Confessions of a Slightly Neurotic Hitwoman (28 page)

Chapter Forty-Five

I
CALLED THE NUMBER
I had for Patrick, but got a recording saying it was no longer in service. Maybe he’d changed his mind about that personal talk he’d wanted to have.

I didn’t get much sleep. Doomsday seems to spend a great deal of her sleeping time chasing something through her dreams. Since I’d made the mistake of letting her sleep on my bed with me, that meant she spent a great deal of time kicking me.

It would have been easy to blame my insomnia on the dog, but the truth was I was worried.

I was worried that Patrick had brain damage.

I was worried Delveccio wouldn’t pay up.

I was worried because at some point during my dinner with Aunt Susan, I’d had the unsettling realization that I’d left the Magnum, covered with my fingerprints, in Gary the Gun’s kitchen.

I was worried that my father had called twice in two days. Usually he only called twice a year, Christmas and my birthday, though that may have been my fault because I had never answered a single one of his calls.

I was worried that if I went to see my mother, that I’d find I’m more like her than I want to admit.

I was worried because Alice had called and asked me to be her maid of honor (apparently the Couples-Skate-one-knee thing had worked for Lamont) and I really didn’t want to get stuck footing the bill for an ugly-ass bridesmaid dress.

I was worried Katie would never wake up.

Somehow all that worry had me in my car and driving out to the prison to see my Dad.

He looked a little better than the last time I’d seen him. His bruises had faded to varying shades of green and yellow.

“Thanks for coming, Maggie May.”

“It’s not often I get a royal summons to come visit you in your royal kingdom.”

If my smart-ass comment bothered him, he didn’t let it show. “What happened to your face?”

“I got a dog.”

It was the response I’d given to Aunt Susan when she’d asked the same question over our second round of pudding. Apparently having a gun shoved under one’s chin leaves a bruise.

My aunt had believed the implausible explanation. My father did not.

“What have you gotten yourself into, Maggie?”

I sure as hell wasn’t going to confide in him, so I countered with a question of my own. “Why did you want me to come here?

“I wanted to explain about why I couldn’t give you what you asked for.”

“For Katie. Let’s be clear here. I wasn’t asking for myself. I asked for Katie.”

“Do you remember when I pawned your bike?”

“Uh huh.” Dragging up ancient history wasn’t the best way to endear himself to me.

“Do you know why I took it?”

“You wanted to bet on a horse.”

He nodded. “Do you know why I wanted to bet that horse?”

“Because you thought it was going to lose?”

He ignored my sarcasm.

“It was running at twelve-to-one odds. It was going to have a hell of a payout.”

“But I’m guessing it didn’t. Otherwise I would have gotten my bike back, right?”

He nodded.

“And what does this have to do with why you asked me to come out here.”

“Do you know why I robbed that bank?”

“Because you wanted to bet on racehorse?”

“For the same reason I pawned your bicycle.”

I was starting to think a visit with mom at the crazyhouse might be less insane than this conversation.

“Why am I here?”

“Because I need you to understand.”

I sat on the edge of my chair, thrumming with anger I could barely contain. “Understand what? That you’re a compulsive risk-taker, whether it’s placing a bet, running a scam, or robbing a bank? I understand that. I’ve understood it for a long time. You do what feels best for you at any given moment. Screw what’s best for anyone else!”

A single tear trickled down his face. “I did it because I loved her.”

“Mom? You’re going to blame this on Mom? She’s been locked up in the loony bin for a long time. You don’t love her. You just love to play with her.”

“Maggie May, please.”

“Do not Maggie May me like you have any right to pretend that we share any kind of relationship! You blew your very last chance for that when you refused to help Katie!”

“I don’t have them,” he murmured.

“What?”

“I don’t have the jewels.”

That let the air out of my sails. I sank back on my seat. “What do you mean you don’t have them?”

“I gave them to someone to keep.”

“Who?”

He shook his head. I knew he’d never tell me.

“And what? This person ripped you off? This whole no-honor-among-thieves thing again?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know. That’s just great, Dad. You kill an innocent woman, end up in here, and on top of all that you lost your big score? Explain to me again why the D.A. called you a ‘professional’ criminal.”

