9 The Hitwoman's Downward Dog (5 page)

I wondered if he’d sensed that there was more to my relationship with Patrick than he’d let on.

The doors opened on Katie’s floor and I burst into the hallway, glad to escape the intimate space we’d shared. He followed closely behind.

"I’d like to help you find your friend," he offered.

"I don’t need your help," I huffed, adding as an afterthought. "I’ve been told not to interfere with their investigation."

"So there
is
an investigation?"

Angry at myself for revealing that information, I spun around and poked him in the chest with a finger. "Don’t do that."

"Do what?" He caught my hand.

"Don’t trick me into saying stuff I shouldn’t."

"I wasn’t trying to trick you." He turned my hand over and stared at my palm. "You’re hurt."

I yanked my hand free of his grasp. "It’s a scrape."

"What happened?"

"I fell."

"And you didn’t stop to clean it up?"

"There wasn’t time. I had to get here for an important meeting."

"With who?" He watched me carefully.

"With my niece’s doctors," I said matter-of-factly as though I didn’t realize he’d been wondering if my meeting had been with Patrick. "I’m her legal guardian, which means all her medical decisions fall to me."

"That must be a lot of pressure."

"I do the best I can." My voice cracked, revealing the stress I was under. Doing my best was what had gotten me into the killer-for-hire business. Sometimes all the decisions I had to make got to me.

"I’m sure you’re doing great," he murmured sympathetically.

"There you are," a familiar voice trilled from behind me.

I closed my eyes, trying to wish her away.

"No time to dilly-dally. Places to go. People to see," she called.

I turned slowly to face my Aunt Leslie, who embraced me in a perfunctory hug. There was a time, not long ago, when she was the world’s most mellow pothead. Ever since she’d stopped doing drugs, she’d become a bit of a mini-tyrant.

"Who are you?" she asked nosily, staring at Jack with unabashed curiosity.

"Aunt Leslie, this is Jack. Jack, I’d like you meet my Aunt Leslie."

"A pleasure, ma’am." Jack’s smile and nod were exceedingly polite as though he sensed that Leslie would take issue with anything else.

Leslie eyed him suspiciously. "Haven’t I seen you before?"

My gaze ricocheted between the two of them worriedly. Had Jack checked up on me more than I’d realized?

"Yes, ma’am." This time Jack’s smile was icy. He stared at my aunt, a silent warning glittering in the depths of his dark eyes. "I’ve spent quite a bit of time here in the hospital."

Leslie shrugged. "That must be it. It’s almost time for the meeting with the doctors, Maggie."

"That’s why I’m here," I replied coolly, unwilling to let her boss me around.

"And Mr. Delveccio wants to talk to you."

I inwardly winced. The last thing I needed the reporter to hear was that the local mobster was looking for me.

"Delveccio?" Jack asked immediately. "As in the crime family?"

"His grandson is a patient," I explained quickly, hoping to nip his curiosity in the bud. "He and my niece share a room."

"He’s really a very nice man," Leslie opined, "despite what the papers say. He’s been very kind to Katie."

I nodded my agreement. Without the assassination jobs he hired me for, I would have never been able to afford Katie’s care. Plus, he’d offered her protection when some very bad people who were after my father threatened to harm her.

Of course I didn’t tell Jack Stern that. What I said to
him
was, "He plays Go Fish with her all the time."

"And lets her win," Leslie added, walking away toward Katie’s room.

"She cheats," I said.

"Your niece cheats at cards?" Jack asked incredulously.

I nodded.

"And your cat’s a strung-out addict?’

"And she"—I pointed at Leslie—"is just one of my three crazy aunts."

"We’re ready for you, Miss Lee," a nurse said as she too headed for Katie’s room.

I shrugged an apology of sorts at Jack. "If you’ll excuse me…"

"Good luck."

I walked away thinking I’d need a lot more than luck. And that was
before
the doctors made their big reveal.

I was shaking, literally shaking, when I returned to the Bed and Breakfast. Bypassing the main entrances, I crept into the basement apartment where I lived, through the storm cellar doors.

I knew Zeke had let DeeDee, the grammatically-challenged Doberman pinscher, out, when she greeted me with an excited yip of, "Maggie!" instead of her usual, "Gotta! Gotta!"

