Maggie Lee (Book 22): The Hitwoman Goes To Prison Page 4

  “Why?”

  It wasn’t like I could tell him that I was a sometimes assassin for his mobster uncle. Angel was a good guy. Sure, he’d gotten caught up with the wrong crowd, and almost made a mistake, but at his heart, he was a good law-abiding citizen. I am not.

  I was saved from answering him by the door being opened and Dominic Delveccio running out and throwing himself at me.

  “Maggie! Did you bring Katie?” he asked.

  I smiled down at the little boy who’d been in a coma at the same time as my niece had. “Not today, but soon,” I promised.

  “Not today,” Angel said darkly. “But I’ll find out the truth soon.” With that, he shuffled away.

  A knot formed in my stomach at the thought of him figuring out the truth.

  But I had other things to worry about.

  9

  “He’s waiting,” Gino, Delveccio’s bodyguard, announced.

  I looked up from Dominic’s innocent face to see the cynical face of Gino’s, where he stood in the doorway of the house.

  “Let her come inside,” Gino told the child kindly.

  “But you’ll bring Katie to see me soon?” Dominic asked.

  I nodded my agreement. “I just have to work out a time with your grandfather.”

  Happy with the answer, Dominic ran back inside.

  “What did you tell him?” Gino asked as I walked past him into the expansive home.

  “You heard me,” I replied.

  “No,” Gino said under his breath. “What did you tell Angel?”

  “Nothing,” I said.

  “Didn’t look like you were saying nothing,” Gino said. “You have to be careful. You’re walking a thin line with the boss.” That was as far as his warning got because a door opened, and Anthony/Tony Delveccio strolled in.

  “So nice to see you, Maggie,” he boomed. He said it like I had just shown up unexpectedly rather than being summoned. I wondered if one of the twin brothers Delveccio had requested my presence and the other one wasn’t aware of it.

  “Nice to see you, too,” I said carefully.

  I wanted to look at Gino for guidance, but didn’t want to put the bodyguard on the spot. Delveccio waved for me to follow him and led the way into the kitchen. “Hungry?” he asked, opening the fridge and beginning to rummage inside.

  “Not really,” I told him. Part of our bonding experience was over food, so I was sure he was going to give me a snack no matter what I said.

  “Saw my nephew giving you the third degree,” he said, still rummaging in the fridge.

  “It’s hard to explain why I was on that rooftop,” I said carefully.

  Delveccio turned, his hands full of a myriad of foods. “You didn’t tell him that I sent you after him, did you?”

  I shook my head. I knew full well that my mission for him had been a secret.

  “I’m going to have to come up with something to tell him.”

  The mobster nodded slowly and placed salami, provolone, and a jar of roasted red peppers in front of me.

  “Tell him his friend told you.”

  I raised an eyebrow.

  “The one that trussed you up,” the mobster explained. “The one who left you in the hotel room.”

  “That’s exactly what I told him.” I tilted my head to the side and thought about that for a moment, trying to figure out how he knew that had happened. “Did Gino tell you about that?”

  The mobster pulled a sharp knife out of the block on the counter and examined the blade. “The redhead.”

  Gritting my teeth, I nodded my understanding. I should have guessed that Patrick Mulligan, my murder mentor and Delveccio’s sometime employee, who had witnessed my kidnapping and done absolutely nothing to help me, had told him about it.

  My stomach clenched tightly as I realized I’d revealed that Gino had been more involved in what had happened than he wanted his boss to know.

  Delveccio watched my expression carefully. “Gino had your back,” he murmured quietly.

  “He was looking out for Angel,” I said hurriedly. “I was just sort of a go between.”

  Delveccio nodded. “He’s a good man, loyal.”

  I let out a sigh of relief, realizing he wasn’t angry with his trusted employee. I’d caused enough problems for Gino. I didn’t want to do any more harm.

  The mobster began to cut the salami into thin rounds. “But that’s not why you’re here.”

  I stayed silent, waiting for him to tell me why my presence had been required.

