Maggie Lee (Book 10): The Hitwoman's Act of Contrition (4 page)

“It’s not much,” Patrick apologized.

“There’s an understatement,” the lizard said.

For once, I agreed with him. The furnishings in the small room consisted of two mismatched hardback chairs beneath a bare bulb.

“What happened to your other place?” I asked. It at least had boasted a fridge and a sofa.

“I’ve still got it.” The redhead indicated I should choose a chair. “I just like to switch things up.”

Considering I’d never seen him drive the same vehicle twice, that made sense.

“Do you use this for interrogations?” I asked, sitting down on the nearest chair.

“What?”

I pointed to the bare bulb and the sparse surroundings. “It would make a great interrogation room.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You have a lot of experience with interrogations?”

“Maybe
this
is an interrogation,” God whispered in my ear.

I tensed at the thought, but decided to ignore him. “Why did you turn the Krout job down?”

Patrick settled himself into the seat opposite me, his knee brushing against mine, sending a shiver of awareness through my body. “Did you accept it?”

A niggle of irritation settled between my shoulder blades. First, he showed up out of nowhere, after having dropped out of my life without warning. Now he wasn’t answering simple questions.

I crossed my arms over my chest and met his gaze steadily. Sure, I’d let him kiss me senseless, but that didn’t mean I was a total pushover.

Amusement sparkled in his green eyes. “I didn’t take it because there are too many LEOs after him right now. Rule Number One…”

“Don’t get caught,” we said simultaneously.

He grinned. “You
were
listening.”

“Who are these Leos?” I asked.

“Law Enforcement Officers. He’s got a lot on him. Which is why he’s holed up on the family estate. No judge wants to cross the Krout family by issuing a search warrant. And no prosecutor wants the case unless it’s airtight. So everyone involved is stuck in a holding pattern.”

“Except his mother.”

Patrick cocked his head. “How do you figure?”

I shrugged. “She’s the one who took out the contract.”

Patrick rocked back in chair, surprised. “How do you know that?”

“Delveccio told me.”

“He
told
you?”

My irritation grew. Annoyed that he was shocked that the mobster confided in me, I snapped. “I asked. He answered. That’s how communication usually works.”

Patrick blinked. “Guess I deserved that.”

“And more,” God opined from my shoulder.

Patrick looked at the squeaking lizard, a strange expression on his face. “Did you see the paper today?”

“I saw,” I admitted.

Leaning forward, Patrick grabbed my hands. Clasping them in his own, he hung his head and said quietly, “That’s got to count for something, right?  Me taking action. Doing what’s necessary to move our relationship forward.”

I shrugged. I knew he was confirming that he’d killed the husband of his wife’s lover, the man who’d poisoned him, but I didn’t consider it the grand, romantic gesture he thought it was. In fact, it was kind of creepy. What would happen to me if we broke up?

“Such a stand-up guy,” God drawled, confirming my feeling that I wasn’t comfortable with the idea that Patrick had killed someone to make his own life better. I’d thought we had a code, only killing those who deserved it. Sure he’d killed the guy who had poisoned him, but I wasn’t sure that it was the same.

Patrick released my hands and slowly sat back so he could get a better look at my face. “What’s wrong?”

“You’re offering a dead body in lieu of a dozen roses,” I joked weakly.

He frowned. “You don’t even
like
roses, do you?”

I looked away, disconcerted that he knew me so well. “You can’t just sidestep the issue, Patrick.”

“I took too long,” he said softly.

I swung my gaze back to meet his. “Maybe.”

Nodding, he swallowed hard. “Look, I know it’s not ideal, but my wife has already declared she’s leaving me in six months when the insurance money for her lover’s husband comes through.”

“Should I offer congratulations?” I mocked. “And I’m confused. Did you do this for us or for her? Because you wanted to set her up with a nice little nest egg? Or did you do it so you wouldn’t get hit with a massive alimony bill?”

He winced.

“Bull’s-eye!” God chortled.

Patrick let out a shuddering sigh. “The two of them will run off and have their happily ever after together and that’ll leave me free for you.”

The anguish in his voice cut at me. Despite my doubts, I reached out and put my hand on his knee, offering comfort. “I know you’re trying.”

