be a distraction of some kind, so I looked around.”

  “Impressive,” Jack said as we rushed past the hostess station and out into the parking lot. “The guy looked like any other waiter to me.”

  We came to an abrupt halt as we spotted the previously arguing couple a few car lengths away. They were in deep conversation with a man who had his back to us.

  We half-hid behind the nearest car. Jack reached into the pocket of his jacket and pulled out a small camera. “Don’t worry, it’s got no flash.”

  He snapped a few pictures.

  “Can you see the other guy?” I whispered.

  “No.”

  I felt God crawl out of my bra and perch on my shoulder. “I can go look,” he whispered in my ear.

  Before I could respond, he ran down the length of my body, leapt onto the ground, and scurried away.

  There was nothing to do but wait. I found myself really wishing I hadn’t chosen to wear heels. They weren’t ideal footwear for a standing stakeout.

  The
threesome was speaking in hushed tones, but it was obvious that they were having some kind of disagreement.

  Jack leaned against me, bending down to whisper, “Do you think the attempt on Delveccio’s life is tied to the robbery or Armani?”

  “Definitely.”

  “Definitely?”

  I could practically feel Jack’s reporter’s instincts vibrating. “Off the record?”

  “Pick me up,” God whispered, interrupting the conversation.

  This time, Jack heard the squeaking and looked around, confused.

  I bent and scooped up the lizard.

  “It’s him,” the little guy announced.

  Knowing that Jack was watching me standing there holding a lizard, I couldn’t very well ask who him was, so I just stared at God, trying to mind meld with him.

  Him who? I asked silently.

  “It’s Armani’s date,” the lizard squeaked.

  Someone must have called the cops because the night was suddenly filled with the wail of approaching sirens.

  The threesome all froze like rabbits for a long second and then scattered in three different directions.

  “You follow the woman,” I told Jack as I took off after the mystery man.

  “You’re sure it’s him?” I asked God as soon as we were out of earshot of the reporter.

  “Well, you bipeds with your opposable thumbs all look alike, but I’m fairly certain he’s the one.”

  “But how do you know?”

  “How many other men have you seen that have an ‘X’ between their eyes?”

  The man reached the outskirts of the parking lot and straddled a motorcycle.

  “He’s getting away,” God pointed out.

  “I noticed.” My feet were killing me and my breasts were bouncing like they were being dribbled by a professional basketball player, but I ran toward the man. “Stop! Hey, stop! I just want to talk to you.”

  He pulled a motorcycle helmet on, gunned the engine, and sped off into the night.

  I stood there, trying to catch my breath, as Armani’s date disappeared.

  I hoped that Jack had been more successful than me.

  Chapter Nineteen

  I thought Detective Brian Griswald’s head might explode when he saw me sitting at my table in Soliloquy.

  “What the hell are you doing here?” he asked as he stalked over.

  “We’re having dinner,” Jack replied calmly. “Though the service has been truly horrible so far. I’m thinking I may have to leave a negative review of this place online.”

  “Shut up, Stern,” Brian barked. He glared at me. “Are you TRYING to get yourself killed?”

  “Is the food here that bad?” I asked.

  Brian looked from me to Delveccio, sitting a few tables away, calmly twirling a big forkful of linguini, watching our exchange with interest. “You’re out of your league,” the detective warned me quietly. “I like you. My uncle adores you. But there’s only so much anyone can do to protect you when you keep putting yourself in harm’s way.”

  “Relax, detective,” Jack suggested.

  Brian gave him a look like he’d like to relax by pummeling him in the nose. “So, tell me what happened with Delveccio.” He glanced over at the mobster, who was delicately wiping his mouth with a white cloth napkin like he didn’t have a care in the world.

  “There was this couple having an animated argument over there,” Jack began, pointing to their now vacant table. “Everyone’s attention was on them when suddenly Maggie jumped up.”

  As Jack spoke, Delveccio got to his feet and lumbered toward us.

  “And she yelled ‘Stop!’ and ran toward Delveccio’s table,” Jack continued.

  “She yelled ‘Look out’,” Delveccio corrected, putting a hand on my shoulder.

  “I could have sworn I said, ‘Duck’,” I said.

  Brian looked from Jack to Delveccio to me. “Eyewitness statements tend to vary, but you’re all in agreement that she shouted some kind of warning?”

  We all nodded.

  The detective focused on me. “And why did you do that?”

  I hesitated for a moment, unsure of what I should reveal. Then I remembered Patrick Mulligan once telling me that the truth is the easiest thing to keep track of. “I recognized him as the guy who’d broken into Armani’s place.”

  Jack looked at me sharply.

  I pretended not to notice and continued, “And then I saw the knife.”

  Brian frowned. “You’re sure he’s the one you saw at her place?”