"Quiet, good girl," I pleaded, not wanting the humans in the house to know I was there.

She immediately fell silent, but licked my hand to make sure I knew how happy she was to see me.

"Something wrong, sugar?" Piss drawled, dragging herself out from beneath the sofa. She did her best to focus her one good eye on me, but the painkillers in her system softened what would have been a sharp look.

Instead of answering, I stumbled to the couch and sank down on it, trembling.

"Scared?" DeeDee panted worriedly, leaping up to sit beside me, her breath hot on my cheek.

"Don’t just sit there like a sniveling lost soul. Use your words and tell us what’s going on," a snooty Englishman’s voice boomed from across the room.

I glared at the terrarium where a small, brown anole paced impatiently. Godzilla, who prefers to be called God for short, stopped long enough to glare at me with his little beady reptilian eyes. "Speak, biped."

"The doctors want to send Katie home next week."

"Ice cream!" DeeDee barked excitedly.

"Shhh!" I scolded.

The first time the dog had met Katie was when I’d smuggled her out of the hospital for ice cream. They’d hit it off immediately and now DeeDee associated the little girl with the cold treat.

"I don’t do kids." Piss slunk beneath the sofa.

God waved his tail to celebrate. "That’s wonderful news."

"No it’s not," I countered. "It’s terrible. I’m not ready. I live in a basement with a motley menagerie and I kill people for money." I groaned, as saying that out loud reminded me that the mob boss Delveccio had wanted to see me. I’d been so upset by the doctors’ update that I’d completely forgotten about that meeting.

"
I,
" the lizard informed us haughtily, "am not motley."

Ignoring him, I continued to rant. "She needs a stable home. With someone who knows how to take care of her. Not someone whose life is in constant chaos. What kind of environment is that for a child? Don’t answer that." I held up a warning hand. "I know what kind of environment that is. I grew up in chaos. I can’t put her through that. She deserves better. What am I supposed to do?"

"Talking to yourself?" Zeke asked from the stairway to the kitchen.

"Aaah!" I screamed, frightened by his unannounced arrival.

"Hungry!" DeeDee barked.

Zeke raised his hands in surrender. "Sorry I didn’t knock, but I didn’t know you were down here."

"You almost gave me a heart attack," I complained.

"I needed to take this call in private." He held up his cellphone.

I waved him in the direction of the bathroom. "Go in there."

He went in and closed the door behind him without protest.

"How much did he hear?" I whispered to God.

"Most of it I imagine."

My heart sunk. Did Zeke now know I was a killer? I buried my head in my hands. Could the day get any worse?

There was a knock on the inside of the bathroom door and then it swung open. "She wants to talk to you." He held out the phone.

Jumping off the couch, taking care not to look directly at him so I wouldn’t have to face the revulsion or fear I imagined were in his gaze, I snatched the phone out of his hand. Grabbing my wrist, he dragged me into the bathroom with him and shut the door behind me.

"Now what?" I snapped into the phone.

In the mirror’s reflection, I saw Zeke wince at my impatient tone.

"You’re not making much progress," Ms. Whitehat replied mildly, seemingly unperturbed.

"I’ve been ordered by the police to stop looking for Armani. I don’t want to risk attracting too much attention."

"You’ll have to risk it," Whitehat said coolly.

That was easy for her to say, she didn’t have the whole future of a little girl’s life on her shoulders. Seeing my defeated posture in the mirror, I squared my shoulders and firmly said, "No. I don’t."

There was a long silence. Knowing that she had some pretty damning evidence against me, and some killer connections, I wondered if my refusal had signed my death warrant or guaranteed me a prison sentence.

Finally, she sighed.

Realizing I’d been holding my breath, I angled the phone away from my mouth and exhaled stale air.

"There are more lives at stake here than your friend and Detective Gilbert."

An icy chill snaked down my spine. "Are you threatening my family?"

Zeke’s gaze collided with mine on the glass surface, his eyes wide.

"That’s not how we operate, Ms. Lee."

I choked back a hysterical laugh. They blackmailed and killed people, but she wanted me to believe they didn’t threaten the families of their victims.