He covered my hand with his. “I really am. This will free us up to be together. I’ll be able to help you find out what really happened to Darlene.”

The mention of Darlene, Marlene’s twin, who everyone thought had died years ago, but I’d recently come to believe might still be alive, made my stomach flutter with hope. “Really?”

Patrick patted my hand. “No matter what happens between us, I’ll help you find out what happened to her.”

Was it any wonder I was in love with the man?

After leaving Patrick, I went to the pet store and picked up a bag of live crickets before heading back to the B&B.

The entire drive home it sounded as though they were singing the chorus of “Staying Alive.” I did my best to ignore them.

Pulling into the driveway, I spotted Armani’s car. Instead of going in one of the main doors, I used the storm cellar door to let myself into the basement, not because I was avoiding my friend, but because I was afraid Aunt Susan would freak out if she knew I was bringing living insects into the house.

“Gotta! Gotta!” DeeDee insisted as she ran up the stairs as I walked down them.

Piss, stretched out on the couch, remarked, “Doesn’t matter if you’ve been gone for five minutes or eight hours, that dog, bless her heart, thinks you’ve been gone for weeks.”

“Time
and
grammatically challenged,” God griped.

“Maybe you should feel some compassion toward her,” I suggested, carefully putting the lizard into his terrarium.

He puffed out the orange skin beneath his chin. “She unplugged the TV.”

“That music
is
annoying,” Piss interjected.

“Then stick your head in the toilet,” God suggested.

The cat narrowed her good eye. “Someone’s hangry.”

The lizard flicked his tail. “That isn’t a word.”

“Hungry plus angry equals hangry,” the cat countered.

“Cut it out,” I warned Piss. “You’re just winding him up for sport.”

She grinned and winked her good eye.

God missed that exchange since I was dangling the clear plastic bag containing crickets over his enclosure. If he’d had lips, I’m sure he would have licked them.

I dumped the bugs into the terrarium, ignoring the frightened cries of the bugs, and slammed the cover on top to keep them contained just as DeeDee returned.

“Hungry,” she panted.

“Isn’t everyone?” Piss drawled. “She ate my tuna this morning.”

I glared at the dog. “Is that true?”

She lowered her head and wiggled her stump of a tail.

I sighed. I opened a can of cat food and put it out for Piss before ordering the dog upstairs.

“Hungry,” she reminded me as we entered the kitchen.

“So you’ve said.” I threw a handful of dry kibble into her bowl and followed the sound of Armani’s laughter into the dining room.

“Hey, chiquita,” my friend called the moment she spotted me.

“Hey. How are you?”

“I’m good.”

The note of forced cheerfulness and the dark circles under her eyes said something else.

“Loretta was just telling me the funniest story of two people who got stuck together in her changing room at the lingerie shop.”

I grinned weakly, sinking into the nearest seat. “Oh yeah?”

“Good thing I stock plenty of lubricant,” Loretta tittered.

I closed my eyes. Was The Corset really my best job option?

“Well, I should get going. Money isn’t going to make itself.” Loretta tottered out of the room in her stilettos, throwing air kisses like a deranged beauty pageant winner.

I waited until she was gone before returning my attention to Armani. “What’s up?”

She shrugged.

Pushing myself out of my chair, I moved to a seat closer to her, ignoring DeeDee who’d wandered into the room and was sniffing under the table for fallen crumbs. “Want to talk about it?”

“They disappeared.”

“Who?”

“Joy and Lucky.”

I’d helped Joy and Lucky escape during Armani’s rescue. I wasn’t surprised that Lucky O’Hara, a member of the O’Hara crime family who’d turned into a police informant, had disappeared. I was, however, unnerved by the news that Joy, his police department contact, wasn’t back to her regular life.

Come to think of it, I hadn’t seen or heard from Jack Stern, the reporter who’d been involved in the mess, either. A sickening sensation roiled in my gut. What had happened to them?

I’d assumed that Ms. Whitehat’s ninjas had ferried them to safety, but what if something horrible had befallen them?

A surge of guilt clawed at my throat, cutting off my air supply.

