The Hitwoman and the Mother Load

by JB Lynn

  "The best," she beamed.

  "I thought you and Aunt Leslie were going to double date."

  "Oh, that was just a ploy of Doc's. He fooled me into thinking that, but he wanted me all to himself." Her girlish giggle grated on my last nerve.

  Marlene, oblivious of my reaction, asked, "Are you getting Katie's breakfast?"

  I nodded.

  "Okay then, I had a late night, so I'm going to go catch some extra sleep." With a wave at Griswald, Marlene practically skipped out of the kitchen.

  "Must be nice for her," I muttered bitterly.

  "Good morning, beautiful," I heard Angel say to my sister as he passed her on his way into the kitchen.

  Unsure whether he was going the same route as DeeDee or Piss, I quickly poured him a cup of coffee, hoping he would understand that it was being offered as a kind of olive branch.

  He took it from me, with an easy smile. "Thanks."

  Relieved that he seemed to be over being insulted, I smiled back.

  "What did you do to your hand?" he asked, glancing down at the still red skin.

  "Spilled some coffee on myself."

  "You should get some cold water on that," he suggested.

  I nodded.

  He turned his attention to Griswald. "Did you set a date?"

  I winced.

  Griswald shook his head. "A cold day in hell was mentioned." With that he walked out of the kitchen, leaving Angel and I alone there.

  "She turned him down?" Angel asked with the same sort of horror that I'd felt earlier.

  "Apparently so."

  Angel shook his head. "Some people refuse to do what makes them happy."

  I turned the cold water on, stuck my burnt hand under it, grabbed my cup with my good hand, and sipped, before asking, "What makes you happy?"

  "Helping people. Feeling like a part of something. You know, being a contributing member of society," he said without a moment’s hesitation.

  I envied his conviction. I coveted his feeling that he was a contributing member of society. All I was, was a woman with three part-time jobs, only two of which were legal.

  "Have they found your mom?"

  I shook my head. "It'll probably be a few days. That's usually how long it takes."

  "How long what takes?"

  "It's how long it takes until my dad figures out that he's not capable of caring for my mother properly." Just saying that sentence made me tired.

  Angel sipped his coffee and considered me carefully, something brewing in the depths of his dark eyes.

  "What?" I asked curiously.

  He raised a shoulder. "I was just wondering if his example is why you're so worried about whether or not you're capable of caring for Katie."

  "Oh," I assured him hurriedly, "we're not the same at all. I know that I'm not capable of taking care of Katie. It's not in my genes. I wasn't blessed with the mothering instinct, I have no organizational skills, and, in case you haven't noticed, I can make the most irritable person in the world look like they are patient in comparison to me."

  "I think you're being a little hard on yourself," he chided gently. "You're doing just fine with Katie."

  "I'm a lot of things," I told him. "But what I'm not is self delusional. I am failing at this parenting thing. If it wasn't for you, and Aunt Susan, and Leslie, and Templeton, and Marlene, and just the kindness of strangers who bail me out from having to put together a Valentine's Day party for Katie's class, the poor kid would be miserable."

  As if on cue, Katie yelled from the other room, "Is breakfast ready?"

  I closed my eyes. "See? I can't even do that right." I turned off the running water.

  "I'll take care of it," Angel offered.

  I shook my head. "That's my point. Everyone is doing everything for her and I'm not getting anything done."

  Instead of arguing with me, Angel got busy getting Katie her breakfast. "Why don't you go take a shower, so that you can take her to school?"

  Tiredly, I nodded. "Thanks."

  "No need to thank me, that's why I'm getting paid the big bucks."

  I frowned, realizing I had no idea how much he was getting paid for his job. Whatever it was, it wasn't enough.

  "Go," he shooed me away with his hand. "If you behave, I'll make you some breakfast too." He winked at me, and a little of the black cloud that had been hanging over me dissipated.

  But only just a little.

  Chapter Five

  Even with Angel's help, getting Katie to school was a challenge. She didn't want to eat. Then she didn't want to get dressed. Then she dragged her feet gathering her school supplies. Finally, just before I blew my top, I got her buckled into her car seat.

  "You seem a little grouchy this morning, Miss," I said, watching her in the rearview mirror. "Is something bothering you?"

  "I'm the only one in the class who doesn't have a mommy," she complained.

  "And that makes you sad?" I asked carefully, feeling inadequate to help her with these issues.

  "It's not fair," she pouted.

  I nodded my agreement. "But," I reminded gently, "you do have an awful lot of people who love you."

  "It's not the same."

  "I know, honey." I got choked up as I spoke. "It's not fair, and it's not the same, but we're all doing the best that we can."

