Maggie Lee (Book 7): The Hitwoman and the 7 Cops

by JB Lynn

  “We did.” Reaching over, I rummaged in the glove compartment until I found a package of red licorice. “But that was before I knew Darlene could still be alive.”

  “So you’re angry at her again.”

  “I’m not angry,” I said too quickly. Frustrated, I tore open the package of candy and jammed a sugary treat into my mouth. I chomped on it like a cow chewing its cud on steroids.

  “You blame her for being a distraction that day,” God said gently.

  “I blame myself for being distracted,” I spat out as years of self-recrimination bubbled to the surface.

  “Nobody else blames you.”

  I swallowed the sugary candy. “Maybe they should.”

  “Maggie, I don’t think—”

  “There she is,” I interrupted as Detective Joy Griswald emerged from her house.

  It was a dark, moonless night and the lights along the path in front of her house gave her a ghostly pallor.

  She peered up the road, as if waiting for someone, before she began to pace with tight, jerky steps.

  “Post her,” the lizard said.

  “What?”

  “The tiles could spell out Post Her.”

  “Yeah, sure. That makes as much sense as any of the other options.”

  “Or Her Pots.”

  “Awesome,” I said sarcastically.

  “I’m just trying to help,” the lizard complained haughtily.

  That’s when I saw him. The Chinese guy zipping down the street on a skateboard. I had to look at him twice to determine I wasn’t seeing things.

  “Lucky.”

  “What’s lucky?”

  “Who’s Lucky?” I corrected. “You know, the guy from Atlantic City.”

  “The one who tried to drown me?” The lizard knew how to hold onto a grudge.

  Patrick had asked me to steal something from Lucky O’Hara a few months earlier. I’d pulled off the job, barely. I’d also seen him outside of an illegal poker game not long ago, but he hadn’t seen me.

  “He keeps showing up in the weirdest places,” I muttered.

  Lucky jumped off his skateboard right in front of Joy Griswald’s house. I watched as the two of them engaged in a conversation where she looked nervous, but he appeared confident.

  Joy shook her head. Once. Twice. Three times.

  I heard Ms. Whitehat's voice in my head. Save her from making the same bad choices you made.

  I knew what happened when a law-abiding citizen entered into an agreement with a criminal. I knew that, even though I actually kind of like the guy, Lucky is a criminal.

  “Stop her!” God shouted suddenly, startling me.

  “Huh?”

  “Stop her. That’s what the letters spell.”

  “How is it you figure that crap out, but you can’t win a game of Wheel of Fortune?”

  The lizard is a huge fan of Pat and Vanna.

  “Stop her,” God insisted. “That has to be the message.”

  “Stop her from what? All she’s doing is talking to the guy.”

  “All you did was talk to Delveccio and look what happened to you.”

  I couldn’t argue with that. One conversation with the mobster had turned me into a killer-for-hire.

  I could tell from the change in Joy’s body posture that she was relenting.

  I squeezed the steering wheel tightly. “How the hell am I supposed to stop her?”

  “Shoot him.”

  “Shoot him? Look I know you hold him responsible for you almost drowning in the Atlantic Ocean, but I don’t go around just shooting random people.”

  “You have standards,” the lizard mocked.

  “Besides,” I admitted, “I don’t have a gun.”

  “You have a car. Run him over.”

  “He hasn’t done anything to deserve being run over.”

  “You don’t know that,” the lizard argued.

  “I’m not running him over.”

  I watched Joy hang her head in defeat. I could tell it was only a matter of time before she caved in to Lucky’s demand, whatever it was.

  “Well pulling a Stop, Drop and Roll isn’t going to cut it,” God said, reminding me of the evasion technique I’d used to escape Delveccio’s son-in-law the first time we’d met.

  “Fire. Brilliant.” Leaning over, I ransacked the glove compartment, emerging victorious with one of the burn phones Patrick insisted I keep.