Sensing my distress, DeeDee put her head into my lap and stared up at me with worried eyes.

“She’s called me,” Armani confided.

“Who?” I gasped.

“Joy. She says she’s okay, but I miss her.”

My anxiety eased a bit. I sucked in a breath. If Joy was okay, there was no reason to think Jack and Lucky weren’t too.

Suddenly Armani was shaking a purple cloth bag under my nose. “Pull.”

“I don’t—” I protested.

“Pull!”

Grudgingly, I reached into the bag and removed seven Scrabble tiles. This was the way my semi-psychic friend foretold the future, through bizarre, often unclear messages spelled out in seven letters.

I put my pile of pieces on the table and, using her good hand (the other was injured in an unfortunate accident with a Zamboni machine), she laid them out in alphabetical order.

E F G I O R V

We stared at the grouping for a moment.

I said the first thing that made sense to me. “Give for.”

“Maybe,” Armani mused. “But I think it’s
forgive
.”

“You’re sure?”

She nodded. “Forgive.”

“Forgive who?”

She shrugged. “That’s for you to find out.”

I frowned. In the beginning, I’d ignored Armani’s crazy messages and warning, but more often than not, they proved helpful, and had even saved my life more than once, so now I took her predictions seriously. “Do you think I need to ask forgiveness or that I need to forgive someone?”

She shook her head. “Your message. Your solution.”

I stared at the letters, wondering if this was a message that meant I should ask little Dominic for his forgiveness for killing his father.

“So about the job situation,” Armani began, interrupting my thoughts.

I looked up at her, more willing to take her career advice than to try to figure out what I needed to atone for.

“I’m quitting.”

“Huh?” I asked, trying to figure out how to change mental gears. “I know that you’re upset about what happened, but do you really think this is the best idea?”

“I already told Harry.” Armani tossed her hair defiantly. “So don’t even try to talk me out of it.”

“But—”

“I’m going run a psychic matchmaker business. I’m pretty good at it. I have a successful track record. Tom and Jane, Brady and Amy, Alyssa and Pete to name a few. I’ve got the gift.” Her voice rose to a near-shout by the end, as though by raising her volume, she could convince me of her abilities.

“Of course you do,” I soothed, biting my tongue and not mentioning that her own love life was a disaster. “But to make a living at it. What are you going to live on?”

“I have a plan.”

“Really?” The idea of Armani thinking ahead was about as foreign an idea as Loretta wearing a turtleneck.

“Ye of little faith.”

Suddenly, it occurred to me that her plan could involve something illegal. While I regularly engaged in activities that could cause me to end up in jail, I wanted better for my friend. “Tell me about this plan of yours.”

She raised her hand.

The mangled one.

I looked from her hand to her face to see if she was teasing. “I don’t follow.”

“I’m going to live off part of my insurance settlement.”

“You have an insurance settlement?”

“Six figures. That crazy machine ate me up and spit me back out.”

“But if you had that kind of money, why work at Insuring the Future?”

She shrugged. “I didn’t want to waste the money. I waited until I could figure out where to invest it.”

I tried to absorb the fact my flaky friend was financially responsible. It was a strange idea to wrap my head around, especially considering her latest hare-brained scheme. “So you’re going to invest it in your matchmaking business?”

“No. I’m investing part in Tara’s business and I’ll live off the other part until I can make a living helping people find their love-mates.”

“Who’s Tara again?” The name was familiar, but I couldn’t remember why.

“Harry’s wife.”

“The Animal Control Officer?”

Armani nodded vigorously.

DeeDee plopped at my feet whining, “Pound bad. Pound bad.”

She’d had an unpleasant experience there when she’d helped me out with a job assignment from the mysterious Ms. Whitehat.

“It’s okay,” I soothed, bending down to rub the spot between her eyes. She rolled over so I could stroke her belly.

Armani watched the exchange with interest. “Bad memories?”

“I think so.” Straightening, I asked, “And what’s Tara’s business going to be? Pet retrieval?”

“Interior decorating.”

I nodded. It was the first thing that Armani had said that made sense. Having been in Tara’s office at the pound, I knew the woman had a flair for decorating.

“You approve?” Armani teased.