Confessions of a Slightly Neurotic Hitwoman

by JB Lynn

  I gave up trying to eavesdrop. “I’m here. Who is this?”

  “It’s Paul. Paul Kowalski.”

  Paul Kowalski, the cop I’d almost bonked. How long ago had that been? I tried to do some quick calculations. Only a couple of days. It felt longer. Back then I hadn’t been a killer.

  “Listen,” Paul said hurriedly, probably taking my silence as a way of signaling annoyance, “I’m sorry I didn’t call. I’ve been working crazy shifts.”

  “Uh huh.”

  “I was hoping maybe we could meet for drinks, maybe dinner.”

  “I don’t know,” I said slowly. My life was complicated enough. I really didn’t need to be getting involved with a new guy . . . let alone a cop.

  “Look, I know this is awkward. Things got a little . . . intense last time. I really like you, Maggie. I’d like to start over. Take things slow. What do you say?”

  Meet the man! Meet the man! I could practically hear Armani screaming.

  “Okay.”

  “Have you had dinner yet?”

  “No.”

  “I’m off duty in thirty minutes. Maybe we could meet in an hour or so?”

  I glanced toward Katie’s room. Visiting hours were over in an hour. “Can it be a little later? Figure ninety minutes from now?”

  “Perfect. Do you know Angelo’s?”

  I quoted their slogan. “Best Italian in the States.”

  “I’ll see you there in an hour and a half.”

  “It’s a date.”

  He ended the call. I stared at my cell phone, wondering if I should call Armani to ask whether she’d had any more psychic wisdom to impart before I went on this dinner date.

  Aunt Susan interrupted my thoughts. “I’m leaving now.”

  “Okay. I’ll swing by tomorrow and will try to talk some sense into Aunt Loretta.”

  “I appreciate that. Did I overhear that you’ve got a date?”

  I nodded.

  “Not with a rat I hope.”

  I shook my head. “With a cop.”

  “That’s wonderful! Have a good night.” Carrying her computer case, she strode away.

  I think Aunt Susan was always afraid that I’d end up with someone like my father. I wondered what she’d think if she ever found out that I was the one who’d ended up being like my father.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  I WENT BACK INTO Katie’s room and spent the next hour reading to her from a book of nursery rhymes.

  Have you ever read nursery rhymes? They’re way too violent for kids. Mice getting their tails cut off with carving knives, Jack cracking his head open, and Humpty Dumpty falling to pieces. It’s a wonder there aren’t more serial killers running around.

  When I was done, I kissed Katie’s cheek. “See you tomorrow, Baby Girl.”

  The parking lot of Angelo’s was packed, and I worried that I’d have trouble finding Paul inside the restaurant. Fortunately he was standing at the bar, near the front door.

  Smiling, he walked over. He looked better than I remembered. Maybe that was because I wasn’t seeing him bathed in the glow of a streetlight, or hidden in the shadows of a semi-seedy bar. Or maybe it was just because he was single and available, as opposed to the other man in my life. “Our table should be ready in about five minutes. Can I get you a drink?”

  Knowing that I needed to keep my wits about me in order to maintain a modicum of control, I asked for a Pepsi.

  By the time the bartender had drawn the soda, the hostess was batting her fake eyelashes at Paul and letting him know that she was ready to seat him.

  I was pretty sure she was ready to do other things for him too, but I tried to control the twinge of jealousy I felt when Paul winked at her. I centered my attention on the surroundings. Candlelight, soft background music, he’d asked me to dinner at a romantic place. He wasn’t interested in the hostess. He was interested in me.

  Practically the moment we were seated, Paul ordered.

  For both of us.

  Maybe if I’d been on top of my game, I would have gotten in a cutting, witty remark and chosen my own damn food, but as it was, I was a little slow on the uptake. No one had ever had the audacity to order for me before. I stared at him, no doubt with my mouth hanging open like the village idiot.

  Leaning across the table, he grabbed my hand the moment the waiter left. “About the other night.”

