The Hitwoman and the Exorcism

by J. B. Lynn

  “He’s with Irma,” Piss said. “I’ll go tell DeeDee you’re back.” She turned and pranced back around the corner.

  God, perched on my shoulder, said, “I guess we’re going to the barn.”

  “I guess so,” I said on a heavy sigh.

  “You know that straw really irritates my skin,” the lizard complained.

  “Don’t even try it,” I told him. “If I need help convincing Herschel to help me, I expect you to back me up.”

  The lizard was uncharacteristically quiet. Strolling over to the barn, I found Herschel brushing Irma, the donkey.

  “Maggie,” the donkey brayed with a warm greeting. “Did you bring me any apples?”

  I shook my head. Everybody wanted fruit from me lately. The lizard had been obsessed with scurvy, the donkey wanted apples, and a guy I had visited in prison had wanted kiwis.

  “How was your visit with Mary?” Herschel asked quietly.

  I saw the doubt in his eyes when he asked about his daughter. “She was better today,” I told him. “More lucid than she’s been in a long time.”

  Herschel nodded. “I take it that’s a good thing?”

  I shrugged. Knowing how crazy my life was, I wasn’t sure that being grounded in reality was such a great thing.

  “You should go see her,” I suggested.

  Herschel shook his head. “Susan’s already told me that I shouldn’t. It would be too confusing for her,” he said. “Me coming back after all these years.”

  I nodded slowly. If he caught her on a day she wasn’t lucid, it probably would upset her.

  I frowned, feeling sorry for him. Before I could say something to make him feel better, God decided to speak up.

  “We need a favor,” the lizard said.

  Herschel squinted at the lizard perched on my shoulder. “Who’s the we?”

  “Me,” I supplied quickly.

  “What can I do for you, Maggie?” my grandfather asked, putting down the brush that he’d been using on the donkey.

  “I need to talk to you about Zippy,” I began carefully.

  I could tell from the way he straightened slightly and his jaw clenched that he was feeling defensive.

  “Look,” Herschel said. “I know he hasn’t been the best behaved dog, but you have to admit it’s been a big change, having all of these people and animals here.”

  I nodded my understanding. “Does he seem… different to you?”

  Herschel shrugged. “He’s on edge.”

  “He’s a monster,” Irma opined.

  Herschel glanced at the donkey, surprised. “You too?”

  The donkey pawed at the ground with her front hoof. “He’s changed, Herschel. I knew him before everybody else arrived. He was great. He was pleasant and funny. Now he’s just a monster to everyone. Even me.”

  Herschel let out a tired sigh and leaned against the wall, running a hand over his face. “He is different,” he admitted.

  “Does he remind you of anybody now?” I knew I was fishing, and the chances of him coming up with the answer that I was looking for was a thousand to one, but I figured it was a good entry point to the conversation.

  Herschel considered the question for a long moment, then nodded slowly. “Actually, he does.”

  “Who?”

  He looked around, as though making sure none of his daughters were in earshot, and then said, “He sort of reminds me of your grandmother.”

  “Me too,” I admitted. “In fact, according to Armani’s friend RV, he—”

  “The owner of the pink camper?” Herschel interrupted to ask.

  “According to her, Zippy is possessed by grandmother.”

  Herschel frowned. “And you believe her?”

  “I believe a lot,” I said. “Ever since I started talking to this one.” I pointed to the lizard who was on my shoulder.

  “I believe her, too,” the lizard offered.

  I knew he was backing me up, but it annoyed me that he was doing it after he questioned whether I was being naïve about the whole possession thing in the first place.

  Herschel nodded slowly. “Well, how the hell do we get rid of the bitch?”

  10

  Before I could even answer Herschel or even start to come up with a plan, another set of tires rolled down the driveway. I stepped out of the barn to see who it was pulling in this time. I didn’t like the look of the two men who emerged from the car. Their suit jackets were stretched tight over their muscles and made their shoulders look three times as broad as their necks—and their necks were pretty thick. The driver stared at me for a long moment before saying, “You live here?”

