Confessions of a Slightly Neurotic Hitwoman (24 page)

“I can’t imagine my life without her.”

“You do know she’s not perfect, right? I mean I know she’s beautiful and smart and so sweet she puts diabetics into sugar shock, but she does have her faults. For one, she faints at the sight of blood, even her own. Two, if you’re not careful she’ll steal the marshmallow shapes out of your bowl of Lucky Charms.”

“I don’t eat Lucky Charms.”

“Three,” I said, warming to my task. “She’s been obsessed with naming her kid Kaitlin, since we were like ten. What are you gonna do if it’s a boy?”

Lamont chuckled. “You forgot to mention that she grinds her teeth in her sleep, makes sure her foods don’t touch when they’re on her dinner plate, and she’s tone deaf.”

Impressed, I nodded. He seemed to know her pretty well. Could it be that after a string of losers, Alice had gone halfway around the world and found a winner?

“Where are you planning on living?” I asked.

I guess he heard the challenge in my tone, because he raised an eyebrow. “Wherever she wants. Though between you and me, I’m really hoping that she doesn’t choose the B&B.”

“Not Chicago?”

“Have you ever been to Chicago in the winter? It’s cold.”

“You’ve never spent an August in New Jersey,” I countered. “It’s humid. And muggy. And smoggy. And if you’re not careful, the mosquitos will drain you dry.”

“I’m a big guy to drain,” he replied easily.

I couldn’t argue with that.

“The reason I’m here, Maggie, is that I don’t know how to propose to her.”

“Ring. Question. From what I’ve heard, it seems like a fairly simple process.”

Lamont rolled his eyes. “C’mon. The woman’s had her unborn kid’s name picked out for decades. Are you really going to try to tell me she doesn’t have some dream proposal she’s always imagined?”

“And you want me to tell you what that is?”

He nodded. “That’s why I’m here.”

He was, of course, absolutely right. Just about the time Alice had picked out the name Kaitlin, she’d decided how she wanted to be proposed to. I was duly impressed that Lamont had figured that out and come to me.

“You must really want to make her happy.”

“I do. You’ll help me?”

“You’re not going to like it.”

He shrugged. “I don’t have to like it. It’s for her.”

That, of course, was the response I was looking for.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you. On one knee. In the middle of Couples Skate. At The Starlight Roller Rink.”

I gotta give the guy credit. He blinked, but didn’t bitch and moan about it. I’m pretty sure that meant the guy was officially smitten.

“Thank you, Maggie.”

“My pleasure. You just make her happy. Just remember, if you hurt her, I’ll have to kill you.” Assuming I was still alive.

“She means it!” God shouted from the bedroom. “It’s why she doesn’t have a vase!”

I walked Lamont to my front door.

“You won’t tell her, will you?” he asked.

“Of course not. It’ll be our secret.” I opened the door to let him out.

“Thanks, Maggie. You’re just as Alice describes you.”

“And how’s that?”

“Gruff but good.”

I made a mental note to tell my best friend that she should come up with a nicer way to describe me.
Gruff but good
sounded like a tire slogan. “Glad I could help.”

“One more thing I wanted to ask.”

Behind him, I saw Paul’s car pull into the parking lot. “Sure, shoot.”

“A ruby, right? Not a diamond ring.”

I beamed. “You must be a hell of a listener, Lamont. My friend is a lucky girl to have ended up with a catch like you. Welcome to the family!” I moved to hug him and gasped when he lifted me off my feet in a giant bearhug.

“See you soon, Maggie.” He put me down and walked away waving and smiling.

As soon as he was gone, I waved at Paul’s car. I held up a single finger indicating I’d be just a minute and dove back inside my apartment.

I snagged my purse and checked to make sure the lizard had enough water.

“Don’t forget I think this is a bad idea,” he grumbled.

“Duly noted.”

Paul was leaning against his car when I got out to the parking lot. His T-shirt looked as though it might split across his pecs if he crossed his arms any harder. “Who was that?” he asked by way of greeting, making no effort to conceal his jealousy.

“Just a friend.” I wasn’t really into answering to the overly possessive type.

“Seemed awfully chummy for just a friend.”

“He’s just excited. He’s going to ask my best friend to marry him and wanted some advice for the proposal.”

“Oh.” He walked around the car to open my door for me. “So you were telling him how to pick out the diamond and stuff like that?”

I pecked him on the cheek. “Stuff like that.”

“Do you know a lot about that kind of stuff? Jewels? Gems?”

“I’m a girl, so I should know about that stuff. Is that what you’re saying?” I held up both my bare hands. “In case you didn’t notice, jewelry’s not really my thing.”

He laughed. “Is steak?”

“You bet!”

“Let’s go to dinner.”

