Maggie Lee (Book 22): The Hitwoman Goes To Prison Page 10

  I managed to get up without disturbing Matilda or Piss, who both just looked at me for a second and went back to sleep.

  I opened the door and stumbled down the hallway after the dog to let her out.

  The smell of freshly brewed coffee was tantalizing. I kind of wished that I could make a detour to the kitchen, but I didn’t want the dog to make noise and disturb anybody else. Reaching the front door, I threw it open for her and she bounded outside. “Stay out of trouble,” I reminded her.

  Then I closed the door and leaned against it tiredly. It had been a long couple of days. Sure, things were going a little better, considering that I had Katie under the same roof, but my father had not provided much help in regards to the skull. I replayed in my mind the conversation where he had claimed he had stolen it from the Delveccios’ home a decade or two before.

  “Then why do you think it’s cursed,” I had asked him.

  “Because Delveccio told me so,” he said.

  I’d squinted at him. “You talked to Delveccio?”

  “He’s not just a thug, you know,” my father said. “He’s much more clever than people think.”

  I nodded. I knew that well. I just didn’t want my father to know that I knew that well.

  “So why didn’t you just give it back to him?” I asked.

  “I thought it might be handy to have as leverage,” Dad said.

  “You thought it would be handy to have a cursed item in your possession?” I asked.

  “As a kind of get out of jail free card,” he said with a self-satisfied nod.

  I crossed my arms over my chest and gave him a hard look. “And yet you’ve spent so much time in jail.”

  He shrugged defensively. “You don’t understand.”

  “Then explain it to me.”

  “If I had given him back the skull, he would have stolen your mother,” Dad declared.

  I blinked, trying to absorb that information. I knew that one of the Delveccios had a crush on my mother, but I didn’t understand how Dad having the skull could keep her out of their clutches. Instead, I said, “And she’s been in the looney bin,” I said. “So, how’s that working for you?”

  “Mental health facility,” God lectured from the waistband of my jeans.

  He’s so touchy about me saying that my mother is nuts instead of mentally ill.

  Dad waved his hands dismissively. “It doesn’t matter, I don’t have it anymore.”

  “Obviously,” I said. “But people are still looking for it. People think you know where it is.”

  It was a test, of sorts, to see if he was going to throw Ian under the bus. I should have known, with my dad, what would happen.

  “It’s not my fault,” he said defensively.

  I waited for him to dig whatever hole he was going to for himself.

  “That brother of yours,” he said the words disdainfully.

  I bit my tongue, fighting the urge to defend Ian.

  “He stole it from me.”

  “Ian stole it from you?” I asked, trying to keep my tone neutral.

  “He came here and dug through my stuff, and now it’s gone.”

  “And why was he doing that?” It was a question I had asked Ian, too, and hadn’t gotten a straight answer from him.

  “Trying to solve the mystery of his birth,” Dad said, rolling his eyes.

  “You can’t blame him,” I said. “He was taken from his mother, my mother,” I said pointedly. “And you had your brother raise him.”

  “Well, what was I supposed to do?” Dad asked. “If he’d stayed with the rest of the family, he would have put you all in danger.”

  “Oh,” I said sarcastically. “So, you’ve been protecting us? That’s what you’ve been doing all these years?”

  My father got up from his chair and began to pace around the small space. “You’re always so hard on me, Maggie May.”

  I fought the urge to tell him that he got exactly what he deserved. “I can understand why Ian would want to know who his father is,” I said.

  Dad stopped walking and gave me a look. “But you’ve already figured that out, haven’t you?”

  “Delveccio,” I said without an ounce of doubt.

  Dad nodded and looked away.

  “You shouldn’t blame your mother,” he said.

  “Blame her for what?” I asked.

  “Being unfaithful,” he said. He stood proudly. “She didn’t know what she was doing.”

