The Hitwoman and the Poisoned Apple (Confessions of a Slightly Neurotic Hitwoman Book 8)
Page 15
“Sad,” she panted. “Love. Scared.”
The cat pulled herself out from beneath my seat and curled herself around my ankles. “It’s good to let it out, sugar. You cry all you want… right after you get me my medication.”
The lizard remained strangely silent.
“He said he loves me,” I wailed.
“Does he,” the dog affirmed.
“But—” I protested.
“Men,” Piss grumbled. “Tomcatting fools.”
Three knocks on the basement door interrupted us.
“Dinner in two minutes,” Aunt Susan called.
Despite the fact it was the last thing I wanted to do, I kept my promise to Susan and went upstairs after I’d washed my face. (Even being in the same room as the lizard didn’t persuade him to share an opinion about Patrick. He just pretended to be asleep on the driftwood in his terrarium.)
“Where’s Griswald?” I asked when I realized it was only going to be the two of us dining.
“He had to go out of town on business. He said to tell you that if we need anything you should call Brian.” She frowned. “I’m not sure why he wanted you to know that.”
I shrugged. But I did know. Griswald had decided I was now the person who took care of this family, a responsibility that had fallen to Susan for the past three decades or longer.
How had that happened?
Chapter 17
The next day I went to work at Insuring the Future. For once, despite the fact I was nursing a broken heart, there was no black cloud hanging over me.
I’d solved (well, to be fair, God had solved) the mystery of who was trying to kill Patrick, Marlene was happy with Doc, and Aunt Susan was pretty calm.
If it weren’t for the fact that I hadn’t been able to reach Armani or to figure out what Wild God meant, I would have been fairly content.
As it was, I spent the morning looking over at Armani’s empty desk, waiting for her to show up. She never did.
“Is she coming back?” Harry asked just before my lunch break.
I swiveled my chair to get a better look at him. “Excuse me?”
“Armani. Is she coming back?” Harry practically vibrated with annoyance. “She gave two weeks’ notice, but then she didn’t show up. Is she coming back?”
A nervous knot tightened in my stomach. “Did she call in?”
“Not even an email. So I called her, but she hasn’t responded to that either.”
My body went cold. Armani was missing in action. I knew in my gut that something was very, very wrong.
“I need to take a long lunch,” I told Harry, jumping to my feet.
“You did that yesterday.”
“Dock my pay. Do whatever,” I told him, hurriedly gathering my things. “I have to go check on Armani.”
“Do you think something’s wrong?”
“I don’t know. She hasn’t answered my calls and now you’re telling me she’s not answering yours. I’m worried.”
“I’ll go with you.”
I remembered Griswald’s message. “No. I’ve got someone who can meet me there.”
I ran out to my car, fumbling with my phone, searching for the number I needed.
I waited while it rang. Once. Twice. Three times.
“Detective Griswald,” he answered.
I let out a shaky breath. “Brian, this is Maggie Lee.”
He must have heard the panic in my voice because he immediately asked, “What’s wrong?”
“It may be nothing,” I hedged. “But I’m worried about my friend. Armani.”
“The crazy psychic?”
“Yes. I know I may be paranoid or something but she didn’t show up for work today and she’s got this new boyfriend I don’t like and—”
“I’ve heard about him from my uncle.” Now Brian sounded concerned too.
“And she didn’t show up for work today. So I’m going to go to her place to check on her.”
“Not alone,” Brian said sharply. “Where are you now?”
“At work.”
“At the insurance place?”
“How do you know where I work?”
“Because when your father was on the loose, we looked for him there. Stay there. I’ll pick you up and we’ll go to your friend’s place together.”
Filled with a sense of urgency, I refused. “No. I’m going now. She could be hurt. Dying. I can’t wait.” Even as I spoke, I started my car and pulled out of the parking space.
“Fine.” Brian sighed. “Give me the address and I’ll meet you there.”
I told him as I drove.
“Don’t go inside until I get there,” Brian ordered.
I didn’t reply.
“Promise me you’ll wait, Maggie. I’ll be there in ten minutes.”
I hung up on him.
I raced toward Armani’s neighborhood, breaking a half dozen traffic laws along the way. With each passing minute, I became more and more convinced that something was terribly wrong.
Brian Griswald hadn’t arrived when I got to Armani’s place, but I didn’t wait for him. Leaping from my car, I ran halfway up to the front door. Then, my self-preservation instinct kicked in and I ran back to my car, not to hide or wait, but to arm myself. Rummaging through my trunk, I grabbed my tire iron. Holding it firmly, I stalked back toward Armani’s door, intent on knocking on it as loudly as I could.
I skidded to a stop when I saw that is was slightly ajar.
Heart jackhammering, stomach churning, palms sweaty, I slowly pushed open the door with the piece of heavy metal and stepped inside.
Furniture was broken, knickknacks shattered.
Even to my untrained eye, it was obvious a violent struggle had taken place. Adrenaline flooded my system and I was hyper-aware of all of my surroundings.
I took another step inside.
“Armani?” I called.
I got no answer.
Tightening my grip on my weapon, I walked farther inside. Her kitchen was a shambles. I imagined her rifling through the still-open drawers trying to find something to use to defend herself. But really how much of a fight could a woman with only one good arm and leg put up?
“Armani?” I called again, hating the silence that answered me.
Even though my heart was heavy and my legs heavier, I forced myself to move toward her bedroom. That door was closed.
Hand shaking, I reached for the handle.
“Don’t,” a voice whispered from behind me.
Without thinking, I spun around, swinging my weapon with all my might.
THE END
A note from JB:
Hi!
I hope you enjoyed THE HITWOMAN AND THE POISONED APPLE.
If you did, I’d be most appreciative if you would post a REVIEW and/or RECOMMEND it to your fellow readers.
If you leave a review, please let me know at jblynnauthor@gmail.com so that I can thank you personally!
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LINKS TO OTHER BOOKS BY JB LYNN
The Neurotic Hitwoman Series
Confessions of a Slightly Neurotic Hitwoman
Further Confessions of a Slightly Neurotic Hitwoman
The Hitwoman Gets Lucky
The Hitwoman and the Family Jewels
The Hitwoman and the Neurotic Witness
The Hitwoman Hunts a Ghost
The Hitwoman and the 7 Cops
The Matchmaker Mysteries
The Mutt and the Matchmaker
A Match Made in Mystery
Dark Romantic Suspense
The First Victim
ABOUT JB LYNN
A Jersey Girl transplanted to the Sunshine State, JB (you can call her Jen) writes laugh-out-loud suspense and mysteries with a dash of romance, but she’s been known to dabble in the occasional goosebump-raising thriller.
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