by JB Lynn
“I don’t know her,” I told Armani.
“How can you not know her? She’s your mom.”
“But she’s lived in a nut— in an institution. I haven’t seen her for years.”
Armani looked at me like I was the one who belonged in a nuthouse. “But she’s your mom.”
My mom looked at me hopefully.
I’m not a bad person. I may be a contract killer, but I take a certain amount of pride in the effort I make to be a good person. I try to be polite to strangers, I don’t overindulge in office gossip, and I’m loyal to my friends and family. If I turned away from her, it would be as bad as Marlene running away from me. I couldn’t do it.
“C’mon.” I grabbed Armani’s shoulder and pushed her in front of me like she was a human shield.
“Mom, I’d like you to meet my friend Armani Vasquez. We work together. Armani, this is my mother, Mary Lee.”
“Nice to meet you.” Armani extended her good hand. “You have a beautiful aura. It sort of glitters.”
My mother looked a bit surprised by the aura comment, but she shook Armani’s hand. “It’s nice to meet you. It’s a lovely wedding, isn’t it?”
“I guess,” Armani said with a shrug. “If you’re into the whole public-display-of-affection thing.”
Mom’s laughter sounded like tinkling wind chimes. “I can see why you and Midge are friends. She hates weddings too.”
“Midge?” Armani asked.
“Middle Maggie,” Mom explained. “Theresa was the oldest. The twins were the youngest, so Middle Maggie became Midge.” Her smile faded away. “Now she’s the only one left.”
I held my breath, waiting for it, waiting for the disconnect that occurred when she got upset.
She blinked. “So you’re a friend of Alice’s too?”
“No. We just met at her bachelorette party. I’m really a friend of Maggie’s, that’s why I’m here, in case my girl needed some moral support or something.”
I was caught off guard by her revelation and more than a little touched.
“You have good friends, Midge.”
I nodded.
Armani snatched the empty champagne flute from my hand. “Good friends don’t let friends stay sober. Let me get you a refill.”
Mom and I watched her limp away.
“I’m not much of a drinker,” I said, not wanting my mother to think I was an alcoholic or something.
“Of course not. You were always the most serious of the girls. Do you mind if we sit down, these shoes are killing me.” She pointed to the sky-high stilettos on her feet.
“Loretta’s?” I asked as we sat down at a tiny round table.
“She was scandalized that I wanted to wear flats.”
I smiled at the irony that my aunt was more worried about footwear than the fact that her previously institutionalized sister was wandering around the cocktail hour without a visible chaperone.
“You looked sad standing up there, Midge.”
I looked away. “I’ve got a lot on my mind.”
“So I’ve heard. You’ve seen your father?”
Nodding, I looked back at her. A person would have to be deaf to miss the note of love and yearning in her voice when she talked about him. I’d never understood their crazy obsession with one another and I never would.
“He’s well?”
I doubted it, considering the phone call I’d gotten while at the hospital, but I didn’t want to tell her that. “He looked good when Alice and I went to see him to share the news of her engagement.”
Mom smiled forlornly. “I wish I could see him.”
“Have you seen Marlene, Mom?”
She blinked, surprised the question. “No one has.”
I nodded. If no one had seen her, what had she been doing at the hospital? Had she been visiting Katie or had it just been some bizarre twist of fate that had brought us face-to-face?
“I’m doing much better,” Mom blurted out.
“I can see that.”
“So if you wanted to come visit sometime I wouldn’t be . . . you know . . .” She twirled her finger by her ear, making the “crazy” sign.
I nodded, not wanting to make any promises I couldn’t keep. For all I knew I might have to use a temporary insanity defense if I got caught killing Garcia.
“I mean I know you’re busy with Katie, and your job, and your friends, but . . .” She trailed off sadly.
“I’m a pretty terrible daughter.”
“I was a pretty terrible mother.”
“No,” I protested. “You were sick.”
“It’s my fault that Darlene’s dead.” Her voice shook as she nervously wrung her hands. “If you’d been watching over them instead of me . . .” Tears glistened in her eyes.
