by Lynn, JB
Patrick shrugged. “The Delveccios are old timers. They have a code. The Lubovskys don’t.”
“What do you think I should do?”
He frowned. “In a perfect world, Griswald would find the evidence on his own. Then the Lubovskys would have no reason to retaliate against you or your family, but short of drawing him a map to the location, I don’t know how to do that.”
My front door opened and Griswald stepped back inside my apartment.
I winked at Patrick. “I think I do.”In addition to being a con man and a thief, my dad has always imagined himself to be a bit of a modern day pirate. Not the kind with a peg leg, an eye patch and a shoulder parrot, but the kind that would gladly fly a skull-and-crossbones flag, bury treasure, and make a map where X marked the spot.
When I was a kid, I thought it was one of his best qualities. He’d hide treats for my sisters and me in the B&B, or The Barn or the yard and leave us a map to find them. It was fun when we were little girls, annoying as we got older, and now it was the very thing that put the lives of his family in danger and offered us the best chance at survival.
That’s what he’d done with the discs. He’d hidden the discs (treasure) and left a map (clues) for me to follow, not because I was the most “stable” member of the family, but because I’d always been the one to figure out where he’d hidden our treats.
I didn’t tell any of this to Griswald though when he walked back inside my apartment. If I had, he would have asked me point-blank where I thought the discs were and I didn’t want to be the one to tell him. I thought Patrick’s idea that Griswald finding them was a much wiser plan so, instead, before the marshal could even sit down again at my kitchen table and eat any more of my olives or stale cookies, I asked, “Why do you think my father wanted to meet at Artie’s?”
Griswald paused mid-step. “I don’t know. Was it a special place to him?”
I pretended to think about that for a moment. “I guess so. He was friends with the former owner. They used to go deep sea fishing once a year…when my dad wasn’t locked up.”
Griswald digested the tidbit of information. “So maybe he hid something there?”
“Maybe. I seem to remember him taking Theresa there the night he was arrested. Afterward she complained for weeks that he’d taken her for a steak and lobster dinner, like he’d known it was going to be his last meal as a free man.”
Griswald nodded.
I could practically see the gears turning in his head.
“It’s a good guess, but I’ve got my people there now and they haven’t turned anything up yet.”
I just nodded, knowing they weren’t looking in the right place. “So, my telling you this, is it enough to get my father’s conviction overturned?”
“Afraid not,” Griswald said. “Maybe I could do something if you told us where the discs are.”
I sighed, maybe a tad too dramatically if the sharp look Patrick gave me was any indication. “I told you, he didn’t tell me where they are.”
Griswald nodded.
“Maybe you should ask Rob, the owner of Artie’s if he has any ideas?” I suggested helpfully.
“Owner’s dead,” Griswald informed me flatly.
“Oh!” I widened my eyes so that I’d appeared sufficiently shocked. A month earlier Aunt Loretta had attended Rob’s funeral and sniped incessantly about how old his widow looked.
Griswald glanced at his watch and then looked at Patrick. “You can keep an eye on her?”
Patrick nodded.
“Okay,” Griswald decided. “I’m going to go back to the restaurant to supervise the search myself.”
I swallowed the self-satisfied grin that threatened to split my face. It had worked. He was going to where the discs were hidden. Once he was there, it wouldn’t be too hard to push him to look in the right place.
“If you think of anything else,” Griswald said to me, “have Detective Mulligan call me.”
“Of course.” I promised.
Patrick locked the door behind the marshal and turned back to me. “You should never pursue acting as a career.”
I innocently batted my eyelashes at him. “Whatever do you mean?”
“What the hell was that act about?”
“We have to go to the hospital.” I got to my feet.
“Why?”
“Because,” I grinned. “I’m going to tell him exactly where the treasure chest is, but I’m not giving him the key to it until I get what I want.”
“What are you talking about?”
“The discs are at Artie’s,” I explained. “But it’s not going to do Griswald much good because I’m guessing that they’re going to need a password to read them.”
“And you know where the password is?”
“Pretty sure I do.” I was feeling pretty proud of myself for figuring it out. “I have to call for a cab.” I reached for the phone.
“No you don’t.”
“Both our cars are still at the B&B,” I reminded him.
“One of my cars is there. I’ve got another nearby.”
“You are not leaving me behind this time,” God thundered from the other room.
“Ride?” Doomsday yelped excitedly from the bedroom.
Patrick glanced in that direction.
“She heard you say C-A-R,” I explained to him.
She loped into the room, all set to go.
“You have to stay here, sweetie,” I told her. “You need your rest.”
She hung her head.
“Can I come?” Piss asked.
“I need you to stay here too,” I told her gently.
Realizing Patrick was staring at me funny, I glared at him. “Talking to my pets is no weirder than talking to anyone else in my family.”
“That, I believe,” he said with a boyish grin.
“Let me just check and make sure Godzilla is okay and then we can go.” Hurrying into the bedroom, I scooped God out of the terrarium. “You’ve got to be quiet,” I whispered, as I placed him on my collarbone.
“Just try not to get us killed.” The little lizard crawled down my chest and settled himself between my breasts.