  I nodded slowly, trying to figure out how to traverse this particular mine field. On the one hand, I truly believe my mother probably didn’t know what she was doing, and on the other, I can understand how her infidelity must have hurt him.

  “But why give him to Thurston?” I asked.

  “Because Mary would never have forgiven me if I had just given him to a stranger,” Dad said.

  “What else would he have found here, besides the skull?” I asked.

  Dad turned away from me. “I don’t know.”

  I knew the fact that he was making such a point of not looking me in the eye meant that he was lying.

  “Okay,” I said tiredly. “I’ve had a really long couple of days and I just can’t deal with this.”

  Dad turned back to me. “Delveccio said something about a gypsy curse,” Dad confided.

  I wondered if that was why the mobster was so intent on retrieving the skull. He didn’t strike me as the superstitious type. But it was hard to know what motivates a person.

  “I’ll try to find it,” I told my father.

  “You shouldn’t,” Dad said. “It really is cursed; it brings trouble everywhere.”

  I shook my head. “You have no idea what my life is like Dad,” I said. “I’m already cursed. This would actually help me alleviate one of my problems.”

  26

  But I was also blessed, something I was reminded of as I stood in Herschel’s hallway.

  “Aunt Maggie!” Katie threw herself at me.

  I barely had enough time to react, and came pretty close to dropping her, as she launched herself full speed into my arms.

  “Grandpa says that I can ride Irma today,” she told me excitedly.

  I gave her a squeeze and then put her down on the ground. It was strange to hear her call anybody grandpa, but I realized that Herschel was. I mean, technically, he’s her great grandfather. He’s my grandfather, mine and Marlene’s, but we don’t call him that. “You’re going to ride Irma?” I asked, wondering what the moody donkey thought of that.

  Katie nodded excitedly. “And Grandpa says that you have a pig now.”

  “That’s true.”

  “Maybe I can ride him.”

  “It’s a her,” I told her. “And you’re not allowed to ride the pig.”

  For a second, I thought she was going to pout, but she was in too good of a mood to do that. “Grandpa says to come get some coffee,” she said importantly. “That was my task.”

  “And you did it very well.” I patted her on the head and followed her into the kitchen.

  Herschel was sitting at the table, sipping from a cup. “Good morning, Maggie.”

  “Morning.” I moved to the coffee maker and poured myself a steaming mug.

  “Katie tells me that you’re going to allow her to ride Irma,” I said carefully. “Have you discussed this with her?”

  The old man chuckled. “Yes.”

  I couldn’t tell from his answer if he meant he had discussed this with Katie or the donkey. I really wanted to know that the donkey was okay with it before I let me niece climb on top of her. I’d seen the power of Irma’s kick and I didn’t want anything happening to Katie.

  Piss sauntered into the room and looked around expectantly.

  “What are you waiting for?” Herschel asked her.

  The cat sat down and began to preen herself. “Templeton, he gives her cream,” I explained.

  “I could give her cream,” Katie offered.

  “No, sweetheart, we’ve discussed this, only
adults feed the animals.”

  Katie stamped her foot. “I never get to have any fun.”

  Instead of responding, I moved over to a loaf of bread on the counter. I opened the packaging and removed a slice. “Now, if you want to share this with Mike,” I told her, “that’s allowed.”

  “He’s here?” Katie asked. “I haven’t seen him in the longest time.”

  That caught me off guard. Mike had obviously been watching her closely, reporting to me on Darlene’s activities. I wondered why he hadn’t interacted with his favorite little girl. “He should be here,” I told her. “Come on, we’ll go look for him.”

  “Mike’s the crow?” Herschel called after us.

  I gave him a thumbs up as I walked away.

  DeeDee and Mike were involved in a conversation when we stepped outside. When they saw us, they both fell silent.

  “Everything okay?” I asked.

  “Everything’s fine,” Mike said. “Now that Katie’s home.”

  I nodded.

  Katie ran toward him.

