Further Confessions of a Slightly Neurotic Hitwoman (8 page)

Chapter Nine

“H
E AGREED TO
the deal,” I shouted as I entered my apartment.

God didn’t answer me and I realized I wasn’t being greeted by a chorus of “Gotta! Gotta! Gotta!” from Doomsday. That’s when I remembered she was gone. The pain of loss shot through me. Knees weak, I stumbled, catching myself on the wall, my hand brushing against her leash hanging there.

I missed her. I missed the eat-me-out-of-house-and-home, grammatically challenged dingbat so much it hurt.

“I’m going to look for the beast. Want to come along?”

Again God didn’t answer me.

“Seriously? You’re giving me the silent treatment?”

Nothing.

I stalked into the kitchen, ready to have it out with him. I stopped short when I realized his terrarium, sitting smack in the middle of my kitchen table, was empty, the lid slightly ajar. I wouldn’t have thought the scrawny guy would be strong enough to move it. Bending down, pressing my nose to the glass, I double-checked whether he was hiding beneath the driftwood he liked to recline on.

No lizard.

I grabbed the kitchen table for support as a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach made the world spin. “God?” I whispered.

Not him too. He was the only . . . friend I could confide in and count on in the midst of my crazy life.

“Godzilla?” I shouted.

When he didn’t answer, I knew he wasn’t in the apartment.

“Where did you go?” I wondered aloud, even though I was pretty sure I knew the answer.

Hurrying back toward the front door I grabbed Doomsday’s leash off the wall. Throwing open the door, I bounced off a chest.

Not a piece of furniture, but the chest of a man. A well-muscled, buttons-stretched-to-their-limit kind of chest.

“Going somewhere, Maggie?” Paul Kowalski, wearing his police uniform, looked amused as I stumbled backward, carefully catching myself against the wall.

“What are you doing here?” I didn’t know if my breathlessness was a result of my hurrying, crashing into him, or because I was startled.

“I was coming to see you.” He flashed his most charming smile.

At least I would have found it charming when we’d first met. Now it seemed to have a slightly predatory gleam that had me tightening my grip on the leash. “You could have called.”

“And you could have screened my call.” He reached out and straightened the family portrait I’d recently rehung in the foyer.

This was the third time Paul had been in my home. The first time I’d been ready to have sex with him (until God had reminded me I’d had a gun tucked under my mattress). The second time I’d been grateful for his help as he’d helped me deal with my Aunt Leslie who’d passed out on my doorstep. But this time . . . this time I wanted him gone, because this visit just didn’t feel right.

“Sorry,” I said with as much fake cheer as I could muster. “If you’d called, I could have told you I was on my way out.”

“Where are you going?”

“To look for my dog.”

“You don’t have a dog.”

“I do now.” At least I hoped I did. I had to find her first.

He focused on the leash I held for the first time. “What kind of dog?”

“A Doberman.”

His smile wavered a little. “Why’d you get a Doberman?”

I shrugged, figuring it was safer than telling the police officer that the dog had belonged to a hitman I’d killed with a leg of lamb.

“Anyway,” he said, seemingly undeterred by my desire to get rid of him. “Your Aunt Loretta said you need a date to the wedding.”

“Did she?” I made a mental note to duct tape Loretta’s painted lips closed.

“So I thought you and me, some dancing, some romance.”

“That’s sweet,” I said slowly, “but it wouldn’t be fair to you. I’m going to be swamped with maid of honor duties.” Behind my back, I crossed my fingers to offset the lie. Zeke was the one taking care of everything. “And Lamont’s best man isn’t getting in until the day before . . .”

“Oh.” He looked genuinely disappointed.

“I’m sorry.”

“Well if you change your mind, you can always call me. You do still have my number, don’t you?”

I nodded.

“So you’ll call?”

“Sure.”

“Why do I feel like you’re giving me the brush-off?”

Because I was. “I’ve got a lot going on, Paul. I just don’t have the time for a relationship right now. It wouldn’t be fair to you.”

“Who’s talking about a relationship? I’m just talking about having some fun together.” He winked at me. “We
have
had some fun together, haven’t we?”