“Careful,” DeeDee whined, having followed me back into the bedroom.
“Up,” I said, patting the bed.
Leaping up, she gave me her saddest puppy-dog eyes.
“Be a good girl,” I kissed the top of her head and hurried out of the room blinking away tears.
“You okay?” Patrick asked, concern shadowing his gaze.
I nodded. “It’s just been a long couple of days.”
“I know.” He moved closer. “You’re doing great. Just hang in there a little longer.” Then he kissed me gently, nibbling on my lips, teasing my tongue with his. He tasted sweet and salty.
“C’mon,” he said, after he’d left me breathless. “Let’s finish this thing.”
Chapter Twenty
Anyone else would have asked where the discs were. They would have demanded to be told where the password was. I would have, but not Patrick. He just drove us to the hospital with quiet efficiency.
“You’re sure about this?” he asked quietly. “It’s a big gamble.”
I nodded. “It’s the only way. I can’t spend the rest of my life looking over my shoulder.”
“You’ll never see him again.”
“See who?”
“Your dad. Once he goes into Witness Protection you can’t see him. You can’t contact him.”
I shrugged. “I went years without seeing him.”
“But that’s when you thought he was someone he’s not,” Patrick reminded me gently.
I thought about that for a second. “He’s not a murderer, that’s true, but he did this. He put everyone I care about in danger. All because he was chasing a quick buck. It’s all he’s ever done. Looked for a shortcut, consequences be damned.” Realizing I’d balled my hands into fists, I forced myself to relax. “Losing touch with him won’t be a loss.”
&nb
sp; “Okay,” Patrick said. “This is your show. What do you need from me?”
I took a deep breath, knowing this was the part of the plan he wasn’t going to like. “I need you to go to the B&B, while I go into the hospital.”
The tension in the car ratcheted up tenfold despite the fact he didn’t say anything.
“We need to be able to say I gave you the slip,” I explained hurriedly. “If you go to the B&B looking for me, the Lubovskys will never connect you.”
“I don’t need you to protect me, Mags,” Patrick whispered, his voice strained. “I’m not leaving you.”
“You have to,” I urged. “You go to the B&B looking for me. You go up to my bedroom and you find the picture that’s in the drawer of the desk. When you see the picture, you’ll know where to tell Griswald to look for the discs.”
“What? Where?” Patrick asked, confused.
“You’ll know,” I promised him. “And once you’ve told Griswald, you can race back here and get me.”
“But—“ Patrick protested.
“I need to protect my family,” I told him, “but I need you to protect me.”
“But what if Lubovsky has men inside the hospital?”
“Delveccio’s men won’t let anything happen to me. I eat a lot of chocolate pudding with their boss.”
Patrick speared a hand through his hair. I half-expected him to pull a handful out. “This is an idiotic plan.”
“But it’ll work,” I told him.
“Or you’ll get yourself killed,” he countered.
“You’ll be back in time,” I said. “I have faith in you.”
“I can’t—“
“It has to be now,” I told him. “Before my father gets out of surgery. Before they can question him. While I’m still the only one with the answers. I need you to believe in me, Patrick.”
“I can’t lose you, Mags,” he whispered.
“Then drive like hell.” I pressed my lips to his and then jumped out of the car and ran toward the entrance.
For a moment I thought he was going to follow me, but then I heard a squeal of tires and an engine racing away.
I was alone again, with everyone depending on me.
Well, almost alone.
“That’s your brilliant plan?” God asked from the valley between my breasts. “You send away the one person who we know wants you to live through this.”
“This is going to work,” I promised.
“It’d better,” he groused.
I slowed to a walk and strolled through the hospital doors like this was just another visit I was paying to my niece.
It was late, so the hallways were relatively empty. I smiled and nodded at nurses and orderlies, just another dutiful family member visiting.
Two men in suits flanked the door of Delveccio’s grandson’s room. They glanced at me, surprised, and one immediately dialed his phone. I felt a surge of satisfaction. They’d tell Griswald where I was, who’d in turn tell Patrick, so it would make perfect sense when the redheaded detective showed up looking for me.
Two of Delveccio’s goons were watching a wrestling match on television when I stepped into the room. They both reached for their guns, but then relaxed when they recognized me.
I nodded at them both and then went to check on Katie. She slept soundly, but I could have sworn I saw a bit more color in her cheeks than usual. I touched her forehead to make sure she didn’t have a fever. Her skin was warm, but not hot.
She stirred beneath my touch. I stood very still, not wanting to disturb her.
I moved slowly to take Dino, the stuffed dinosaur, out from beneath her arm.
Dad had left each of his daughter’s a clue. He’d left me the jewel cases, told Marlene exactly where the discs were hidden, and given Theresa the password.
Picking up the tattered toy, I turned it over to examine the tag sewn into the tail. I read it carefully “Handcrafted by 3 W1TCH3S 012203240413.”
“I should have known,” I chuckled.
The mob goons glanced over at me, then turned their attention back to the television and the man smashing a chair over another’s head.