I felt my own grow damp. “It wasn’t your fault.”
“It wasn’t your fault, Midge.”
“It wasn’t either of your faults.”
Mom and I both jumped as Aunt Susan inserted herself in the conversation. She put a hand on each of our shoulders. “It wasn’t anybody’s fault except the sick bastard that took her.”
“Language, Aunt Susan,” I teased weakly.
She smiled. “It’s high time both of you forgave yourselves and moved on. Your energy is better spent working toward the future than dwelling in the past.”
Out of the corner of my eye I spotted Zeke strolling over.
“Sorry to interrupt,” he said. “But Alice is asking for Maggie. It’s nice to see you, Mrs. Lee.”
I stood up to go with him and then turned back. Bending down, I hugged Mom. “I’m glad you came.” Straightening, I followed Zeke out of the room.
“You okay?” he asked as we climbed the stairs toward the bridal suite.
“I will be.”
And at least in that moment, I believed it.
The rest of the reception flowed smoothly. The bride and groom danced their first dance as man and wife; cutting the cake, they refrained from smashing it into one another’s faces; they tossed the bouquet and garter belt to a minimum of bloodshed.
Armani, of course, successfully fought off all the other single ladies for the bedraggled bouquet. The look on the face of the poor guy who caught the garter when she offered him her deformed leg to slide it up was priceless.
No one got too drunk, no disagreements broke out, and, except for the fact that not one, but two members of Lamont’s oversized-family broke chairs just by sitting on them, there was no drama at the party.
Everyone was having too good a time. I was getting nervous, as it got later and later. I had to get home to change into my waitress uniform and then get over to the Garcia wedding. I was all for celebrating and didn’t want to be the first to leave the nuptials of my best friend, but I had to go kill the guy who was responsible for my sister’s death.
In a strange twist of fate, it was my mother who came to the rescue.
She and Aunt Leslie were the first to go up to the happy couple and say their good-byes. Others soon followed suit. I joined the line.
Zeke stepped up behind me. “I thought we’d be stuck here all night.”
I ignored him. After all, he’d pretended I was invisible for the entire reception, dancing with every other single woman, and quite a few married ones, but not me. Apparently my silent treatment didn’t bother him. He didn’t say anything else to me as the line inched forward.
“Oh no!” Alice cried when she spotted us. “Are you guys going too?”
“It’s been a long weekend,” Zeke said smoothly, stepping past me to kiss her cheek. “I can’t speak for Maggie, but I’m beat.”
Hanging on Zeke’s arm, Alice asked me, “You’re not mad I invited your mom, are you?”
“I was. That was a hell of a thing to spring on me.”
Zeke gave me a warning look.
“But I’m not now,” I added hurriedly. The last thing I needed was another Alice-meltdown. I’d never get out of there. I had somewhere to be.
�
��She looks great and she recognized the necklace.” She touched the pendant.
“She does,” I agreed. “You’ve got other people who want to talk to you, so I’m going to go.”
“We’re going to go.” Zeke threw an arm around my shoulders, content to drift off of my momentum outta there.
“I’m so glad you two are getting along so well,” Alice gushed, kissing us both good-bye before turning her attention to her other guests.
I shook off his arm the second we were outside. He didn’t seem to care as he made a beeline to his car, without so much as a wave in my direction. I would have been hurt if I hadn’t been battling such pre-kill anxiety.
Rushing home, I told God and DeeDee about the events of the day as I changed into my disguise.
“I’m coming with you,” God declared.
“You can’t.”
“You’ve been threatened, you saw your sister, you talked to your mother. Quite frankly, your head is not in the game.”
The lizard was right.
“You need my help.”
He was right about that too.
“I’m not carrying a purse. There’s no way to carry you, and if I walk into a wedding with a lizard perched on my shoulder, I’m going to attract attention, and that’s the last thing I need.”
He stroked his chin thoughtfully. “You haven’t lost all of your faculties.”
