by J. B. Lynn
Glancing at the clock, I said, “That was yesterday, but yeah, a few times.”
“And here you are trying to take care of me. That,” he pulled me close and hugged me tightly, “is just one of the reasons why Maggie Lee is so amazing.”
Hugging him back, I murmured into his shoulder, “Your flattery won’t make me reveal where Susan has her secret stash of caramel corn.”
“You’re a cheeky thing,” he laughed.
“Zeke?” a voice asked from behind us.
Turning, we saw Marlene standing in the doorway, an empty milk glass in her hand.
“Marlene!” Zeke cried happily, pushing past me so that he could sweep her up in a giant bear hug. “I haven’t seen you in forever. How are you?”
She shot me a questioning look, uncertainty flickering in her eyes.
I offered her a reassuring smile.
“What are you doing here?” she asked Zeke, avoiding his question.
“I’m staying here for a couple of days,” he said, putting her down. “Right now I’m looking for something to eat. You too?”
Grateful that he wasn’t pushing Marlene for details she probably wasn’t ready to reveal, I said, “I bet there’s a ton of stuff in the bread box. Aunt Susan was baking up a storm and I don’t think the U.S. Marshal ate them all.”
Zeke dove for the baked goods container.
Marlene chuckled at his antics. “Still always ravenous, Zeke?”
Through a mouthful of cookie he replied, “I’m a growing boy.”
My sister raised her eyebrows, but didn’t respond as she placed her glass in the dishwasher. Running a critical eye over me she said, “You look like hell.”
I shrugged. “My place blew up.”
Her mouth dropped open. “Because of….?”
She didn’t dare mouth the Lubovsky family, the crime syndicate who’d employed her as a prostitute and wanted our father dead.
“I don’t think so. Another building was blown up, which is good news.”
“A building blowing up is good news?” Zeke asked.
“In my life? Yes,” I answered unequivocally.
Chapter Six
A couple hours later, having caught a few hours of sleep in the “ship” with Piss on my head and DeeDee at my feet, I stumbled sleepily upstairs intent on going to work.
Now don’t get me wrong, it’s not that I love my job, am a dedicated employee, or have an incredible work ethic. It’s just that my work at Insuring the Future has become a refuge of sort from my crazy life. No one’s ever tried to kill me there and it offers a respite from my wacky, demanding family. Sure I spend my time taking automobile claims from idiots who can’t spell their own names, and I avoid my boss Harry who stinks of pepperoni, but I also get to try to decipher the psychic predictions of my friend Armani. And sometimes there are cookies. I like cookies. I need cookies.
Since I was still half asleep the leashed Doberman dragged me upstairs, whining “Gotta! Gotta!” Not wanting her to have an accident inside, I was totally focused on getting her out the door, which is why I didn’t notice the man with the gun until we’d practically barreled into him.
There had been a time, not that long ago, that finding a man with a gun in the kitchen of the B&B would have totally freaked me out. Now all it did was make me mutter an insincere “Sorry” as I pushed past him.
He seemed surprised that I didn’t even hesitate, but he stepped aside to let me past.
I guess I should mention that the gun he had was holstered and he didn’t appear to be an immediate threat, whereas the dog needing to empty her bladder was a real and present danger.
After DeeDee had done her tour around the property, we went back inside. My silent prayer that the man would be gone went unanswered. He leaned against the kitchen counter eyeing the dog nervously.
“Are you Griswald?” I asked, proud of myself for remembering the US Marshal’s brother in my sleep-deprived state.
“Aaron,” he said, extending his hand.
DeeDee thought the gesture was meant for her and lunged forward so that he could pat her head.
I almost ended up sprawled on the kitchen floor.
Aaron recoiled in horror, jumping up on the kitchen counter.
The dog lunged harder.
“Stop!” I shouted.
Both the man and dog looked at me like I was the one who was acting unreasonably.
“I’ve heard about your dog,” Aaron said.
