The Hitwoman in a Pickle

by JB Lynn

  Because he’s a ridiculously good sport, Angel fell into step beside me. He looped his arm through mine. I wasn’t sure whether it was because he just wanted to be close to me or if he was imagining me taking an ungainly header and having our date end in the Emergency Room.

  Either reason was good enough for me and I made no effort to pull away. It was kind of nice feeling his bicep muscle flex against my arm every time we took a step.

  We walked in silence, me sniffing, him just keeping pace.

  About a block away, we reached a storefront. The sign in the window said it was Peter Piper’s Pickles.

  The store was dark, but I still reached for the handle and gave it a tug.

  “I know this place,” Angel said slowly. “They used to come here when I was a kid.”

  “They?”

  “My uncles. They would disappear into a back room, while I ate my fill of pickles from the barrels out front.”

  Something in his voice made me glance up at him. “So is that a good memory?”

  He shrugged. “It’s a family memory.”

  Making a mental note to check out Peter Piper’s Pickles the next day, I turned to head back in the direction we had come from. Angel reached out, grabbed my upper arm, and stopped me.

  “That wasn’t much of an adventure,” he chastised.

  “Well, they’re closed.”

  He tilted his head to the side, a devilish grin playing on his lips. “Closed is a relative term.”

  “What do you mean?”

  He raised a shoulder in a lazy shrug. “I could get us in there.”

  I blinked at him. The Angel Delveccio I knew was a law-abiding straight shooter despite his criminal relatives. I wasn’t sure how I felt about this bad boy side of him. “That’s probably not a good idea.”

  “But it seemed important to you.”

  I frowned and said awkwardly, “I…uh…I just got a little distracted by the smell.” It wasn’t like I could launch into an explanation about the gorillas.

  “C’mon.” Grabbing my hand, he dragged me around the corner into a back alley.

  “What are you doing?” I whispered nervously.

  “Getting you inside,” he whispered back.

  “But that would be breaking and entering,” I protested. It occurred to me in that moment that I was extremely glad I’d left God at home. If he’d heard me complaining about breaking into a building, his mocking would have been relentless. Which would have meant that my chest would have been squeaking nonstop. “I don’t think this is a good idea.”

  Angel stopped and stared down at me, the dim light of the alley made it difficult to see much besides the whites of his eyes, so I focused on those. “I would have thought that considering who your father is, you’d have been up for a little mischief.”

  I shook my head, not trusting myself to speak. Part of me wanted to deny being anything like Archie Lee and part of me knew I’d gotten into a lot worse “mischief” than he ever had.

  Angel chuckled, the sound deeper and more dangerous in the darkness. Then he turned around and rapped his knuckles against a nearby door three times.

  A moment later, the door swung open. Light spilled from inside the building into the shadows, momentarily blinding me. I raised a hand to shield my eyes.

  “Angel?” a woman asked.

  “Sorry for just dropping by like this,” Angel replied smoothly, draping an arm around my shoulders. “But my friend here, Maggie, is dying for some pickles.”

  The woman waved us toward her. “Come in. Come in.”

  It wasn’t until I stepped inside that I got a decent look at her. I was surprised to find a slight, dark-haired woman in her thirties, practically drowning in a stained oilcloth apron that reached her ankles.

  “You’re too kind, Petra.” Angel kissed both her cheeks.

  “You scared me. We had a break-in here the other night. Someone stole a barrel of half sours.”

  “That’s terrible,” I said sympathetically. As someone with a soft spot for fermented vegetables, the depravity of the crime affected me deeply.

  She shrugged. “Kids. Probably some weird kind of treasure hunt or something.”

  “You need better locks,” Angel told her.

  “It’s been too long. I’d heard you were back in town,” she complained, grabbing his hands. “But now you’re here.” Without releasing him, she turned her gaze to me. “And for that I owe you a debt, Maggie.”

  “I…no…not really,” I spluttered.

  Letting go of Angel, she grabbed my elbow, her grip surprisingly strong for one so small. “Tell me, what’s your favorite?”

