Maggie Lee (Book 22): The Hitwoman Goes To Prison Read online

  I shrugged. “I was just doing what you told me to.”

  “I told you to go to the prison and get the information we needed to free the boy’s mother,” Whitehat said in a clipped tone. “Somehow you managed to get the witness killed.”

  “We don’t know that it was me,” I said defensively.

  Whitehat shook her head, crossed her arms over her chest, and sighed. “Boscov was not a violent criminal,” she said. “By all accounts, he had no issues with anyone in the prison. You show up and arrange a meeting with him, and all of a sudden, he happens to get shanked.”

  “The guard returned the bribe money,” I told her. I pulled out the envelope and offered it to her.

  Her eyes narrowed and she pursed her lips, but made no move to take the cash. “Now that’s interesting.”

  Eventually, I lowered the envelope to my side, unsure of what to do with it.

  She jutted her chin in the direction of some children playing tag in the distance. “He’s doing well.”

  I followed her gaze and saw one of the children playing was Boy. He was running around, laughing, acting like a child. I wondered whom the other little kid was who was playing with him, but didn’t dare ask.

  “Obviously, there’s a change in plans,” Whitehat said. “Suddenly, proving Boy’s mother’s innocence is going to be a lot more difficult without a witness who can flip.”

  I nodded my understanding.

  “Maybe you really will have to break her out of prison.” Whitehat said with a dry laugh.

  Considering how much I seem to be messing everything up, that didn’t seem like the best of plans.

  15

  When I’d finished my meeting with Whitehat, Zeke drove me back to Herschel’s compound.

  “What are you going to do about Darlene?” he asked.

  I gave him a sideways glance. After my conversation with God, I knew he knew more about the situation than I seemed to. I shrugged noncommittally. “I’m hoping she’ll change her mind.”

  Zeke shook his head. “I don’t think that’s something you should count on.”

  I turned in my seat and gave him a hard look. “What do you know that you’re not telling me?”

  He looked away and squeezed the steering wheel. “Nothing.”

  I waited, staring him down. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, sighed heavily, and pointed at the stereo system of the car, indicating he thought we were being listened to.

  Shaking my head, I got out of the car and slammed the door. I stalked away, furious he wouldn’t help me with this problem.

  “Maggie,” he called after me, having rolled down his window, “don’t get too emotional.”

  I flipped him the bird without even bothering to look back.

  “What are you going to do?” God asked.

  “About what?” I asked. “I don’t know how to convince Darlene to stay, I totally messed up getting Boy’s mother out of prison, and Delveccio’s breathing down my neck about some skull that Archie stole.”

  “You don’t know that he stole it,” God pointed out.

  “What is that supposed to mean?”

  “Maybe he didn’t steal it. You really shouldn’t judge him if he’s not here.”

  “Do you really think somebody gave it to him as a gift?” I asked sarcastically.

  “Maybe somebody gave it to him for safekeeping,” God said.

  I considered that for a moment. “Like Jimmy Manetti?”

  “Could be, he kept a treasure hidden for him for all those years.”

  I frowned. That treasure had been the reason the B&B had been blown up. I hated to imagine what the repercussions of the hidden skull might be. Still, it was a possibility that I had to consider.

  “And what’s the skull?” I asked. “Insurance of some sort?”

  “Odder things have happened,” God said.

  I stopped in my tracks, trying to decide whether to head to the buildings or get in my car.

  I turned and headed for my vehicle.

  “Where are we going?” God asked.

  “To see Ian,” I said. “He’s the one who found the skull originally, maybe he knows something.”

  “I think that if he knew something, he would’ve told you,” the lizard pointed out.

  “Maybe he knows something that he doesn’t know that he knows,” I said.

  The lizard remained blessedly silent as I drove to my half-brother’s home. The last time I’d seen Ian, I’d kind of been annoyed because he’d lost the skull. Now that I’d figured out that Zippy had probably stolen and buried it, I was feeling much more inclined to listen to his story.

  When I pulled into his driveway, a furry gray creature skittered out in front of the car. I slammed to a stop and got out.

  “Is that you Matty?” I called.

  The possum, Matty, had rolled onto her side and was playing dead.

  Her nose twitched, her eye opened, and she said in a sultry voice, “Well, I’ll be,” she drawled. “It’s Maggie Lee.”

  “And I, God,” the lizard declared from his spot on my shoulder.

  I’m pretty sure the possum snickered.

  “Is Ian around?” I asked.

  “He’s in the back,” Matty told me. “Follow me.”

  The marsupial led the way around the back of the house. Ian was lying in the backyard, swinging in a hammock.

  “Visitors, darling,” the possum announced.

  Ian turned his head in our direction, a big smile lighting up his face when he saw me. “Maggie!”

  He swung himself out of the hammock and opened his arms.

  I rushed toward him and gave him a big bear hug, wanting him to know there was no bad blood between us.

  “You look tired,” he said, staring down into my face.

  “You know how it goes,” I said.

  He raised his eyebrows but didn’t say anything.

  “I need a favor,” I told him.

  “Come inside,” he said. “I’ll pour us some lemonade.”