  “You’re going to set him on fire?” Even the lizard, who wanted Lucky dead, was appalled by that idea.

  “No. I’m going to report a fire.”

  “Where?”

  “Here.” I turned on the cell phone, but nothing happened. “Damn. It’s dead.”

  “I’m sure the murderous Boy Scout left you a charger.”

  I reached back into the glove box and for once was happy that the superior lizard was right about Patrick.

  Hands trembling, I plugged in the charger and connected the phone. “C’mon. C’mon.”

  A moment later there was a flicker of light as the phone came to life.

  Through the windshield I watched Joy, shoulders slumped, turn and walk back into her house. Lucky, crossing his arms over is chest, tapped his foot impatiently waiting for her to return.

  I dialed 9-1-1 and held my breath waiting for an operator to answer.

  “9-1-1. What’s your emergency?”

  Breathlessly I blurted out, doing my best to sound terrified, “There’s a house on fire at…” I glanced at the house across the street from Joy’s to read its street number. “317 First Street. 317 First Street.”

  I disconnected the call just as Joy re-emerged from her house carrying a folder full of papers.

  “Too little, too late,” God predicted from his vantage point on the dashboard.

  “Crap,” I muttered. “Crap. Crap. Crap.”

  “There’s still time to run him over.”

  When Lucky reached for the folder Joy held, she hid it behind her back. My stomach roiled nervously as they argued. When Joy started to hand him the folder, I honked my horn.

  Startled, Joy and Lucky turned in the direction of my car. I slid down in my seat, hoping they couldn’t see me in the dark.

  “That’s your brilliant solution,” God sniped. “You’re going to blow the horn at them?”

  “I had to do something,” I whispered. Then mercifully, I heard the sirens approaching.

  Peeking over the steering wheel, I saw that Lucky and Joy heard them too. He jumped back on his skateboard and rolled away, while she scurried back into her house, clutching her folder.

  “Jackpot!” I crowed victoriously.

  Even God seemed impressed. He lifted a paw to high-five me. “Well done. Now let’s get out of here before you get arrested for making a false 9-1-1 call.”

  Feeling extraordinarily proud of myself, I started the car and drove toward home. I’d only driven a few blocks when my cell phone rang. Thinking it was Ms. Whitehat calling to congratulate me on a job well done, I answered without looking at the display. “Hello.”

  “You’ve got to get to the hospital,” Leslie said quickly, strain deepening her voice.

  My good mood evaporated and was replaced by a sickening sense of dread. “Did something happen to Katie?”

  “Not to Katie,” my aunt replied. “To Templeton. Hurry, Maggie.”

  Before I could elicit any details from her, she’d hung up.

  I rushed to the hospital, wondering what had happened to Loretta’s fiancé. I’d known something was wrong with him when I’d visited earlier, but it sounded like things had gone downhill since.

  “You’re not going to do anyone any good if you crash this car,” God opined as the wheels of the car squealed in protest as I took a corner too sharply.

  “I’m not going to—”

  “You’re driving recklessly. You’re speeding and you blew through that stop sign.”

  “What stop sign?”

  “The one you didn’t notice because you’
re driving so badly.”

  Chastised, I slowed down. “Sorry.”

  “I know you’re worried about him, but getting into an accident isn’t going to help.”

  “I’m worried about Loretta,” I corrected automatically. Then I added, “I should have made her get a doctor to check on him while I was there.”

  “So this too is your fault?” God asked gently.

  “Maybe.”

  “Sometime it’s a wonder you can even function considering how much guilt you drag along.”

  I wasn’t in the mood to listen to another of his lectures, so I turned on the radio and cranked it to its loudest setting.

  But no matter how loud the music played, it couldn’t drown out the thought that I’d once again let someone down.

