by JB Lynn
I stood there for a moment, too shocked by her display of affection to move.
She cleared her throat. “Well don’t dilly-dally. Get up there and see what they want. If you don’t hurry, I’m afraid Loretta may eat the one who looks like a young Robert Redford alive.”
“Bring me,” God urged from his enclosure.
Unable to think of a reason for scooping up the lizard that my aunt would be comfortable with, I left him behind. I hurried up the stairs with Susan following closely.
Susan hadn’t been exaggerating about Aunt Loretta and the agent who looked like a movie star. She was practically shoving her barely clad bosom into the young man’s face under the pretense of pouring him a cup of coffee. To his credit, the guy looked mortified as he made a point to keep his gaze averted.
“Ooh coffee. I’m dying for a cup.” Even though I said it to distract Loretta from her full-court seduction attempt, I didn’t have to fake my enthusiasm for the liquid caffeine. “Can I have a cup?”
Loretta nodded, grudgingly leaving her would-be conquest’s side to find a mug for me.
“Miss Lee?” Robert Redford’s partner, a young man with dark circles under his eyes, stood and extended his hand. “I’m U.S. Marshall Mike Griswald.”
I shook it, trying to ignore the way his sport coat gaped, revealing his holstered gun. “Any relation to the other Griswalds who were after my father?”
He smiled ruefully. “My uncles and I are afraid the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree on that one.”
“They sat right there”—I pointed to a chair across the table—“and polished quite a bit of silver.”
Mike hesitated as though he were trying to figure out if polishing silver was some kind of euphemism.
I hid a grin, happy to keep the U.S. Marshall off his game a bit longer. “So how are you related to them again?”
He shook his head. “My mom is their sister.”
“So I guess law enforcement runs in your family.” I didn’t point out that criminal activity runs in mine.
Mike shrugged. “For some of us, but unfortunately not for all.”
Something in his tone revealed that he wasn’t thrilled with some choices made by unknown family members. I could relate and found myself smiling at him sympathetically.
“Here you go, sweetheart.” Loretta placed a cup of coffee in front of me.
“Thanks.”
“Our Susan was quite taken with your uncle,” Loretta revealed with a coquettish smile.
Deciding that particular topic of conversation was even more loaded than what they were really there to discuss, I quickly said, “So what has my father done now?”
“Have you heard from him?” young Robert Redford asked.
“I’m sorry, you are?” I asked.
“Ummm…. I’m… um…..”
I waited, wondering why the guy didn’t know his own name. Piss, the one-eyed cat, leapt into my lap and eyed the tongue-tied man.
“Aww, he’s bashful, bless his heart,” she drawled, though to anyone else it just sounded as though she was purring contentedly.
“Detective Brian Griswald,” Mike supplied. “He’s giving me a hand with the search.”
Wondering how a guy too shy to even introduce himself had ever made detective, I looked from one man to the other. They didn’t look like brothers.
“Perhaps we should just make this conversation between the three of us,” Mike declared, staring pointedly at Loretta, who was batting her eyelashes at the other Griswald.
Taking pity on the poor detective who didn’t seem to know what to do about Loretta’s unwanted flirtation, I nodded. “I think Aunt Susan needs help in the kitchen.”
Loretta didn’t take the hint.
Brian shot a helpless look at Mike. The Marshal yawned.
“We need some privacy,” I told Loretta firmly.
She pouted slightly, but got up and left the room, though she definitely wiggled and sashayed as she did it.
Poor Detective Brian gulped, spots of color blooming on his cheeks.
“She’s really quite harmless,” I assured him.
A blush tinged the tops of his ears pink.
“About your father,” the Marshal said, firmly bringing our attention back to the topic at hand.
“Haven’t seen him.” I sipped my coffee. “Has he been missing long?”
“A day. Maybe two.”
I raised an eyebrow, but didn’t ask how they’d manage to lose track of the star witness against the Lubovsky crime family.
