Confessions of a Slightly Neurotic Hitwoman (16 page)

Chapter Twenty-Three

I
SAT WITH
A
UNT
Loretta for almost thirty minutes. That was when my ration of sympathy pretty much ran out. Then we went inside and found Templeton waiting to leave. He’d been patched up and had his discharge papers signed. Even I felt a twinge of sympathy for him, when I saw the size of the bandage they’d used on him.

“That must hurt.” Sometimes my brilliant observations amaze even me.

“My pride’s the thing that took a beating.” He sounded as though he had the world’s worst head cold.

“He hadn’t finished getting dressed when the paramedics arrived,” Loretta confided. “All he was wearing were his hot pink LOVE MACHINE boxer shorts.”

“Too much information, Aunt Loretta. It does answer the age old boxers-or-briefs question, though.”

Templeton chuckled. At least I think that’s what the noise—like a pig snuffling out wild truffles—was supposed to be.

It’s hard not to like someone who deals with a painful and embarrassing situation with humor. I found myself wondering if my instant dislike of the man had been misguided. Maybe he wasn’t all that bad.

Finally, once the two love birds were safely on their way home, I went looking for Delveccio. He wasn’t in his grandson’s room, or the waiting area, so I took a chance he was in the cafeteria and headed that way. Okay, okay, I was hedging my bet. Even if he wasn’t there, I’d probably find some chocolate pudding. A treat I richly deserved after the day I’d had.

Delveccio was there. Sitting at a table in the back, studying what appeared to be the sports section of the newspaper. I tried to remember whether he’d been charged with illegal gambling as I headed toward him.

“Mind if I join you?”

He glanced up and blinked, as though he was surprised to see me. “It’s a free country.”

I slid into the seat opposite him, noticing for once he wasn’t wearing his ubiquitous pinky ring. “How’s your grandson?”

“No change.” He folded up the paper and placed it on the table between us.

“Well, at least you’ll be relieved to know that you won’t have to worry about any . . . outside interference with his recovery.” I’d never realized how much work it was for criminals to talk in euphemisms.

“I know.”

“You do?” That caught me off guard.

“Of course. He told me.”

“Of course.” Patrick must have told him. “So when do I get paid?”

“You?” He squinted at me disbelievingly.

“Who else?”

“Are you trying to tell me that
you
took care of that particular problem?”

I really didn’t understand why everyone seemed to be talking in riddles. “Yes. I fulfilled my end of the contract. When do I get paid?”

Leaning back in his chair, he considered me thoughtfully.

I gulped. It probably wasn’t the best of ideas to shake down the head of a crime syndicate for money, but I was desperate. I needed that cash for Katie.

“Where’d you do it?”

“Washington Park.”

“How?”

I glanced around nervously to make sure no one was within earshot. Leaning as close as I could, I whispered. “I shot him. Twice.”

“The body hasn’t been found.”

“That’s because I pushed him off a cliff.”

“Why’d you do something like that?”

“For the sake of my alibi.”

“Somebody’s lying to me. I don’t like to be lied to. It makes me angry. You wouldn’t like me when I’m angry.”

For a split second I imagined the mob boss morphing into the Incredible Hulk. It was not an attractive picture. “I’m not lying to you, Mr. Delveccio.”

“Maybe, maybe not.”

“Are you trying to welch on our deal?” I asked. I couldn’t believe this. I’d killed a man, and I wasn’t even going to get paid for my trouble? This was officially the crappiest day ever.

“Keep your voice down.”

I fought for control. I couldn’t afford to let my emotions get the best of me. Feelings led to screw-ups. I imagined my internal submarine hatches slamming shut, closing off my anger, my desperation. “Why are you doing this to me?”

“I’m a businessman, Miss Lee.”

“Then why won’t you honor our deal?”

“Because someone else has already claimed credit for the job.”

Patrick. It had to be. “Son-of-a-bitch! I’ll kill him!”

Delveccio tilted his head to the side. “You do that and you’ll collect the fee for the first job.”

“You mean that?”

“It’s a deal.” He extended his hand.

I shook it, but I wasn’t happy about it. I’d made a deal with this particular devil before, and he’d screwed me. Besides, I wasn’t so sure I could kill Patrick Mulligan even if he had stolen my money. Alfonso Cifelli was a monster. Killing him had been a service to society, but for the most part the redhead seemed to be a pretty decent guy.

“But either way,” Delveccio said, “you’re still on the hook for our mutual friend’s cut.”

I stared at him, trying to make sense of what he was saying. Our only mutual acquaintance was Patrick. If he was getting paid for killing Alfonso, why the hell would he need a cut?

“You can’t expect me to cover your expenses,” he said. “It would be bad business.”

“What expenses? What cut?”

“What? You didn’t think he was helping you out of the goodness of his heart did you? That you were getting somethin’ for nothin’? Trust me, lady, you’re okay looking, but you’re not the kind of a woman a pragmatic man like our friend is going to turn himself inside-out for, if ya know what I’m sayin’.”

I nodded. That, at least, was something I could understand.

“So I told Gary the Gun that I wouldn’t pay up until I had confirmation that the bastard Cifelli is dead.”

I looked around nervously. There was no one else in the cafeteria. No one to eavesdrop on this bizarre conversation we were having. “Gary the Gun claimed credit?”

Delveccio nodded.

I did my best to ignore the surge of relief I felt, knowing that Patrick hadn’t betrayed me and that I wouldn’t have to kill him.

“Now, once the body turns up, I’m going to have to fork over the cash to Gary. Unless . . .”

“Unless I kill him first.”

Delveccio nodded. “You do that, and you get the payoff that’ll keep your niece here. How’s she doing by the way?”

“She’s the same.”

