Maggie Lee (Book 16): The Hitwoman Plays Chaperone

by Lynn, JB

  I nodded, not really listening to either of them. I surveyed the room hoping to spot Patrick, wanting to tell him that I thought Coral had been working with R.V. and that he should keep an eye out for her.

  Alton pointed at the next display. “Pisces. Fish.”

  “The sea bass is divine,” Edith revealed, looping her arm through mine. “It’s served with a ginger and lime sauce. Perfection.”

  Alton ran ahead of us, reading the names of the constellations and their symbols much quicker than his grandmother was describing the mouth-watering food. I had a hard time keeping an eye on him as he disappeared between the small groups surrounding each display.

  I tried to get Edith to walk faster when I saw Uncle Thurston approaching Alton from the other direction, but she hung back.

  That’s when I realized Alton was standing in front of the Scorpio display.

  “He’s got a syringe!” a haughty voice declared from above.

  I looked up just in time to see Mike fly overhead, with the lizard riding him like he was a horse.

  Yanking free of Edith’s grip, I sprinted ahead, racing toward the last place I’d seen Alton.

  “Look out, kid! He’s gonna stick ya!” Mike’s cawed warning got the attention of everyone in the vicinity.

  A bunch of people screamed as though he was the entire flock of attacking birds from Hitchcock’s ‘The Birds’. Some ducked, some ran, some froze in place.

  They all got in my way.

  “Alton!” I screamed, trying to find him in the stampeding crowd. Sure he was short, but how difficult could it be to find the one person dressed in head-to-toe silver?

  “Look out! Look out!” Mike continued to caw his desperate warning, which fed into the panic of the crowd below.

  Suddenly the crowd parted and I saw the little boy, looking lost in the midst of the chaos.

  And behind him I saw his killer.

  I saw the flash of the needle in the killer’s hand. I knew I wasn’t going to reach the boy in time. All I could do was scream my helpless frustration.

  But that wasn’t enough to stop the killer.

  Chapter Twenty-six

  I couldn’t get there in time, but I wasn’t the only hero in the room.

  “Attack! Attack!” God ordered from above.

  As the man in a waiter’s uniform tried to stab Alton with the needle, Mike flew at his face, temporarily blinding him.

  “Take that, buster!” Mike crowed, beating his wings furiously.

  That distraction provided enough time for me to reach the man and grab for the needle. Latching on to the man’s wrist, I yelled, “Run, Alton. Run!”

  I couldn’t see if the boy obeyed, because the would-be killer and I were spinning around, fighting for control of the needle. Recognizing him, I gasped, “You’re the blacksmith who didn’t know where the restroom was!”

  “And you’re the meddlesome bitch I’m going to kill,” he said through clenched teeth.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Thurston rushing toward me, but I didn’t know whether he was friend or foe in this situation.

  While hanging on to the man’s wrist for dear life, I awkwardly tried to knee him in the groin, but I kept missing because my balance was thrown off by the damn heels.

  Suddenly he wrenched free of my hold on him and ran toward the exit door.

  “Stop!” I yelled. If I didn’t stop him, I’d never know who wanted Alton dead.

  Of course he didn’t listen to me.

  “Follow him,” I begged Mike.

  “Follow that cad!” God ordered like he had an entire regiment at his command.

  Glancing back to make sure Alton was with his grandmother, I kicked off my shoes and sprinted after the crow, flying with a lizard on his back.

  “Wait!” Patrick yelled from the other end of the room, running after me.

  He collided with Berkin, the business manager, and they ended up in a tangle of limbs on the floor.

  There wasn’t time to wait. The killer was getting away.

  I followed Mike across the parking lot, ignoring the way my feet hurt as they slapped against the pavement and the way my lungs burned from the exertion.

  “Faster,” God yelled. “He’s getting away.”

  “I’m trying,” I panted.

  Yeah, I know. I really need to take up running.

  “He’s getting in a car,” Mike crowed. “I’ll get his windshield to slow him down. Bombs away!”

  “Defecation is not an effective form of warfare,” God griped.

  I heard an engine roar to life and a sedan shot out of its parking space.

  “Stop!” Chasing after him, I shouted. “He tried to kill a little boy. Somebody stop him.”

  Seeing me, running toward him, yelling for non-existent people to help me, the man threw his car into reverse, backed up, revved his engine, and then hurtled toward me at full speed.

  “Watch out!” Mike squawked.

  But it was too late. Even as I dove to the side, I knew I didn’t have enough time to get out of his path.

  The sound the crash made was horrific. Metal ripped and crunched mercilessly.

  And yet I felt nothing.