  “The skull that Archie Lee supposedly stole,” he began slowly, concentrating on the precision of his cuts.

  I leaned back against the counter behind me, needing the support. Any time my dad’s exploits intersected with that of the Delveccios, life became exponentially more complicated.

  “Do you know where it is?” Delveccio asked, glancing up at me.

  I shook my head. “No idea,” I told him firmly. It wasn’t a lie; I knew who had hidden it, but I didn’t know where it had been taken to.

  “That’s a shame.” Delveccio pushed the salami away and turned his attention to slicing the cheese. “It would behoove both of us to get our hands on it.”

  “How so?” I asked carefully, not trying to sound too worried or too interested.

  “Let’s just say it could cause a headache for me if the Feds get their hands on it.”

  I nodded my understanding. “I don’t think they will.”

  “There’s a big difference between not thinking something and knowing it,” Delveccio said gravely. “I’d sure be indebted to someone if they could deliver the skull to me.”

  “I haven’t seen Archie,” I blurted out, not wanting him to think I was protecting my father.

  “No one has,” the mobster said mysteriously.

  At his tone, my breath caught in my throat, wondering if he had disappeared my father.

  As though he could read my expression, Delveccio shook his head. “I wouldn’t do that to you, Maggie.”

  “Do what?” I choked out.

  “Get rid of your father… without telling you.”

  I wasn’t sure if he thought I was supposed to take comfort in that, but I found it to be very disconcerting.

  “Thanks?” I asked weakly.

  He chuckled. “I’m not accustomed to having someone with divided loyalties working for me.”

  I wasn’t sure if that was a statement or a warning.

  “I’m not protecting him,” I told him. “I have other concerns.”

  Delveccio narrowed his gaze at me. “Like?”

  “Let’s just say that I have other family members that are higher priority,” I told him.

  He nodded. “I can understand that. But if I don’t get my hands on that skull, heads are going to roll.”

  10

  When I left Delveccio’s place, only after eating the snack he’d prepared me, I headed straight to U.S. Marshal Lawrence Griswald’s apartment. It may seem strange to go from the home of a mobster to the home of a law enforcement official, but I was in desperate straits.

  Aunt Susan looked surprised to see me when I showed up at their doorstep, but she didn’t make my unexpected visit feel like an unwelcome one. “Come in, Margaret.”

  “I’m sorry to barge in,” I began awkwardly, realizing too late that I should have called ahead.

  “It’s not a problem,” Susan assured me, reaching out and grabbing my hand to pull me inside.

  For my entire life, Aunt Susan has lived at the Bed & Breakfast, and there was no such thing as privacy there. It had occurred to me, while standing on the front porch of Griswald’s home, that now that she was a newlywed, she probably wouldn’t appreciate people just dropping by.

  “Lawrence,” Susan called. “It’s Margaret.”

  Griswald came out of the kitchen, drying his hands on a dishtowel. He ran his gaze over me, shrewdly assessing. “Everything okay?”

  I nodded tightly. I didn’t want to lie to him, but I knew he wa
s asking if anybody was in danger, and at the moment, nobody was. “I just needed to talk to my aunt for a bit.”

  Nodding his understanding, he said, “I’ll make you a cup of coffee.”

  He disappeared back into the kitchen and Susan led me to the living room.

  She gave me a warm smile. “Have a seat and tell me what’s on your mind.”

  I sat down on the sofa and she sat at a ninety-degree angle to me in a wingtip armchair.

  “It’s about Darlene,” I began.

  The lines around Aunt Susan’s eyes deepened and she pursed her lips, but remained silent.

  “I need to have this conversation stay just between the two of us for now,” I said.

  Susan squinted at me. “You know I’m not big on keeping secrets, Margaret.”

  “I know,” I said quietly. “But if this gets out…”

  “Everyone knows that she’s going to stay at the house and not move to the compound,” Susan said. “It’s a shame that she seems so intent on preventing her daughters from getting to know their family better, but I don’t think it’s a secret.”