“You couldn’t just say I’m right?”
“I’ll walk in when you do. No one will notice me. I can run ahead and do reconnaissance.”
“You could get trampled to death.”
“And you could get caught. Those are the risks we’re going to have to take if we’re going to keep Katie.”
“What if I lose you in the crowd?”
“We’ll rendezvous at the car.”
“You’ve been watching spy movies, haven’t you?”
“And military action flicks . . . I want to be all I can be.”
I resisted telling him he was all of a few inches long. “It sounds like a plan.”
Like plans ever work . . .
Chapter Twenty-Eight
I PARKED THREE blocks away from the location of Garcia’s daughter’s wedding. God, riding along on my shoulder, was uncharacteristically silent as I hurried along uneven sidewalks, fiddling nervously with the poison-filled pendant.
Reaching the parking lot, I bent down as though I was fixing my shoe and he scampered to the ground.
“For Katie,” he intoned solemnly like we were swearing a blood oath or something.
“For Katie.”
Climbing the steps leading to the entrance of the kitchen, I followed God, who skittered inside, unnoticed. I almost jumped out of my skin when someone grabbed my elbow.
“Hey.”
I turned to look at a young woman, who couldn’t have been more than twenty, holding me back.
“You forgot your mask,” she said.
“Mask?” Patrick hadn’t mentioned a mask. There hadn’t been one in the box. My heart started to pound. If I couldn’t get inside, I couldn’t kill Garcia. I couldn’t avenge Theresa.
She rolled her eyes. “The whole reception is a Mardi Gras theme. Have you ever heard of anything tackier?”
I shrugged. I’d spent the day in a dress the color of fish flesh.
“They’ve got spares,” the young woman said. “Take mine. Just don’t let anyone see you without it.” She shook a sequin-trimmed jester mask at me.
“Thanks.” The bell-tipped three points of the jester hat jingled as I slid the plastic half-face mask on, but I didn’t mind. I couldn’t have asked for a better disguise.
Grabbing a tray of stuffed mushrooms, I took a deep breath, and stepped into the party room. The music was already pounding, a smoke machine was churning out enough fog to put a cheesy horror movie to shame, and ravenous guests fell on my loaded tray like a pack of wild hyenas. They emptied it before I could even spot Garcia, which meant I had to return to the kitchen for a refill. It wasn’t the most efficient of plans . . .
When I returned, the crowd had taken to the dance floor. I skirted the perimeter of the parquet, but couldn’t find my target. Disheartened, I looked for God, hoping he’d had better luck.
It was dark, smoky, crowded, and loud, but somehow he must have known I needed him, because suddenly I could hear him calling me.
“Over here, you moronic biped!” he shouted.
Unable to see him, I hurried toward his voice.
“To the left!”
I turned.
“My left, you idiot!”
I turned in the opposite direction. That’s when I spotted him, jumping up and down on a giant heart-shaped ice sculpture. I hustled over.
“Death by hypothermia,” he complained, leaping off the ice and onto the back of my neck. He climbed under my hair like it was a blanket, his cold skin sending shivers down my spine. I’d never cuddled with an ice cube before.
“I can’t find him,” I said.
“That’s because he’s not here.”
“What do you mean he’s not here? The plan hinges on him being here. If he’s not here how the hell am I supposed to—”
“Shhh.” He bit my earlobe for emphasis.
I’d forgotten he had teeth. Instinctively I raised my hand to swat him away.
“Don’t you dare,” he said in his most superior tone.
I lowered my hand.
“Garcia isn’t here because the family is in another room taking pictures.”
“Why didn’t you just say that?”
“Because you didn’t shut up. This is your big chance. Go in there and give him a glass of spiked champagne. You’ll have fewer witnesses to identify you, but you’ll still do it in front of his family, which the contractor wants.”
“Contractor?”
“He who laid out the terms of the deal.”
“Hey, you!” a familiar voice called.
I turned slowly and saw the smaller guy who’d wanted to have “fun” with me in the coatroom when I’d gotten caught at the rehearsal dinner. I froze. “He recognizes me,” I whispered.