  It took me a second, as I lay there in the parking lot, gasping for breath, to realize that I wasn’t dead. I wasn’t even maimed.

  Slowly I sat up and surveyed the carnage in front of me. The man’s sedan had plowed into the pink Winnebago. The front of his car was smashed in, the airbag deployed.

  R.V. jumped out of the driver’s seat of the camper. “Are you okay?” she called.

  I nodded, slightly stunned.

  “She rammed him,” Mike said, having landed on top of the killer’s car.

  “She saved you. Don’t let them pin any of the blame on her,” God warned, sitting astride the bird like he was some kind of throne.

  “I won’t,” I promised, getting to my feet.

  R.V. looked from the animals to me, a strange expression I couldn’t decipher on her face.

  “Are you okay?” I asked, realizing she might have been hurt by the impact.

  “I’m fine. That thing’s built like a tank.”

  “What’s she doing here?” God asked.

  “What are you doing here?” I parroted since it was a good question.

  A funny smile teased the edges of the other woman’s mouth. “Scattering some of my former mother-in-law’s ashes.”

  “And you think your life is weird,” God quipped.

  The woman chuckled as though she was amused by his comment, even though I knew it had to be his squeaking that entertained her.

  A car raced up the row toward us, slamming to a stop a few cars away.

  Armani stuck her head out the window. “What happened?”

  “Aren’t you supposed to already know that?” I teased, feeling a little giddy after the ordeal.

  “I told you pink was involved,” she reminded me, pointing to the camper with her good hand. She’d had a big smile on her face, but staring at R.V. her expression grew wary. “Not good. Not good at all,” she muttered, before driving away just as fast as she’d arrived.

  “Do you know her?” R.V. asked.

  “She’s a friend of mine,” I admitted.

  Pounding footsteps approached, effectively ending that conversation. Patrick, his normally pale face almost as red as his hair, rounded the corner.

  “I got him,” I announced proudly, pointing to the killer’s crashed car. “Well, technically, she got him,” I admitted pointing to the Winnebago.

  “He came out of nowhere,” R.V. lied. “One moment I was driving along, and the next we were colliding.” She shot me a nervous look, silently asking if I was going to refute her version of events.

  “Lucky for me,” I said quietly.

  “I told you to wait,” Patrick scolded.

  “There wasn’t time,” I countered.

  “Do you have any idea who that is?” he asked.

  “All I know is that he had a syrin
ge he was going to use on Alton Concord.”

  Patrick nodded. “Figures. That’s Ronald Pink, an assassin known as the Scorpion.”

  God let out a low whistle. “Armani is getting awfully good at this stuff.”

  I nodded. That was what scared me about the upcoming séance.

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Patrick miraculously managed to hide my part of the dramatic takedown from the press, but Detective Brian Griswald had told his uncle about my part in saving Alton Concord.

  In turn, Lawrence Griswald had informed Aunt Susan of what I’d done, changing her opinion that not everything I do is a waste of time. But she still thought most things were.

  What hadn’t been kept from the media was the fact that Berkin had hired the hitman because he didn’t want the Concords finding out that he’d used Alton’s social security number to wrack up all kinds of credit card debt.

  As happy as I was that Alton was safe, I was still pretty miserable. I spent the better part of two days hiding out in the basement, trying to come up with excuses not to participate in the upcoming séance.

  The truth was that I was terrified one of the people I’d killed might start coming through, communicating with Armani, and everyone would find out the things I’d done.

  I wondered if Teresa had seen what I’ve done and whether she’s judging me for it or if she believes that the ends justified the means considering her daughter’s well-being was always my motivation.

  Meanwhile, because I understood all too well how difficult it can be to make decisions about protecting family, I forgave Darlene. Having done that, I was not only able to enjoy her company, but marvel at how natural the whole mothering thing was for her. With Darlene around, Katie seemed happier and more relaxed than I’d ever seen her.

  I wasn’t the only one who noticed.

  I was watching Katie, Darlene, and her daughters playing in the backyard when God, who was perched on my shoulder, suddenly said, “It’s like she’s a whole new little girl.”

  Tears welled in my eyes and my throat closed. I nodded, unable to speak.

  “You did this for her, Maggie,” God said.

  “That’s not me out there making her laugh,” I corrected.

  “But you made it possible. You got her the best care. You made it possible for Darlene to come home. Without you, Katie would still be lying in a bed, in a state-run facility. Darlene would still be on the run.”

  I didn’t respond. All I could see was that Darlene instinctively knew how to care for our niece in a way I never could.

  God slapped me.

  Okay, he flicked his tail at my cheek, which, for a lizard who’s only a couple of inches long, that’s a slap.