Chapter Thirty-Eight

I
F A CONDEMNED
man (or in this case, woman) is entitled to one last meal, Artie’s Steakhouse is the place to get it. A local joint that features autographed headshots of celebrities who are now milking the last of what passes for their fame on a slew of celebrity “reality” shows, Artie’s has a last-century vibe, but they serve the best beef in the county.

I must admit I was pretty darn excited when Paul announced where we were going. My attitude seemed to cheer him up, and we chatted amiably, mostly about Aunt Loretta and Aunt Leslie, all the way to the restaurant.

The mood in the car soured the moment we turned into the parking lot. It was empty.

Artie’s is never empty. It’s always packed. Even with a reservation, there’s usually a wait.

“What the hell?” Paul threw his car into park, leapt out, and stalked over to the front door.

I could see there was a sign taped to it. I could see that Paul moved his lips while he read the sign. I could also see he was none-too-pleased about whatever the sign said.

I, however, was resigned to my fate. I should have known that a decent dinner was not in the cards for me. That’s the way my luck was going.

“Health inspector shut them down.” Paul slid back into the car. Suddenly the air in the enclosed space took on a negative charge.

“Some other time. Have you ever been to—”

“Goddammit!” He punched his dashboard.

I cringed.

“Dammit!”

“It’s okay,” I soothed, thinking that a guy who attacked his car because a restaurant was closed probably wasn’t the one for me. Armani must have been wrong about him.

“It’s not okay!” He drove his fist into the roof.

Swiveling in his seat, he glared at me, like it was my fault the health inspector had found something wrong with the place.

I leaned away from him. Suddenly the seatbelt that held me in my seat didn’t feel so much like a safety device as a trap. Gulping, I reached for the release.

“I wanted this . . . this was supposed to be . . . this isn’t the way . . .”

He was so angry he seemed incapable of completing a sentence. I had to calm him down before he totally went ballistic. I had to calm myself down before my heart beat right out of my chest.

“It’s early. There are plenty of other places we can go.”
Crowded places
, I thought.
Places where there are lots of people. Witnesses.

“Like where?”

“Chinese?”

“I don’t like rice.”

“Mexican?”

“I don’t like spicy.”

“Italian?” He had to like Italian, otherwise we wouldn’t have gone to Angelos.

“Had it for lunch.”

I cast about for other options, desperate to find a place to go, if only so I could get out of the car. “How about . . . seafood?” I hate seafood.

He considered that one thoughtfully. “I guess so . . .”

“Oooh, I know,” I said feigning excitement. “We could go to Crabby Sam’s. Have you ever been there?”

He nodded. “You like that place?”

“
Love
it!” The lie came easily.

“Okay.” He put the car into drive, rolled all of about ten feet, and put it back into park.

“What’s wrong?”

“I shouldn’t have lost my cool like that.”

“It’s okay.”

Turning to face me, he said, “I was just so . . . frustrated.”

I’m not proud of what I did next, I’m really not. You’ve got to understand that what I did came from a place of sheer desperation.

“I’m sorry to hear that. Are you okay?” Yes, I fell back on my Insuring the Future spiel!

“I had a terrible day at work,” he confided. “My boss was on my ass and nothing went right . . .”

“Mmmm,” I hoped that sounded like an empathetic murmur.

“And I was looking forward to tonight and then I saw you with that guy . . .”

“Lamont?”

“Is that his name? Lamont?”

I nodded.

“And I thought . . . I thought maybe the reason you and I haven’t . . . haven’t . . . is that you’re hooking up with him.”

“I told you, he’s about to become my best friend’s fiancé.”

He nodded as though that made sense to him, but I got the distinct impression he was still puzzled as to why I hadn’t slept with him.

I felt kind of bad knowing that it wasn’t going to be happening at the end of this date either. Not with Patrick waiting back at my place.

“Maybe you should just take me home,” I suggested.

“Cuz I lost my temper?” he asked sheepishly, hanging his head.

“Because I’m not sure you and I are going to work. Maybe we’re not compatible.”

“Oh, we’re compatible.” He leaned toward me, pressing his lips to mine, to prove his point.

I considered not kissing him, but I was all-too-aware we were in a deserted parking lot. It probably wasn’t the best idea to rebuff his advances. Besides, he is one hell of a kisser.

So we kissed and groped and kissed some more.

“Want to go back to my place?” He finally asked.

I’ll admit part of me did, but I couldn’t get over the fact that both God and Patrick seemed to think this date with Paul was a bad idea.

Thankfully, I was saved from making a decision by the ringing of my cellphone. “Sorry. It could be the hospital.” I squirmed out of his grasp, snatched up my purse, and fumbled for my phone. “Hello?”

“You have got to come to the B&B right now!” Alice shrieked.

“I’m kinda in the middle—”

“Now, Maggie!” she screamed.

Nearly-perfect Alice doesn’t yell at people.

“What’s wrong?”

“Templeton’s going to die.”