  “Favorite?” I glanced back at Angel as she hustled me through a storage area and into the store itself.

  He followed closely behind, barely containing his laughter.

  Flipping on the lights, Petra illuminated the rows and rows of barrels topped with plastic lids.

  The aroma of pickles tickled my nose. I couldn’t help but grin. Sure, I’m an olive girl at heart, but I’ve been known to indulge in more than my fair share of pickles, too.

  “Where shall we start?” Petra pulled a giant pair of tongs off the wall.

  “Nothing sweet,” I requested.

  “Sour?” She arched an eyebrow and I got the distinct impression a gauntlet was being thrown down.

  “The sourer the better,” I declared, rising to the challenge as though I’d been presented with a duel to the death.

  “This way!” Petra raced down a row at breakneck speed.

  For some reason I can’t even explain, I felt the need to keep up with her. Not an easy feat with feet crammed into high heels.

  Throwing open a lid of one of the barrels, Petra plunged the tongs into the briny water and emerged with a glistening dull green pickle. She offered it to me with a knowing smile. “Enjoy.”

  Plucking the proffered pickle, I took a giant bite, reveling in the satisfying crunch as my teeth sank through it. The sourness coated my tongue and despite my best effort to stop it, my entire face puckered in pain.

  Petra chuckled and turned toward Angel. “And you, my love? Your usual bread-and-butter?”

  He nodded.

  Petra winked at me. “Always so safe and boring, this one. When we were kids, his cousin used to come in here and gorge herself until she threw up, but not Angel. He’d slowly and methodically eat just enough.” She held out his choice to him.

  “And shockingly, I’m the one who grew up to be the stable adult,” Angel shot back as he took the pickle. Instead of eating it, he scowled at it.

  I watched him carefully as I chewed. It was unusual for him to get defensive; obviously Petra had hit a raw nerve. But I couldn’t figure out why her teasing had upset him. I’ve met his cousin, in fact, I broke her out of the mental institution where my mom lives. She’s not my favorite person, but I couldn’t see why comparing their childhood antics bothered Angel so much.

  As though she realized she’d pushed too far, Petra made a show of bagging up an extra pickle for him. She presented it like an olive branch. “I meant no harm.”

  He nodded and shoved the pickle he held into his mouth before taking the bagged one.

  I swallowed the last of my sour treat. “Thank you. That was delicious.”

  Petra turned to me, a worried expression pinched her features. “You must take one for the road.” She quickly wrapped one up for me, too.

  “Thank you. You were very kind to indulge me.”

  “Any friend of Angel’s is always welcome here.” She handed me a bag. “I hope to see you again, Maggie.”

  Angel led me out of the store, placing a perfunctory kiss on Petra’s cheek as we walked out the door, back into the alley.

  We walked arm-in-arm, but in silence, back in the direction of his pickup. I didn’t know what to say and I couldn’t help but wonder if the pickle adventure would be the extent of our date.

  “Are you okay?” I finally squeaked out.

  “Yeah. Just
any mention of….never mind, it just puts me on edge.”

  Before I could ask why, he continued, “But enough about ancient history, let’s focus on tonight, okay?”

  I nodded my agreement.

  He looked down at my feet. “You might want to take those shoes off.”

  “Why?”

  “Because there’s no elevator.”

  I blinked, confused. “What?”

  He pulled open a door of a three-story office building. “There’s no elevator and we’re going to the top. You up for the climb?”

  I nodded, stepping into a nondescript hallway covered in bland carpeting and beige walls.

  “This way.” Angel led the way to a stairwell, opened the door, and ushered me through.

  He wasn’t kidding when he said we were going to the top. By my count, we climbed three sets of stairs, but my count might have been off since I was deprived of oxygen and gasping for breath by the time we reached our destination.

  Angel pushed open a narrow door and pulled me onto the roof. But it wasn’t just any roof. A few yards from the door was a cloth-covered table for two, complete with flickering candles.

