The Hitwoman's Juggling Act

by J. B. Lynn

  “The one and only.” Griswald let out a tired sigh. “I’m going to have a talk with her now.”

  “Thank you.” I didn’t really know what else to say to him. “I mean, thank you for doing the research, and thank you for following up with me, and thank you—”

  “That’s what family does,” Griswald reminded me. “Not everything that happens to this family falls on your shoulders, Maggie. I promise you; I’ll take care of this.”

  A lump closed in my throat, and I had to blink away tears. Griswald and I had our differences, mainly that we dabbled on opposite sides of the law, but he had my back.

  There weren’t too many people who did.

  “Stay safe, Maggie.” He disconnected the call.

  I put my phone away and gave Gino a weak smile. “Okay, I’m ready now.”

  “Everything okay?” he asked.

  “It’s complicated, and I’m going to have to explain it to your bosses anyway, and you’ll overhear it, so if you don’t mind…”

  He nodded. “Let’s go.” We walked into the Skee-Ball arcade, and I was disappointed I couldn’t smell the scent of freshly frying zeppole. Only one of the Delveccio twins was there.

  “There she is,” he said, scooping up a ball and sending it hurtling up into the game.

  “Hi,” I said. I really wasn’t sure what I was supposed to be doing here.

  Delveccio turned away from his game and looked at me. “You know what we should get in here?”

  “A cotton candy machine?” I suggested. I really like cotton candy.

  He shook his head. “No. One of those whack-a-mole games. You know the kind. You pick up the mallet and you whack the mole as it pops out of the hole. You seen them?”

  I nodded.

  “Might come in handy in my line of work,” Delveccio mused.

  I fought the urge to shiver. There was definitely animosity in his tone. “Do you have a mole?” I asked.

  Delveccio shrugged. “Problem with moles is that you never know until it’s too late.” He turned back to his game, picked up another ball, and sent it hurtling upward. “Thing about moles, though, is that they can be exterminated.”

  He turned slowly, put his hands on his hips, and stared at me. “Are you a mole?”

  I inadvertently took a step back. “Me?”

  He chuckled. “I’m just kidding. I know it’s not you.”

  The way he said it made me think he had an idea of who it might be. I didn’t think it was Patrick. I hoped he didn’t.

  “So, we have a problem,” Delveccio began.

  “First me,” I interrupted.

  He raised his eyebrows. Mafia bosses are not accustomed to being interrupted by underlings.

  “Sorry,” I muttered. “It’s just that my family is in danger.”

  He scowled. “Tell me.”

  I told him as quickly as I could, noticing that Gino, standing off to the side, was listening carefully. When I got through the story, Delveccio shot his bodyguard a look. Gino nodded.

  “You need something to eat to feel better?” the mobster asked gruffly.

  I shook my head.

  “So we can discuss my problem now?”

  I nodded, trying to hide my disappointment that he wasn’t offering to help me solve my problem.

  “Frank Griffith was pretty messed up when he was delivered to the interrogator.”

  I bit my lower lip, wondering if pleading the fifth was an option with a mobster. Not that I even had anything that I could incriminate myself with, but I didn’t want to squeal. I didn’t want to be a rat. I didn’t want to endanger Patrick.

  “You want to tell me which one of you did the damage?” Delveccio gave me a hard look, waiting.

  “I didn’t realize that the terms of our contract demanded that he be delivered in pristine condition,” I countered.

  I heard Gino suck in his breath behind me.

  Something glittered in Delveccio’s eyes, and then he threw back his head and laughed, the sound bouncing off the walls. He laughed for a long moment before shaking his head. “I always say that you have balls of steel.”

  It was my turn to shake my head. “Not in my biology,” I told him.

  “But seriously, which one of you put the beat down on Griffith?” Delveccio asked.

  I waited a minute, trying to come up with an answer.

  “Try the truth,” Delveccio suggested. He turned away again, picked up another ball, and threw it into the game.

  “Well, so here’s the thing,” I told him carefully. “I wasn’t actually there when he was delivered.”