  “Can I help you?” I responded. I wasn’t in the mood to answer questions, and definitely not the questions of two hired goons.

  “We are representatives of the Concord family,” the driver said. He pulled out a rumpled sheet of paper from his suit jacket and held it out. “One of their employees has gone missing.”

  My gazed skittered over it. It was a missing persons flyer.

  “Have you seen this man?” the driver asked, eyes narrowed.

  Shaking my head, I raised my gaze to meet his and saw the threat that was lurking in his eyes. I knew that he knew that I knew who the man was. I just hoped that he didn’t know what I knew, which was that Patrick had already killed him and disposed of the body.

  “Are you sure?” he asked. “His car was found not too far from here.”

  “Can’t help you,” I said with a shrug.

  “The Concords are very upset,” the driver told me in a cold tone.

  “It must be hard to lose a valued employee,” I countered.

  Herschel walked out of the barn and put a hand on my shoulder. “What’s going on?”

  “These gentlemen are looking for someone,” I said.

  The driver held the flyer up for my grandfather to look at. “Have you seen him?”

  Herschel shook his head. “Can’t say that I have.”

  “Well,” the driver said. “As I was saying, the Concords are upset about this loss. They’ve suffered a number of losses recently and are very frustrated.”

  He stared at me as he made the announcement.

  I forced myself not to even blink, not to back down from the challenge I heard in his voice. I knew he was there to threaten me, that the Concords knew that I had something to do with the escape of Rhonda Pelly and they had every right to think that I’d had something to do with their now missing employee. But I couldn’t afford to show any weakness, I didn’t want to let them know that their presence here on Herschel’s compound frightened me.

  Matilda lumbered out and asked, “What’s going on?”

  Obviously, I couldn’t answer her in front of the two men, but they both looked at the oinking pig.

  Herschel, sensing my tension, squeezed my shoulder. I wasn’t sure if he was warning me or letting me know that I had his support. As much as I appreciated Matilda’s presence, I really would have preferred the company of the Doberman pinscher so much more.

  “Mind if we have a look around?” the driver asked, turning his attention back to me.

  “Around my property?” Herschel asked, outrage pinching his tone.

  The driver nodded. “If you don’t have anything to hide…”

  “We don’t have anything to hide,” Herschel said. “But I’ll be damned if I’m gonna let some strangers wander around my property looking for who knows what.”

  “So, you’re going to be uncooperative?” the other man asked, finally speaking.

  Herschel’s gaze ricocheted over to him. “Uncooperative?”

  “Your man is not here,” I told the driver sternly. That wasn’t a lie. Patrick and I had loaded his body into the trunk of his car and he’d driven off with him. So technically, he wasn’t here.

  “We’d prefer to make that determination ourselves,” the driver said. “We’ll just have a look around.”

  As he and his partner fanned out and began to search the land around
the house, Herschel whirled away from me and disappeared back into the barn.

  I hesitated, unsure of what to do. “My grandfather doesn’t want you here.” I specifically raised my voice, hoping that someone inside the main house would hear the confrontation and help.

  “We’re here to do a job,” the driver replied.

  “Get out!” I yelled. “Get off our property before I call the police!”

  The driver looked annoyed by my outburst but continued his search.

  Herschel came barreling out of the barn behind me, a pitchfork clasped in his gnarled hands. “You get off my land,” he said, charging toward the driver and taking a stab at him.

  The other man reached under his jacket. Afraid he was reaching for a gun, I screamed, “Stop!”, terror making my voice pitched higher than usual. I didn’t want to see Herschel shot, especially when there was nothing to hide.

  Both Herschel and the man froze for a moment.

  “What’s going on?” U.S. Marshal Lawrence Griswald asked, stepping out of the house. His gun was at his side, clasped in his hand.

