The Hitwoman and the Family Jewels (Confessions of a Slightly Neurotic Hitwoman)

by Lynn, JB

  I was barely able to stop when I saw the blood streaked across the floor. I looked to Katie’s bed and found it empty. Her monitors were overturned, the visitor’s chair was on its side, and Aunt Susan’s afghan lay on the ground. There had been a struggle.

  A cold sense of dread overtook me as I realized that US Marshal Weller hadn’t been standing guard in the doorway.

  In an instant I’d known what had happened. Paul had gotten to Katie. He’d hurt her. Maybe he’d killed her.

  I’d lost Katie too.

  My heart stopped.

  I fell to my knees and screamed.

  It was a scream straight from my soul. A scream so intense it tore up the inside of my throat, leaving the flesh raw.

  And then I was crying.

  Great heaving sobs that shook my whole body, threatening to tear me apart.

  “Mags,” Patrick yelled as though from a great distance. He knelt down pulling me against him.

  “No!” I shrieked. Turning all my pain and anger on him, I lashed out, slapping his face, pummeling his chest. “You said she’d be safe! You said she’d be protected.”

  “Maggie stop it!” God yelled.

  I ignored him, continuing to beat on Patrick who made no move to stop me. “You promised,” I wailed. “I hate you!”

  His stoic acceptance of my attack angered me even more.

  “It’s not his fault,” God called out.

  “I’m going to kill you!” I howled, wrapping my hands around his throat.

  “Stop it!” a woman screamed, close to my ear. “Stop it, Maggie!”

  I ignored her too, intent on hurting Patrick.

  Suddenly my scalp burned and my head snapped back. The woman was yanking my hair, pulling me off Patrick.

  Grabbing her wrist with both hands I struggled to free myself.

  “She’s okay,” the woman insisted breathlessly. “Katie is okay.”

  Trying to make sense of her words, I twisted to get a better look at my assailant.

  She looked back at me with eyes that were both familiar and unrecognizable. “She’s safe, Maggie.”

  All the fight left me and I slumped to the ground. Resting my cheek on the tile floor, I stared at the blood.

  Releasing her grip on my hair, she knelt in front of me. “She’s safe.”

  I looked up at her, convinced that I was in shock and hallucinating.

  “Breathe, Maggie,” she urged.

  “And don’t start screaming again,” God suggested, walking into my line of vision. Grabbing my chin, he pulled himself up onto my face. “You scared me half to death. Who is this woman who had the good sense to pull you off Patrick before you seriously hurt the poor man?”

  “Marlene?” I whispered, not sure I could trust my own eyes.

  She nodded. “Can you sit up?”

  She helped me move into a sitting position.

  God scrambled over my face, climbing on top of my head.

  Raising a trembling hand, I reached out to touch my younger sister, something I hadn’t done in years. Her cheek was soft, and warm, and real beneath my fingers. She looked so much older than I remembered, so much harder, so much sadder.

  The image of her as a teenager, tugging on my sleeve at the carnival, asking me if I’d seen her twin, Darlene, danced before my eyes. I’d ignored her plea, more worried that our mother was about to get herself in trouble, but it had been Darlene who’d needed my help. It was Darlene who’d ended up dead. It was Darlene I’d failed to protect.

  Familiar guilt clawed at my gut. My failure to protect her twin had resulted in alienation from my surviving little sister. Seeing her watch me with such concern, the guilt was too much to bear.

  “I’m sorry,” I said.

  She glanced over my shoulder and then returned her gaze to mine. “I don’t think any permanent harm has been done.”

  I shook my head. “It was my fault.”

  “No one’s blaming you,” she said gently.

  “You blame me.” Tears clogged my throat making it difficult to force out the words I’d been waiting to say for years. “You blame me and you’re right, it was my fault. If I’d been watching, but I wasn’t…”

  “What are you talking about?” Marlene asked.

  “It’s my fault Darlene’s dead.”

  Shocked that I’d said the words aloud, Marlene stared at me.

  I closed my eyes, not wanting to see the condemnation in her eyes.

  “What?” she asked, wanting me to repeat it.