  I expected him to apologize for not calling sooner. I thought he might say he was sorry that things had moved so quickly. I sure as hell wasn’t expecting the words that came out of his mouth.

  “I need to know why you kicked me out.”

  “What?”

  “No woman’s ever done that before.”

  “There’s a first time for everything.”

  “It was like a body blow to my ego.”

  I watched the candlelight flickering across his features. Did he really think he was all that? I mean, he was okay. All right, better than okay, but did he really mean to tell me that no other woman had ever refused him?

  Did the rest of my life really depend on meeting this guy? Or had Armani and I misinterpreted her dream?

  “It’s not that I think I’m some great catch,” Paul said.

  “You don’t?” It sure as hell had sounded like he did.

  “No. It’s just that . . . our chemistry . . . you were amazing . . . on fire . . . and then all of a sudden you turned into an ice princess, and I don’t know what I did wrong.”

  “It wasn’t you.” That was the truth. It had been God, shouting about a gun under the mattress, who had doused the passion. “It was me. I’ve just got a lot going on.”

  “Want to tell me about it?” He flashed his most charming smile.

  I would have loved to unburden myself to someone, but I didn’t think sharing my problems with a cop was the best of ideas. “Actually, I’d like to escape from my troubles for a little while, if you don’t mind.”

  “Okay. Do you mind if I talk about my problems? Specifically my crazy family?”

  I chuckled. “Of course not. As they say, misery loves company.”

  And speaking of misery, I could have sworn I could have heard its siren’s call.

  Then I realized that it was just Aunt Loretta. “Yooohooo, Maggie!”

  I turned and there she was, mincing across the restaurant toward us, with Templeton the Rat trailing behind, the giant bandage still covering half his head.

  “I am so sorry,” I muttered to Paul. “Family.”

  “Imagine running into you here,” Loretta practically cooed. “How lucky is that?”

  I was not feeling lucky.

  “Have you heard the news? Templeton proposed.” She waggled her bling for emphasis.

  Instead of congratulating them, or admiring her ring, I asked, “Why?”

  Aunt Loretta blinked at me, as though I’d spoken in a foreign tongue. “What?”

  “Why?”

  “Because,” Templeton inserted smoothly, “Your aunt is a wonderful woman and I want to spend the rest of my life with her.”

  I looked him dead in the eye. “So it’s not because you’re trying to get your hands on her money?”

  “Margaret!” Aunt Loretta sounded horrified that I’d even think such a thing, let alone suggest it. “How dare you?”

  I have to give Templeton credit, though. He didn’t even flinch, let alone respond with anger. Instead he smiled benevolently. “Your niece loves you, Letty. She’s just looking out for your best interest. Perhaps in an overzealous, overprotective manner, but she means well.”

  “How sweet!” Loretta bent and planted a kiss on my forehead. Not one of her usual air kisses, she actually made physical contact, risking messing up her lipstick.

  Have you ever seen a politician screw up during a televised debate, and there’s that moment when it’s written all over their face that they know they’ve just lost the election? That’s how I felt at that moment. Like I’d lost. I’d been outmaneuvered by the man with a busted nos
e. I should have stuck with my first impression of him. I’d never talk sense into Aunt Loretta now.

  “We’re interrupting your date,” Templeton said to Paul. “Sorry about that.”

  “Why don’t we join you?” Loretta said, sliding into an empty chair.

  I looked at Paul helplessly. He seemed a bit overwhelmed by it all.

  “I’m Loretta, Maggie’s aunt. And you are?”

  “Paul. Paul Kowalski.”

  “Maggie’s date,” I supplied dryly. The hint that I wanted my aunt to leave sailed right over her head.

  Templeton sat down too.

  “Have you two been going together long?” Loretta asked Paul.

  “We’ve already ordered,” I told them before Paul could answer.

  “That’s okay,” Templeton replied breezily. “We were only going to get soup and salad anyway.” He waved over our waiter.

  “Do stop interrupting, Maggie.” Loretta frowned at me. Then she smiled at my date. “Tell me how you met.”