  “Our table,” he said with a slight bow. “Romantic, right?”

  Taking my hand, Angel led me to the center of the rooftop. Tilting his head back, he stared up at the sky. “I miss this.”

  “Dining in the dark?” I quipped.

  He chuckled. “I miss seeing the stars. When I did time on a destroyer, in the middle of the ocean, I’d look up and just realize how many stars are out there. It’s humbling, realizing how insignificant we are in the universe.”

  I glanced up at him, wondering if something was on his mind, but I wasn’t willing to ask.

  We stood there for what felt like an eternity, but which was probably only thirty seconds. Me? I stared up at the dark sky, look at the twinkling lights, but they reminded me of sprinkles ice cream. Of course, the ice cream thing made me think of Kevin Beader, which made my mind pucker even worse than my mouth had with the pickle.

  “You have a favorite constellation?” Angel asked.

  “Nope. Stargazing has never really been my thing.”

  He moved closer, so close that I could smell his aftershave and feel his breath on my cheek. I had to repress a shiver of delight and it occurred to me that I could really get into stargazing if it meant cozying up to him.

  “See that one there?” He pointed to a place overhead. Considering I could see dozens of stars, I had no idea what he was referring to, but I lied smoothly. “Uh huh.”

  “If you follow it this way,” he pointed a pattern in the air with his finger, “you can find the Big Dipper.”

  “Cool.” I really didn’t see what he was talking about, but I tried to sound enthusiastic. I mean, what is the Big Dipper? A ladle. Even if it was up in the sky, I couldn’t understand why anybody would ever get excited about a ladle.

  He looked down at me. “This really isn’t your thing, is it?”

  I shrugged. “Not so much.”

  “Let’s eat then.” He led the way to the table and pulled out my chair, waiting for me to sit.

  Feeling awkward, I settled into the seat.

  “I hope you don’t mind a cold dinner,” he said with a smile.

  “Of course not.” Considering I had a super sour pickle churning in my gut, I wasn’t sure I wanted any dinner at all. Also, it finally occurred to me that eating something so garlicky on a date was probably not the best choice.

  Before he sat down, Angel scooped up a picnic basket off the ground.

  He laid out a spread of antipasto, cheeses and meats. Sadly, there were no olives.

  While we ate, we swapped childhood stories, discussed our favorite movies, and bonded over our mutual dislike of a certain local newscaster.

  Considering how badly most of my dates go, this one was a rousing success. Until a third party joined us.

  Chapter Seventeen

  “Pardon me for interrupting,” a male voice that sounded like a 1930s gangster film character interjected.

  Startled, I looked over to find Mike perched on a ledge. The crow had his head cocked to the side and I swear, it looked like he was offering an apologetic bow.

  Of course, Angel didn’t pay the slightest bit of attention to him. He just kept telling a story about doling out seasickness meds while in the Navy.

  Mike kept talking, too. “The dog wants you to come home. At least, I think that’s what she was saying. That dame can be hard to understand, especially when she’s upset.”

  My stomach clenched nervously upon learning that DeeDee was upset.

  “Home Maggie come now tell, that’s what she kept repeating.”

  My expression must have appeared stricken, because Angel reached across the table and grabbed my hand. “What’s wrong?”

  I blinked at him, unable to share that a crow had just relayed that a dog wanted me to come home. “N-nothing,” I stuttered.

  He frowned. “Nothing?”

  “Just a weird feeling,” I explained, pulling my cellphone out to see if anyone from the B&B had left a message indicating what DeeDee’s emergency could be. “Let me just make sure everything is okay at home.”

  Nodding, Angel released me, leaned back, and crossed his arms over his chest.

  Even as I waited for the voicemail to connect, I knew he was thinking that I was making up an excuse to get out of the date. A twinge of guilt almost made me put away the phone, but a glance in Mike’s direction convinced me otherwise.

  “Margaret.” The recording of Aunt Susan screeched through the phone, splitting the night hush like a tornado siren. “You said you’d hold down the fort.”

