Maggie Lee | Book 25 | The Hitwoman Owes A Favor

by Lynn, JB

  What if he saw me post, “Feeling cute…might go kill someone” or something?

  “When?” Brian asked. “Who? How?”

  Armani shrugged. “The details are fuzzy. Besides, Maggie isn’t taking my prediction seriously.”

  Brian turned his attention to me. “Why not?”

  “All living beings die,” I said, quoting a very wise lizard I know. “If we all spent every hour of every day worrying about death, we’d never live.”

  “She’s quoting the reptile,” Piss moaned softly.

  “That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t take precautions,” Brian said as I handed him his coffee.

  “Against what? A car accident? Electrocution? Accidental drowning? A slip and fall?” I asked, taking care not to mention the shooting that had occurred the day before.

  “See what I’m dealing with,” Armani complained. “A non-believer.” Annoyed, she got up and limped out of the room.

  “You didn’t come here to talk about Armani’s fuzzy psychic abilities,” I said to Brian. “What’s up?”

  “Why’d the shooter stop shooting?”

  I blinked. I’d been sure he’d ask me what Archie was up to or why we’d all been in the cemetery. “Um…maybe because he hit his target?” I suggested weakly as I picked up Piss, who’d been rubbing against my shins.

  “You didn’t see him?”

  I shook my head.

  “My uncle didn’t see him. Do you know if your father did?”

  “He was unconscious by the time I got to him.”

  “And he didn’t tell you at the hospital?” While he spoke, he alternated between stroking DeeDee and scratching Matilda.

  I shook my head. “I didn’t go in to see him at the hospital.” I kept the information that Uncle Thurston had visited him before his surgery to myself in the hopes of not having to explain the storage ad.

  “It doesn’t make sense that a shooter would stop without finishing the job,” Brian mused.

  “Maybe he got spooked,” I suggested.

  “By who?”

  “A ghost?”

  The man who didn’t doubt Armani’s fuzzy prediction about my impending death, gave me a disbelieving look.

  “Cemeteries are unsettling,” I said, defensive. “Besides, maybe he thought the job was done.”

  “Maybe.” He gulped his coffee. “You haven’t remembered anything else?”

  I shook my head as I heard the front door slammed. I wondered who was upset now.

  “What’s your father’s prognosis?” He slid into a chair, making himself right at home.

  “I don’t know,” I admitted guiltily. “I wanted to get some coffee in me before I called and asked.”

  He gave me a rueful smile. “Understandable. Do—”

  Before he could get any further, Aunt Susan burst into the kitchen.

  “Margaret!” She wrinkled her nose in disapproval at the sight of Matilda.

  The pig was oblivious of her disdain.

  “Good morning,” I said with false cheer. “Coffee?”

  Noticing the man at the table, she sucked in a breath, obviously restraining herself from giving me an earful. “Brian! What a pleasant surprise.”

  He offered her a tight smile. “How’s Uncle Larry?”

  “Feeling better. A nasty bruise, but no lasting damage. He got very lucky. Things could have turned out much worse.”

  While she spoke, Brian chugged down the rest of his coffee. I recognized his desperation. He wanted to get away from my aunt. I couldn’t blame him. I was fighting the urge to run, too.

  He nodded at Susan as he put the empty mug down and said, “Thanks, Maggie.”

  “Are there any leads?” she asked.

  “Not my case,” he replied, practically tripping over DeeDee and Matilda as he attempted to escape out the back door. “See you soon.”

  Susan frowned at me as soon as he was gone. She thrust a crisply folded piece of paper at me. “I have an assignment for you, Margaret.”

  16

  I really wasn’t in the mood to do Susan’s “assignment”, but she was insistent, claiming I had a responsibility to be as safe as possible. This meant that instead of going to check out the storage unit, I found myself searching for a dojo at the address she’d given me for my first self-defense lesson.