  It wasn’t any easier to say a second time. “It’s my fault Darlene’s dead and I’m sorry.”

  “You think I blame you?” she asked incredulously.

  Nodding, I opened my eyes.

  “I thought you blamed me,” she confessed on a whisper. “All this time, I thought…”

  It was my turn to stare at her.

  “Now’s when you hug and make up,” God coached in a whisper.

  Marlene stared at the top of my head. “You have a lizard in your hair.”

  “He’s Katie’s,” I explained, throwing myself at her, wrapping her in the tightest hug imaginable. “I don’t blame you. I’ve never blamed you.”

  “I screwed up, Maggie.” Her voice was strung taut with self-recrimination.

  “We all screw up,” I told her. “Then we move on.”

  “And screw up differently,” God opined.

  Marlene pulled back, eyeing the squeaking reptile on my scalp with something close to disgust. “Speaking of screw-ups, have you seen Dad?”

  “You mean since he escaped from prison?” I asked.

  She laughed. “Yes.”

  “I haven’t seen him. Have you?”

  “No, but he called me.”

  “What did he want?” I asked curiously, wondering how he’d known how to get in touch with her, but deciding it wasn’t the time to ask.

  “He wanted me to come here. He wanted me to see you. He wanted me to answer a question.” She looked at me expectantly.

  I stared at her, still struggling with the idea that she’d been out of my life for years, but that he’d been able to contact her within hours of escaping from prison.

  “What’s the question?” she prompted.

  “I’m supposed to ask you where the treasure chest is. Do you know what he’s talking about?”

  She thought about it for a long moment. “He always used that stupid voice, you know the one that sounded foreign, when he said the treasure chest is in the Marlene, but I never knew what he meant.”

  I smiled at her imitation of Dad’s silly voice.

  “Perhaps it’s a riddle,” God opined.

  “Does it always squeak like that?” Marlene asked, frowning at the lizard.

  “It’s a he, not an it,” I hurried to explain. “And his name is Godzilla, but he prefers God for short.”

  “Not too pretentious,” she mocked.

  “Katie named him,” I explained.

  “Katie’s in the next room,” Marlene said. “You should go see her.”

  Standing, she reached down to help me to my feet.

  “But the blood?” I asked, surveying the chaotic scene.

  “Not hers,” she said, pulling me upright.

  I wobbled unsteadily, weak. “What happened?”

  “I wasn’t here. All I know is that she’s been moved to the room next door. C’mon. You can see her for yourself.”

  Turning slowly, I saw that Patrick was watching us from the doorway. Angry red welts ran down his face from where I’d clawed at him. His expression, as he stared at us, was unreadable, but a muscle twitched in his jaw, signaling his tension.

  “I’m so sorry.” The words were inadequate. My attack had been unforgivable.

  The apology hung between us for a long uncomfortable moment. I had the distinct impression that I’d broken something between us that wouldn’t be easily repaired.

  He raised his arm, holding something out to me. “It was in the corner. You should give it to
her.”

  Realizing he held out Katie’s stuffed dinosaur, Dino, I stepped forward to take it from him. “Thank you.”

  He nodded. “I have to figure out what happened here.”

  “The Fed got his ass kicked by a broad,” a male voice said. Delveccio stepped around the corner.

  I swallowed nervously. If Patrick’s expression was unreadable, Delveccio’s was an open book. He looked pissed.

  “Vinnie says it was the same broad who was skulking around yesterday,” the mobster continued looking at me pointedly.

  “Aunt Leslie?” I asked, bewildered.

  “The high maintenance one,” Delveccio clarified.

  “Blanche,” I muttered. “I knew I didn’t like her.”

  “Who?” Marlene asked.

  “Leslie’s Narcotics Anonymous sponsor,” I replied.

  “Aunt Leslie is off drugs?” my sister gasped, shocked.

  “For now.” I focused on the mob boss. “He’s sure it was her?”

  Delveccio nodded. “She shivved him.”

  “What?” I asked, trying to imagine the overly made-up tart knifing the efficient Marshal Weller.