  Delveccio looked over at me sharply. “You didn’t help Mulligan with the job?”

  “I helped him. But he kicked me out of the car before we delivered him.”

  Delveccio considered that for a long moment.

  “I think he was trying to protect me,” I told him.

  Delveccio nodded his approval. “It makes sense. I should have told him to do that myself.”

  I relaxed a little.

  “So, it was Mulligan who messed him up.”

  I shook my head. “That doesn’t make sense. He was fine when I got out of the car.”

  Delveccio gave up on his game, walked to a nearby chair, and sank down into it. “I tried to ask Mulligan, but we can’t find him.” He looked to Gino for confirmation of this fact.

  His bodyguard nodded.

  Alarm bells rang in my head. Armani’s Scrabble letters, they hadn’t spelled out “He dared” they’d spelled out “Red Head.” I had the distinct impression, even though I don’t have any psychic powers, that Patrick Mulligan was in trouble. “How hard did you try to find him?” I asked Delveccio.

  “Usually, he’s pretty easy to connect with,” Delveccio admitted. “It’s not like him to disappear.”

  Suddenly, very worried about Patrick’s well-being, I squeezed my hands into fists, forgetting that I had something in one of them.

  “Ow! Ow! Ow!” Benny squeaked.

  Delveccio and Gino both looked at me, wide-eyed.

  “It’s nothing,” I muttered, not explaining why I was carrying around a mouse. “How do you know that Griffith was damaged property?” I asked.

  “The interrogator said so. Couldn’t get the information I needed before he died.” Delveccio frowned, obviously not liking the fact that his team had failed him.

  I didn’t like the way this whole thing sounded. I spoke slowly, putting my theory together as the words spilled out of my mouth. “Is there any chance he’s working for someone else? Maybe he really got this info you needed and blamed a beating of Griffith for not coming up with anything.”

  Delveccio thought about that for a moment, fiddling with his diamond pinky ring.

  “Come on,” I urged. “You know Patrick’s loyal to you. Is this other guy?”

  “Woman,” Delveccio countered.

  “Your interrogator is a woman?” I asked incredulously.

  Delveccio chuckled. “One of my best people is a woman.” He stared at me pointedly, making sure that I knew he was talking about me.

  “Maybe she lied, and maybe she knows where Patrick is,” I suggested.

  Delveccio nodded. “That’s a possibility, but she’s already been paid, so she’s probably long gone.”

  30

  In my head, I kept seeing the Scrabble letters spell out the words “Red Head.” R.E.D H.E.A.D. If I’d figured it out earlier…

  Gino and I hustled back to his car.

  The second we were seated inside, God scrambled up onto my shoulder so that he could look into the back seat. As Gino drove, God filled DeeDee and Piss in on what had just transpired.

  “Danger Patrick?” DeeDee panted worriedly.

  “He’ll be okay, sugar,” Piss assured me.

  I couldn’t answer either one of them since Delveccio’s bodyguard was driving. He kept glancing over at God, perched on my shoulder, squeaking away, but he didn’t say anything about it.

  Finally, Gino cleared
his throat. “You need to be careful.”

  “Got it.”

  “No,” Gino said more forcefully. “If this broad got the jump on Patrick Mulligan, she’ll eat you for breakfast.”

  “I’m impressed by your faith in me,” I told him.

  “Look,” Gino said. He gripped the steering wheel tighter. “I like you, I appreciate what you did for Dominic. Hell, I appreciate what you did for me.”

  I nodded. It was something we really didn’t talk about, but if it wasn’t for me, Gino wouldn’t have his job. I’d helped take out Vinny, Delveccio’s old bodyguard. “But that doesn’t mean that I buy your tough girl act,” Gino said.

  I shrugged. “I get by.”

  “By the skin of your teeth,” God interjected.

  It really wasn’t fun being berated by a human and a reptile at the same time.

  “All I’m saying,” Gino continued, oblivious to God’s contribution to the conversation, “is that if you need back-up, I’m there for you.”

  I glanced over at him in surprise.