  I shook my head and interlaced my fingers, trying to appear calm. “It’s a little more than that.”

  Susan, who’d already been sitting up straight, seemed to grow an inch taller. “Now what?”

  “She’s talking about leaving town,” I said softly.

  I flinched, waiting for my aunt’s reaction. I expected her to be outraged or angry or upset, but instead she seemed deflated, slumping back into her seat.

  “I’m going to convince her to stay,” I assured her, startled by the lack of fight in her.

  “And Katie?” Susan’s voice was barely a whisper.

  “I told her she can’t take her,” I said hurriedly.

  “Then who is?” Susan asked.

  “Darlene’s not going to leave,” I said with more assurance than I felt.

  “Leave where?” Griswald asked, walking in carrying a tray with a full coffee set up on it. He placed it on the coffee table then looked at me inquiringly.

  “Darlene is talking about leaving town,” I told him, hanging my head, ashamed that I had to reveal the secret to him.

  “Why?” he asked, moving to Aunt Susan’s side and taking her hand in his. He gave her a reassuring squeeze, and she perked up a little. I found myself wishing he’d do the same for me.

  I shrugged. “She doesn’t feel like she fits in.”

  Susan frowned. “I don’t think it’s anything that any of us did,” she said. “It’s too bad that nobody knows what she did in all those years while she was away from us.”

  Watching as Griswald began to pour the coffee, I nodded slowly, my mind whirling. It was too bad that nobody knew. Except… I knew somebody who might. In my hurry to get out of there, I practically seared my esophagus, gulping down the cup of coffee. While I drank the steaming brew, Aunt Susan and her husband tried to strategize a way to convince Darlene to stay. As soon as I drained the last drop from my cup, I jumped to my feet. “I have to go.”

  They both seemed startled by my quick exit.

  “But we haven’t—” Aunt Susan began.

  “I know,” I said. “I just wanted to make you aware of the problem, I’ll solve it.”

  Without even waiting for either of them to get to their feet, I hurried to the door.

  “Don’t do anything foolish,” Griswald called after me.

  I glanced back over my shoulder at him, wondering how much more he knew that he wasn’t saying.

  “I’ll call you,” I promised Aunt Susan and sped out the door.

  “That was kind of rude,” God muttered from his hiding spot in my bra. “You show up unannounced at their doorstep, drop an emotional bombshell on them, and then rush back out.”

  “I have to talk to Zeke,” I told him, jumping into the car and fumbling for my phone.

  “You’re going to see him tomorrow,” God reminded me. “Remember? You’ve got your kiwi payment to make.”

  Ignoring him, I dialed Zeke’s number and waited for three rings before he picked up.

  “Everything okay?” he asked.

  “We need to have our miniature golf match,” I told him.

  “Excuse me?”

  In case his phone was bugged, I didn’t want Ms. Whitehat overhearing our conversation, so I continued with the ruse. “You promised me a miniature golf match-up,” I told him. “Let’s do it tonight.”

  “Maggie,” Zeke sighed, clearly exasperated. “We’ve got work to do tomorrow morning.”

  “It’s important to me, Zeke,” I told him. “Really important.”

  He must have heard the desperation in my voice and realized I wasn’t talking about a miniature golf game, because he replied, “Okay. I’ll pick you up at seven.”

  “Thank you,” I said.

  “Don’t thank me yet,” he teased. “I’m gonna kick your butt.”

  Realizing that he was keeping up the pretense that this was just a game, in case there was anybody listening in on the conversation, I replied, “You wish.”

  “Seven.” He disconnected the call.

  “Okay.” God sighed with exasperation, having taken up his spot on the dashboard. “Why the urgent miniature golf game?”

  “Because Zeke might know what Darlene did while she was missing,” I told him. “He may be the one to give me the information I need to keep her and Katie here.”

  I started my car and began to drive back toward the compound.

  “Have you considered that you don’t really want to know what she did?” God asked.