“That’s too bad.” For a moment that mobster almost sounded human. “She’s a cute kid.”

“There’s something I don’t get.”

“I get the feeling there’s a lot you don’t get, lady.”

I couldn’t argue with him there. “This Gary, he’s a long-term employee of yours, isn’t he?”

He shrugged. “More like a consultant. He gets paid to come in and do a job, and then he leaves.”

“So why do you want him dead?”

Delveccio considered me thoughtfully. I got the impression people didn’t usually ask him too many questions. “You ever hear of honor among thieves?”

I nodded. My father had ranted about it when his wheelman ratted him out and sent his murdering ass to prison.

“Everybody’s gotta have a code to live by. Gary doesn’t respect the code.”

I nodded as though it made sense that a man who lived and breathed organized crime would be giving me a morality lecture.

“If I were you, I’d be real careful with this one. Gary’s a sneaky bastard. And nasty. Guy’s got a mean streak longer than any I’ve seen. And trust me, I’ve known more than my share of really bad guys. You get a chance to take him out, don’t screw it up, or there will be hell to pay.”

Since he was in a sharing mood, I decided to push my luck a little further. “Any suggestions on the best way to do it?”

He chuckled. “I like you. You’re a ballsy one. That’s not my department. Ask our mutual friend.”

“The one I can’t afford to pay.”

“It’s business, Miss Lee. Tell him if he doesn’t help you, he’s got zero chances of getting paid. He’ll come around. It’ll cost you, though. You should know that nothing in life that’s worth having is free.”

I nodded. That I understood.

“Remember, the clock is ticking. Once Cifelli’s body has been found and officially identified, Gary the Gun will show up looking for his money. If you can’t take care of him before then . . .”

The loaded, unspoken threat that he’d send Gary after me, hung in the air like a guillotine waiting to fall.

“It’s my head that’ll be on the chopping block.”

“Exactly. I’m glad we understand each other.”

He picked up his newspaper and began studying it again, letting me know I’d been dismissed.

I eyed the chocolate pudding on the far counter wistfully, but I knew there wasn’t time for it. I had to figure out how to kill another man.

Chapter Twenty-Four

I
WENT TO THE
pet store and bought live crickets for God. At least I could afford his cut for helping me to kill Cifelli. The bugs made a racket in the car on the way home. By the time I walked through the front door of my apartment, I was happy to feed them to the lizard, if only to get them to shut up.

“Ah, music to my ears!” God trilled as I stomped into the kitchen. “I can’t tell you how pleased I am that you’re honoring our deal.”

“I told you I would,” I muttered, shoving the lid of his habitat aside and dumping the jumping insects inside. Slamming the lid shut, I picked up the enclosure and carried it into the bedroom. Without being asked, I turned on
Wheel of Fortune
so that the lizard could eat in front of the TV.

“Very kind of you. Very kind indeed,” he crowed, chowing down on one of the bugs.

“I realize that it can’t be easy to live in a cage and rely on others for food and entertainment.”

He cocked his head to the side and stared at me suspiciously. “What are you up to?”

“I’m being empathetic.”

“Hmmmm.”

I don’t think he believed me, but he was too busy stuffing his face to pursue the matter further. I went back into the kitchen and heated myself a Lean Cuisine meal. I stood watching the plastic tray spinning in the microwave. When had my life turned into this? What could be more pathetic than subsisting on TV dinners and talking to one’s pet?

Oh wait, I know: killing a man and having someone else claim the credit for it.

“How’s Katie doing?” God called from the other room.

At least that’s what I think he said. It came out a garbled mess. “I told you, no talking while your mouth is full.”

Leaving my plastic dinner in the microwave, I shuffled into the bedroom and collapsed on the bed.

“My mouf—isn’t full,” the lizard replied. “It’s only half full.”

“I’m not in the mood for your smart-ass shit,” I muttered.

“Why not? What’s wrong? We took care of that distasteful business this morning, earning—”

“
We?
” I asked incredulously. “I don’t remember you doing any of the heavy lifting, buddy.”

He ignored my interruption. “—the money to pay for Katie’s care. You should be overjoyed, but instead you’re moping around like a kid who’s had her bicycle stolen.”

“This is much worse than that.” I knew what it felt like to have your bicycle stolen. In my case, the culprit had been my father, who’d pawned it for some cash so that he could bet on a racehorse. I still remember how sucky that felt, but this was definitely worse.

“What are you going on about?” Apparently sated, he leaned back and patted his bulging belly.

“I didn’t get the money.”

“What do you mean you didn’t get the money?” The lizard sounded alarmed.

“Someone else claimed credit for . . . you know.”

“Who? That sneaky redhead?”

“I thought you liked him. I thought you said he was wise and I should listen to him.”

He glared at me. “Is that your pathetic attempt to be clever?”

I shook my head. “Another hitman . . . hitperson, Gary the Gun.”

“How? Why?”

“How the hell should I know?” I exploded. “It wasn’t like I was there when it happened.”

“So what’s going to happen to Katie?” When the lizard wasn’t complaining about his food, he seemed to have a one-track mind regarding my niece. I decided his concern for her well-being was his one redeeming quality.

“I can get the money.”

“How?”

Sighing heavily, I burrowed my face in my pillow. All I wanted to do was sleep.

“How, Maggie?”

“If I kill Gary before Delveccio pays him.”

“Which is when?”

“When Cifelli’s body turns up. Once Delveccio has proof that Alfonso is really dead, he’ll hand over the cash.”

“So then that’s what we’ll do. We need a plan.”

“We?”

“You’re not in this alone, Maggie. I’ll help you.”

It felt oddly reassuring to know that I didn’t have to shoulder all the responsibility for this mess.

Even if the other shoulders lightening the load were awfully small.