  Paul blinked, and looked to me for guidance. I shrugged.

  “A routine traffic stop,” Paul said slowly.

  “You’re a police officer?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “How wonderful!” She clapped her hands. “I bet you look quite dashing in your uniform. He does, doesn’t he, Maggie?”

  “He does,” I admitted grudgingly.

  Paul grinned at that.

  “And tell me, Officer, did you feel it? That magic spark the moment you met?”

  “You have got to be kidding me.” I grumbled. “We’re on a date. It’s not like we’re soul mates.”

  “First date?” Loretta asked.

  “Yes,” I said.

  “Second,” Paul countered.

  I frowned at him. I didn’t think that a drink at a seedy bar and groping in my kitchen counted as a date. Apparently he did.

  Loretta tittered. “Bickering like old love birds already.”

  I glared at her. “We’re not bickering. We’re not old. And, we’re not love birds. We’re just two people who are trying to get to know each other. Something which is proving difficult since we’ve been joined by uninvited dinner companions.”

  Aunt Loretta patted my arm. “You’ll have to forgive our Maggie for being a little grouchy. She’s been through a lot, poor thing.”

  “Like what?” Paul asked with a sly grin in my direction.

  I could have kicked him for encouraging her.

  “Well, a few weeks ago her sister, my niece Theresa, died.” Tears welled in her eyes. Snatching up her napkin, she blotted them away. “It was terrible loss. So senseless.”

  “A drunk driver,” Templeton murmured.

  “I’m sorry for your loss, Loretta.” Paul swung his gaze over to me. “That must have been devastating for you, Maggie.”

  I nodded, unable to speak because of the lump that had lodged in my throat the instant I’d spotted my aunt’s tears. I tried not to compare Paul’s condolences to Patrick’s, but it did occur to me that my date’s sounded canned, while Patrick’s had seemed genuine.

  “And Theresa’s daughter, Katie, she’s three, is in a coma. And we’re all hoping and praying that she’ll wake up . . . but the waiting . . . the uncertainty . . . it’s so hard.” Loretta needed a moment to compose herself before she could go on.

  I took a sip of water, trying to get control over my own emotions.

  “Not to mention the fact that her father is rotting in prison.”

  Choking mid-swallow, I sputtered like an outboard motor.

  Templeton clapped me on the back. “Easy now.”

  “Are you all right, dear?” Aunt Loretta peered at me, her eyes wide with concern.

  Gasping for breath, I shook my head.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Do you need the Heimlich? I bet Officer Kowalski here knows the Heimlich.”

  “I do,” Paul said.

  “I don’t need the freakin’ Heimlich!” I practically shouted. Aware that other diners were swiveling in their seats to see what was going on, I lowered my voice to a whisper. “I just don’t know why you had to tell him about Dad. It’s our first date.”

  “He said it was your second.”

  “First, second, fifty-seventh, I don’t care. It’s not your place to tell my date that my father’s a felon!”

  Aunt Loretta shook her head sadly. “You’ve always been so touchy about this, Maggie. There’s no reason for you to be ashamed. It’s not your fault that he was a bank robber and killed someone.”

  Paul watched the exchange like it was a Wimbledon tennis match.

  I wanted to crawl under the table. I wanted to kill Loretta. Okay, maybe not kill, but definitely muzzle. A muzzle for that rabid mouth of hers sounded like a damn good idea. Instead I said, “Paul, my father is serving a life sentence. And my mother is—”

  “Don’t say it!” Loretta shrieked.

  Restaurant patrons and staff turned to see what all the commotion was about. Her reaction was so intense that even smooth-talking Templeton looked alarmed.

  I looked her in the eye while I made the pronouncement. “My mother, Loretta’s sister, is locked up in the loony bin!”

  Yeah, it was bitchy of me, but she drove me to it, horning in on my date and then telling him about my father.

  Bursting into tears, Loretta fled the table.

  Thankfully, Templeton followed her, but not before chastising me. “You should be ashamed of yourself.”