  Chapter Eighteen

  When I got to the hospital, having made God solemnly swear that he’d remain silent, I saw a lot of tear-stained faces, specifically those of the sisters. Loretta, par for the course, or maybe because it was her beloved who was affected, was sobbing hysterically as she cried on her twin’s shoulder. Leslie’s tears were silent but steady as she offered her support. Even Susan wasn’t dry-eyed, but she kept dashing away the waterworks like it was a major annoyance.

  Since Susan was in better of control of herself, I decided she’d be the safest to approach.

  “What’s going on?” I asked in a hushed voice.

  “He’s had a terrible reaction to something he was given. His airway closed and he wasn’t getting enough oxygen. They saved him but”—she jutted her chin in Loretta’s direction—“as you can see, Loretta’s not doing well with it.”

  “What about you?” I asked.

  “Well I’m annoyed,” she snapped.

  I blinked surprised. “Annoyed? At Loretta?”

  “Why would I be annoyed with Loretta? For once she’s having a perfectly normal reaction to a situation.”

  “But you said you were annoyed.”

  “I’m annoyed that I left that insufferable man at the B&B. Who knows what kind of snooping he’ll do.”

  “Agent Griswald?”

  “No, not him. Robert.”

  “Bob?”

  She nodded. “The devil himself.”

  I fell silent, unsure of what to say next.

  “I need you to go there and keep an eye on him.” She snapped her fingers as though that would magically impel me to obey her command.

  “But Leslie asked me to come here.”

  Susan lifted her chin and spoke with authority. “That’s before I got here. Everything is under control now.”

  As though to prove her wrong, one of Loretta’s sobs echoed off the walls.

  I was torn between wanting to help Leslie and Loretta and doing as Susan asked.

  “Besides,” Susan muttered, “I’m not sure it’s the best idea for your sister to be left alone with that marshal. Who knows what kind of questionable activities she’s indulged in. He might decide to bring her up on charges.”

  That made my decision easy. “Okay, I’ll head back to the B&B after I check in with the twins.”

  “Now, Margaret,” Susan ordered in a tone that brooked no argument. “Go now.”

  Nodding, I waved weakly at my other aunts before heading back to my car. I was halfway across the parking lot when my cell phone vibrated.

  Stopping under a streetlight, I stared at the unfamiliar number. I was sure it was Ms. Whitehat. A chill settled between my shoulder blades.

  “Hello?”

  “You have an interesting way of solving problems, Ms. Lee.”

  Unsure of whether she meant that as a compliment or if it was a complaint, I said quickly, “I know it was only a temporary fix.”

  “I did tell you that it was a time-sensitive matter.”

  “I was there on time,” I said defensively.

  “Indeed you were.”

  “I’ll go back and figure out a way to get—”

  “No need,” Whitehat interrupted coolly.

  My stomach flipped nervously. She’d threatened that there would be repercussions.

  “The material that was going to be exchanged is now outdated. Detective Gilbert no longer has anything the people pressuring her want. She’s safe for the time-being.”

  I let out a relieved sigh. “That’s great.”

  “I’ll be in touch to let you know if there’s anything you can do to help your friend Zeke.”

  “But—” I started to protest. I’d thought that saving Joy Gilbert was what I had to do to get Zeke out from under her thumb.

  “You’re about to have company,” the other woman declared icily before ending the call.

  “Maggie?” I turned in the direction of the familiar voice.

  Detective Brian Griswald hurried over to me. “How’s your uncle?”

  “He’s not my uncle.” Realizing that sounded harsh, I quickly amended the denial with, “Yet. Apparently he had a serious allergic reaction to something.” Another thought occurred to me. “Unless….”

  “Unless what?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t know. Someone threw that rock this morning. Maybe someone poisoned him?”

  With a bemused expression, the detective shook his head. “I know you’ve had a long day, but I think you’re letting your imagination get the best of you.”

  “You’re probably right, but is there a way to check?”

  “If he’s been poisoned?”

  I nodded.

  “Blood work.”

  “It couldn’t hurt to check, could it?”

  He frowned. “Do you know something I don’t?”