I couldn’t help but smile at his blatant flirtation, even as I waited for him to leave. Despite the fact I didn’t trust him, and I worried about his temper, I couldn’t deny that he was sexy as hell and we had shared some pretty hot kisses and groping.

Part of me wished I had the time or the disposition to take him up on his offer of “fun.” The other part of me remembered that both Patrick and God didn’t like him. The only person who did was Aunt Loretta, and she’s not exactly the best judge when it comes to the characters of the men she meets.

As I locked the door of the apartment, I heard the engine of his car roar away. When I turned around, he was gone from sight.

I scanned the area, but didn’t see my MIA lizard or dog.

“God?” I whispered. “Where are you?”

Pacing the length of the parking lot, I was relieved I didn’t spot his smooshed brown corpse anywhere. I peered beneath all the parked cars, but couldn’t find him.

How far could the little guy have gotten?

I tried to think like him, but then realized that he had probably tried to think like a dog. All that thinking gave me a headache.

Spotting a squirrel, I called out, “Hey! Have you seen a big, black, airheaded dog running around loose?”

The squirrel fixed his beady little eyes on me, wrinkled his nose with distaste, twitched his tail, and bounded off.

I set off in the direction Doomsday had disappeared. A block later I saw a pair of feral cats Dumpster diving behind a diner. “Excuse me?”

The stopped and eyed me with disdain.

“Have you seen a big, black dog? Her name is Doomsday.”

Arching its back, one hissed at me. The other yowled.

I couldn’t understand what either was saying. So much for being the clone of Doctor-freakin’-Dolittle.

Discouraged, I trudged on.

I’d lost my dog.

I’d lost my lizard.

And if I didn’t kill Jose Garcia, I was going to lose my niece.

Trying to brush away tears that blurred my vision, I staggered, catching myself against a “Children at Play” sign. Resting my forehead against the pole, I closed my eyes and let out a hiccupping sob.

A car pulled to a stop beside me.

Squeezing my eyes shut, I prayed they’d just move along and not ask me why I was holding on to a street sign for dear life.

“Mags?”

I opened one eye and looked at the car, an unfamiliar blue sedan.

“Whatchya doing?” the driver asked, peering through the lowered passenger window.

I opened my other eye so that I could focus properly on the redhead behind the wheel. “Are you following me?”

Patrick tilted his head. “I prefer to call it tailing. Do you want a ride?” Without waiting for an answer, he leaned over and pushed the passenger door open for me.

“Why were you tailing me?”

“I’m pretty sure the sign can stand all by itself. Get in.”

Unable to come up with a smart-ass answer, I got in the car. It smelled like stale cigar smoke.

“Seat belt,” Patrick prompted.

I put the seat belt on and he drove away.

“What’s going on?” he asked. “Delveccio said you took the job. I thought we’d agreed you wouldn’t since it’s so dangerous. Then I see Kowalski leaving your place, and now you’re walking around talking to yourself.”

There was no anger or judgment in his tone, only curiosity and concern. Somehow that made me feel worse.

“I lost my dog, I lost my lizard, and I’m going to lose my niece.”

He slid a sidelong glance in my direction as if to ascertain whether I’d lost my mind too. “Was that an answer to what I asked, or just some random rant?”

“I had to take the job. Katie’s aunt is suing me for custody.”

“Marlene?” he asked, referring to my runaway sister.

“No, not Marlene. Who knows whether Marlene is even alive?”

“I do. She is, though now she’s going by the name Jewel. I keep trying to talk to you about her, but you won’t let me.” A note of exasperation threaded through his tone.

“She’s not the point.” I really couldn’t deal with talking about Marlene with everything else that was going on. “Dirk the Jerk’s sister, Abilene Plude, is.”

“Plude?” Something sharpened Patrick’s tone, but I was mid-rant.

“She didn’t even come for her brother’s funeral, and, I might add, has never laid eyes on Katie, but now she wants her.” I sank into my seat.

“So you took the Garcia job because . . . ?”

“I need to hire an attorney.”

“Oh.”

“Unless you want to kill her for me?” I suggested hopefully. “It would be kind of obvious if I did it myself, but you could. What do you say?”

He didn’t say anything, just concentrated on driving.

“Yeah,” I muttered, turning away and looking out the window. “I knew that’s what you’d say. Those damn criteria about a victim deserving it . . .”