“I didn’t kill her,” he said quietly.

And I believed him. I knew in my core that the man who’d spent the majority of my life scamming and hustling and conning was telling the truth. Because it made sense. My dad had been many things, but mostly he’d been a crook. Just a crook. He’d never used a gun in any of his earlier crimes. He wasn’t a killer.

I was the only killer in the family. My stomach roiled traitorously as the knowledge sucker-punched me in the solar plexus. I barely heard his next words as my head buzzed and the room spun treacherously.

“I just wanted you to know that if I’d had the jewels, I would have helped Katie. I’d do anything to help my family. Anything.”

I believed him about that, too.

I got up to leave. I had to get out of there. Get away from his admissions that should have made me feel better, but were making me feel worse. All this time I’d thought the worst of him, and he hadn’t deserved it. I’d judged him for doing something I’d deemed unforgivable, something he’d never done, but I had.

“Tell me you believe me, Maggie May.” His plea was desperate.

“I’ll let you know if her condition changes,” I muttered. I walked out.

I was still trying to recover my equilibrium when I spotted a familiar face in the visitor’s parking lot of the prison. For a second I thought it was a new symptom of my insanity . . . seeing people who weren’t there.

I blinked three times trying to clear the mirage from my line of vision. It didn’t work. He was still standing there, deep in conversation with one of the prison guards. I considered getting in my car and driving away, but then he turned and spotted me.

He exchanged a few more words with the guard, nodded in my direction, and then headed straight for me.

I tucked my chin into my chest with the hopes of hiding my bruise.

“Hi Maggie! What brings you here?”

“Hi Paul. I was visiting my father.”

“Did you have a nice time?”

I glanced back toward the building. “Not particularly. What are you doing here?”

“Parole board hearing . . . for a guy I put away a couple of years ago.”

“On a Sunday?”

He shrugged. “Federal judge, kind of on the quirky side.”

Just as sure as I’d known my father was telling me the truth, I knew that Paul was lying.

“Hey,” he said, in a none-too-subtle attempt to change the direction of the conversation. “When am I going to get that dinner you promised me?”

“Soon. I’ve got some family stuff over the next week.” Plus, I was exhausted. “Can we do it next week?”

“I’d like that.” He glanced at his watch. “I gotta go. Don’t want a bad guy getting loose on my account.”

With a quick kiss to my cheek, he hurried toward the prison building.

I had no doubt he’d lied to me, but before I could puzzle it out, my cell phone buzzed.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Mags.”

“You’re still alive!” I felt as though a great weight had lifted from my shoulders.

“We’ve talked about this. You’re supposed to say
how are you?
or something like that.”

“How are you, Patrick?”

“I’m still alive!” he crowed, clearly mocking my reaction to hearing his voice.

“I was worried about you.”

“I told you not to.”

“I did anyway.”

“Can you come by my place, say around one?”

“Yes,” I replied automatically, forgetting that that was smack dab in the middle of when my mother’s birthday luncheon was called for.

“Great, see you then. Bye.”

“Bye.”

Apparently it was time for our conversation regarding a personal matter. I wished to hell I had a clue what it was about.

Chapter Forty-Six

S
INCE
I
HAD
some time to kill before my meeting with Patrick, I swung by the apartment, walked Doomsday (well more accurately she walked me), and picked up God. He’d been haranguing me mercilessly about taking him to visit Katie.

“Remember,” I told him as I walked into the hospital. “No vocalizing.”

“I’ll be as quiet as a statue,” he pledged from the dark confines of my sweatshirt—excuse me, “hoodie”—pocket.

I was making a beeline for Katie’s room when my name was called.

Grudgingly I turned to see Stacy sitting in her usual seat in the waiting area. I started to wonder whether the chair had a plaque with a name on it or something.

“Come here for a second, Maggie.” She waved me over.

I walked over and sat beside her. “Everything okay?” It wasn’t until I sat down that I realized that the other person in the waiting area, his face hidden behind a newspaper, was Delveccio. I recognized him because of his pinky ring.