“My dog who saved my life?” I asked, glancing down at the offensive creature who was lying on her back, belly exposed, in a posture of supplication.
Aaron looked at the dog and shrugged sheepishly.
“Guest or not,” I warned, “Susan will beat your butt if she finds out you put your shoes on that counter.”
“Sorry.” He jumped down, apparently more afraid of my aunt than my attack dog.
“Your secret’s safe with me,” I told him dryly. Not because I had any desire to cover for the man, but because I couldn’t stand the idea of Susan having more to be upset about.
“Thanks.”
“Coffee?” I asked.
“Please.”
I went through the familiar routine of filling the percolator.
“That’s an antique,” he said, trying to make small talk.
“It’s a Bed and Breakfast. Everything here is an antique. It’s part of the ‘charm’.” The tone of my voice probably gave away the fact I didn’t find it charming at all. “But it does brew a cup of decent coffee.”
“Hungry,” DeeDee whined.
I frowned. I couldn’t very well tell her that I didn’t have any food for her. I rummaged in the fridge before tossing her a piece of the leftover pot roast.
“Don’t tell my aunts,” I said to the man who was watching me with interest.
“Wouldn’t dream of it.” He turned his attention back to the coffee maker. “Does this thing take a long time?”
“Forever.”
We stood there, strangers staring at a bubbling pot like it contained the Elixir of Life.
“So you’re the mastermind who’s going to take down a crime syndicate.”
I chuckled. “I can’t take down my boss at the call center, I don’t think I’m some sort of Elliot Ness.”
“I dunno. My brother seems to think there’d be no case without you. I’m tempted to agree with him….which is a big deal considering we don’t agree on much.”
Not knowing how to respond, I busied myself taking out cups and sugar for the coffee.
“Do you get along with your sister?” Aaron Griswald asked.
I considered the question for a long moment while the coffee pot gurgled. “I don’t know. Before a couple of days ago, I hadn’t spoken with her in years. She hadn’t wanted anything to do with us. With me.”
He nodded like that made perfect sense.
“Hungry,” DeeDee whined.
“Do you want an egg?” I asked her.
“Sure. Thanks,” Griswald said.
I couldn’t very well tell him that I’d been asking the dog and not him, so I ended up scrambling some eggs for him and feeding a raw one to the Doberman.
“I’ve got to get to work,” I told Aaron once I’d gotten him set up in the dining room. “You can leave your dirty dishes on the table when you’re done.”
Turning to leave, I stopped when he said, “Maggie?”
“Yeah?”
“Thanks,” he said quietly. “For everything.”
“You’re welcome,” I said, not sure what he was grateful for and not really caring. I had to get out before the rest of the house woke up and started bugging me with requests.
~#~
Magically my car was parked in front of the B&B with a shiny new set of keys dangling from the ignition and a pack of mint Lifesavers balanced on the dashboard.
“Thank you, Patrick,” I muttered, wondering how he’d gotten the keys and when he’d dropped off the car. The man could work miracles. I added
the car to my mental list of things I owed him for. It was a little uncomfortable to think about how indebted I was to him.
Shaking off the thought, I decided to make a quick stop at Apple Blossom Estates where my niece Katie was recovering from the automobile accident that killed her parents, left me her legal guardian, and led to my becoming a hitwoman.
There’s a strange hush in medical care facilities in the early morning. Most of the doctors aren’t in, the night shift nurses are waiting for their tours to end, and there aren’t any visitors. Technically visitors aren’t allowed at that hour, but I’ve killed two men….so it’s probably fair to say I’m a rule breaker.
I made my way down the halls, nodding at familiar faces, but avoiding making conversation with anyone. There was only one person there I wanted to talk to, and she probably wouldn’t speak to me.
Vinnie, Tony/Anthony Delveccio’s bodyguard, snoozed in a chair outside one of the rooms. Not knowing whether Katie was still in that room or had been moved back to other accommodations, I skirted around the sleeping, muscle-bound henchman and peeked inside.