  “Like I said, I like you. Besides, Mulligan has done me more than one solid.”

  We pulled into the parking lot of the hotel. “Hang on,” Gino said as I moved to open my door.

  He reached into a pocket and pulled out a disposable cell phone. “Call me,” he urged. “Just don’t tell the bosses.”

  I got out of the car, smiled my thanks, freed the dog and cat out of the back, and walked toward my own vehicle. Gino pulled away while miming, “Call me.”

  “Now what are you going to do?” God asked impatiently.

  “Patrick rescue,” DeeDee suggested.

  “I think that’s an excellent idea,” I told her.

  “Except you don’t know where he is, and you don’t know who is holding him, and you don’t even know if he’s really in danger,” God reminded us.

  “I bet there was something in the other letters that we missed,” I told him.

  Reaching my car, I ushered all the animals inside, got behind the steering wheel, and found a packet of post-it notes in the glove compartment. Pulling out a pen, I wrote out the letters again — D, D, F, G, I, I, T — and pressed them against the dashboard so I could get a better look at them.

  “Come on,” I urged God. “You’re the ‘Wheel of Fortune’ lover, what do you see?”

  “Did Gift,” he replied, “or maybe it’s gifted, and the spirits just don’t know how to spell. If you say Gift Did really fast it comes out as Gifted.”

  I shook my head. “I don’t think that’s it.”

  “Well, I don’t think it’s FD Digit,” God argued, repeating Armani’s translation.

  I didn’t disagree with him on that count. I stared at the letters, knowing the answer was there. “Maybe I should ask Armani for more help,” I murmured.

  “What if it’s a three-word puzzle,” God said suddenly.

  “What three words?” I asked.

  “It Did…” he trailed off, unable to finish the phrase. “FG doesn’t mean anything.”

  “Did It,” DeeDee repeated in her own mangled way.

  “I didn’t say ‘Did It’,” God railed. “Can’t you grammatically-challenged, furry, four-legged beast ever get anything right? I said ‘It Did’.”

  “Calm down,” I told them. Could it be that DeeDee was actually onto something? “Did It actually makes some sense.”

  “But FG does not,” God reminded me.

  I stared for a long time at the F and G trying to make sense of them.

  “FG. FG. FG.” Benny repeated the two letters like they were some sort of mantra.

  DeeDee chimed in. “GF. GF. GF,” she panted enthusiastically.

  God let out an exasperated sigh but didn’t bother to correct her this time.

  “Girlfriend?” Piss asked softly from the back seat.

  “What’s up?” I asked her.

  “Girlfriend.” She said it with more force this time.

  I glanced at her. I didn’t think that cats could read. But she’d obviously been listening closely to the conversation. Maybe even with one eye, she could see something I was missing.

  “Just say what you’re thinking,” I urged.

  She fixed her one good eye at me. “Girlfriend Did It.”

  My heart dropped. “Girlfriend Did It.”

  “Girlfriend Did It. Girlfriend Did It. Girlfriend Did It,” Benny squeaked excitedly.

  All of a sudden, I remembered that Jack Stern had thought there was something up with Patrick’s girlfriend. I fumbled for my phone and dialed his number.

  When he answered, he sounded a little surprised to hear from me. “Maggie Lee.”

  “Tell me about Patrick’s girlfriend,” I demanded.

  Jack hesitated. “You know, you’re probably right; I shouldn’t have involved you. I should go to Patrick directly myself.”

  “Tell me!” I shouted, my voice echoing inside the car.

  “Is something wrong?” Jack asked, his voice dipping even deeper in concern.

  “It’s really important,” I told him. “Just tell me what the problem is.”

  Jack waited a second. Then another.

  I didn’t want to tell him I thought Patrick was in danger, but I needed the information. I took a deep breath to prepare myself.

  “She’s got another place and I saw her outside, hugging this other woman. It wasn’t a polite friend hug, if you know what I mean,” Jack said suddenly. “Deserted-looking place out of town. I only know it because I was…” He trailed off for a second and I had the distinct impression he was trying to figure out how much truth to tell me.