  Katie fell silent. I looked at her reflection in the rearview mirror. She was staring out the window, looking forlorn.

  I hadn't helped to make her feel any better. I really did suck at this parenting thing.

  After I dropped Katie off at school, I headed to The Corset, the lingerie/sex shop owned by my Aunt Loretta. I couldn't wait until she was out of the hospital so she could do her job. Not only did I suck at parenthood, but I have no retail skills whatsoever. If Loretta didn't recover quickly, I was afraid I'd drive her business into the ground.

  For once, I'd come here alone. No people. No animals. Just blessed silence. I worked steadily, without interruption, cleaning up after the previous night's last-minute Valentine's Day chaos, arranging store displays, tracking inventory cleaning, and doing basic accounting, for a good couple of hours. It was the first time in a while I felt like I was getting something done.

  But still, I didn't enjoy the time alone. I had decided to leave all of the pets at home, and now I found that I missed their company.

  I even sucked as a pet mother.

  Just when I couldn't feel any worse about myself, a familiar face showed up.

  "Hey, chica," my friend Armani trilled happily. She grabbed a lacy red thong and waved it with her good hand, like it was a pompom. "I had a dream."

  "Like Martin Luther King, Jr.?" I quipped, sliding onto the stool behind the cash register.

  "Don't mock my dreams," Armani insisted.

  Chastised, I apologized. "Sorry. I just have a lot going on."

  "Like what?"

  I frowned at her. "You're the psychic, aren’t you supposed to know some of this stuff?"

  "You know I don't work that way. You want to hear about my dream, or not?"

  "Tell me." Considering how many of her predictions about my life had come true, I'd gotten into the habit of paying attention to Armani's dreams and readings.

  "Road trip!"

  "What?"

  "Road trip." She tossed her hair for emphasis. "I dreamed we went on a road trip together."

  "Well, that one seems a little far-fetched," I muttered. "In case you haven't noticed, I'm saddled with the kid."

  Armani held up her hands in surrender. "Don't shoot the messenger. I'm just telling you what I saw." Seemingly from out of nowhere, she pulled out a purple cloth bag and shook it, so that the contents jangled together. "Pick."

  I shook my head. I really didn't want to know what was coming. What I really wanted was a nap.

  "Pick, chica," she insisted.

  Some people read tea leaves to predict fortunes, Armani reads Scrabble tiles. Dutifully, I slid my hand into the bag, counted out seven titles, and re
moved them. We laid them on the counter next to the cash register. MMOOPST

  "What the hell does that mean?" I asked.

  Armani shrugged. "Pot moms?"

  "Maybe," I agreed grudgingly.

  My friend arched an eyebrow at me. "Did you take extra grouchy pills today?"

  "I told you that I have a lot going on."

  "Like what?" She idly pushed the Scrabble tiles around with her forefinger.

  "Disappointed because you spent Valentine's Day alone?"

  "My mom disappeared from the hospital."

  "And that's a bad thing?"

  "Of course it's a bad thing," I told her. "Why would you even ask that?"

  She shrugged. "I met your mom at the wedding and she seemed fine to me."

  "She can be fine one day, and a mess the next," I tried to explain calmly.

  From the way Armani's eyebrows knit together, I knew she'd heard my defensiveness. "So you're worried about her?"

  I shrugged.

  Her eyes narrowed. "What else is on your mind?"

  "Nothing," I lied automatically.

  "You know I'll find out eventually," she wheedled. "You might as well tell me."

  I bit my lower lip, trying to decide whether to share the information about my sister Darlene with her or not.

  "This is about your sister, isn't it?" she asked.

  Sometimes her psychic abilities are a little scary.

  "Yes," I admitted.

  "So tell me."

  "I found a diary that Darlene had written in."

  "Your dead sister?"

  "Allegedly dead," I corrected. "But the diary I found had been written in after her death."

  Armani let out a low whistle. "Wow, you weren't kidding when you said you have a lot on your mind."

  I nodded. "Any help you can give me?"

  "I don't have anything right now, but if anything comes up you'll be the first to know," she promised. “I’ve got to go, but I’ll call you later. Mind if I take this?” She waved the red underwear at me again.

  “Take it,” I urged, glad she wasn’t going to launch into whatever wild story she had to tell about why she wanted it. Besides, she’d helped me out in the shop a lot, she deserved a bonus.

  “Thanks!” She limped out, the lace swishing in her hand with every step.

  I returned to my paperwork. I didn’t even raise my head when the door of the store opened again less than a minute later. “Forget something?”

  “I guess you could say that,” a familiar male voice replied.