  While I drove, I called Ian for an update on my father’s condition. According to him, the doctors were “cautiously optimistic” about Dad’s chance of a full recovery. Since they weren’t allowing visitors, he’d brought Thurston home and they were both going to get some rest.

  “Be careful, Maggie,” were Ian’s last words before he hung up.

  “That’s good news,” Piss meowed as soon as the call disconnected.

  I nodded, squeezing the steering wheel. I’d brought her with me for moral support as I got my butt kicked, leaving DeeDee behind to protect the rest of the family. God had chosen to stay with her, saying he would be the general to an army of animals if anyone dared attack.

  “Here we are,” I announced, finally finding the address. “Wait here and I’ll be back.”

  I got out and surveyed the area. It wasn’t the best of neighborhoods and the last thing I needed was to get jumped on my way to learn how to protect myself. Susan had said the instructor came highly recommended but hadn’t revealed anything else about her or him.

  The entrance was down a narrow alley. I couldn’t see any lights on in the building as I walked up to the door. Taking a deep breath and squaring my shoulders, I prepared to knock.

  “Hi, Mags.”

  Letting out a startled shriek, I whirled around to find Patrick Mulligan watching me with a bemused smile.

  “You can’t be here,” I warned him. “I have a self-defense lesson.”

  “I know.”

  I shook my head, realizing that Aunt Susan had hired Detective Mulligan to teach me self-defense. For all I knew, Griswald had recommended him for the job.

  The redhead moved so fast I didn’t realize what was happening.

  One moment, Patrick was watching me, the next, he’d pinned my body to the wall behind me with his own. Part of me was alarmed, but another part of me welcomed the weight of his body against mine.

  “Now what are you going to do, Mags?”

  I knew the correct response was to fight back, to wriggle free, but my limbs weren’t obeying my brain. Not with him looking down at me with those green eyes. Not when my body was remembering how it felt to be one with his.

  I closed my eyes, trying to concentrate, trying to do the right thing, but that just made me more aware of him. His wintergreen mint-scented breath, his body heat, the feel of his hands on my wrists. I soaked it all up.

  “Mags,” he moaned.

  I opened my eyes and saw the tortured expression on his face. He was losing the battle against his desire for me. I shifted my hips and he groaned again, lowering his lips to my neck, as though he couldn’t resist getting a taste.

  He released my wrists and grabbed my hips.

  That’s when I gave him the slip. One hard twist of my body, and I slipped free of his grip.

  I stumbled a few steps away. Looking back, I saw that he wasn’t chasing after me. He leaned against the wall, taking in big breaths.

  Deciding it would be safest not to acknowledge the sexual attraction between us, I joked, “See? I’m practically Houdini.”

  Without looking at me, he muttered, “Didn’t Houdini die failing to escape a trick?”

  That wasn’t exactly the pep talk I’d been hoping for. “Spoilsport.”

  Finally, he looked over at me. “How’s your dad?”

  “They’re cautiously optimistic.”

  He nodded. “That’s good. Rumor has it they don’t know if it was him or Griswald that was the target.”

  “I don’t know, either,” I confessed.

  His gaze searched mine. “You’re sure it wasn’t you?”

  I shook my head. Then, after looking around to make sure nobody
could hear us, I confided, “I wasn’t at the grave when it happened. I was sitting in Griswald’s car.”

  Surprise flickered in Patrick’s eyes. “Then, why was he there?”

  “He was meeting my father.”

  “About what?”

  I shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine.”

  He crossed his arms over his chest. “But you didn’t tell any of this to the police.”

  “No.”

  “Because you think you’re protecting your dad.”

  I shook my head slowly.

  “Then why? Obstructing an investigation is a real thing, Mags.”

  “Because Griswald asked me not to,” I told him.

  I watched as the seriousness of that important detail hit him. His Adam’s apple bobbed, and I could have sworn he paled.

  “Oh,” was all he said.

  “You can’t tell anyone,” I begged, remembering I shouldn’t have told anyone.