“Everything’s great!” Stacy chirped. “Your investment banker wired the funds over to cover your niece’s bill.”

“He did?” I slid a sidelong glance in the alleged mobster’s direction. He was still obscured by the paper.

“So you’re all set. I did the paperwork myself. Katie’s staying here.”

“Thank you.” I meant the expression of gratitude to be directed at Tony/Anthony.

“No problem. Just doing my job,” Stacy said. “Speaking of which, I’ve got other things to wrap up. Today’s my last day.” She handed me a card with her contact information written on the back. “Let’s keep in touch.”

She jumped to her feet and hurried away.

I felt God stir restlessly in my pocket, but thankfully he stayed quiet.

“Damndest thing,” Delveccio said, pointing to an article. “This guy’s house blew up with him in it.”

“I heard about that.”

Folding up the newspaper, he looked me in the eye. “You did good.”

“Thank you for taking care of Katie’s bill.”

“A deal’s a deal. You should be rewarded for a job well done. Knowing my grandson’s safe, that’s a load off my mind. Gotta say, I really didn’t think you were gonna be able to pull the second job off. Gary was a pro.”

“I had help.”

“Yeah, he told me that.”

“He’s the one that deserves the credit for . . . eliminating that particular problem.” I didn’t want Delveccio starting to think that Patrick wasn’t up to the job. The man had two families to support.

“He said you were the one who did it.”

“It was a team effort.”

The mobster nodded. “Told me he’s thinking of taking you on as a partner on a permanent basis. You interested in that?”

I glanced in the direction of Katie’s room. The bills for her care wouldn’t stop piling up any time soon. “Maybe. If the circumstances are right.”

“You want a deal like the redhead’s got? You get to pick and choose who you hit?”

I nodded.

“I think we could work that out. I’ll be in touch. You go visit that little girl now.”

Obediently I got up and walked down the hall to Katie’s room. I glanced back in Delveccio’s direction, but he was already gone.

Closing the door behind me in the hopes a nurse wouldn’t notice I’d brought a reptile into the sterile environment, I walked up to Katie’s bedside.

“Hey there, Baby Girl. I brought you a visitor.”

“Why do you insist on calling her that?” God snapped. “She’s three, no longer an infant.”

Taking him out of my pocket, I placed him on my niece’s chest. He just stood there staring at her still face.

“When she was born Theresa and Dirk couldn’t agree on a name for her. It took them three days. During that time she was called Baby Girl Albers.” I smoothed Katie’s hair off her forehead. “Godzilla came to see you.”

The lizard crawled up until he was level with Katie’s ear. He lay on her pillow whispering to her. I couldn’t hear what he said. After a few minutes, he said, “I’m done.”

I extended my hand and climbed onto it. Against the white background of the sheets, I realized he was looking the worse for wear. Bruises covered most of his body, evidence of the ordeal we’d been through the day before.

“You okay, buddy?”

“I’m just tired,” he told me. “Usually all I do is stay in a ten-gallon container. I exerted myself more than usual yesterday.”

“I never thanked you.”

“You bought me crickets. That’s thanks enough. I really don’t need you subjecting me to some heartfelt declaration of gratitude.”

“Thank you.” I pressed a light kiss to the top of his head.

“Gross.”

I carefully placed him into my pocket.

“We’re going to have to do something about the lighting in here!”

Chuckling, I slipped my finger into Katie’s small hand. “Everything’s going to be okay, Katie.”

She squeezed my finger.

My heart stopped.

I couldn’t have felt what I’d just felt. She couldn’t have been responding to my voice. It must have been some sort of involuntary muscle spasm, right?

I looked at her once again limp hand and began to sing, my voice cracking with emotion. “The itsy bitsy spider went up the water spout. Down came the rain and washed the spider out. Out came the sun and dried up all the rain, and the itsy bitsy spider went up the . . . went . . . up . . . the. . . .” I could barely get the words out. Part of our game had always been that she’d squeeze my hand when I reached the word ‘again’ to indicate I should repeat the song. “Went up the spout . . . again.”

She squeezed my finger.

And for the first time since the accident, I cried.