  I had not, but now that he had pointed out that possibility, the information that I might learn from Zeke about Darlene’s past might severely impact our future and friendship. The thought weighed heavily on me.

  11

  Piss and Matilda kept me company while I waited for Zeke to pick me up. God had declined to accompany me so that he could instead watch his beloved Wheel of Fortune.

  I’d left him in the living room, where he could watch the scintillating program with Leslie and Loretta. DeeDee had strict instructions to bring him back to my room when he was done watching TV.

  The cat wandered around, pouncing at things I couldn’t see in the shadows, but the pig stayed close.

  Zeke soon showed up in yet another car I didn’t recognize. I wondered if its sound system was bugged, too, or if that was just a convenient excuse for Zeke to avoid uncomfortable conversations.

  When he saw the pig, Zeke got out of the car.

  “You’re keeping it.”

  “Her,” I corrected. “Matilda.”

  Zeke shook his head. “It’s probably a good thing you ended up on a farm.”

  Piss streaked up to us and rubbed against his leg affectionately. “Zeke, my Zeke.”

  He bent down and scooped her up so that they could nuzzle noses.

  “He’s nice to her,” Matilda grumbled.

  “They connected under stressful circumstances,” I whispered.

  “What?” Zeke asked.

  “I was under stress when he met me,” the pig snorted. “I was about to be roast pork.”

  I patted her head sympathetically, hoping she wasn’t going to become the clingy type. All of my pets had distinctive personalities and I’d been lucky so far not to bring home the clingy kind.

  “You ready to go?” I asked Zeke.

  He kissed the cat on the top of the head and put her down on the ground.

  “Have fun, Sugar,” Piss purred.

  “Stay out of trouble,” I ordered both animals.

  Shaking his head about the way I talk to them, Zeke got behind the wheel. I jumped into my seat and had barely closed my door when he began to drive away.

  “So what’s this about?” he asked as I buckled my seatbelt.

  I pointed to the sound system, miming my question as to whether we were being eavesdropped on.

  “Not a work car,” he assured me. “It’s safe to talk.”

  “I wa
nt to know what Darlene is up to.”

  He shrugged. “How would I know? It’s not like she reports to me.”

  “But you work for the same organization. You must know something she’s doing.”

  He glanced over. “You work for them, too. How much do you know about what I’m doing?”

  I got his point, but I didn’t like it, so I sulked.

  After a few minutes, he ventured, “You’re better off not knowing, Maggie.”

  “What you do, or what Darlene is up to?”

  “Both,” he said with a heavy sigh. “It’s safer for you that way.”

  “But—” I began to protest.

  He held up his hand to silence me. “I thought we were supposed to have some fun tonight, hang out, just be normal friends.”

  I nodded grudgingly.

  “Great. Then winner buys ice cream.”

  Bile scalded my throat at the nauseating thought of ice cream. I’d been avoiding the frozen stuff after learning it was an ideal medium for disposing bodies in.

  “Afraid?” Zeke challenged as he pulled into the miniature golf place.

  I shook my head. “You’re on. And I get the yellow ball.”

  Chuckling, Zeke got out of the car. “At least you’re all prepared to lose.”

  I didn’t lose, though. I won by a couple of strokes, though I strongly suspected that Zeke let me win in an attempt to cheer me up.

  Though we acted like friends just doing something normal together, I wasn’t able to shake the feeling things were about to go very wrong.

  It was a feeling that got worse when we were standing in the lot of the ice cream parlor, Zeke eating a sundae, and me holding a cone with nothing in it. I was laughing at Zeke as he reminded me of the time one of Aunt Loretta’s past paramours had used Aunt Susan’s prized gravy boat as a spittoon, when, out of the corner of my eye, I saw a flash of pink drive by.

  It was a distinctive pink, and a distinctive size, but when I turned to verify I’d seen what I thought I had, it had already disappeared.

  I told myself my imagination was playing tricks on me. There was no way that pink monstrosity was back.

  Or was there?