  The mobster shrugged. “It’s what Vinnie said. The Fed is in the emergency room and cops are questioning my knuckle-head nephew.” He looked at Patrick as he said it.

  Nodding, the redhead said, “I’ll go check on the marshal.” He turned to leave, then spun around. “Wait here until I come back.”

  I nodded my agreement and he left.

  “I figured it wasn’t safe for your niece to be unprotected so I had her moved into Dominic’s room,” Delveccio said.

  “Who’s he?” Marlene asked.

  “My grandson. Who are you?” The mobster eyed her with a speculative gleam in his eyes.

  For the first time I noticed her short skirt, high heels, and barely-there shirt. “This is my sister, Marlene,” I answered hurriedly.

  “Another one of Archie Lee’s kids?” Delveccio asked, staring at Marlene.

  “Yes,” I confirmed. “Thank you for keeping Katie safe.”

  “You saved Dominic from that prick Alfonso.” He waved his hand dismissively. “Figured the least I could do was offer your niece the same protection.”

  “He’s the boss?” God asked incredulously.

  My “rescue” of Delveccio’s grandson from being smothered by his own father, Alfonso, is common knowledge around the hospital. What isn’t known by any living souls beside Delveccio, Patrick, and God is that the mob boss paid me to off his ne’er-do-well son-in-law.

  “I thought he’d be more intimidating,” God mused.

  Delveccio squinted at my squeaking head. “Are you wearing a lizard?”

  “I’m not wearing him,” I corrected, plucking my reptilian fascinator from my hair. “I was bringing him to see Katie and in all the excitement…I lost his box.”

  God stuck his tongue out at me. “That cardboard prison is not mine.”

  Delveccio was still staring at him.

  “Have you ever heard of pet therapy?” I blurted out. “They say it can reduce pain, anxiety, depression, and fatigue.”

  “No bull?” Delveccio asked, seeming impressed.

  I shrugged. “So they say.”

  “Well then you should take it in to her.” The mobster motioned for us to follow him.

  Grabbing Marlene’s hand, afraid that if I didn’t hold onto her tightly she’d disappear from my life again, we went into the adjoining room.

  We had to skirt around a couple scary looking dudes I assumed were Delveccio’s hired muscle.

  On the far side of the room, little Dominic lay in his bed, quiet and still.

  Katie lay in the bed closer to the door. Her blue eyes were open and she seemed alert.

  “Hi there, babygirl,” I cooed, releasing Marlene to lean against the side of the bed so that my nose practically bumped Katie’s. I waved Dino in her face and then tucked it into the bed beside her.

  Her gaze focused on mine.

  “Look who I brought to see you,” I said, holding up my palm so that God was balanced near my eyes.

  “Hi, Katie!” The curmudgeon actually sounded happy to see her.

  She gurgled a reply.

  My breath caught in my throat and tears filled my eyes. It was the first time she’d tried to vocalize a response.

  “That’s good, right?” Delveccio murmured from behind me. “Really good?”

  I nodded, not taking my eyes off my niece. “I love you, babygirl,” I whispered around the lump in my throat. “You are my favorite niece in the whole wide world.”

  She smiled at me. She actually smiled.

  I had my niece back.

  Overcome with emotion, I turned around to share the special moment with my sister.

  But she was gone.

  I’d lost my sister.

  Again.

  Chapter Fourteen

  I stayed with Katie until she fell asleep, ignoring the fact that Delveccio’s two goons kept checking out my ass.

  Finally, when I was sure she was out cold, I scooped up God, who’d also fallen asleep, and left the room.

  The hallway was crowded and an argument, albeit one conducted in hushed whispers, ensued.

  God stirred on my palm, opened one eye, and then went back to sleep.

  Griswald, flanked by two guys in suits who were no doubt marshals too, argued with Delveccio and Vinnie. Patrick stood off to the side, watching the exchange carefully. I looked to him for guidance, but his eyes revealed nothing when they met mine.

  “Miss Lee,” Griswald called, noticing me. “Do you know this man?” He inclined his head toward Delveccio.

