The Hitwoman and the Sacrificial Lamb: Confessions of a Slightly Neurotic Hitwoman Book 12

by JB Lynn

  “He’s under police protection,” Patrick said patiently. “He’s not going to be allowed to just walk up and take a sample like he’s wandering around the food court of the mall.”

  “I’ll walk up and give him one.”

  “Dressed as a chicken?” Patrick shook his head. “No. But it’s a start. We’ll figure something out.” He glanced around the store, his gaze settling on a black leather and lace teddy. “Your aunt takes her job seriously.”

  “You don’t want to know.”

  “Does she get a lot of shoplifters?”

  I shrugged.

  “What did the thief take today?”

  “A box of condoms.” I pointed to the empty spot on the counter next to the cash register. “They were there.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “It’s the only empty surface in the store.” I waved a hand to encompass the shop which was practically bursting with merchandise.

  “Pretty brazen.” Patrick strolled over and examined the area. “Nothing else was taken?”

  I glanced around. “Not that I can tell.”

  “Kind of like our thief was trying to call attention to himself,” Patrick mused.

  An unpleasant niggle of anxiety took up residence in my stomach. “What are you saying?”

  “I’m saying that whoever took the condoms could have been a planned distraction so that a second party could get into your car unnoticed.” He watched me carefully as he offered his theory.

  I frowned. “So it’s my fault Loretta got hurt?”

  He shook his head. “I think someone just wanted to warn you to back off and unfortunately she ended up as collateral damage.”

  I nodded. He was probably right. The thief hadn’t threatened Loretta in any way, just grabbed the stuff and taken off. If she hadn’t been so stubborn about trying to chase him down, she wouldn’t have gotten hurt.

  “Do you think it was Belgard?” Patrick asked.

  I shrugged. “Could be. I did talk to his ex-wife.”

  The redhead frowned.

  “I know. I know.” I threw up my hands in mock surrender. “Not my best idea. But--”

  “You have to be careful, Mags,” he interrupted, not interested in what I’d discovered. “After all Angel Delveccio might not be there to help you out.”

  I reared back and glared at him. “Jealousy is not a good look on you.”

  Instead of responding to what I’d said, he insisted that we leave the shop.

  As he followed my car home to the B&B, I decided he might be the most jealous, stubborn, withholding man I’d ever known.

  I expected him to stop and at least say good-bye, if not apologize for being a possessive jerk, but he kept on going once I turned into the driveway. I realized why when I saw Angel sitting on the front porch, Piss curled up in his lap.

  “Make your reports?” the manny asked as I got out of my car.

  “He thinks that the theft might have been a planned distraction,” I revealed honestly, walking up the porch stairs.

  “That occurred to me too.”

  “Is Marlene okay?” I asked, trying to change the topic of conversation, sinking into the seat beside him.

  “She’s good. After we got Katie changed for bed, she read her a story. She’s in there now, just watching her sleep.”

  “I don’t know how to thank you,” I said quietly.

  Leslie and Susan pulled into the driveway. They appeared to be arguing.

  “I assume you’re not telling them about the detective’s theory or what happened to your car?” Angel asked, before they got out.

  “That’s correct.” I touched his arm. “I know you don’t approve, but trust me it’s for the best.”

  He looked down at where our bodies came in contact. “I trust you, Maggie. The problem is, you don’t trust anyone.”

  Chapter Twenty-one

  The mood at the B&B was subdued that night.

  Katie, tired from her visit with Dominic went to bed early, Leslie and Templeton were staying beside Loretta at the hospital, Marlene was at work, and Susan and Griswald retired to her bedroom early on.

  That left me in the basement, watching TV, after I’d filled DeeDee and Piss in on the day’s happenings, with God playing back seat driver to the story, constantly correcting me.

  The news didn’t do much to lift my spirits considering the local segment was devoted to the family members left behind after Lamb’s shooting spree. Watching their grief, my resolve to kill the sniper grew. The plan Patrick and I had devised had to work.

  Things weren’t much better the next morning, what with Aunt Leslie too traumatized to go outside to do her yoga and Susan banging around in the kitchen, muttering about Loretta’s poor choices in footwear.

  Still, I tried to remain cheery as I got Katie ready to leave the house.

  “Where are you going?” Susan demanded grumpily.

  “We’re going to see a new doctor.”

  Susan scowled at the calendar. “There’s nothing marked.”

  “I just made the appointment yesterday and I forgot to write it down with all the confusion.”

  “Chaos,” Susan corrected. “Around here it’s always chaos.”