  “I don’t care how you know it,” I said. “I just need the address.”

  Jack hesitated. “Why?”

  “Jack, so help me, just give me the address.”

  He must have heard the desperation in my voice, because he said quietly, “I’ll text it to you.” He disconnected the call.

  As I waited for his text to come through, I wondered whom I should call for help. Gino? Ian? I wasn’t sure that I should involve anybody. What if I had this all wrong? They’d think I was crazy.

  Jack’s text came through with the address. I plugged it into my GPS, started the engine, and peeled out of the parking lot on a rescue mission.

  31

  I drove toward the address Jack had provided, trying hard not to panic. I wasn’t really succeeding. The knot in my stomach had grown and tightened and turned into a cold lump. I realized as I drove, how much I cared for Patrick Mulligan. Not only was I attracted to him, but I genuinely cared about what happened to him. My mind raced as I drove, my knuckles were white as I squeezed the steering wheel of the car.

  “You don’t have a weapon,” God pointed out.

  “I’ll find something.”

  “Oh yeah,” God mocked. “Something as good as a branch, or a frying pan, or a pitchfork?”

  “I don’t know what you want me to do,” I told him angrily. “It’s not like I can stop and pick up something deadly at the local convenience store.”

  He must have thought I had a point because he fell silent.

  “You have us, sugar,” Piss purred quietly.

  That actually did give me a little bit of comfort. But I was still concerned that we were going to be outclassed and out-gunned.

  Looking at the GPS, I could tell that the house we were headed to was about a quarter of a mile off the main road. I pulled onto the shoulder of the road and put the car into park. I surveyed the animals. “None of you have to come along.”

  “No!” DeeDee barked loudly.

  “We’re going with you,” Piss said quietly.

  “We owe Mulligan,” God said grudgingly.

  They all turned to look at Benny.

  He stared up at everyone from his place in the cup holder, wriggled his whiskers, and squeaked, “Attack! Attack! Attack!”

  “With an army like us, how can you fail?” God asked.

  I carried God and Benny, while Piss and De
eDee ran ahead to check out the house.

  It was in a remote location. I didn’t know if that was going to work to my advantage or not. But I definitely thought that, having parked far away, at least I wasn’t advertising my arrival.

  A white SUV was parked in front of an old Cape Cod-style house. The grass was too high for most neighborhoods and the paint was peeling. It was unassuming, a great place for a killer to hang out.

  I ducked behind the SUV with Piss and DeeDee as God ran ahead. He scampered up the wall and peered in the window, a moment later, he returned to us with his report. “Patrick is cuffed to the bed. He’s shirtless, he might be pant-less, I couldn’t tell.”

  “And what’s the point of that information?” Piss asked.

  “All I’m saying is that if he’s naked, we might be interrupting some sort of sexual liaison,” God said.

  I stared at him. “Are you saying that this was a waste of time and that he’s just having a special moment with his girlfriend?”

  “I’m saying that I can’t tell, and that if you barge in there and ruin his romantic rendezvous, he’ll never forgive you. It’s not like you don’t have a history of imagining the worst.”

  I nodded, thinking that there was some validity to his argument.

  “I’ll look. I’ll look. I’ll look.” Before anybody could argue with him, Benny raced toward the house.

  DeeDee paced impatiently. “Danger Patrick?”

  “I don’t know,” I told her tiredly. “We’re trying to figure that out.”

  “Patience,” Piss hissed.

  We waited for what felt like an interminable period before Benny returned. “Danger. Danger. Danger.” The little mouse panted, having obviously done a lot of running.

  “What kind of danger?” I asked.

  “And please try to keep your reply in the singular form,” God begged.

  Benny took a deep breath. “Testing.”

  “Testing?” I asked, confused.

  Benny trembled. “Testing.”

  “Oh,” Piss said slowly. “I think I know what that means.”

  “By all means,” God urged, “please illuminate the rest of us.”

  The one-eyed cat squinted at the little trembling mouse. “There are needles?”