Further Confessions of a Slightly Neurotic Hitwoman (17 page)

Abilene followed. “That’s it. Run away like the loser you are. Admit defeat. Give up.”

Turning around, I swung back and marched up to her. “I am not afraid of you! I’ll kill you if you try to take her!” I screamed at the top of my lungs.

She shoved me away and I stumbled back a few steps. I would have fallen, but someone grabbed my elbow and held me up. I glanced over my shoulder and was shocked to see my savior was Vinnie. I shook free of his grasp and turned back just in time for Abilene to slap me across the face.

“Catfight!” Vinnie cried with delight.

I lunged for her, but before I could wipe the sneer off her face, someone jumped between us.

“Maggie!”

It took a moment for me to recognize the woman who’d thrown herself in front of me. At that moment, enraged, I wanted to take her head off too.

“Move,” I growled.

“Maggie, don’t do this,” Stacy Kiernan, the social worker who’d first handled Katie’s case, pleaded as she held up her hands in a defensive position.

“What do you care? You don’t even work here anymore.”

“You’re right,” Stacy said. “But I care what happens to you. I’m your friend. I need you not to do this.”

“Yes, Maggie,” Abilene taunted. “Listen to your friend. Give up.”

Stacy Kiernan, kind and caring social worker, the woman who’d burst into tears about the state of her career and love life when she’d been trying to tell me that the hospital was going to give Katie the boot, the woman who was as sweet and cuddly as a Labrador retriever puppy, turned on Abilene. “Has anyone ever told you that you look like Tim Burton’s version of the Wicked Witch? Get lost, freak.”

Abilene’s mouth dropped open.

Vinnie chuckled.

The nurses, who’d been mean to Stacy when she’d been employed by the hospital, actually clapped and cheered.

And I backed up a little, realizing that indulging in this scene had been a mistake. If the fight escalated, the cops would be called, and that was the last thing I needed.

So I backed off and let security escort Abilene away.

“What are you doing here, Stacy?” I asked, once the witch was gone.

“I was having coffee with a former coworker. I came up here hoping I might run into you.”

“I’m glad you did.” I hung my head, ashamed of my outburst. “Thank you for preventing me from doing something even stupider. Speaking of which, do you have plans for tomorrow night?”

Chapter Twenty-One

A
FTER
I
LEFT
the hospital, I stopped for a take-out burger and headed home. I brought DeeDee a burger too. There was no reason Patrick should be the only one to spoil her.

After we’d both eaten, and God had whipped my butt as we played along with
Jeopardy
, I took her for a long walk.

When we returned home, we were greeted with, “Yooohooo, is that you, Maggie?”

The voice came from my kitchen, but it wasn’t God’s.

DeeDee growled. She was turning into quite the watchdog.

“Who else would it be, Aunt Loretta? You’re sitting at my table.”

The dog and I went into the kitchen. Loretta sat there, leafing through my mail.

“She just walked right in.” God flicked his tail in annoyance.

“What are you doing here?” I asked my aunt.

“You who?” DeeDee asked, walking up and sniffing her.

“She stinks,” God warned broodingly.

Instead of answering me, Loretta made a fuss over the mutt. “What a beautiful girl you are.” As much as Aunt Susan hates dogs, Loretta loves them. Which might explain her penchant for picking bad men.

“She had a key.” God glared at me accusingly.

I nodded. I’d given all my aunts, Theresa, and Alice the keys to my place when I’d moved in. Considering how often some of them dropped in, I’d often wished I hadn’t. I’d asked Aunt Leslie for hers back after she passed out on my doorstep, which had been the event that had heralded her starting with Narcotics Anonymous.

“Why are you here?” I asked Aunt Loretta again.

“What’s your lovely doggie’s name?” she asked, petting DeeDee’s head.

The dog was lapping up the attention.

“DeeDee. Is everything okay?”

Loretta nodded. “Everything’s fine.” She smiled and batted her false eyelashes at me.

“So what are you doing here?”

“Do I need a reason to visit with my niece?”

I eyed her suspiciously. “You know, don’t you?”

“Know what, dear?” Her innocent act wasn’t convincing.

“That the bachelorette party is tomorrow night. That’s why you’re here, isn’t it? You’re trying to wrangle an invitation.”

“I—” she began.

“I know you did a lot for the shower, but this isn’t my call. I can ask Alice if you can come, but I can’t guarantee it.”

“I don’t want to go.”

I sank into a chair. “You don’t?” I’d never heard of her passing up the opportunity to ogle nearly naked men.

“No. I’m happy with my man.”

“You are?” I’d never heard her say she was happy with a man before. She said she was
in love
, but never
happy
. Maybe Templeton really was The One for her? “So why are you here?”

“Susan told me about the custody case.”

I closed my eyes at the thought of the upcoming battle with leather-clad Abilene.

Loretta sucked in an audible breath. “Did something happen? Is Katie okay?”