My heart dropped into my stomach. Gary the Gun. “Call the police.”

“What are they going to do?”

“Stop him.”

Alice of course thought I was referring to Templeton. “The police can’t beat gravity.”

“What?” I was thoroughly confused.

“Templeton’s hanging from the weather vane!”

The bed and breakfast is three stories high and has a pitched roof, topped with an ancient, iron horse-and-buggy weather vane.

Paul, who could hear every word Alice shouted, was already peeling out of the parking lot.

“Tell him to hang on,” I said weakly.

While I didn’t have any use for Templeton the Rat. I sure as hell didn’t want him to die.

Chapter Thirty-Nine

I
WON’T BORE YOU
with the details of Templeton’s rescue, but I will say that Paul was pretty impressive when he swung into action. He got us to the B&B in record time, and he clambered up onto the roof without a moment’s hesitation.

In the parking lot of Artie’s, I’d been sure I was never going to go out with Paul again. My life was unstable enough as it was without adding a boyfriend with a hair-trigger temper to the mix. By the time Paul had performed his heroic deed complete with rippling muscles and assurances to my aunts that they shouldn’t worry because he was a professional, Alice was whispering in my ear, “Where’d you find him?”

We ended up staying there for dinner. And by the time we were done with the meal, Paul had charmed my aunts, deflecting any attention they might have directed at me in the process, providing a much needed respite from their constant questioning. He’d even won over Aunt Susan by insisting she give him a room-by-room tour of the place.

During which I grilled Templeton on just how he’d managed to find Katie’s dinosaur. Aunt Loretta didn’t seem to realize it was an interrogation. She took it as an effort on my part to connect with the man she wanted to spend the rest of her life with and beamed and tittered through the entire questioning.

By the end of the evening, instead of thinking I’d be lucky if I never set eyes on Paul again, I was hoping that our next date would be sooner rather than later.

Assuming, of course, that I didn’t end up dead or incarcerated before then.

“Thank you,” I said, as he pulled into my parking lot to drop me off. I’d pretended to have a headache and had begged out of after dinner drinks. A request he’d accepted with an easy grace. “I know the evening didn’t turn out the way you’d planned.”

“You can say that again. I’m finding that being with you, Margaret Lee, is never boring.” He slid the car into a parking space, threw it into park, and let the engine idle. “You don’t like that Templeton guy do you?”

“I don’t believe anything that comes out of the man’s mouth.”

“So you don’t think he was trying to get a bag off the weather vane?”

“Hardly. Maybe he thinks that since it’s an antique it’s worth some money and he wanted to get a closer look at it.”

“Could be. I’m sorry that I misunderstood about your relationship with Lamont earlier. He and Alice sure seem . . .”

“Smitten? In love? Head over heels?”

“All of that and more.”

“How’s your shin?” When Lamont had joined us at the dinner table saying he’d just gotten in from shopping, I’d had to kick Paul to signal he shouldn’t mention the impending marriage proposal.

“I’ll survive. Though you’re going to have to make it up to me.”

“I’d like that. But not tonight,” I added in a rush before he got any ideas. I was all-too-aware that Patrick was waiting in my place. For all I knew he was watching us. “How about next time I make you dinner?” Yes, I know you’re probably thinking that all I was capable of making was Lean Cuisine meals, but I knew my way around a stove. Sort of.

“I’d like that.”

I reached for the door handle.

“What? No goodnight kiss?”

I hesitated. “Just a kiss.”

“I promise.”

True to his word, all Paul did was kiss me, making no move at all to even feel me up. I was sorta disappointed.

Once we broke apart, I leapt from the car, tossed an “I’ll call you!” over my shoulder, and bolted for my apartment.

Once my front door was unlocked, I turned and waved good-bye to Paul. He flashed his headlights at me and then drove away. I slipped inside.

“I’m in the bedroom,” Patrick called.

“You said you weren’t going to snoop. So much for that promise!” I hissed.

Marching into the bedroom, I found Patrick sitting on the floor, his face inches from the television. I didn’t bother to turn on the light. The flickering glow from the set gave us enough light.

“Find anything interesting?” I asked.

“I told you I wouldn’t look around. I didn’t.”

“Then what the hell are you doing in here?”

“I thought you left the TV on for me.”

“I left it on for him!” I pointed in the general vicinity of the lizard’s terrarium.

“He didn’t snoop,” God informed me. “Go easy on the poor fellow.”

Patrick slowly got to his feet. “Look, I’m sorry you had to cut your date short, but I’m not really in the mood to argue with you all night. So if you feel the need to unload on me, that’s fine, but can we put a time limit on it, so that we can get to the plan?”

He delivered his request in such a reasonable tone, that I felt about as small as the lizard. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean . . . It’s just that . . .”

“I didn’t look through your stuff, Mags.”