“We’ve got a list of his known associates. Do you mind looking it over and telling us if there’s anyone you can think of who’s not on it?”
Brian Griswald handed me his cell phone.
I glanced at the list of names. “To be honest, my father and I aren’t all that close.”
“And yet you negotiated his entrance into the protection program.” Mike smothered another yawn.
“The things we do for family.” The things I did for family not only included getting people into the United States Federal Witness Protection Program, but killing complete strangers in order to fund my niece’s hospital stay.
“According to my uncles, you helped bring down the Lubovsky syndicate in order to protect your sister.” Mike checked his watch. “Is she here?”
I shrugged. “She was earlier.”
“But she’s not now?” The marshal guzzled his coffee like a man who’d just crossed the Sahara on foot.
I smiled slightly. “I’ll check for you.”
“I’d appreciate that.”
“Marlene!” I screamed at the top of my lungs.
Marshal Griswald almost dropped his coffee cup.
Detective Griswald flinched.
Even Piss dug her claws into my jean-covered thighs in protest.
I took an audible deep breath and yelled again, “Marlene! Are you here?”
“For heaven’s sake, Margaret,” Susan complained, bursting into the room, “must you act like you were raised in a barn?”
“I was raised in a barn,” Piss meowed from her spot on my lap. “And no one, not even the idiot chickens, behaved as abysmally as you.”
I mentally tucked that little nugget of information away since I didn’t know much about the Southern Fried Cat. “Sorry.”
Susan glared at me. “Why are you shouting?”
“Because these gentlemen want to know if Marlene is here.”
“And you’ve suddenly been rendered incapable of getting up and searching for her like a civilized human being?”
Instead of answering my aunt, I directed my attention at the two men sitting across from me, catching Mike mid-yawn. “I think it’s safe to say she isn’t here.”
“She went with Leslie to visit your mother,” Susan interjected, her disapproval that I hadn’t accompanied them evident in her tone.
I ignored her. While my relationship with my mother had improved recently, I didn’t relish the idea of going to the mental health facility where she resided. The other residents creeped me out. Quite frankly, they were a reminder that I was only a step or two away from ending up there myself if anyone knew I talked to animals or killed people. Shaking my head to rid myself of the disturbing thought, I tapped Brian Griswald’s phone with my finger. “That’s who’s not on your list. My mother.”
“What list?” Susan demanded worriedly.
“A list of Archie’s known associates.” I gave the phone back to the detective. “Depending on the day, my mother, Mary Lee, may not know Archie, but he definitely knows her.”
Susan pressed a hand to her chest. “You don’t think he’s going to try to take Mary, do you? Every time he does, she suffers a setback.”
“We have someone watching her,” Mike assured us quickly.
Susan’s sigh of relief was audible. She sank into the nearest chair. “Thank you.”
I drained my coffee like it was a shot of liquid courage. “So tell me, does the fact you’ve lost track of h
im mean he’s kicked out of the program?”
The marshal’s mouth twitched in the semblance of a smile. “We need him in order to make the case against the Lubovsky family. As long as we can get him back before he does something stupid like breaking the law, his status as a protectee won’t change.”
“You don’t know Archie Lee,” Susan said. “The man was born getting into trouble.”
“Will you help us find him?” the Marshal asked.
“I don’t have any idea of where he is,” I told him honestly.
The reserved detective cleared his throat nervously. “What about Jeffrey Hendricks?”
Every muscle in my body tensed and the back of my neck suddenly felt cold.
“You okay, Sugar?” Piss peered up at me through her one good eye.
Throat tight, I was barely able to get out my response to the detective. “He’s not on your list.”
“And you didn’t mention him.”
“You said it was a list of his known associates. I assumed that meant you were looking for people who might help him. If he runs into Jeff Hendricks, he might end up dead.”
“That wouldn’t help our case,” the marshal inserted.
For the first time, Brian made eye contact with me. “Why would Hendricks want your father dead?”