After a few minutes of riding in silence he asked, “So . . . you and Kowalski?”

“There is no me and Kowalski. My Aunt Loretta would like there to be and I’m guessing he would like there to be since he showed up at my door, but there’s definitely no Kowalski and me.” Saying it aloud helped me to know I’d made the right decision.

Patrick nodded, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

Since I was unburdening myself, I told him the rest. “Doomsday and God ran away.”

“God?”

“Godzilla. The lizard. They both ran away.”

“Together?”

“No. Doomsday took off this morning. God disappeared sometime after that. He was pissed that I didn’t go find her right away.”

Patrick gave me that suspicious, sidelong look again. I guess it did seem kind of crazy that my pet lizard was annoyed with me.

“And why were you walking around talking to yourself?”

I couldn’t very well tell him that I can talk to and understand some animals. He might have driven me straight to the loony bin and gotten me into the room adjoining my mom’s. So I said, “I was looking for them. Calling their names.”

I wasn’t sure if he believed me. I decided to distract him.

“Where are we going?”

“My place.”

My stomach fluttered. “Why?”

“There’s someone you should see.”

My throat closed, preventing me from speaking. I couldn’t believe he was ambushing me like this. I was in no shape to see Marlene. Finally, as he pulled to a stop in front of his place, I managed to say, “You can’t do this.”

Turning off the car, he turned to face me. “Do what?”

“Make me see her.”

Worry creased his forehead. “You don’t want to see her?”

I shook my head.

“Why not?”

“I’m not prepared.”

“What kind of preparation do you need?”

“I’m too . . . raw. I can’t . . . please . . .”

I hadn’t realized I was trembling until he reached over and pulled me to him, cradling my head against his shoulder. He was warmer and more solid than the stupid signpost. With him holding me, I didn’t feel like I was going to shatter into a billion bits.

“Take it easy, Mags. Just take a breath.”

I did. He smelled like soap and peppermint.

“Now listen carefully to me. You think I’ve got your sister in my place?”

I nodded.

He leaned back, catching my chin so that I had to look into his reproachful gaze. “You should know I wouldn’t do that to you.”

He was right. He might be a paid assassin, but he’d never treated me with anything with fairness and respect.

Guiltily I looked away. “Then who?”

“Come see.”

He hopped out of the car. I followed slowly.

“Wake up, Sleeping Beauty,” he called as he unlocked the door of the tiny apartment.

“Maggie! Maggie! Maggie!” a breathy bimbo panted as she jumped up and knocked me over.

Doomsday and I collapsed to the floor in Patrick’s entryway.

“How?” I asked as she licked my face, practically drowning me.

“She was nosing around outside of the falafel place.” Pulling the dog off me, he helped me to my feet. “I’m guessing the scent of the lamb was familiar after the other night.”

“Meat! Meat!” Doomsday whined.

“I was there for lunch,” Patrick continued, absentmindedly petting the Doberman. “I had to get back to work and it hasn’t gone too well the last couple of times I went to your place unannounced, so I brought her here.”

Doomsday wagged her stump of a tail. “Cheese! Cheese!”

“I take it you fed her?” I asked.

“Cheese. It was the only thing in the fridge besides beer. I went by your place tonight to tell you about her, but I saw Kowalski’s car . . .”

“And you decided to tail me.”

“Actually I wanted to make sure he wasn’t following you. He looked pretty angry when he got back in his car.”

I wasn’t surprised at that nugget of information. “Thanks.”

“That’s what friends are for.”

“Is that what we are?” I asked without thinking. “Friends?”

An uncomfortable tension stretched between us as we both considered ramifications of the question. Sure I was attracted to him, but even with only one wife in the picture now, he wasn’t the guy for me. He was still a professional killer, no matter how caring and considerate he came across.

Finally he said, “Among other things. Do you want to talk about the Garcia hit?”

I nodded, grateful to be back on safer ground: killing a person for profit. “Where do you want to start?”

T
HE PLAN, AT
least in its rudimentary form, was to kill Jose at the rehearsal dinner he was throwing for his daughter. It would be quick and public, like it was supposed to be, but Patrick thought there would be less risk of getting caught since there would be fewer people in attendance and fewer photographers who might inadvertently snap my picture.