  I looked up, startled by the new arrival.

  Chapter Six

  Tony, or maybe it was Anthony…I can’t tell the twins apart, was standing in the doorway of the shop.

  “Nice place,” he said, looking around at the collection of silk, satin, and lace appreciatively.

  “It’s my aunt’s.” I tried to look behind him to see which of his bodyguards he’d brought along, but he appeared to be alone.

  The corner of his mouth quirked upward. “Yeah. I know. Anybody else here?”

  I shook my head.

  His response was to turn and lock the front door.

  I swallowed hard. Being locked into a relatively small space with a mob boss was not conducive to my inner peace and harmony.

  Turning back, he looked me in the eye. “Don’t want to be overheard.”

  “If this is about Vinny…” I began to apologize.

  “Gino said you clocked him pretty good.” Admiration tinged Delveccio’s tone as he moved closer to me.

  I tightened my grip on the pen I held. It was the closest thing I had at hand to use as a weapon if the big man decided to attack. “I was just trying to warn you.”

  “That’s why I’m here.” Delveccio’s gaze focused on my knuckles whitening around the pen. He raised his hands in mock surrender. “You got no reason to fear me. I thought we trusted one another.”

  “That’s before I found out you or your twin had a thing for my mother,” I replied quietly.

  His eyes shot back to my face before he looked away. “Where’d you hear that?”

  “My father.”

  The mobster frowned. “Archie Lee is a liar and a con.”

  “He is,” I agreed, releasing my grip on the pen and making a show of laying it down on the counter. “But he wasn’t lying about that.”

  “How can you be so sure?”

  “Your reaction.”

  His gaze slowly returned to meet mine. He studied me for a long moment. “You’re a lot ballsier than she was.”

  The wistful note in his voice and the pinched lines of exhaustion around his eyes made me offer, “Do you want a cup of coffee or something?”

  He cocked his head to the side. “I’d appreciate that.”

  “This way.” I led him toward the back of the store toward the break area. “It won’t be anything fancy like espresso,” I warned.

  “That’s okay.”

  I motioned for him to sit in one of the three chairs surrounding a small, beaten up table as I went through the motions of setting up the coffee pot. “Have you been home?”

  “Not yet. I had to go to the police station and make a statement.” He trailed off as he looked around.

  I wondered whether he’d said anything that would incriminate his daughter who’d tried to have him killed, but I didn’t ask. Instead, I pulled a tin of butter cookies from a cabinet and put it on the table in front of him.

  “Then I went to see Dominic,” he finally continued.

  “Is he okay?”

  “Yeah. As okay as he gets.” There was no missing the frustration in his voice. His grandson had been in a coma longer than Katie had and his recovery was taking longer.

  “I’m sorry that he had to see me and Vinny fighting like that.”

  The mobster shrugged. “He’ll survive. His own father tried to kill him…twice.” He gave me a meaningful look.

  I was the person who’d saved Dominic’s life the second time. It was how the mobster and I had met and the reason he’d first approached me to see if I’d entertain the notion of becoming a contract assassin. Dominic’s homicidal father had been my first kill.

  Delveccio took a cookie, bit into it, and chewed it thoughtfully while the coffee maker dripped and spluttered. I mimicked his action since it was safer than saying something stupid.

  Swallowing his cookie, he finally said, “I forgot to thank you.”

  “No need.” I waved off his words as the coffee maker gurgled, letting me know it was done brewing. I moved to pour us both a cup.

  “How did you figure it out?” His voice stretched tight. It couldn’t be easy to ask how someone had figured out your own daughter had hired someone to murder you.

  I hesitated before answering. “Do you take cream or sugar?”

  “Both if you’ve got ‘em.”

  I put a steaming mug in front of him, along with some sugar packets and a half pint of cream.

  When he was done preparing his drink, he pinned me with his gaze. “How did you figure it out?”

  I swallowed hard. “You’re not going to like the answer.”

  “How can I not like it? I hired you to find and take out the Cupid Killer. You may not have taken care of him, but you found him and got him arrested.”

  “Technically it was Angel who called in the cops,” I revealed nervously.

  The mobster rolled his eyes. “Of course it was.” He sipped his coffee, waiting for me to answer his question.

  I sighed. “My father told me about the contract.”

  Delveccio scowled.

  “Told you you weren’t going to like the answer,” I reminded him, fighting the urge to tack on a “don’t kill the messenger” admonishment.

  “And he told you about...” He trailed off to choose his next words carefully. “The relationship with your mother?”

  “He didn’t say much.” I waited, curious, but knowing I had to handle the mob boss with kid gloves. I sipped my coffee.

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