Opening my eyes, I smiled weakly. “She opened her eyes, squeezed my hand, and was able to focus today.”

Loretta clapped her delight.

“Woohoo!” God shouted.

His high-pitched squeak startled Loretta. “Is that Katie’s pet?”

“Yes.”

“He’s cute.”

I smiled widely. “He certainly is.”

“I’m not cute!” God boomed.

“Quiet!” DeeDee barked.

Loretta chuckled. “Quite the noisy household we’re going to have.”

I stared at DeeDee sadly, not wanting to voice my doubt that she’d be joining us. I said, “I know it’ll be an adjustment, an inconvenience—”

“Hush, child,” Loretta admonished. She slid a small, ornate wooden box toward me. “I thought this might help.”

“It’s beautiful.”

“Open it.”

I did and found myself staring at a diamond ring.

“It’s my engagement ring from Kevin,” Loretta said.

“You kept his ring when you were married to the man for less than a year?”

“I kept them all, but your father pawned the rest before he was sent to prison. That’s the only one I have left, besides this one.” She fluttered her fingers under my nose.

I couldn’t remember if she’d shown me her ring from Templeton before. “Very nice.”

“I want you to use it to pay for the lawyer you’re using.”

“I can’t.” Flipping the box closed, I pushed it back toward her.

“I insist.”

“I like this woman,” God piped up.

“Squeaky thing, isn’t he?” Loretta asked.

“He never shuts up,” I told her.

Loretta patted the box. “Pawn it. Sell it. Just do whatever you need to in order to keep our Katie where she belongs.”

“I am.” I fingered the poison-filled pendant hanging from my neck.

Standing, she pressed a kiss to my cheek, not one of her customary air kisses, but one that would leave lipstick on my skin. “And try to have some fun at that bachelorette party.”

She teetered out on her stilettos. DeeDee walked her to the door.

I sat at the table, staring at the box.

“That’s wonderful news about Katie,” God said.

“It is.”

“But?”

I told him about what had happened with Abilene.

“You could poison her,” the lizard suggested mildly when I was done telling my tale.

“I thought of that.”

“But you’ve got motive to kill her, which means you’d probably get caught.”

I nodded. “It might be worth it though, to save Katie from whatever kind of life that woman has planned for her.”

“Don’t do anything rash, Maggie.”

“It’s not like I have a lot to lose.”

“Give it some time.”

“I don’t have time. If I’m caught doing the Garcia job, I won’t be able to stop her.”

He raised his right hand and pledged, “If you are unable, I will stop her.”

I snorted. “You?”

“Too me,” DeeDee panted.

“With the help of the beast, yes, I pledge to never allow Katie to fall into Abilene’s evil clutches.”

I believed him.

There are times when the bed beside my mom’s in the loony bin doesn’t sound like such a bad idea.

T
HE NEXT NIGHT
I was late getting to the bachelorette party. For once, it wasn’t my fault. I was ready to leave on time, but when I went out, I discovered that I had a flat tire.

I’m as modern as the next woman, but I also know when to admit my limitations. Operating a jack and changing a tire are on my personal list of Do Not Attempt Unless You Wish to Court Injury or Death items.

So I called the auto club, waited twice as long as they said it would take, and rolled into the strip club parking lot almost an hour late.

Despite the crowd, the overzealous smoke machine, and music that could make a deaf man go mad, I had no trouble finding my group. Armani was busy spanking a dancer, clad in little more than his cowboy hat and boots, with her good hand, and the rest of the table was egging her on raucously.

I considered going back to my car, but before I could, I felt a tug on my sleeve.

I looked up to see Alice glaring daggers at me. “Hi!” I said with as much faux enthusiasm as I could muster.

Grabbing my arm, she dragged me into the bathroom. My eardrums were grateful for the break.

“Where were you?” she screamed, like one of those freaky bridezilla chicks God is fond of watching on TV.

“I—”

“You’re the worst maid of honor ever,” she ranted.

The other two restroom occupants, who had been touching up their makeup in the mirror, stopped what they were doing to watch the show.

“I—” I tried to defend myself.

“You weren’t there for the cake tasting. Or the photographer. Or the florist.” She ticked the items off on her fingers for emphasis.

“I didn’t even know about them.”

“You didn’t
want
to know about them.”

“You really do suck,” one of the women commented.

Alice, thrilled to have the support of the Greek chorus, turned toward them. “I know, right?”

“I had a flat tire!” I blurted out.

“Every time?” the other woman scoffed.

“Tonight. I had a flat tire tonight, which was why I’m late. I called you. I texted.”

“What about the other times?” the first woman asked. “The cake, the pictures, the flowers? What kind of maid of honor lets the bride down for those things.”

“The kind that’s got a lot of shit going on,” I screamed, so loudly it hurt my throat.

Alice’s supporters backed off.

“The kind that’s wearing the world’s ugliest fish-colored dress that’s ever been seen without a word of complaint. The kind that goes to invite
your
mother to
your
wedding. That’s the kind of maid of honor I am and if you don’t like it, just bestow the title on Zeke, or Priscilla the Preppy Princess. I saw her out there, whooping it up.”