  I wasn’t really there for a social visit to sip beverages, but I followed him into the house. The possum came along with us. “I need you to tell me about Archie’s storage unit,” I said.

  Ian pointed at an empty chair, indicating I should sit down, and

  dove into the fridge to find our drinks.

  “I guess I should never have gone there.” His words were slightly muffled since his head was in the fridge.

  “You were curious,” I said, forgiving him.

  “Curiosity killed the cat,” the possum intoned.

  “Oh my,” God drawled sarcastically. “Possum proverbs. Isn’t that just delightful?”

  The possum bared her teeth at him. It was a pretty scary sight, and I felt him scamper from my shoulder to the back of my neck, hiding beneath my hair.

  Ian placed a glass of lemonade in front of me.

  “I don’t know how much I can tell you,” he said. “There wasn’t that much in it.”

  “Except the skull,” I said.

  He hung his head and said apologetically, “And I lost that.”

  “I don’t think you lost it,” I told him. “I think it was stolen.”

  “By who?”

  “I’m pretty sure it was Zippy,” I told him. “I know you were doing me a favor by keeping him here…”

  “That despicable little tyrant,” the possum hissed.

  I glanced over at her. “He is difficult.”

  “Everyone hates him,” God declared.

  I bit my tongue to keep myself from pointing out that it wasn’t just the little white dog that was in the habit of bossing everyone around.

  Ian settled into the seat opposite me. “So how can I help you?”

  “You can answer a few questions for me,” I said.

  He nodded and took a gulp of his drink. “Shoot.”

  I’d come there to ask him about the skull, but there was another question that I needed an answer to. “Why are you spending time with the medical
examiner?”

  He blinked and leaned back in his seat. “Wow,” he said defensively. “I didn’t realize you were going to give me the third degree.”

  I tilted my head to the side and waited for him to elaborate.

  He shrugged. “She’s cute.”

  I made a mental note to tell Gino that the next time he wanted to tell me that my brother was spending time with the medical examiner, he should let me know that said medical examiner was a cute dating prospect.

  “I met her at the zoo,” Ian confided. “At the gorilla cages.”

  “How are our old friends?” I asked. I had a special fondness for the gorillas at the zoo, after they’d helped me solve a mystery.

  “Doing well,” Ian said. “I went during actual business hours, so it wasn’t like I could bring them any burritos. Anyway, that’s where I met Kristen.”

  “And you just hit it off?” I asked. “You don’t think that’s just a little…weird?”

  “Love is strange,” my brother replied.

  I swallowed the urge to ask if he was saying he was in love with this woman he’d just met at the primate display. Something about this story just didn’t feel right. “She pokes around inside of dead bodies.”

  He nodded. “For somebody who deals with death so much, she’s got a really great attitude.”

  “Maybe that’s something you should work on,” God whispered in my ear so only I could hear.

  Unfortunately, the lizard was right.

  16

  My attitude was still pretty poor when I returned to the compound. I’d been unsatisfied by the answers that Ian had given me. I wasn’t convinced with his argument that he’d met a cute medical examiner at the gorilla cage, and he wasn’t very forthcoming about the other items in my father’s storage area where he’d found the skull in the first place.

  “You have turned into a professional grouch,” God informed me after I’d parked the car and was sitting there trying to figure out what to do next.

  “I have not,” I said.

  “Have to.”

  I knew it was moronic to be sitting there having an argument with a lizard, but I really wanted to prove my point that I was not a grouch. “I’m fun,” I told him.

  He scoffed.

  “I am,” I said defensively. “Ask anyone,” I said, hearing the doubt creep into my voice.

  “Who?” the lizard asked. “Who, besides a dog who has very few brain cells, would think you’re fun?”

  “Katie,” I said decisively.

  He considered that for a long moment.

  I felt a surge of pride as I realized victory was mine. I mean, he had a point that I wasn’t much fun, but maybe all assassins are not. I wouldn’t say Patrick Mulligan is fun. Nor would I say that Gino is much fun, and I’m sure he’s killed plenty of people, too. Maybe it was just a side effect of the job. Killing people just scrubs all traces of fun from one’s DNA.

  “Okay,” God conceded. “Katie probably would say you’re fun.”

  Before he could launch into any other aspect of an argument, I jumped out of the car. “I still haven’t figured out what to do about Darlene,” I said as a way to distract him.

  He fell silent and I assumed he was mulling it over as I walked toward the main house. We weren’t quite there, when Matilda came racing toward us at full speed.

  “Help!” she squealed.

  “Kill!” Zippy, Herschel’s little white dog, growled as he chased after her, his sharp little teeth trying to catch her tail.

  “Stop!” I shouted the command.

  Matilda skidded to a halt, but Zippy kept on coming.

  “Zippy, no,” I yelled as he latched on to her ear with his teeth.

  “Ow!” she squealed.

  “There is nothing worse than a stuck pig.” God groaned and dove into my bra, as though my breasts were going to provide some sort of soundproofing protection.

  I hurried toward the two animals, who were tussling. “Cut it out, Zippy,” I said sternly. I grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and gave a tug. He released the hog.