The young grandson of one of the Delveccios lay in the bed closest to the door, but I saw Katie in the other bed. Her eyes were open and she appeared to be staring at the ceiling.
The sight squeezed my heart. After the car wreck, I’d been so worried I’d never see her beautiful blue eyes again. I wiped away the tears that stung my eyes before tiptoeing over to her bed.
“Good morning, baby girl,” I whispered.
Her head swiveled in my direction, and my heart leapt when she smiled in recognition.
Bending over, I kissed her forehead. “How’s my favorite niece?”
She reached up slowly.
“What do you need, sweetheart?” I asked.
She tapped my nose.
Making a silly face, I teased, “Hmmm, I wonder what she wants.”
She tapped my nose again.
“Maybe she wants me to know she’s got a nose. Do you have a nose?”
She nodded, pointing at her own nose.
Following her finger, I tapped her nose with my finger. Widening my eyes, I said, “Do you know what you can do with two noses?”
She nodded solemnly.
“Eskimo kisses!” I whisper-cried. Rubbing her nose with mine.
She giggled and my heart sang. It was the sweetest sound I’d ever heard. Something I’d feared was gone forever.
Pulling back, I beamed at her. “Well aren’t you in a cheery mood this morning. What’s the occasion?”
She shrugged.
“She was doing a lot—”
“Aaaahhh!” I shrieked, startled by the man’s voice.
Looking in the direction of the sound, I spotted Tony or Anthony Delveccio standing by the window.
“Jesus,” I complained, pressing my hand to my chest in an effort to keep my heart from beating out of it. “You scared the hell out of me.”
Vinnie, the buff bodyguard, stumbled into the room. “Everything okay, boss?”
“Yeah, Vinnie,” Delveccio said, waving him away. “Go back to sleep.”
The brute gave me a nasty look before returning to his post in the hallway.
“Useless idiot,” the mobster muttered under his breath.
“What are you doing here?” I asked.
Jerking his chin in the direction of the little boy lying motionless in the bed by the door. “Visiting my grandson.”
“Has his condition changed?” I asked.
The mobster shrugged. Nodding toward Katie he said, “She was doing a lot of this before.” He moved his hands like he was playing with an imaginary Rubik’s Cube.
Glancing down at my niece, I asked her, “Itsy Bitsy Spider?”
She nodded.
“We gotta talk,” Delveccio said.
“I’ve got to go to work,” I told them both.
Katie frowned. Even though I didn’t look at the crime boss, I was fairly certain he was scowling at me too.
“Sorry,” I murmured, pressing another kiss to Katie’s forehead. “But I’ll be back after work.” I gave her another Eskimo kiss and was rewarded with a grudging smile.
I left the room with Delveccio following on my heels.
“Let me buy you a cup of coffee,” he suggested.
I couldn’t very well turn down my friendly neighborhood mobster, so I headed toward the cafeteria, the place we usually conduct our “business.” Out of the corner of my eye I saw him give Vinnie the same “stay” hand signal I use with DeeDee.
Like the dog, the man grudgingly remained where he was.
Delveccio fell into step beside me. “I don’t want you to worry. We got people on the arson squad.”
I looked at him questioningly.
“That gun you had in your washing machine never made it onto the evidence log.”
“Thanks,” I said, realizing the discovery of the unregistered weapon could have landed me in hot water.
“Is it clean?”
“It was in the washing machine,” I teased, because that’s the kind of gal I’ve become. The kind that jovially jokes about the illegal weapons she possesses.
“Like I’ve said, you’re one ballsy chick. That’s why I need you to do a job for me.”
I frowned, well aware that I couldn’t turn him down after he’d covered my butt with the gun thing and protected Katie better than the Feds had managed to do during the debacle that was my father’s prison escape.
“I need you to find out who blew up your apartment.”
“It could be the Lubovsky family,” I said, despite the fact Patrick hadn’t seemed to think that. To me it was still a viable theory. They certainly had motive considering my family might be responsible for convictions of their members.
