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

by Lynn, JB

  Chapter Twenty-One

  It wasn’t until I’d asked Patrick to tell my aunts to come to the hospital because Marlene was waiting in Recovery for dad, that I felt like I’d done everything I could for my family. For the first time in two days I could breathe.

  A number of people had tried to kill me, but the worst injury sustained was self-inflicted. The bump I’d given myself as I’d hit my head diving under the table alternately stung and ached despite the ice pack I’d held to it for hours while I waited for the deal I’d negotiated with Griswald for my father to be approved.

  While I waited, Weller had been cuffed and dragged away for questioning, Withers had been rushed to the Emergency Room, and cops, marshals and FBI agents swarmed the scene.

  Patrick, who’d been in-and-out of the hospital cafeteria, doing detective-y things no doubt, had avoided talking to me except to honor my request to call the aunts. He’d barely even spared a glance in my direction.

  I wasn’t surprised that Aunt Susan found me in the cafeteria, and I was amused that she was able to bully her way into the crime scene. I watched her face, pinched and horrified as she skirted around the pool of blood that had leaked from Withers. Blood I had spilled.

  Marshal Griswald, looking determined, marched toward us, as Aunt Susan, paler than usual, settled into the seat beside me.

  “I’m fine,” I told her quickly, trying to alleviate her worry, and then, because I didn’t want her to hear it from Griswald, I added. “I had to stab a guy, but I’m okay.”

  She stared at the blood and then turned to look at me. “Thank God,” she murmured, pulling me into a tight hug. “If I’d lost you…” she sniffled.

  I hugged her tightly, rubbing comforting circles between her shoulder blades. “I’m fine. I’m okay.”

  “You’re crushing me,” God gasped, using my bra strap to climb up to my shoulder. He looked right at Susan and said, “Hello.”

  His appearance was her undoing. My stoic aunt, the one who never let anything get to her, the one everyone depended on in times of crisis, dissolved into great heaving sobs in my arms. Her cries echoed off the cafeteria walls, causing everyone to look over at us.

  I patted her back helplessly, unable to comfort her.

  Griswald slowed his approach at the sight of the crying woman in my arms. “Everything okay?” he called from a distance.

  I shrugged. Talk about a loaded question.

  “I need to talk to him,” I told Aunt Susan. “Why don’t you go take Marlene to the B&B? When I’m done here, I’ll come see all of you.”

  Eyeing God nervously she nodded, stood, and keeping her gaze averted, shuffled past the pool of congealed blood.

  Griswald did a double-take when he spotted the lizard, but then sat in the seat beside me without commenting on his presence. “How are you holding up?”

  “It’s been a rough couple of days,” I admitted, watching as Susan stopped to talk to Patrick.

  “The woman we caught at the restaurant isn’t talking, but we got an I.D. on the guy you stabbed. He’s not, as you probably guessed, a social worker. He’s an enforcer for a rival crime syndicate.”

  “He doesn’t look like an enforcer,” I said, thinking of Delveccio’s muscle-bound bodyguard Vinnie.

  “Deadly things come in small packages,” Griswald replied.

  “With bowties?” I asked.

  “Gotta say that’s a first for me,” the marshal admitted. “Then again, so is finding evidence in a dead fish.”

  “You found the discs in a fish?” I asked, playing dumb.

  Griswald nodded. “Detective Mulligan noticed a photograph with a young girl and your father. They’d been fishing.”

  I nodded, indicating I knew the picture.

  “Then I remembered you telling me that he and the owner of the Artie’s had gone deep sea fishing together on a regular basis, so I started looking around for trophy fish.” Griswald sounded pretty damn proud of himself for figuring that out.

  I smiled wanly as though I hadn’t left the breadcrumbs that led him to his inevitable “discovery”.

  “We found the discs in a stuffed marlin,” Griswald revealed.

  “Oh wow,” I said, thinking Patrick might be wrong. If this performance was any indication, I could pursue a career in acting.

  “Crazy hiding place,” Griswald confided.

  I nodded. It was actually right where Dad had told Marlene it would be. ‘The treasure is in the Marlene’….the treasure is in the marlin.

  “How’d you figure out what the password was?” Griswald asked.

  I handed him Dino. “Look at the tag.”

  He did, shook his head, and laughed. “Strangest case I’ve worked.” He stood and extended his hand.

  I shook it.