  “Bad dog,” I told him.

  He snarled and bared his teeth at me. “Kill!”

  It took all my self-restraint not to shake him. “Are you threatening me?”

  I saw him blink and look away, realizing he had started a fight with someone much bigger than him.

  “Somebody tell me what happened?” I demanded of the animals.

  “Well…” God began from my chest.

  “Not you,” I told him.

  “Bone,” Zippy whined pitifully.

  “What about your bone?” I asked. His response was to snarl at the pig.

  I realized that she looked a bit self-satisfied. “Matilda?” I asked, knowing that I wasn’t going to like the answer to my question. “Did you take Zippy’s bone?”

  “I was only playing with him,” she pouted. If you’ve never seen a pig pout, just trust me that it’s something to behold.

  I shook my head and put Zippy back down on the ground. “I’m not going to ask you two to kiss and make up, but I am going to ask you to stop fighting.”

  “Sorry, fluffball,” Matilda snuffled.

  Zippy didn’t say anything, he just ran away, growling under his breath.

  Shaking my head, I continued on my journey toward the main house. As I drew near, I saw that Armani and the reporter, Jack Stern, who she was dating, were standing outside.

  I considered backing slowly away, but she called to me.

  “Hey, chica!”

  I raised my hand and waved weakly in response.

  “Oh good,” God said dryly from his hiding spot. “Just what we need, some more convoluted psychic advice.”

  “I was right,” Armani said as I grew closer.

  “Right about what?” I said.

  “The tiles were right.” She shook the Scrabble box that she held for emphasis. The tiles inside made a thundering noise.

  Jack flinched.

  I felt a wave of sympathy for him. It had to be hard for someone who believed in facts to listen to Armani’s version of reality.

  She, however, was oblivious to his reaction. “The tiles are never wrong.”

  “What were they right about this time?” I asked.

  Armani chuckled. “You haven’t figured it out?”

  I shook my head.

  She pointed at the pig, who was standing beside me. “They spelled her name.”

  All of a sudden, I realized the letters A A D I L M T really did spell Matilda.

  It’s not that I doubt the tiles, it’s that I often don’t understand their message until it’s almost too late.

  “So, I guess I did the right thing bringing her here?” I asked.

  Armani shrugged. “That’s not for me to say.”

  “Hey, Maggie,” Jack Stern interrupted in his deep gravelly voice, “care to give me a quote why there were two escaped convicts on your grandfather’s property?”

  I tilted my head to the side and gave him a hard look.

  He chuckled. “I didn’t think you would.”

  “There’s no story there, Jack.”

  He shook his head. “You’re a terrible liar, Maggie. Of course there’s a story there. Those cons, they knew your father.”

  “A lot of undesirable people know my father,” I said. “That’s what you get when you spend years in the prison system.”

  “So, it wasn’t a coincidence that they were captured here?” the reporter pushed.

  I fixed my gaze on Armani. “We’re going to have to lay down some ground rules of the expectations of your boyfriend, here.”

  She nodded. “No mixing business with pleasure, Jack.” She poked at his ribs to make her point.

  He opened his mouth to protest, but then saw something in her gaze that convinced him to do otherwise. He raised his hands in surrender. “Okay. I have other ways of finding my story.”

  I nodded and forced a smile. Unfortunately, I knew that Jack, a well-respected cri
me reporter, wasn’t making an empty claim. He had his teeth in the story of Archie, and it was only a matter of time until he found out about the missing skull. This didn’t bode well for me. This didn’t bode well for Delveccio. And it really didn’t bode well for my dad.

  17

  Once I’d gotten past Armani and Jack and into the house, I thought I was home free.

  I was wrong.

  “Maggie?” a voice called from the living room as soon as I cracked the door open. I considered pulling the door shut and racing away, but whoever it was had obviously been watching me through the window.

  I shuffled forward slowly, knowing it’s never a good sign when someone is waiting to talk to you.

  “Did you get the message?” Aunt Loretta asked, worry making her tone tight.

  I entered the living room and saw that she was sitting on the couch, holding the hand of her sister, Leslie.

  “What message?” I asked, a cold knot forming in my stomach.

  “About the family meeting,” Leslie supplied.

  “We’re having another family meeting?” I asked, doing my best not to wince. “What are we voting on this time?”

  “Nothing,” my twin aunts said simultaneously.

  I tilted my head to the side and looked at them carefully. Ever since the B&B had been blown up, they had been at each other’s throats, so it was a little strange to see them acting like a united front. “Then why do we need a family meeting?”

  “Darlene,” Loretta began.

  “… called it,” Leslie finished.

  Again, I had to fight the urge to wince. I tried to keep my expression neutral.

  “Do you know why?” Leslie asked.

  Loretta leaned forward, as though she was going to hang on every word of my answer.

  I shrugged. “She didn’t say?”

  The twins shook their heads.

  “When is it?” I asked.

  “In a couple of hours,” Loretta supplied.

  I felt more than a twinge of annoyance flood through me. “Why wasn’t I told about it?” I asked. It was just dumb luck that I’d happened to come back to the house. Why was I being excluded from a meeting?