I exchanged a look with Susan.
Like me, her tension had ratcheted up at the mention of Jeff Hendricks. She twisted a handful of linen tablecloth.
“Miss Lee?” The detective leaned closer, his bashful, bumbling Columbo act momentarily forgotten. “Why would Hendricks want your father dead?”
“Because,” I said slowly, “even when my dad does the right thing, it comes back to bite him.”
Chapter Three
Before I could elaborate further, there was a crash and the tinkling of shattering glass from the kitchen. Then a truncated scream, followed by a resounding thunk.
It was the scream and thunk that alarmed me.
Both the marshal and detective were out of their seats, drawing their guns and rushing toward the doorway before I registered that the cat had already left the room. Jumping up, I followed closely behind.
“What on Earth?” Susan murmured worriedly.
“Stay here.” I pressed down on her shoulder, pinning her to the seat.
She tried to grab my hand to keep me with her, but I pulled free and charged toward the kitchen.
“Sugar, don’t—” the yowling cat tried to caution.
But the warning came too late. I barreled in and was forced to skid to a stop as I was confronted with the carnage.
Aunt Loretta and her fiancé, Templeton, were both prone on the floor. There was glass everywhere and blood pooling beside Templeton’s head.
Brian was on his cell phone, barking orders, while Mike grabbed a dishtowel, wadded it into a ball, and pressed it against the gash on Templeton’s forehead.
“Oh my God,” Susan wailed from behind me.
Instinctively, I turned and grabbed her as her knees buckled. Half-dragging, half-carrying her, I managed to deposit her in the nearest dining room chair. “Stay here. Let me see what’s going on.”
“Loretta,” she cried, tears already streaming down her face.
“I’m sure it’s worse than it looks,” I assured her. “Just stay here.”
Leaving her side, I rushed back into the kitchen. The marshal and detective were both kneeling, providing first aid to the two victims on the floor.
“Go out to the driveway and flag down the squad car when it gets here,” the marshal ordered.
Nodding dumbly, I stumbled past them, glass crackling beneath my feet with every step I took. My legs felt heavy and a peculiar weakness gripped me, but I forced myself to walk to the street.
“Maggie?” a familiar male voice called.
I turned slowly in its direction.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
I struggled to focus on the man in front of me. “Zeke?”
My teenage friend/nemesis/crush grabbed me by the shoulders and shook me gently. “What’s wrong?”
I frowned. As much as I like Zeke, his return to town always seems to spell trouble for me.
The sound of approaching sirens reached my ears. “They’re coming here.”
Zeke tensed. “Why?”
“The detective called them.”
Like me, Zeke isn’t actually a law-abiding citizen. I saw a moment of fear, a desire to run, flash in his eyes, but he held his ground.
“Loretta and Templeton.” I waved my arm in the general direction of the B&B. “They’re hurt… at least I hope they’re hurt.”
Releasing me, Zeke frowned and took a step backward. “You hope they’re hurt?”
“I hope they’re just hurt. They’re on the floor of the kitchen.”
“I think you should tell me what’s going on.”
“I wish I knew.”
A million possibilities rolled around in my head, but I didn’t dare voice any of them. Marlene was afraid of her pimp. Loretta was about to lose her shop to a vindictive ex. Templeton gambled with mobsters and paid regular visits to a pawn shop. My father was on the loose and it was well-documented that he had more than his fair share of criminal enemies.
Or maybe this was my fault. That was my greatest fear, that somehow, because of the work I did for Delveccio and the mysterious organization fronted by Ms. Whitehat, I’d somehow brought one of my enemies to my home. Maybe I was responsible for my family’s latest suffering.
The thought made me sick. I closed my eyes, swaying dizzily.
Resting a steadying hand on my shoulder, Zeke offered his support. “Tell me how to help.”
“Can you flag down the cops and ambulance?”
“Sure.”