  He gave the driver a hard look, ignoring the fact Herschel was threatening him with a barn implement.

  DeeDee, taking her lead from Griswald, came bounding out of the house and began snarling and growling at the other man.

  “They’re looking for a missing person,” I told Griswald quickly.

  “And they won’t get off my land,” Herschel said, making another jab at the driver.

  Concord’s man jumped back.

  “You men have a search warrant?” Griswald asked, although it was apparent from his tone that he didn’t think they did.

  “We’re private security,” the driver said. “For the Concords.”

  “Well, color me impressed,” Griswald said sarcastically. “This gentleman asked you to get off his land, I’m suggesting you do it.”

  “And who are you, old man?” the driver asked, taking a step toward Griswald.

  The marshal raised his gun and leveled it at the man’s head. Remembering what Aunt Susan said about Griswald retiring, I didn’t think he’d made the best choice in calling Griswald an old man.

  “I’m a U.S. Marshal,” Griswald said. “Not on the payroll of the Concords, and I’m quickly losing patience with you.” He stood there, gun leveled at the driver’s head, not backing down.

  For a moment, I felt a surge of respect for him. He wasn’t about to give an inch. He must have been a formidable foe when he was a younger man.

  The driver must have recognized that, too, since he raised his hands in surrender. “Okay, fine, we’re going.” He and his partner walked slowly back to their car. The passenger got in his side, but the driver stood there for a long moment. He held out the flyer to me one more time. “If you see him, let us know.”

  “Sure,” I said, knowing full well that the man who had worn an Elvis mask and had come to threaten me was never going to be seen again.

  With that, he got into the car.

  “DeeDee, get back to Katie,” I urged.

  “Protect!” she barked, racing back into the house.

  The rest of us watched as the car slowly drove away.

  Griswald lowered his gun, eyes still on the car. “Now what have you gotten yourself into?”

  I shrugged helplessly. “I was just talking to Herschel in the barn. They showed up looking for their co-worker.”

  “And I’m sure you know nothing about that, right?” Griswald asked, eyebrows raised.

  I shook my head. “I have no idea where the guy is.”

  Griswald gave me a hard stare, as though trying to assess if I was lying.

  In my mind, I was telling the truth. I really had no idea what Patrick had done with the body. I really didn’t know anything useful that I could tell anybody.

  With a shake of his head, Griswald turned to Herschel. “You shouldn’t threaten people with pitchforks. They’re very ineffective weapons.”

  “Well, what was I supposed to do?” Herschel asked. “Just let them look around?”

  Griswald looked at us both, frown lines etched between his eyes. “That’s what most people would have done, if they had nothing to hide,” he muttered, going back inside.

  11

  As Herschel trudged back into the barn to replace the pitchfork, I saw a flash of red from behind the copse of trees. I squinted, and a face popped out from underneath the splash of red. Patrick Mulligan motioned for me to go toward him.

  I glanced around, making sure that neither Herschel, nor Griswald, had seen him. Trying to seem nonchalant, I began to walk up the driveway, as though I was headed to the RV.

  After about thirty yards, Patrick started walking parallel to me, even though he was still in the woods.

  I cut across so we were standing face to face.

  “Are you okay?” he asked.

  I nodded, hating myself for how much the concern in his voice meant to me.

  “I was worried about you,” the redhead said.

  “Those guys were looking for Elvis,” I replied. The Concords’ man had been wearing an Elvis mask when he’d attacked me and Patrick had run him down.

  “Yeah,” Patrick said. “I saw them checking out his car earlier, then followed them here. I wouldn’t have let them hurt you.”

  “Thanks,” I said. Considering it was his fault they had come here looking for the guy, because he had hit him with his car, I wasn’t feeling particularly grateful.

  “Griswald seems a little,” Patrick hesitated, searching for a term, “on edge.”