  I swallowed hard remembering Patrick’s advice to tell the truth or deny everything. “Of course I do,” I pointed at the room I’d just left. “His grandson has been in the room next to my niece’s for her entire stay here.”

  “And you two have a relationship?” Griswald asked.

  I felt the mob boss’s gaze on me, but I looked at Griswald as I answered his question. “Sure. I know pretty much everyone on the hall. You spend enough time here, you get to know everyone.” I nodded toward the next room. “Benny Calado is in there. He’s a teenager. Got drunk and wrapped his mom’s car around a telephone pole one night. His folks are divorced, but they both come to visit. Rita is here during the week and John on the weekends…which sounds like an amicable arrangement, but really it’s because Rita gets plastered on the weekend.”

  Griswald looked bored by how well I knew the other visitors.

  “But,” I said, sticking to the truth. “Mr. Delveccio and I do have a special relationship.”

  Interest flickered in the marshal’s gaze. “You do?”

  I nodded. “And I’m not proud of it.”

  “Don’t…” the mobster warned in a menacing tone.

  I gave him a reassuring smile. He looked confused.

  “We both love the hospital’s chocolate pudding,” I confessed to Griswald, “and we’ve been known to indulge in it together.”

  Griswald looked disappointed. I tried to not look too self-satisfied, but in truth I was patting myself on the back. If anyone did any asking around about myself and the mobster, all they’d get was further confirmation that we ate pudding together.

  “I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t go around making my sweet tooth public knowledge, Ms. Lee,” Delveccio said, doing a good job of looking like his Achilles heel had just been exposed.

  Another marshal in a suit rushed up to Griswald and whispered in his ear.

  Frowning, Griswald asked me, “Any idea why your aunt’s supposed sponsor, Blanche, would dose my guy and then stab him?”

  “Dose?” I asked.

  “According to tests they’ve run on him, he was given a sedative, and according to Weller the only way that could have happened was when she brought a cup of coffee for your aunt, who, it so happened wasn’t in the room, so Blanche gave it to my man.” Griswald glared at me as though it were my
fault.

  I shook my head. “I met her yesterday. I took an instant dislike to her.”

  “I’m going to have a team go over the room. Maybe they can find something,” Griswald didn’t sound too hopeful.

  “But they’ll leave Katie alone?” I asked.

  The marshal nodded.

  “Thank you.”

  “We were just discussing what to do about her security,” Delveccio said.

  “I’m putting two men on her door until we can figure out what this Blanche, or whatever her name is, woman wanted,” Griswald said.

  “And I’m keeping my guys inside,” the mobster countered.

  Griswald eyed me. “It’s your call, Miss Lee, do you really want to entrust the safety of your niece to a reputed criminal?”

  I looked at the door to the room and then at Delveccio. “He won’t hurt her,” I said quietly. “He owes me.”

  “Owes you what?” Griswald asked suspiciously.

  For a second I thought Patrick might have been wrong about telling the truth.

  “She saved his grandson’s life,” another man piped in.

  We all turned to see who had spoken. A short man, wearing a bowtie and clutching a pile of folders, blinked at us through fingerprint-smudged glasses. He looked familiar, but it took me a second to place him.

  “It’s in the little girl’s file,” he said. “My predecessor, Stacy something-or-other, her name is in the file, documented the whole thing.”

  Stacy. The former hospital social worker I’d befriended. That meant this was her replacement. Taking a closer look at him I realized he was the one who’d shown up during Kowalski’s rampage and had almost gotten himself shot.

  “What are you doing here Mr. Withers?” Griswald demanded.

  “I told you yesterday, Marshal Griswald. I’m the social worker assigned to Katie’s case.”

  I wondered what Withers had said to the US Marshal about my family while Patrick and I had been seeking emergency medical care for my dog.

  “And you say you’ve got documentation that she,” Griswald looked at me pointedly, “saved his son?”

  “Grandson,” Withers, Delveccio, and I corrected simultaneously.

  Withers handed the marshal a file and then moved toward me, extending his hand. “We haven’t officially met, Miss Lee. I’m Albert Withers. I’ve been assigned to your niece’s case.”