  Before her voice perforated my eardrum, I held the phone away at arm’s length.

  “Do you have any idea of what she did?” Susan continued, her level of hysteria climbing with every syllable. “What she did?”

  Even big, tough Angel winced at the level of vitriol in her tone.

  “Fix this, Margaret. It’s your responsibility.” The call ended.

  Silence filled the vacuum as Angel and I stared at one another, shell-shocked.

  “Some people really miss having the ability to slam a phone down,” I finally joked weakly.

  “I should take you home.”

  I shook my head. “I’ll take an Uber. You stay and enjoy the view.”

  “Don’t be silly.” Standing, he quickly and efficiently began to pack up the remains of our feast. “Do you want to call and tell her you’re heading back?”

  “I don’t dare.” Grabbing a crust of leftover bread, I tossed it in Mike’s direction to thank him for relaying the message.

  “Thanks, doll,” he squawked. “I’ll let them know you’re on the way.” With that, he picked up the bread, beat his wings, and soared off.

  “Who’s the focus of her wrath?” Angel asked curiously.

  “Besides me? I don’t know. Equal money on whether it’s her sisters or mine. Either way, I’m sorry it interrupted our date.”

  He shrugged. “I get it. Family.”

  We quickly cleaned up the rest of the mess, hurried down to the truck, and rushed toward the B&B. Neither of us said much on the trip. I appreciated that Angel left me alone to worry about what kind of crazy situation I’d marching into.

  As we neared the B&B, I realized the trouble was probably even worse than I’d anticipated since there was a police car parked in the driveway.

  Angel slid the truck to a stop opposite the house. “Do you want me to come in with you?”

  “No.” The answer was a little too quick and abrupt, but the last thing I needed was to enter the Delveccio name into what was no doubt an already challenging situation.

  Angel glanced sharply at me. “But you’ll let me know if I can help?”

  “Of course. Thank you. I had fun.” Before he could say anything else, I jumped out of the truck. With a quick wave, I marched toward the B&B, my stomach in knots.

  Deciding i
t wouldn’t be a good idea to walk in through the back door and risk startling the cops, I climbed onto the front porch. Glancing back, I saw that Angel was waiting for me to get inside. I offered him a tentative wave, wondering if I’d just blown my one decent chance to date him and wondering too if that might just be the safest thing to happen to both of us. No one, not humans, not animals, not, even, it would seem, fate itself thought we belonged together.

  Shaking off the thought so that I could focus on whatever the crisis at hand proved to be, I took a deep, steadying breath, and turned the knob.

  I’d barely crossed the threshold when the onslaught began.

  “She’s missing,” Aunt Leslie moaned from where she leaned against the wall.

  “She’s been kidnapped!” her twin, Loretta, proclaimed, dramatically clutching her chest.

  “You’ve got to do something,” Aunt Susan declared.

  The beat cop who was jotting down notes appeared to have been struck mute, overwhelmed by my aunts.

  Not that I could blame him. They had that effect on most people. Some never quite recovered.

  But I couldn’t worry about the mental health of a stranger when sheer terror was coursing through my veins that something happened to Katie. “Who is missing?”

  “Our precious Mary,” Loretta sobbed.

  “Your mother,” Susan confirmed.

  I know it’s terrible to say, but I relaxed a little realizing that it was my mother who might be in danger and not my niece. “We’re sure she’s missing and not just hiding in a supply closet or something?”

  “We’re sure,” Susan replied huffily. “This gentleman confirmed it.” She motioned toward the officer.

  He blinked twice at me in confirmation.

  “She was kidnapped!” Loretta gasped again.

  “They haven’t confirmed that,” Susan hurriedly assured me. She pinned me with a stare. “You know your mother, she’s prone to wandering off.” Her tone held a warning.

  I nodded slightly, letting her know that her message that Mom is prone to wandering off with my dad had come through loud and clear.

  “Have you received a ransom note?” Leslie asked, wide-eyed.

  I glanced over at her, trying to determine whether she was stoned or just stupefied by the stress.