  “I understand.”

  We stared at each other for a long moment. Then, he reached for the door handle. “I guess we should get started.”

  I shook my head. That was a bad idea for so many reasons.

  “It could prove helpful,” Patrick pointed out.

  Or it could land me in a whole other kind of trouble and my heart couldn’t take that. Not again. I blew out a breath. “Just tell me what the lesson would have included so I can report back to Aunt Susan. I have to do something more important.”

  He studied my face, his expression inscrutable. “Like what?”

  I hesitated, knowing I could lie and say I wanted to visit my father.

  “Mags? If I can help…” he said softly.

  I bit my lower lip, unsure.

  “Talk to me,” he urged, taking a step in my direction.

  I stepped back. “I don’t want to get you in trouble.”

  “With whom?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe the Delveccios?” After all, my dad had stolen a human skull they’d had in their possession. Maybe he’d stolen other things and those things were in a storage unit.

  “You’re crossing them?” A mixture of fear and disbelief threaded through his voice. Worry lines formed on his forehead.

  “No. No, not at all,” I hurriedly assured him. “But I don’t know whether Archie did. I don’t know what I’m getting myself into.”

  “More reason not to go alone. Here, take this,” he shoved a cellphone at me, “my number is programmed in. If you need me, you call.”

  “But—” I protested, taking it grudgingly.

  “I can handle the Delveccios.” He extended a hand. “We’ll figure this out together.”

  I nodded slowly. If Archie had something in a storage unit, Patrick would be the perfect person to return it and smooth things over. “Thank you.”

  An expression that looked like regret deepened the lines of his face. “I’m still your friend, Mags.”

  I took his hand but remained silent. He’d been my murder mentor and a lover; I wasn’t sure that we’d ever actually been friends.

  But Piss disagreed as I filled her in on what had transpired as I drove over to the storage unit location, Patrick tailing me.

  “Come on, sugar,” she reprimanded gently. “No one else has ever had your back like Patrick.”

  “Maybe Gino,” I countered.

  “Maybe,” she meowed, but didn’t sound convinced.

  Since I considered Gino a suspect in the shooting of my father, I didn’t bother to try to make the case for him having my back.

  I let her out of the car, first when I reached the parking lot of the storage facility. It was huge, and I wondered how we’d ever find Dad’s unit. If he had rented it, no doubt he’d used an alias instead of his own name. I stared in dismay at the rows of buildings on the other side of the security gate.

  Patrick stepped up beside me, taking a moment to pause to pet the cat, first. “I’ll get us in.”

  With a flash of his badge and a few words, he got us past the gate.

  “I don’t have a number,” I confessed. “All he gave Thurston to give me was a Yellow Pages ad.”

  “Old school,” Patrick murmured, repeating Armani’s observation. “Since he’s old school, he might have tagged his unit.”

  “Tagged it?”

  “Kind of like graffiti artists leaving their signature. Some kind of symbol that would signal it was his. Let’s take a walk around and look.”

  We strolled slowly down the first long aisle, our eyes peeled for anything that looked different or unusual. Every time I thought I spotted something, it ended up being peeled paint.

  I was feeling discouraged when we rounded the corner.

  But then I saw something I did recognize. Not a symbol, but a face.

  Zeke! He was staring intently at a unit halfway down the row and didn’t notice Patrick and me approaching.

  What was he doing here? Was he after Dad’s treasure, too?

  Suspicious, I grabbed Patrick’s hand and raised a finger to my lips. We stopped walking and watched Zeke start to slowly creep toward the unit he had his eye on.

  Something in his body language put me on edge. I got the distinct impression he was hunting something…or someone.

  There was a crash and Zeke sprinted the rest of the way to the unit.

  “Stop!” he yelled as another man burst out of the unit, hitting him with his shoulder and knocking him to the ground. The man with a wild mane of hair charged toward us.

  “What the…?” Patrick muttered, shoving me behind him and reaching for both his badge and weapon.