  I thought about Leroy Braun and then shook my head.

  “Because most of the time, people are poisoned by people they know, otherwise it’s too tough to get close enough to them to do it.”

  I nodded, knowing from experience, that he was telling the truth. I’d had a hell of a time trying to poison one of Loretta’s ex’s, Jose Garcia, when Delveccio had hired me to off the drug lord. I never had pulled off the hit… not that Delveccio needed to know that. He thought I’d somehow rigged a falling disco ball to do the dirty deed.

  “But I’ll have them run the tests anyway,” Brian acquiesced. “With your father on the loose, there is a slight chance this could be the handiwork of a Lubovsky family assassin.”

  “Thank you.”

  “You’re going back to the B&B to look after your sister?”

  I nodded, deciding it was close enough to the truth.

  “I think that stripper-EMT guy pretty much has that covered.”

  I chuckled. “I’m sure he does, but Aunt Susan asked, and when she wants something, it’s better to just do what she says.”

  “So I’ve noticed.”

  “I’m sorry. I know she can be overbearing.”

  He waved off my apology. “She loves her family and wants what’s best for them. Nothing wrong with that.”

  “You’re going to stay here and keep an eye on them?”

  He nodded.

  “Thank you.”

  “It’s what I get paid the big bucks to do.”

  “Somehow I doubt that.”

  He tilted his head to the side and looked at me carefully. “This case means everything to my family, Maggie. So if you know something or know where your father is….”

  I shook my head.

  “Okay, drive safe. And if Mike falls asleep on the job, feel free to throw a glass of water in his face or something.”

  “Will do,” I pledged, even though I had no intention of keeping the promise.

  I’ve got to give God credit, he held his tongue until we were back in the car and I’d plucked him from my bra, and placed him carefully on the dashboard.

  “I thought you were going to see the redheaded stud muffin.”

  “Why’d you think that?”

  “Because when you have a problem, that’s what you do. You go to him, he says he can’t help you, and then the next day he gallops up on his white steed to sa
ve the day.”

  I thought I detected a note of jealously in the little guy’s voice.

  “Funny,” I teased. “I don’t recall seeing him on horseback.”

  He flicked his tail, indicating he wasn’t amused by my joke.

  “You think that instead of going to him, I should ask you for help?”

  “I think,” he muttered, “that you’re perfectly capable of saving yourself and your default reaction is to turn to him.”

  “Fair enough.” I put the car into drive. “But just for the record, I never said I was planning to go see him.”

  “But you were thinking it.”

  He was right of course. It had occurred to me that if anyone could figure out how to sneak my father into the nuthouse so that he could visit my mother, it would be the sexy redhead. I didn’t tell the lizard that of course. Instead, I said, “The Griswalds are up to something.”

  “You’re just figuring that out?”

  I squeezed the steering wheel as I fought the urge to throttle him. “First the older generation practically moved in when Dad escaped from prison and now the younger ones are staking out the B&B even though they can’t really believe he’d be stupid enough to go back there. This has got to have to do with something bigger than my father.”

  “Agreed.”

  “But what?”

  “Maybe they know about your extracurricular activities,” God suggested mildly.

  My heart skipped a beat or two and I almost drove off the road.

  “No crashing the automobile!” God shrieked. He really did squeak with that one.

  I got the car back on track. “You really think they’re after me?”

  “If I say maybe are you going to drive into oncoming traffic?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Fine. Maybe.”

  I gulped.

  “Not that you’re worth going after,” the lizard explained quickly. “But Delveccio would be, and if they could get you to roll on him...”

  “Roll on him? You’ve been watching too many of those crime shows,” I mocked.

  “Do you have a better explanation?”

  I shook my head. “You really don’t think they’re on to me, do you?”

  “I don’t know, but their presence bothers me.”

  “Me too.” Despite the fact I sometimes think I’m a pretty terrible person for the things I’ve done, I really don’t want to go to prison.