I took the dinosaur down to the cafeteria and bought some chocolate pudding. Except for the teenaged cashier who was wearing earbuds and doing what looked like calculus homework, I was the only one there. I sat down at one of the familiar tables I’d spent too much time at over the past few months and waited in the vast, empty space.
“What are we doing?” God whispered from his hidey-spot in my bra.
“Waiting,” I muttered.
“For what?”
“Him.”
“Him who?” the lizard squeaked.
I didn’t answer as I watched someone else enter the deserted cafeteria.
I knew he’d come.
I’d only finished half the pudding when he showed up.
“It’s in that toy, isn’t it?” he asked. “I knew it.”
I looked at the barrel of the gun he had pointed at me. The fact that it had a silencer attached told me he was more than willing to shoot me in public. I swallowed hard. “I knew it was you.”
He sat down opposite me, keeping the weapon trained on me. “How?”
“She’s a space cadet,” I said.
“I don’t follow.”
“Stacy the social worker. The real social worker. Nice lady. Sweet as could be, but she’s a dingbat. No way would she have ever written a report about my altercation with Alfonso Cifelli.”
The man who’d presented himself as Mr. Withers, the hospital social worker frowned. “Give me the toy.”
“No,” I said, shoveling another spoonful of pudding into my mouth like I wasn’t about to get shot any moment.
“No?” he asked. “Do you have any idea how painful it is to get shot?”
I shook my head. “You’re not going to get the discs.”
“Because Griswald is tearing apart the restaurant?” he asked.
I nodded.
“Discs are useless without the password and I know your father changed that. I supplied the code for it myself. So all the Griswald brothers are going to end up with are some small, silver Frisbees.”
“So why do you want the password then?” I asked, but then guessing the answer I said, “You’re not working for the Lubovskys. You want to blackmail them.”
“You’re much smarter than you look and act,” Withers said.
“My grandmother used to say I’m exceptionally unexceptional,” I confided.
“So don’t be exceptionally stupid. Give me the password or I’ll shoot you and then take the toy.”
“I’d like the good guys to win,” I told him.
“Not going to happen.” Withers raised the gun and pressed it to my forehead. “Give it to me.”
Sliding my eyes in the direction of the cashier, I saw her head was bent over her homework and she was oblivious to my imminent death. I squeezed the dinosaur’s neck tightly. “Did you break my father out of prison?”
“No. That was Leon Lubovsky. He was afraid the rat was going to give the Feds the discs in order to get himself a sweeter deal.”
“He is,” I told him.
“You’re not going to be around to see it,” Withers said.
I smiled. “I certainly hope not.”
Then I made my move. I swung that toy dinosaur as hard as I could at the bald head of the bow-tied “social worker”.
He squeezed off a shot.
“You’re trying to get me killed!” God yelled tugging on my bra strap.
I ignored them both. I was already ducking beneath the table. Of course being a monumental klutz, I hit my head on the edge of the table so hard that the room darkened.
When I’d gone to pay for the pudding I’d known what I had to do, not because I’m an overly clever gal, but because I’d been told enough times over the past two days.
The box cutter had been lying next to the plastic utensils, no doubt put down and forgotten when someone realized
they needed a plastic spoon.
“Take it,” God had urged, having climbed onto my shoulder to get the lay of the land.
I’d picked up the blade with some extra napkins.
I used it now on the man who was trying to kill me, plunging it into his soft belly hearing both Piss saying, “Gut the thug” and Armani’s pulled letters, “G U T T H UG”…not “tug-hug” but “gut thug.”
Withers screamed in agony as the blade pierced him. I almost left it at stabbing him, but then I remembered the photograph I’d sent Patrick to go see.
One year, when my father went deep sea fishing with Rob, the owner of Artie’s, he’d brought me along. My hatred of seafood had been born that day as they’d taught me how to gut a big fish. I remembered how they’d laughed at me struggling to gut the huge marlin, which now hung on the wall of the restaurant.
I yanked the blade upward, tearing through Withers’ skin and organs.
He squeezed off two more shots, trying to shoot me through the table. I flinched as the whistling pings splintered the surface above my head.
“Aaaaah! Help!” God screamed in abject horror.
Withers collapsed onto the floor beside me. Dropping his gun, he clutched his stomach, making a terrible gurgling noise.
I took a deep breath. It was over.
“Impressive,” a voice said from above.
I looked up to see Agent Weller, the one who’d been stabbed guarding Katie’s room, looking down at me. He kicked Withers’ gun out of reach. He looked awfully spry for a guy who himself had been stabbed earlier.
“He was trying to kill me,” I told him breathlessly.
“He talked too much.” Weller raised a gun and aimed it at my head. It too had a silencer attached.
I’d found Griswald’s leak. Not that I was going to get a chance to tell him. I’d gambled everything and I’d lost.
I closed my eyes, not wanting Weller to have the satisfaction of seeing me cry.
There was a thud and when I opened my eyes, I no longer saw the end of my life facing me, instead I saw Patrick holding a gun on Weller, who was crumpled in an unconscious heap on the floor.
“You’re damn lucky I drive so fast,” Patrick growled.
I wanted to nod, but instead I passed out.