  “Hey,” I protested, fighting the urge to flick him off my shoulder.

  “Don’t you dare discount what you’ve contributed to Katie’s state,” he lectured in his most stern tone.

  “Okay.”

  “Okay? Your love for that little girl is what saved her. Own that.”

  “No matter what happens with the séance?” I asked.

  “What do you hope happens?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t know. Part of me doesn’t want to give her up, but part of me knows it would be best.”

  “You won’t be giving her up. You’ll always be a part of her life, no matter what happens. You’ll still be her best aunt.”

  I nodded, knowing he was trying to comfort me, but the truth was, I’d never felt more uncertain and unsettled in my life.

  I just had to hope the dead had the answers I was looking for.

  We held the séance in the darkened dining room that night.

  Susan, Loretta, Leslie, Marlene, Darlene, and Armani were already there when I shuffled in. I took the empty seat between Armani and Susan and stared at the candle flickering at the center of the table.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Piss slink in, unnoticed. She wound herself between my ankles before sitting on my foot. I appreciated her silent show of moral support, just like I was grateful that God was cradled in my bosom, ready to remind me to breathe or shut up, depending on what the situation called for.

  “If everyone would please join hands,” Armani intoned in her most serious psychic voice.

  Susan grabbed my hand and squeezed it tightly.

  I knew she was struggling with this whole thing, but I had to give her credit for showing up.

  I placed the palm of my other hand on Armani’s wrist, afraid of hurting her injured, twisted fingers.

  Darlene, holding Armani’s good hand, shot me a nervous look.

  I tried to smile at her reassuringly, but it probably came across as a pained grimace considering how quickly Darlene looked away.

  “Close your eyes and think of Teresa,” Armani ordered.

  Marlene, Darlene, Leslie, and Loretta immediately shuttered their gazes. Susan and I shared a sideways glance before she shrugged and closed her eyes. Armani leaned her shoulder into mine, indicating that she knew I wasn’t in compliance.

  Grudgingly I did as she asked.

  “No matter what happens don’t open your eyes. Concentrate on Teresa,” Armani said dramatically. “Will her to come to us.”

  I was pretty sure I heard God chuckle softly at the theatrics and I couldn’t help but smile slightly.

  “Stay silent and closed,” Armani whispered. “She’s here.”

  I was kind of disappointed that there was no mysterious rustling noise, or that an unexplained breeze didn’t blow in, or that the room wasn’t suddenly freezing. Hell, the hair on the back of my neck didn’t even stand up.

  “Teresa wants to thank all of you for being here,” Armani began in a strangely muffled voice. “She wants to thank you for taking care of Katie.”

  I opened one eye so that I could peek at Armani.

  Her head hung down, which explained the muffled voice.

  “Teresa says there is a plan,” Armani suddenly bellowed.

  Startled, I jumped a little in my seat. Looking around the table, I saw that everyone else still had their eyes squeezed shut.

  “A plan that is bigger than you,” my psychic friend continued.

  I tensed. Wasn’t that what Zeke had tried to tell me, that the plan was bigger than me?

  I’d never gotten a better explanation because he’d left a note in the basement saying he had to leave for a job, but he’d be back soon. I hadn’t been sorry he’d left, since I’d felt like he’d betrayed me, but now I wondered whether I’d gotten it all wrong. Had he been trying to warn me about something?

  “What plan?” Loretta whispered, her tone filled with awe.

  “But for the plan to be successful, you’ll need the fifth,” Armani announced.

  “Fifth what?” Loretta asked.

  Armani didn’t answer.

  Instead of waiting, the crowd decided to weigh in.

  “Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony?” Susan suggested. “It’s also known as the Victory Symphony.”

  “The Fifth Amendment,” Marlene offered eagerly.

  “Which is that?” Loretta asked.

  “You know,” Marlene replied. “Pleading the fifth so that you don’t incriminate yourself.”

  “Of course you’d know that one,” Susan snapped.

  “Don’t start, Aunt Susan,” Darlene warned, defending her twin.

  “A fifth of whiskey,” Leslie interjected dreamily.

  Personally, I thought pleading the fifth after drinking a fifth of whiskey sounded useful.

  “Or maybe—” Darlene began.

  “Silence!” Armani boomed.

  The group collectively gasped, but they became blessedly quiet.

  God scampered up onto my shoulder.

  “You’ll need I,” Armani declared mysteriously.

  I sensed everyone shifting uncomfortably as we all wondered what the hell “I” meant.

  “Of course we need you,” Darlene soothed softly.

  “Not I. I!” Armani replied like that made things
clearer.

  “Oh,” Loretta said, “then why do we have our eyes closed, if we need them?”