“He can’t see your face,” God hissed.
“Do you got any more of dem pigs in blankets?” the guy asked.
I stared blankly at him.
“Ya know. The little hot dog things?”
God yanked on my hair and then shoved my head upward, in effect causing me to nod at the thug. “Now walk away toward the kitchen,” God ordered. “He’ll think you’re going to get him his food.”
My legs were weak, but I managed to stumble away into the kitchen. Spotting a tray with a bottle of champagne and two flutes, I picked it up and dove back into the party.
“This is it, Maggie,” God said in my ear. “It’s your last chance to do this. It’s now or never. I’ll meet you back at the car.”
He leapt from my neck to a potted plant.
“Leapin’ lizards,” I muttered, lifting the pendant from around my neck and heading off to get my revenge against Jose Garcia.
A little girl’s giggles caught my attention before I could spike a glass of champagne with the deadly poison and serve it to my target. I searched for the source of the laughter and spotted Christina, the little girl I’d met in the hallway at the rehearsal dinner. Then I saw who was making her laugh. He was pudgier and had less hair than the last time I’d spoken to him, but Jose Garcia’s smile as he played with his granddaughter was familiar.
An invisible vise tightened around my chest making it difficult to breathe. A flush of white-hot anger heated my skin. Katie would never again be picked up by Theresa and spun around. I didn’t know if my niece would ever even smile or laugh again.
Standing in a darkened corner, watching him twirl the laughing little girl around, I was swamped with an unexpected memory.
Theresa, Darlene, Marlene, and I were in the front yard of the B&B waiting for the ice cream truck to drive by. Aunt Susan never let us get any because she said it would ruin our
dinners, but we still raced outside every time we heard the tinkling chimes.
Aunt Susan wasn’t home that day. She’d had to run out to do something with our mother and had left Uncle Jose in charge of our care. Afterward, we girls all agreed it was one of the best afternoons of our lives.
Uncle Jose flagged down the ice cream truck and bought us all our favorite sweet treats. Then once we were done eating them, and running around like maniacs from our temporary sugar high, he’d picked each of us up in turn, twirling us around. So fast that we thought we could touch the sky. So fast that we got deliciously dizzy and collapsed on the grass in giggles.
Just like he was doing with Christina.
I shivered as my anger left me. I looked at the little giggling girl and knew I couldn’t make her last memory of her grandfather be watching him die. Slowly, I put the necklace back on.
There was no way I could kill Jose Garcia.
And yet I couldn’t lose Katie.
Then I remembered the gun Patrick had left me, I’d stowed in underneath the seat of my car. I might not be able to kill Garcia here at the party, but I might be able to do it afterward. If I shot him, I reasoned, I should be able to collect at least part of the money for the contract.
Dimly aware of the DJ asking everyone to come out to the dance floor, I turned to go to the car, hoping God would meet me there, but I got swept up in the sea of people rushing toward the center of the room.
And that’s when I saw it.
The biggest, glitziest, tackiest mirrored disco ball I’d ever seen. The humongous thing had to have a diameter of at least five feet.
Just like Armani had predicted. But what did it mean?
I was so focused on the disco ball that I careened into the blue-suited back of a wedding guest with the tray.
“Sorry,” I muttered, turning around to make my escape.
Fingers snaked around my biceps, not tight enough to cause pain, but enough to cause alarm to turn my legs to jelly.
“Maggie?”
I knew that voice. Holding me in place, he stepped around me.
Zeke! Concern dampened the usual sparkle in his eyes.
“What the hell are you doing here?” we said simultaneously.
Tightening his grip on my arm, Zeke practically dragged me to the outskirts of the room. My mind raced. What was he doing here? What had he been doing at the rehearsal when he’d saved me from the goons in the coatroom? He’d never said why he was back in town, except to say it was for business. Was his business with Garcia? Was he no better than the man responsible for Theresa’s death and Katie’s condition?