  “Thank you for your help, Miss Lee.”

  “It’s not like I had much choice, Marshal.”

  “And I’m sorry about Weller. I’ve spoken with the Emergency Room and apparently the wounds inflicted by the Blanche woman were superficial, just a ruse to shake up the progress of the case. If I’d checked with them earlier…”

  “All’s well that ends well,” I told him, glancing at my savior Patrick who was crossing the room, headed toward us.

  “You can go home now. I’ll arrange to get you a ride,” Griswald said.

  “I’ll take her,” Patrick said.

  “You sure?” the marshal asked.

  He didn’t look at me, but at the marshal. “Her aunt made me promise I would.”

  Griswald nodded. “Better you than me. Thanks for your help, Mulligan. I owe you.”

  “Again,” Patrick reminded him with a smile. “If you’d come with me, Miss Lee.” He gestured that I should walk in front of me.

  Getting to my feet I swayed woozily. The room darkened and I thought I might pass out again.

  “Take a breath,” Patrick ordered, grabbing my elbow.

  I did and felt marginally better.

  As soon as he’d decided I wasn’t going to face-plant on the cafeteria floor, he released me and moved away, leaving me to follow him.

  Once we were out of the cafeteria I asked, “Are you mad at me?”

  He didn’t answer. He just kept walking so quickly that I practically had to run to keep up with him.

  “Where are we going?” I asked as he led the way into a section of the hospital I wasn’t familiar with.

  “To see your father.”

  I halted in my tracks. “I don’t want to see him.”

  Patrick spun around, his expression unreadable, his voice flat. “As soon as he’s strong enough, the Witness Protection people are going to whisk him out of here. You’ll never get a chance to see him again, to talk to him.”

  “So?” I shrugged, trying to sound like I didn’t care.

  He took a step closer and bent down so that his face was level with mine.

  I took a step back trying to get away from the mixture of frustration and pity I saw blazing in his gaze.

  He rested his hands on my shoulders, anchoring me, as though he knew I’d run from what he was going to say. “You blame yourself for Darlene’s death. You’ve taken responsibility for Marlene running away. You’ve become something you could have never imagined to keep a promise to Theresa.”

  I shook my head denying his truths.

  “Say good-bye to your father,” Patrick continued. “Accept credit for doing everything in your power to help him. Don’t let your failure to reconcile with him now be yet another thing you beat yourself up with.”

  Tears pricked the back of my eyelids. I looked away.

  “Do you trust me, Mags?”

  I nodded slowly.

  “Then trust that I know you. Trust that I want what’s best for you. Do this thing. If you can’t do it for yourself, do it for me. Please,” he begged.

  “Okay.” I wasn’t sure if I was agreeing for his sake or my own.

  “Good,” he smiled approvingly. Bending closer he whispered in my ear, “And
when this is all done, I’m going to give you hell for scaring me to death.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  “So was he right?” Piss asked, intrigued.

  After visiting Dad, I’d gone to the B&B, proved to my aunts that I was alive and well, hugged Marlene who was spending the night in my old bedroom, and then had Patrick take me back to my apartment so I could check on the animals. He hadn’t liked the idea of my staying there “alone,” but he had paperwork to go finish and I’d promised him I’d be fine.

  Before he left he gave me a quick, hard kiss loaded with the promise that there was more where that came from. My lips still tingled.

  For the past hour God had been regaling DeeDee and Piss about the night’s adventures. The dog and cat curled up on either side of me, hanging on his every word.

  “Of course he was right,” God opined, draped across a piece of driftwood in his terrarium. “Patrick is always right.”

  I chuckled, remembering a time, not long ago when the lizard hadn’t been overly fond of my murder mentor. “Yes, he was right. I’m glad I talked to my Dad. He explained some things and we got to say good-bye.”

  “Explain?” DeeDee panted.

  “He explained why he robbed the bank,” I said.

  “Oh this should be good,” Piss drawled sarcastically.

  I shot her a dirty look. “He was trying to get Marlene away from her pimp.”

  “He was going to pay him off?” Piss asked, confused.

  “No. Griswald was right. Apparently her pimp has ties to the Lubovsky family. If Dad did this “favor” for them, they’d let Marlene go…but of course it didn’t work out that way.”

  “In the midst of the robbery, this Sergei guy kills the teller,” God interrupted, giving me an impatient look. “And all hell broke loose. Archie Lee grabbed the discs and took off, losing the cops and the robbers.”