  Peering around him, I got a better look at Zeke’s assailant.

  It was Leonard “The Lion” Klugman.

  17

  Spotting Patrick, Klugman came to a dead stop, spun around, and started running in the direction he’d come from, leaping over Zeke, who was still getting to his feet, like he was an Olympic hurdler.

  Patrick gave chase.

  “Should I trip the bad guy?” Piss meowed.

  “No.” The best possible thing that could happen would be for Leonard to get away. Otherwise, my connections to Patrick, Zeke and by extension, the Delveccios and Ms. Whitehat, would all collide.

  I watched as Leonard Klugman rounded a corner and realized Patrick was gaining on him. Mia’s threat about my father loomed large.

  “Trip Patrick,” I told the cat.

  “Are you nuts?” she hissed.

  “Please,” I begged.

  “Hope you know what you’re doing, sugar.” She raced after the two men.

  I hurried to help Zeke to his feet.

  “Maggie.” He sounded dazed as I pulled him upright.

  “You’ve got to get out of here,” I told him. “There are cops around.”

  His gaze came into focus. “What about you?”

  “I’ll be fine,” I said, giving him a soft shove. “Go.”

  “Whitehat wants Mia’s hubby,” he told me.

  “Yeah, I figured that was why you’re here.”

  “Don’t cross her on this one, Maggie,” he warned as he loped away.

  Since I was there alone, I took a moment to examine the contents of the storage locker. It quickly became obvious that the space wasn’t my dad’s. It had been Leonard Klugman’s. There were all kinds of awards with his name on them stacked to the ceiling, along with plenty of kinds of photographs of “The Lion” smiling beside assorted luminaires, plaques with his name stacked to the ceiling and even four painted portraits of his likeness, though they had hearts where his eyes should have been. Among other things, the man had maintained a shrine to his love of himself.

  “It’s done,” Piss panted from behind me.

  Turning, I spotted her, chest heaving, swaying weakly.

  I panicked when I saw her condition. “Are you okay?” I scooped her up, cradling her against my cheek. “Exertion,” she wheezed. “Had to catch up and then trip him without letting him know it was me.”

  “T
hank you,” I murmured.

  “Where’s Zeke?”

  “I told him to hide,” I said. “No need for him and Patrick to tangle.”

  “Good idea,” the cat purred. “Keep my Zeke safe.”

  I smiled. Patrick was DeeDee’s favorite, but Piss had a special fondness for Zeke.

  “Did you find anything useful in there?” Piss asked.

  “No. It belonged to Leonard, not Archie.”

  “But Archie led you here,” she reminded me.

  I nodded. I doubted Klugman had rented this under his own name. I was willing to bet that Archie tracked down this unit using Mia’s maiden name. “At least we know for sure that Mia’s husband is still in town.”

  “Here he comes,” Piss meowed as Patrick came limping back toward us, his expression grim.

  “What happened?” I asked, noting his scraped up appearance.

  “I tripped. He got away.”

  “Sorry,” I murmured.

  “Do you know who that was?” Patrick asked.

  For half a second, I considered lying, but then I remembered the mobsters’ involvement. “Leonard ‘The Lion’ Klugman. The Delveccios want him.”

  Patrick narrowed his gaze suspiciously. “And how do you know that?”

  I sighed. “It’s a long story. I went to high school with his wife and she asked me to look for him. Then, Delveccio ordered me to bring him to them.”

  “Why’d you say yes to looking for him?”

  I looked away. “Let’s just say it was an agreement made under duress.”

  “Geez!” he muttered, running a hand through his hair. “And you just dragged me into this mess.”

  “One,” I told him hotly, “I didn’t drag you, you insisted on coming along. And two, I didn’t know Klugman would be here. I thought this would be my dad’s place.”

  He held up his hands to placate me. “Easy, Mags.”

  I put my hands on my hips. “So what are you going to do? Tell the cops about this place or the Delveccios?”