  “He’s getting close to retirement,” I replied. Like that explained why he pulled his gun on two strangers.

  “Is that all?”

  “Well,” I said, “I know from firsthand experience that spending prolonged periods of time with my family can make people crazy.”

  “Is that why you were visiting your mother today?” Patrick asked.

  I put my hands on my hips, my mouth dropping open in surprise. “How do you know that?”

  “I make it my business to always know where you are,” Patrick said. “How else could I keep an eye on you?”

  I shook my head. I didn’t know how I felt about that, or that Gino was always tracking my movements, too. It made me feel like I never had a moment’s privacy. Then again, between the two of them, it almost always meant I had backup when I got myself in trouble.

  It was sort of a relief to know that Patrick had been in the woods when Concord’s goons had been at my door. I had no doubt that he would have intervened if something else happened.

  I smiled up at him. “What are you doing here, Patrick?”

  “I messed up,” he said.

  “By not getting rid of the car Elvis drove?” I asked

  “Well, partly that,” Patrick said. “But I was thinking how I messed up with us.” He dropped his voice at the end, and the deeper tone massaged something within me.

  I felt myself swaying toward him, my body betraying me. Logically, I know he’s not the best for me, but he’s always had this pull over me that I can’t explain. Even after he chose his insane girlfriend over me.

  Of course, now she was dead, so she was no longer an issue, having fallen on a syringe while trying to kill me.

  My relationships are very complicated.

  “Not this again,” God groused from his hiding spot in my bra.

  Patrick chuckled at the squeaking noise. We heard a car pull down the driveway from the street.

  “I don’t want to be seen,” he said. “I’ll be in touch soon.”

  I watched as he disappeared into the trees.

  The approaching car stopped out of sight. I wondered what that meant.

  Slowly, hoping that Patrick was still in the area acting as my backup, I began to walk, searching for it.

  “You cannot get involved with him again,” God said.

  I knew he was right, but I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. Besides, it felt good to know that I had a hitman/ment
or still interested in me.

  I walked around the bend and spotted Jack Stern’s car parked by the RV. He had gotten out and was walking around the camper. He hadn’t noticed me, and I watched with interest as he tried to peer into the windows.

  “Help you, Jack?” I called out, startling the reporter.

  He jumped away from the RV and turned to face me, guiltily.

  “Snooping?” I asked, continuing up the driveway to lessen the distance between us.

  Jack shook his head. “I was looking for Armani.”

  “In there?”

  Instead of answering me, he asked a question, which I assumed was a reporter’s tactic. “Is somebody squatting on your land?”

  I shook my head. “The owner is a friend of ours.”

  Jack raised his eyebrows. “Really? Did you meet them when Armani bought her RV?”

  I didn’t answer. I had known RV before Armani ever bought her camper, but I wasn’t about to let him know that. If he had a million and one questions, he could ask them of his girlfriend. But I doubted that he would. Jack is a smart man, and he seemed to have a healthy fear of irritating the woman he’s dating.

  “Armani’s not here,” I told him.

  “Do you know where she is?”

  “The Corset,” I said, naming my aunt’s lingerie shop. “Do you know it?”

  Jack nodded. “She likes that place. She’s buying part of it or something.”

  I nodded. That was Armani, investing in businesses that she liked. Because I was annoyed with Jack for his snooping, I added, “They’re auditioning male strippers.”

  I let the phrase just hang in the air between us, and Jack’s eyes grew wide for a moment. ‘’Dancers, exotic dancers,” I made sure to clarify. Honestly, I didn’t know if they were strippers, or exotic dancers, or if they were all men, or a mixture, but it was worth it to watch Jack’s horrified expression.

  He cleared his throat awkwardly. “Well, if you could tell her I was here.”

  “Or you could call her,” I suggested. “Or you could go see her at The Corset.”

  Jack shook his head and glanced at the camper van. “No,” he said, distracted. “I’ve got something I’ve got to research.”