  “Good morning, Irma,” I called as I entered the barn.

  “Good morning,” she said. “How are you today?”

  I eyed her suspiciously, finding it strange she was being so friendly.

  “I’m fine, how are you?”

  “I got an apple,” she bragged. “And I’m going to get three more later.”

  “That’s awesome.” I made a mental note that this was the way to win the donkey’s heart.

  “I just have to let the child ride me,” Irma confided.

  “And you’re okay with that?”

  She pawed the ground in front of her. “That used to be my job,” she told me proudly. “I’d go to children’s parties and they would ride me. It was a lot better than standing around in a barn all day with nothing to do.”

  “I didn’t know,” I told her.

  “You never asked,” she told me. “You just made assumptions that this is where I spent my whole pathetic life.”

  “I don’t think you’re pathetic,” I hurried to tell her. “I think you’re a superhero. You saved me from that bad man.”

  She snorted her satisfaction. “Everyone needs a sense of purpose,” she told me. “My new purpose is to make the kid happy.”

  I nodded my approval and rubbed her long nose. “Thank you.”

  “You have more help than you think you do,” she told me.

  My cell phone buzzed, and I glanced at the display. “Pick you up in thirty minutes.” I didn’t recognize the number. That meant it could be almost anybody. Or at least one of the three men who send me messages like that: Patrick, Gino, or Zeke.

  “I’ve got to go,” I told the donkey.

  I started to leave the barn and called over my shoulder, “Just out of curiosity, what kind of apple is your favorite?”

  “Granny smith, I like them tart, like me!” Her braying laughter followed me out of the barn.

  I returned to find Piss had joined DeeDee and Mike in keeping Katie entertained. Herschel was out on the porch, watching them all.

  “I have to go out,” I told him. “Could you or somebody else keep an eye on her?”

  “I think we’re all going to keep an eye on her,” he remarked.

  “I appreciate that,” I told him.

  He nodded. “If there’s anything else you need help with…”

  “I think I’ve got a handle on it,” I lied smoothly. It wasn’t like I could tell him I was now in search of a cursed skull.

  “Susan’s throwing a welcome home dinner for Katie,” Herschel informed me. “Try not to miss it. I know they both want you there.”

  “I’ll try.”

  I quickly returned to my room, changed clothes, and scooped up God.

  “Where are we going?” he asked.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Can I come? Can I come? Can I come?” Benny asked.

  I peered into the tissue box at the little white mouse with his quivering whiskers. “I’m sorry, buddy. I don’t know where I’m going so I can’t bring you.”

  I felt badly that he was going to be left alone in the room. “I don’t know what to do,” I told him. “I don’t want to leave you all alone, but if one of my aunts saw you…”

  “I’ll keep him company,” Matilda snorted.

  Looking over, I realized that she’d burrowed under the bed coverings.

  I considered once again telling her she didn’t belong in the bedroom, but I was glad Benny was going to have some company, so I held my tongue.

  I went out the back door of the house to avoid running into anyone, and quickly made my way to the end of the driveway, telling God about the text I’d received. A car pulled up, one I was unfamiliar with.

  “Who do we think it is?” he asked from where he was perched on my shoulder.”

  “I’m guessing Zeke,” I said.

  The window of the car rolled down and my theory was proven right. “Ready to go to prison, Maggie?” he asked.

  “The last time I did that, somebody ended up dead,” I reminded him.

  “Yeah,” he said. “But this time you’re going in undercover.”

  I narrowed my gaze. “Undercover?” I was pretty sure that wasn’t in my repertoire. Angel didn’t think I was trustworthy when I was telling the truth. Granted, an abridged truth, but I should have been able to convince him. How was I going to fool anyone else into believing me. This could be a disaster.

  “Oh, this does not sound good,” God warned, reinforcing my fear. “I don’t think you should do this.”

  Still, as Zeke leaned over to the other side of the car and opened the door for me, I climbed inside.