  “Go where?” DeeDee asked.

  “He went and hid everything,” God explained. “He put the discs in the fish, the cases under the floorboard, and he bought the dinosaur, wrote the password on the tag, and gave it to Theresa. Then he told the Lubovsky family that if anything happened to him or Marlene, the discs would go straight to the Feds. It was actually a brave and daring plan,” he finished with grudging respect.

  “And then he went and got himself caught and ended up in prison,” I added, having had enough of the hero worship. “But now, thanks to Witness Protection, he’ll get a chance at another life…which he’ll no doubt screw up.”

  “Miss Maggie?” DeeDee whined.

  “She wants to know if you’re going to miss him,” Piss translated helpfully.

  I shrugged. “I haven’t thought about it.”

  “Miss DeeDee?” the dog asked.

  “Of course I did,” I hugged her tightly. “I’m glad you’re back.”

  “Do you smell something?” Piss asked suddenly.

  “The dog farted,” God said wrinkling his nose.

  “Not!” DeeDee protested.

  “It wasn’t her,” Piss said, jumping off the bed. She stalked out of the bedroom.

  “Moody thing, isn’t she?” God complained.

  “Be nice,” I warned, “She fed you.” I climbed over the dog and followed the cat hoping she wasn’t going to pee anywhere.

  “It’s gas,” the cat hissed.

  I sniffed the air. She was right. There was a distinctly chemical scent lingering in the air.

  “Perfume?” DeeDee asked, following us into the living room.

  “It’s not perfume, you imbecile,” God yelled from the bedroom.

  “She’s right,” I said, a chill snaking down my spine. “Out! Everybody out of the apartment!”

  I threw open the front door to let the cat and dog out before rushing back to the bedroom to grab God’s terrarium.

  “What’s going on?” the lizard asked worriedly.

  “I don’t know.” I grabbed his box and ran.

  “Maggie?” DeeDee asked, running back to me.

  “Out!” I screamed, a sense of dread that defied reason grabbing hold of me. “Run, DeeDee! Run!”

  “You are such a drama queen,” God drawled unhappily. “Don’t jostle me. I have sensitive skin.”

  I raced out the door on the dog’s heels.

  The explosion lifted me off my feet, its heat branding me. Mid-air I lost my grip on God.

  I hit the ground hard.

  And the world went black.

  A note from JB:

  I hope you enjoyed THE HITWOMAN AND THE FAMILY JEWELS.

  Don’t forget to visit http://jblynn.com to enter my latest contest and to find out about my latest news!

  COMING SOON

  THE HITWOMAN AND THE NEUROTIC WITNESS

  You know it’s going to be a bad day when you’ve got Piss on your chest, Doomsday staring you in the eye, and God singing, “Staying Alive” out of tune.

  My name is Maggie Lee. Through a bizarre series of events (include a head injury that left me with the ability to talk to animals) I’ve become a hitwoman.

  I wasn’t sure if either of those things was the reason my apartment had just been blown to smithereens. But there I was, sprawled out in the parking lot, every cell in my body aching, with a dog panting in my face, a one-eyed cat kneading my chest, and a snarky anole lizard singing off-key “Ah, ha, ha, ha, stayin alive, stayin alive.”

  “Doing what?” asked Doomsday (my grammatically-challenged Doberman, who prefers to be called DeeDee because it’s more feminine).

  Thankfully the reptile stopped singing long enough to haughtily inform the dog, “Cardiopulmonary resuscitation.”

  The dog cocked her head to the side. “What?”

  “CPR, you ignoramus,” the lizard shouted. “We’re trying to save her life.”

  “Song?” DeeDee asked.

  “The American Heart Association says it’s the perfect beat to use,” God replied, before singing again. ““Ah, ha, ha, ha, stayin alive, stayin alive.”

  If Piss, the one-eyed cat wasn’t pushing on my chest with her untrimmed claws, I might have been able to tell them that I was alive, but they were killing me.

  Thankfully someone shooed her off of me.

  My favorite mobster came into focus. Leaning over me, his diamond pinky ring sparkled like the North Star. I blinked. Either I was seeing double, or strangely-named identical twins Tony and Anthony Delveccio were at my apartment complex.

  That couldn’t be good.

  Were they the ones who’d blown up my apartment? Were they here to finish the job?