“That’s what I thought last night, but not now,” Delveccio said as we got in line for coffee in the cafeteria. There were no other customers so it was a short line.
“Why not?”
The mobster grabbed half a dozen packets of sugar and led the way to one of our usual tables. Dumping the contents of three packets into his coffee he said, “There was another explosion.”
“I heard.”
“How?” he asked, tilting his head to consider me suspiciously.
I blinked. I couldn’t tell him Patrick had told me. He might get paranoid about our assassin mentor-mentee relationship.
“Police scanner,” I blurted out, grateful for Templeton’s odd quirk.
Adding the rest of his sugar to his drink, Delveccio nodded his approval. “Smart, listening to the scanner. Lots of good info on there.”
I nodded like I had oodles of experience eavesdropping on the cops.
“That warehouse wasn’t one of ours.” Delveccio sipped his coffee. Leaning forward he whispered dramatically, “It was one of the Lubovsky’s.”
Shocked, I sat back in my chair.
“Why?”
Fiddling with his diamond pinky ring he said quietly, “Maybe someone is trying to take us all out?”
“Us?”
“You know. The families.”
I frowned, wondering whether it was a good idea to try to find someone who was taking on multiple crime syndicates simultaneously.
I looked at my coffee, not daring to drink it for fear he would see that my hand was shaking. “Why me?”
Delveccio considered me for a long moment. “You’re a smart girl.”
“But maybe you need someone with more experience….or better connections.”
“Like our mutual friend?”
Something in his tone set my teeth on edge, so I shrugged noncommittally not wanting to put Patrick in an awkward spot.
“If I’m right about who’s responsible about the bombs,” Delveccio said cryptically, “the next job you’ll get will be to off him.”
Chapter Seven
Preoccupied with worrying about what kind of trouble Patrick had gotten himself in with the Delveccios, I went through the motions of doing my job at
Insuring the Future that morning, ignoring the alternating curious and furtive looks of my co-workers.
When it was time to break for lunch, I just turned off my phone, sat at my desk, and stared at a photograph of Katie.
Then Armani limped up.
“Hey, Chiquita,” she said with more restraint than usual. “Heard you had a rough night.”
Considering that I’d barely escaped death a couple of times, that was the understatement of the year. I couldn’t help but chuckle.
“C’mon,” she said, waving for me to follow her. “I got you lunch.”
Following her outdoors to our favorite picnic table, I sincerely hoped she wasn’t going to offer me one of her bizarre culinary creations like a liverwurst and grape jelly sandwich or a Caesar salad loaded with candy corn.
“Pizza,” she said, waving to a box on the table.
I felt a surge of hope, but tamped it down, afraid it would be topped with something weird like chocolate chip cookies. (She’s very fond of cookies.) “Go ahead. Open it.”
I steeled myself as I lifted the lid. I was almost moved to tears by what I saw.
It was topped with black olives. (I’m very fond of olives.)
“Thank you,” I said, choked up by her thoughtfulness.
“Eat,” she said, flopping onto a bench and dragging her bad leg over the seat.
Starving, I wolfed down a slice without speaking.
Armani watched me, concern shadowing her dark eyes. Methodically picking every piece of olive off her own slice, she built a pile of what looked like miniaturized discarded inner tubes on her napkin.
“You don’t like olives?” I asked.
“They’re slimy,” she complained. “I don’t do slimy…except in bosses.” Jutting her chin to the side, she indicated our boss Harry, he who stinks of pepperoni, who was harassing one of our co-workers at another table.
I nodded in agreement. Our boss was definitely a slime bucket.
“So how are you doing?” Armani asked.
“Why?” I asked suspiciously. “Did you have another dream or vision or whatever about me?”
She shook her head, allowing her dark, shampoo commercial-worthy hair to fall in front of her face. Using her good hand, she brushed her locks away before saying, “You seem nervous.”