  “I’m going to prison undercover?”

  “Don’t worry. You’ll be perfectly safe.”

  Tell someone to “calm down” and they don’t. Tell me not to worry, and you’ve just about guaranteed an anxiety attack.

  27

  I’m not cut out for prison.

  I mean, I know I’ve done things that should probably land me here, and it’s my fear that I’ll end up inside one day. Looking around the place, with its institutional construction and simmering inmates doing time, I was more convinced than ever that I couldn’t let myself wind up here. So it was kind of ironic that’s exactly where I was.

  I sat in a small gray room. There was a tiny window no larger than a ship’s porthole that looked out on the parking lot.

  I sat behind a desk, a folder laid out in front of me, like I was there for some sort of official reason, not smuggled in by who knows whom to meet with Boy’s mother.

  Zeke had assured me that this plan would work. That everything was under control. All I had to do was pretend to be a social worker, evaluating Boy’s situation.

  I waited nervously, waiting for his mother to be escorted to the room. I didn’t think I looked like a social worker, dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, but nobody at the prison had given me a second look. I wasn’t sure if that’s because they had been paid off, or because no one truly cared. Finally, the door opened, and a woman about my age shuffled in.

  “Have a seat,” I said, waiting for the door to be closed behind her. I didn’t need any nosey guards listening in on our conversation.

  She did as she was told, clasped her hands in her lap, and looked down at the floor.

  “Your name?” I asked.

  She glanced up, surprised, her eyes skittering over the folder that was closed on the desk.

  “Rhonda Pelly,” she said quietly.

  “Have you been told why I’m here?” I asked. I was doing my best to look and sound officious. Even though I was fighting the urge to vomit.

  “No,” she said. “I don’t believe I’ve been in violation of any—”

  I held up my hand to stop her. Then, I held up a finger to indicate she should wait just a moment. I pulled my key chain out of my pocket and looked at the fob that was on it. Zeke had told me that if I pushed the green button it would provide interference
from any cameras or listening devices in the space. I just had to remember to turn it off when I was ready to leave.

  I pushed the green button and counted to three. “I’m here about Boy,” I told her, leaning across the desk.

  She blinked, surprised. “Boyd?”

  I tilted my head to the side. “Your son’s name is Boyd with a D?”

  She blinked. “Is there another way to spell it?”

  I didn’t have the heart to explain to her that her son believed that his name was Boy because her horrible ex-boyfriend, now dead boyfriend, had convinced him of that.

  “Is he okay?” she asked worriedly.

  I nodded. “He’s safe.”

  I leaned back in my chair and gave her a long assessing look. She didn’t look like any career criminal to me, so I really didn’t understand what she was doing here.

  “Tell me how you ended up here,” I said, waiting to hear her story.

  She shrugged. “Why bother? No one ever believes me.”

  “Try me,” I urged. “I promise you, I’m not like everybody else.”

  She finally raised her gaze to meet mine, searching. I held it steadily, trying to will her to understand that I was there for her benefit.

  Finally, she nodded slightly and began to tell her story. “It started when my grandmother died.” She clasped her hands even tighter, cutting off the blood flow to her fingers, making her knuckles turn white.

  “Go ahead,” I urged softly. I fought the urge to look at my watch, not wanting her to feel rushed, but knowing I only had a finite amount of time in this room alone with her.

  “I didn’t do what they said. I had no drugs on me when they arrested me,” she insisted. She rubbed her arms nervously. “I mean, I did, the first time, but I was a teenager then, nineteen.”

  I nodded, waiting for more.

  “And then the inheritance thing happened.”

  “Inheritance?” I said.

  “My grandmother left me this plot of land,” she explained. “The Concords really want it.”

  I considered that for a long moment. I’d had my own run-ins with the Concord family. I didn’t necessarily like or trust most of them. But they were the most powerful family in town and the county, and pretty high up there in the state.