With the wail of the siren growing closer, I left him at the end of the driveway. Rushing back to see what I could do for Loretta, or at the very least, Aunt Susan, I tried not to succumb to the guilt-induced weight pressing on my chest.
When I returned to the kitchen, Mike was still ministering to Templeton’s wound, while Brian had his hands full… literally… with Loretta trying to climb over him to get to her fallen fiancé.
“Ma’am, you can’t,” the detective panted, trying to hang onto my squirming aunt like they were at a State Fair and she was a greased pig.
Spotting me in the doorway, Mike, his expression grim, tilted his head in their direction. “Do something.”
“Loretta,” I marched across the broken glass. “Stop it. Stop it, right now.”
“But he’s hurt,” she sobbed in protest. One set of her fake eyelashes dangled from the corner of her eye like a demented spider.
“And you’re not helping. Are you hurt?”
She shook her head. “I saw the blood and fainted.”
“Can you get up?”
She shrugged.
Catching the detective’s eye, I signaled that he should help me get her upright. He took one of her arms and I grabbed her other and we hauled her, rather unceremoniously, to her feet.
Swaying unsteadily, she caught sight of her beloved, and began to cry again. “I… he…” she blubbered.
The alarmed expression in the detective’s eyes would have been comical if I wasn’t been so worried that Loretta’s agitation was going to lead to a full-on meltdown.
“Aunt Susan?” I shouted. “Can you help me?”
Susan appeared in the dining room doorway. Smiling weakly when she saw that Loretta was conscious and upright, she opened her arms. Her sister flung herself into her embrace, sobbing.
A couple of uniformed officers, followed closely by Zeke and two EMTs, crowded into the kitchen.
While the medical personnel tended to Templeton, the detective and the marshal dealt with the cops.
I just stood in a corner, watching it all, trying to stay out of the way. Standing there, I determined that the kitchen window had been broken. I was no crime scene analyzer, but I assumed it was by the oversized brick now re
sting against the base of the refrigerator. That explained the broken glass everywhere, but it didn’t explain who was responsible.
“Give a girl a hand, Sugar?” Piss’s meow was barely audible over the multiple swirling discussions taking place.
It took me a second to figure out where her Southern drawl was coming from, but then I spotted her, scrunched up beneath the baker’s rack that doubles as a microwave cart.
Tiptoeing across the shattered glass, I bent down. “What are you doing there?”
“Haven’t you heard?” she joked weakly. “Curiosity kills cats.”
It was then I noticed the faint smear of blood that stretched across the floor to the cat’s hiding spot. “You’re hurt?”
“Glass.”
I carefully picked her up.
“Watch the paws,” she warned.
“Poor baby,” I crooned, holding her close.
“You can’t take me back to that awful place,” she pleaded, meaning the veterinarian’s office where I’d first met her.
“Of course not,” I soothed, carrying her downstairs to the basement so I could get a better look at her wounds.
“What’s going on?” God demanded to know from his glass enclosure as we descended the stairs.
“She’s hurt.”
“What happened? I told you to take me with you.” His tail twitched signaling his annoyance.
“Easy, big boy,” Piss mocked. “It wasn’t Maggie’s fault.”
“You don’t know that,” I muttered, laying her gently on the couch. I gingerly lifted one of her paws and peered intently at the sliver of glass sticking out of it.
She mewled softly.
“You should have an emergency vet on speed dial,” God remarked snidely. “Speaking of which, where’s the beast?”
A cold panic gripped me. I froze.
“Where’s the mutt?” he asked again, worry straining his voice. “It’s not like her to not be in the middle of things.”
I shook my head, trying to keep a grip on my emotions. “Leslie was going to feed her.”
“But then she and Marlene went to visit your mother,” Piss reminded me softly.
“So where’s the dumb dog?” God asked, not bothering to mask his concern.
Twice before, DeeDee had been hurt saving me. What if she’d interfered again and was lying somewhere hurt?