“I believe you.” Normally I wouldn’t have, but since the lizard was backing him up, I gave him the benefit of the doubt.

Patrick shook his head. “You always believe the worst of me. Half the time you think I’m out to kill you.”

“If it makes you feel any better, I tend to think the worst of everyone. You’re not special. Plus, you’ve had your chance to kill me a couple times now, so I’m starting to believe you won’t.”

“So that’s why you’ve made sure to keep the bed between us this whole time? Because you’re so sure I don’t mean you any harm?”

He had me there, but I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of confirming it. Instead I did my best to act casual as I sat down on the bed. “Why were you sitting on the floor?”

“It seemed presumptuous to lie on your bed, like an invasion of your privacy or something.”

I patted the mattress, inviting him to sit down. He didn’t budge. “You can use my bed anytime.”

That hadn’t come out right.

An awkward silence stretched between us. Finally I blurted out, “What are you doing here, Patrick?”

He seemed to consider the question a long time, as though he was trying to puzzle out that very question for himself. “The plan . . . remember?”

“I remember. I mean why are you helping me? Gary the Gun isn’t your problem, he’s mine.”

“I feel responsible.”

“Why? You did your job. You taught me how to kill Alfonso Cifelli. You gave me a plan. I was the one who screwed up.”

“So I should just leave you to deal with it on your own?” A hint of anger tinged his words.

It intrigued me, but didn’t cause me any concern, unlike when Paul had blown his top. “You have other responsibilities. Which reminds me . . . are you ever at home? Either home.”

“Not unless it’s absolutely necessary.”

“And your wife . . . wives . . . are okay with that?”

“Thrilled,” he replied dryly. “As long as I make regular deposits into the bank accounts, everything is just fine.”

I glanced over at him. He’d stuck his hands in his pockets and was watching me closely, waiting for something.

“I’m not one of your responsibilities, Patrick.” Turning my back to him, I pretended to examine God’s enclosure.

“We need his help,” God said. “Talking him out of giving it to us isn’t the smartest idea.”

Patrick was on the move. He sat down on the bed beside me, the mattress dipping beneath his weight. I didn’t take my eyes off God.

“You don’t have to do this. I got myself into this mess. I can get myself out of it.” I’d done it my whole life; I didn’t need a hero cop to come in and save the day.

He leaned his arm against mine, forging a physical connection while I was trying to tear apart our emotional bond. I wanted to lean away, but there was something so comforting about his touch. He wasn’t asking anything of me, just giving.

“You don’t have to do everything alone, but for some reason you seem to think you do. Why is that, Mags?”

I didn’t have to answer him because Fate decided to intervene and do it for me.

My phone rang.

Not my cell phone. My house phone. The one I keep under the bed.

I must have tensed, because pulling away Patrick said, “If you need to get that, I can go wait in the other room.”

As he moved to stand up, I grabbed his arm, anchoring him to the bed beside me. “I don’t answer that phone.”

“Ever?”

It rang again.

“Ever.”

“Why not?”

It rang a third time.

Only certain people have my home number. People I don’t want to talk to. People like bill collectors, the HR department of Insuring the Future, the administrators of the facility where my mother resides, and . . .

My answering machine picked up. I held onto Patrick’s arm like it was a lifeline. My own recorded voice, proper, to the point of stilted, started speaking from beneath the bed.
“This is Margaret Lee. I am not available to take your call. Please leave a message.”

I held my breath as the machine beeped.

“Maggie May, it’s Dad. Are you there?”

I didn’t move. I didn’t breathe. My father never called to just chat.

Patrick plucked my fingers from where I was attempting a death grip on his forearm.

“I’ve only got a minute. I’m using the cellphone of one of the guards. I just . . . I felt bad about how you left.”

I shook my head. Typical. He was totally ignoring his part in our conversation. The part where he’d selfishly refused to help his own granddaughter.

“I think you misunderstood. I want to help Katie. I really do. I need you to believe that, Maggie May.”

His arm free, Patrick wrapped it around my shoulders. I hadn’t realized I was trembling until then.

“And I’m sorry I said what I did about you making your request being a strange coincidence. I know you couldn’t hurt a fly.”

God laughed at this.

“I’ve gotta get off, but I want you to know, Maggie May . . . I need you to know, I love Katie . . . and–”

The call ended suddenly. I didn’t know whether he’d hung up or if we’d been disconnected. Not that it mattered.

“So . . .” Patrick said slowly.

I closed my eyes. I really didn’t want to get into a heartfelt conversation about my incarcerated parental unit.

“I don’t mean to pry, but . . . you keep your phone under the bed?”

His question was so unexpected, I burst out laughing.

He followed suit.

We sat there on my bed laughing our asses off. Of all the things he could have asked after hearing that message, I was so relieved that he asked about the phone that, at least for a few minutes, I forgot Doomsday was coming.