  I nodded, not wanting to get into an argument with her.

  “What doctor are you taking her to?”

  “Doctor Donna!” Katie offered, brimming with enthusiasm.

  “What kind of doctor is that?”

  “The kind that grandma sees,” I said in a tone that warned my aunt to stop asking questions.

  Susan leaned against the counter, suddenly looking exhausted. “Why?”

  “Because Doctor Donna is an expert,” I said through gritted teeth. “And she’s going to help Katie?”

  “And all I have to do is talk to her,” my niece explained somberly. “No needles. No tests.”

  Susan searched my face. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

  “I need an outside perspective,” I told her. “We probably all do.”

  Susan nodded. “Have fun, Katie.” She met my gaze over the little girl’s head and I knew from her expression that she was silently wishing me good luck.

  “It’ll be okay,” I assured her, before carrying Katie out the door.

  Three hours later, after Doctor Donna had spent quite a bit of time talking to both Katie and me, she left the little girl with her assistant for a little while, so that the adults could talk alone.

  “Send her to school,” she advised.

  “But she isn’t up to par with other kids her age.”

  “Believe me,” the doctor interrupted. “She’ll make more progress trying to keep up than she will from being pushed. Plus, she’s a social child. The interactions will do her good.”

  I took Katie home and left her with Angel, saying I had some errands to run.

  The most urgent errand I had to attend to was to respond to a text message I’d received in the middle of Katie’s testing. “Left you something at our special place.”

  I brought God and DeeDee along for the ride. DeeDee complained about being hungry. God complained that she never shut up.

  I ignored them both.

  When we pulled into the cemetery, God griped, “You should pick a more life-affirming place to meet.”

  “Meat?” DeeDee panted hopefully.

  “Not here,” I told her.

  “Hungry,” she whined for the hundredth time.

  “You’re always hungry,” God sniped.

  “We’ll get burgers on the way home,” I promised the dog.

  “Burgers! Burgers!” she barked.

  “Imbecile. Imbecile,” the lizard grumbled.

  I parked where I normally did when I met Patrick in the graveyard. There were no other cars in sight, but there was a cardboard box.

  I let DeeDee out of the car and approached the box. “There it is.”

  “There’s what?” God, who was sitting on my shoulder, challenged. “It could be a bomb.”

  �
��It’s not a bomb.”

  “It could be a dead rabbit,” the lizard insisted.

  “You’ve been watching too many crime shows,” I chastised.

  The dog sniffed the box. “Not rabbit butter it’s peanut.”

  I ripped open the box and read aloud the typed note enclosed. “Couldn’t find a chicken. This sheep will have to do. It’s laced with PB. Now all you have to do is figure out how to collide.”

  God groaned. “Worst. Plan. Ever.”

  I was inclined to agree with him, but I didn’t say that. I just stowed the sheep costume in my trunk, bought DeeDee her promised burger and headed to The Corset.

  Once I got there, I let the dog go in first to make sure there was no one lurking inside. Then I got busy bringing in the stock delivered that day and unpacking it.

  “I don’t understand how you’re the one who is stuck doing this,” God complained. “Shouldn’t Templeton be here?”

  “He’s with Loretta in the hospital.”

  “It’s not like he can do anything for her. The last time I checked he isn’t a surgeon or even a nurse.”

  “Oh,” I sniped. “Did you check on those things?”

  “My point is, he’s not doing anything constructive,” the lizard replied haughtily.

  “He loves her and is being supportive.” For some reason, that thought bugged me, and I shoved a box of feathered garters harder than I should have, causing the shelving unit to rock.

  “Mad Maggie?” DeeDee asked worriedly.

  “Not mad. Frustrated.”

  “It’s got to irk you that your aunt can count on her lover in a crisis and you can’t count on yours,” God taunted.

  I considered strangling him with a garter.

  My cell phone buzzed. The number was unfamiliar. I answered tentatively. “Hello?”

  “I’m at the back door,” Patrick said. “Let me in.”

  “Speak of the devil,” I muttered, heading for the rear exit.

  “Who?” DeeDee asked, confused.

  “Moron,” God spat.

  “You shouldn’t be here,” I said as I pulled open the door for Patrick.

  “Neither should you.” He stepped inside, glancing around to make sure that we were alone. He smelled like Wintergreen, which told me he’d recently been chomping on his Lifesavers.

  I may be addicted to salty olives, but Patrick loves little minty rings.

  “You shouldn’t be here alone,” he reiterated.

  “I’m not alone. I’ve got DeeDee for protection.”