“You’re getting married, Alice?” a soft, familiar voice answered.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” I turned around and saw that someone else had entered the restroom. Even though I hadn’t seen her in a couple of years, I recognized Dana Velicky immediately, not because of her pudgy nose and square jaw, but because she looked so much like her brother, Frank. Frank, who’d broken down the door of my apartment and tried to drag Alice out by her hair. I’d broken my only vase over his head.

Dana tossed a frown at me, but couldn’t maintain eye contact. She blamed me for sending her brother to prison, but was too afraid of me to say so. Instead she focused on Alice. “You’re getting married?”

“Yes!” Alice walked over and waved her engagement ring under Dana’s nose.

“I don’t think—” I started.

“Oh just shut up, Maggie,” Alice said.

“When’s the big day?” Dana asked.

“Next Sunday.”

“I really don’t—”

Alice silenced me with a glare.

I’d been going to tell her that I didn’t think that it was wise to share the details of her upcoming nuptials with the sister of the guy who’d beaten her within an inch of her life, but she obviously didn’t want to hear what I thought. After all, I was the worst maid of honor ever.

Pushing past them, I left the restroom and headed for the exit of the club.

“Where are you going, Chiquita?” Armani wrapped her good arm around my neck.

“Home.”

She squinted at me, obviously inebriated. “But you just got here.”

“And I’m just leaving.” I tried to shrug her off, but she held on tight.

“But you haven’t seized any men.”

“And yet, I’m pretty sure I’ll survive the night.”

“Maggie!” another voice called.

I turned and saw Stacy Kiernan stumbling toward me. I groaned, having forgotten I’d invited her to this fiasco.

“I thought maybe you got into another fistfight and weren’t going to make it,” Stacy said.

Armani perked up. “Fight? Is it true, chica? You got in a fight?”

“No!”

“Yup,” Stacy said simultaneously. “She’s in the middle of the hospital screaming about how she’s going to kill this woman. The whole place heard her.”

I closed my eyes. It hadn’t been my finest moment.

“And then there’s this shoving match,” Stacy continued.

“I didn’t shove her,” I protested weakly.

“Luckily,” Stacy said, puffed up with self-importance, “one of her friends was there to help her out.”

“Maggie has good friends,” Armani slurred.

“The best,” Stacy agreed.

The two of them dragged me to the table occupied by Alice’s bachelorette party. I greeted the other women politely, even Preppy Priscilla, who was wearing thigh-high argyle socks that almost reached her barely there skirt. Eventually Alice rejoined the group, but we didn’t talk . . . or make eye contact.

Instead, I fixated on the stage, watching as the women took turns going up and interacting with the dancers in the most lewd ways imaginable. At the end of the evening, determining that they were too drunk to drive, I piled Armani and Stacy into my car. I took Stacy home first, which proved tricky since I’d never been there before and her intoxicated directions didn’t always make sense.

I’d driven Armani to work a few times when she’d had car trouble, so taking her home was easier.

“Your aura’s all screwy,” she told me from the backseat when we were a block from her place. “It should be all soft and cloudlike, but yours is all jagged and broken.”

“Uh-huh.” I resisted the urge to ask if she saw disco balls and cacti floating in my energy field.

“And it’s dark, like there’s a shadow over your heart.”

“Sounds about right.” I was pretty broken, my nerves were frayed, and my heart was heavy. I swung my car into the driveway of the tiny house she owned.

“You shouldn’t do it alone.”

“Do what?” I panicked. What if she was able to pick up some sort of signal revealing my plans for Garcia?

“It.”

“It?”

“Yes. You definitely shouldn’t do it alone.”

I helped her to her front door, got the door unlocked, and gently shoved her inside. “Get some sleep, Armani. I’ll give you a call in the morning to make sure you don’t miss work.”

I pondered her reading of my aura, disco balls, and cacti as I drove home, until lights from a police cruiser shone in my rearview mirror.

Pulling over, I glanced at my speedometer thinking that perhaps I’d been speeding. Rolling down my window, I forced myself to take deep, calming breaths as I waited for the police officer to approach my car. Whatever this was, I could handle it.

“Out of the car, ma’am,” he said.

I leaned forward. “Paul?”

“Out of the car.”

A shiver skittered down my spine, but I pushed the momentary fear away. Paul might have a terrible temper, but I’d given him no reason to be upset with me. I got out.

The beam of a flashlight blinded me. I raised a hand to ward off the light.

“What are you doing out here?” Paul asked.

I couldn’t see his face and something in his voice scared me.

“Was I speeding?” I asked.

“Have you been drinking?” he countered.

“Because I know I wasn’t talking on the phone.” That’s how we’d met the first time, when he’d pulled me over for talking on my cell while driving.

“Have you been drinking?” he asked again, his tone harsh, commanding.