  I nodded.

  The detective turned to the mob boss. “And what’s his connection to you?”

  “I was just trying to enjoy my dinner. They make a mean mushroom risotto here.”

  I held my breath, waiting to see what the detective’s reaction would be.

  If Brian was frustrated by Delveccio’s response, he didn’t show it. “I’ve tried it. It’s good, but Angelo’s on 12th Street does it better.”

  Respect glowed in the mobster’s gaze, and he nodded. “Can’t argue with you about that.”

  I exhaled, glad that at least one thing that night was going right.

  “Is there a reason the Licks gang would want you dead, Mr. Delveccio?” Brian asked.

  “I’m sorry, who?” Delveccio replied smoothly.

  Brian gave him a tight smile. “So, it’s going to be that way.”

  Delveccio shrugged.

  The rest of the time spent at Soliloquy was pretty painless. We answered Brian’s questions and he sent us home.

  Except Jack and I didn’t go home. The second we reached the parking lot, Jack asked, “Why didn’t you tell me that he was the guy who broke into Armani’s place?”

  “I was going to, but we got busy chasing down that couple,” I replied testily. “Did you learn anything from that woman?”

  “You mean, before she got in her car and drove away?”

  I waited.

  “Her license plate,” he admitted grudgingly. “What about the mystery man you were chasing?”

  I made a show of fishing for my keys in my purse as I decided whether to tell him what I knew.

  “You need his resources. Tell him,” God urged from my bra.

  I looked up to see that Jack’s eyebrows were almost as high as his hairline. “I’m pretty sure he was Armani’s date.”

  He blinked. “Date?”

  “The one she was supposed to meet here the night of the robbery.” I pointed at the restaurant for emphasis.

  “How did you know it was him?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t think there are that many men walking around with an ‘X’ in the middle of their forehead.”

  Jack stared at me. “An ‘X’?”

  I nodded.

  “Between his eyes?”

  I nodded again.

  He glanced around nervously. “Leave your car. We’re taking mine.” He grabbed my arm and tugged me toward him.

  “Hey,” I protested, shaking loose of his grip. “What are you—”

  “Trust me, Maggie,” he said in a low voice rumbling with tension. “This may be a lot worse than you think it is.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Jack bundled me into the passenger seat of his car, checked his phone, plugged an address into his GPS, and began to drive.

  After five excruciating minutes of silence, where the only sound in the car was my stomach, whining with hunger, I blurted out, “What the hell is going on?”

  Jack glanced at me and then returned his attention back to the road. “We’re going to the address associated with the woman’s license plate.”

  “And why couldn’t I bring my car to do that?”

  “Because I don’t think you should be alone.”

  “Why not? I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”

  “You threw a butter knife at someone and tripped over your own feet,” he reminded me drily.

  I sulked for a moment, unhappy that he failed to recognize that I’d spo
tted the danger and taken action to prevent Delveccio’s demise.

  Finally, he spoke again as we pulled into a residential neighborhood. “If who I think is involved is involved, this is bigger than some restaurant robbery or Armani’s break-in.”

  “Who do you think is involved?”

  Before he could reply, the GPS notified us that we’d reached our location. Jack parked a few houses down from the target address. Most of the homes in the neighborhood were darkened, but this one seemed to have every light in the place turned on.

  “Maybe she’s afraid of the dark,” I murmured.

  “Maybe she’s afraid of who she’s doing business with,” Jack

  muttered.

  “And who is that?”

  He sighed heavily. “There’s only one X’d man I know. He’s a career criminal. Not a nice guy. I thought he was still in prison, but I’ll have to check with the parole board.”

  A sinking feeling in my stomach quashed some of my hunger pangs. “Does he have a name?” I asked, even though I was pretty sure I knew what the answer was.

  “Jimmy Manetti.”

  I flinched.

  “Oh, that’s who—” God began.

  “Hush,” I ordered.

  Jack looked over at me.

  “I’m talking to my lizard,” I explained, like it was perfectly normal for people to carry reptiles between their breasts.

  Jack shook his head, maybe thinking that was an improvement over the mouse on my shoulder, and shifted his attention back to the house.

  I debated whether I should tell him about the connection between Manetti and my father. Before I could make a decision, another car pulled up alongside our car. The driver rolled down his window and a familiar redhead grinned at us.

  Jack lowered his window. “Geez, Patrick. You almost gave me a heart attack.”

  “I’m going to hop into the back seat,” Patrick Mulligan replied, pulling away to park his vehicle.

  “Well, this complicates things,” Jack muttered as his window slid upward.

  “Maybe if Manetti is as dangerous as you say, it’ll be a good thing to have him around,” I countered.

  Opening the door, Patrick slid into the back seat, smelling like French fries.

  I twisted in my seat to get a better look at him.