  “Patrick!” the dog yipped excitedly.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked.

  “I didn’t like the way things were left last night.”

  “When you practically accused me of cheating on you?”

  A muscle twitched in his jaw. “You do have to admit Angel always seems to be around.”

  “I’m glad he was,” I snapped. “I don’t know if I could have handled Loretta on my own. And considering someone had broken into my car, I was glad I didn’t have to retrieve it by myself. It’s not like I could call you for help.”

  He hung his head. “That not fair, Mags.”

  “What’s not fair is that I can’t call you when I need some help.” My heart broke a little as I said the words and I could tell they pained him too. “So just tell me why you’re here, Patrick. I picked up the package. I know what I have to do. What else do you want from me?”

  He opened his mouth, then closed it, as though he thought better of letting his words escape.

  I glared at him, blinking rapidly, trying to keep myself from crying.

  Then he kissed me.

  Like that was going to fix our problems.

  I pushed him away. “Stop.”

  He frowned, pink tingeing his usually pale cheeks. “What else do you want from me, Mags?” he shouted. “You’ve known who I am, what I am, what my limitations are, from the beginning. Now you’re saying that’s not enough?”

  I backed up a step. He’d never yelled at me before.

  “It’s never been enough,” I countered quietly.

  “You don’t think that I don’t find this frustrating as hell too?” he continued, lowering his voice. “That I haven’t struggled with the limitations every damn day since I’ve met you? That I haven’t tried to walk away from you?”

  He paused for a moment to catch his breath, color high, eyes glittering.

  That’s when we heard the knock at the front door.

  Patrick threw his hands in the air. “It’s probably your Angel in shining armor.” Spinning around, he stalked out of the back of the shop.

  I chased after him, but only to lock the door behind him.

  The knocking continued.

  “That went well,” God mocked as I marched to answer the front door.

  But it wasn’t Angel. It was Marshal Griswald waiting for me.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  I tried my best to smile as I unlocked the front door. “Everything okay?”

  “You can talk to your father now.”

  “Now?”

  “Right now if you come with me.”

  I looked back at DeeDee. “Stay out of trouble. I won’t be gone long.”

  Locking the front door, I followed Griswald out to his car. “I really appreciate this.”

  He nodded tensely. “You’ll only have about thirty minutes, so make it count.”

  “I will,” I promised.

  Griswald drove to a nearby pancake house. “Wait here. When you see a guy wearing a Notre Dame sweatshirt leave, it’s safe for you to come in.”

  I waited in the car for what seemed like forever, but was probably only two or three minutes. Finally, Notre Dame strolled out of the diner. I waited until he’d gotten in his car and driven away, before I hurried inside.

  It smelled like bacon grease and stale coffee. We’d spent a lot of time here when I was a kid, as it was dad’s favorite stop on the way home from the racetrack.

  Griswald, who sat facing the door, in a booth toward the back, was involved in a tense conversation with a white-haired man. He caught my eye and nodded, signaling to approach.

  He moved over and stepped out of the booth, offering me his seat. “Make it quick.”

  I slid into the seat and stared at the man across from me who looked an awful lot like Santa Claus. “Hi, Dad.”

  “Maggie May!” He smiled. “Tell me, how is your beautiful mother?”

  “She’s good.” I watched Griswald take a seat two booths away. Far enough to give us some privacy, but close enough to intervene if the situation called for it.

  “She’s feeling well? Eating enough? Taking her meds?”

  I nodded to each inquiry.

  “Does she seem happy?”

  I frowned.

  “She doesn’t?” My father sounded dismayed.

  “I’m fine, Dad. Thanks for asking. So is your granddaughter, and, in case you were wondering, Marlene is doing well too.”

  His expression darkened. “You don’t have to be that way.”

  “And you could remember you have family other than Mom.”

  “I do remember, Maggie May. I asked the good Marshal if we could meet here since you loved this place when you were a little girl.”

  I shook my head sadly. “Not me, Dad. Teresa. Teresa loved this place.”

  “Oh.” He looked ashamed. “I got mixed up.”

  I took a deep breath. I wasn’t here to fight with him. “It’s okay.”

  “I know I’ve screwed a lot of things up.”

  I couldn’t argue with him there, but I didn’t need him feeling sorry for himself either. I just shrugged, as though that offered some sort of silent forgiveness.

  “I need your help, Dad.”

  “Anything, Maggie May.” He reached across the table and grabbed my hand. “Anything at all.”

  “I appreciate that. What I need is for you to tell me what Kevin Belgard had to do with Darlene’s disappearance.”

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