  And I was . . . later on. In that moment, all I felt was victory.

  His mouth hanging open, Paul stared after them. “I take back what I said earlier; my family doesn’t seem nearly so crazy now.”

  “Gee, thanks.”

  “Your dad is really a bank robber?” He sounded a tad too excited about that particular nugget of information.

  I frowned. “You think that’s a good thing?”

  “You have to admit that it’s kind of cool.”

  “Definitely not cool.”

  He shook his head. “Girls. I bet you never played cops-and-robbers when you were a kid, did you?”

  “Nope.”

  “Well I did. A lot. And the thing about cops-and-robbers is that sometimes you’re the cop, and sometimes you’re the robber. The cops usually win, but the robbers, they get to do all the cool stuff like blow up vaults and lead police chases.”

  “So you’re saying you think you made the wrong career choice?”

  He laughed. “I’m saying I think I made the boring career choice.”

  I pursed my lips to keep from blurting out, “Where do you stand on contract killers?”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  “YOU’RE LATE,” GOD complained the moment I unlocked my apartment door.

  Instead of answering him, I turned around and waved good-bye to Paul, who had insisted on accompanying me home.

  I had insisted on his not coming in with me, despite his tempting kisses.

  I still had a modicum of sense left, and I knew getting involved with a cop was a bad idea. That said, I agreed to another date with him. After all, what if he was the guy I was supposed to meet? It didn’t make sense to shut him out of my life entirely. Besides, he was a damn good kisser.

  “Where were you?” God asked.

  “On a date.”

  “On a date? Have you forgotten you’re supposed to be killing someone?”

  “How could I forget?” I switched off the television in the bedroom and flopped down onto my bed, so that I was eye level with the lizard’s terrarium perched on my night table. “How’d your research go?”

  “Well, most women seem to prefer using poison.”

  “Great, now all I have to do is study Arsenic and Old Lace. Hey, do you believe in psychics?

  “Pyschics?’

  “You know, people who have a gift. Who can see the future.”

  “No.” He tapped his foot impatiently while he delivered his answer. “There are no such things as psychics.” />
  “Like there are no such things as talking animals? You’d seem to disprove that.”

  He stared up at me with those unblinking glassy eyes of his.

  “My friend Armani claims to be a psychic. She gave me a message today. Want to know what it was?”

  “Not really.” He yawned just to emphasize his disinterest.

  “She gets messages. She just doesn’t know how to interpret them,” I continued stubbornly.

  “And I should care about this because . . . ?” Disdain dripped from his every syllable.

  I refused to let it annoy me. “She told me I have to meet the guy.”

  “What guy?”

  “She didn’t know.”

  “Well then that’s the most helpful advice I ever heard.” He buried his little brown head in his scaly . . . hands.

  “It wasn’t advice. More like a warning. She said my life depends on it.”

  “Have you lost your mind?” He shouted loudly enough that the top of his enclosure rattled.

  “That’s a possibility. I mean consider the evidence. One–I’m talking to you. Two—I’ve killed a man and am trying to figure out how to kill another. Three—Cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs runs in the family.”

  He twitched his tail impatiently. “I’m worried.”

  “About what?”

  “You.”

  “Aw, that’s sweet. You think I’m going to wind up in the nuthouse?”

  “Only if you’re lucky. I watched Women Doing Hard Time. You’ll never survive in prison.”

  I couldn’t argue with that theory. I had enough difficulty just visiting my father. Getting locked up in a cell would probably do me in. “That’s why I can’t get caught.”

  “Which is why poison won’t work.”

  “I don’t follow your logic.”

  “In order to successfully poison someone, you have to purchase a poison, administer it, and sneak away. You just don’t have the time or the resources to do that.”

  “So what do you suggest?”

  “Shooting him.”

  “I don’t have a gun.”

  “Why not?”

  “Patrick took it back. He said he’d dispose of it.”

  “And you believed him? What if he’s framing you?”

  “He’s not framing me.”