"Thousands of innocent lives are at risk," Whitehat informed me gravely.

I clutched the phone more tightly. "What? How?"

"I can’t tell you. All I can say is that Detective Gilbert’s safe return is a necessary component."

"But I’m just an office drone," I protested. "How am I supposed to—?"

"You have proven yourself to be intelligent and resourceful on any number of occasions," Whitehat interrupted. "You’re properly motivated and I have no doubt you’ll accomplish your mission."

"Mission?" I practically shrieked. "You’re talking like I’m some kind of covert operative or something. I’m telling you, I don’t have the skills for this kind of assignment."

"I believe you do," Whitehat replied quietly. "In the meantime, I need Zeke’s specialized skill set to take care of another part of the problem, so you won’t have his assistance with this."

"I’m supposed to do this alone?" I sat down on the closed toilet seat, my knees suddenly weak.

"You’ll have to do it without the help of Zeke. Whether you choose to do it alone or with help is your choice."

Thinking of how Patrick had already refused to help me find Armani, I hung my head. Zeke placed a comforting hand on my shoulder. I leaned into his support, knowing it was fleeting.

"I know I’m asking a lot of you," Whitehat said in a kinder, gentler tone than I’d ever heard her use before, "but I think you’re up to the job."

"I’m extraordinarily ordinary," I told her, thinking of how many times my grandmother had used those very words to describe me.

"But even ordinary people can do extraordinary things when the opportunity presents itself," Whitehat countered. "Save Joy Gilbert."

Before I could save Joy Gilbert and thousands of others, I had to get out of being under unofficial house arrest.

The moment Ms. Whitehat disconnected our call, I handed Zeke his phone back, got to my feet, left the bathroom, and marched straight upstairs so Detective Brian Griswald’s uncle would know I was there.

I found him and Aunt Susan polishing silver in the dining room. That’s their weird, fetish-y thing. Personally I don’t get the appeal of shining metal with a smelly cloth for hours on end, but it’s one of the things they share a love of.

"How’d the meeting go?" Susan asked the second I stepped into the room.

"Good news. They say she can come home in a week or so." The reality of the idea filled me with dread, but I did my best to sound excited.

"Oh that’s wonderful!" Susan leapt to her feet, flew around the table and hugged me tightly. "That’s the best news I’ve heard in ages."

I tried not to flinch as she tightened her grip on me. As a general rule, Susan is not prone to fits of joy or demonstrativeness, so it was uncomfortable on multiple levels to have her squeezing me like I was an almost-empty tube of toothpaste.

"We’ll have to have a welcome home party."

Even U.S. Marshal Lawrence Griswald raised his eyebrows at that.

"She might not be up to a party," I suggested gently, extricating from aunt’s almost manic grasp.

"Nonsense. What child doesn’t love a party?"

"I wasn’t suggesting she wouldn’t love it," I replied carefully, getting the distinct impression that saying the wrong thing might send her into emotional overload. "I just think it’ll be a lot of changes and might overwhelm her."

"She’s right," Griswald interjected. "Why not give the girl a little while to get settled first?’

Susan looked from me to her boyfriend as though she suspected we were conspiring against her.

"Brian tells me you got into a bit of trouble," Griswald said, deftly turning the conversation away from Katie and well-meant but ill-conceived parties.

"What happened?" Susan asked, falling for the distraction.

I glanced at Griswald, trying to determine if he was annoyed by the fact I’d claimed he’d said Ike Medd was a serial killer. He gave me a half-shrug indicating it was my story to tell.

"Armani is missing," I told my aunt.

Her eyes widened. "Are you sure?"

"She didn’t come into work, she’s not returning phone calls, and her place was trashed. So yeah, I’m pretty sure."

"Oh my. And how are you involved?"

"I’m not."

"But Lawrence just said…"

I waved off her concern. "I went to Armani’s place to look for her. Detective Griswald… Brian, said I should stay out of it."

Lawrence quirked an eyebrow, letting me know he was well-aware I wasn’t telling the whole truth, or even half the truth, but he didn’t utter a word.

"Well of course you should stay out of it," Susan fussed. "Let the police do their job."

"Excellent advice," Detective Brian Griswald said, walking in behind me.