The Hitwoman and the Chubby Cherub (19 page)

The recording ended.

I just stood there in the center of the room staring at the speaker, trying to figure out how I felt about being given my very own safe house. On one hand, it was a thoughtful gesture. On the other, it magnified the depth of the dysfunction of my relationship with the sexy redhead.

Something that felt a lot like grief gripped me, cutting off my air.

I didn’t have time to feel sorry for myself though, so I shook it off. “Come on,” I said to DeeDee. “We’ve got to go keep a kid safe.”

The dvd Gino had given me had also come with a note that included a time and place. The time was in less than forty-five minutes, so we headed to the place.

I’d never been to the town dog park before. It was divided into sections for big and small dogs. There was only one other dog, a brown mastiff, in the big dog section. The animal was so huge that he made DeeDee look like she belonged in the section with the Chihuahuas.

His owner sat on a bench, reading something on his tablet.

“That’s him,” I said, pointing out Judge Rosendahl to DeeDee.

I pulled on an oversized baseball cap, hoping it would prevent the judge from being able to identify me.

“You know what you’re supposed to do?”

“Case bring. Break no,” she panted eagerly.

Grabbing a Frisbee, I walked her through the first gate.

The mastiff watched our arrival with interest. His master didn’t even look up.

The male dog approached us immediately as we entered the enclosure. He sniffed at her aggressively. “You who are?”

“Doomsday,” my Doberman replied through bared teeth.

I glanced at her, surprised. Doomsday had been her name when she’d belonged to the assassin Gary the Gun, but she’d insisted on being called something more feminine when she’d moved in with me.

Still, the choice of name seemed to have the desired effect. The other dog trotted away.

“You okay?” I whispered to DeeDee.

“Okay,” she said with steely determination.

I threw the Frisbee a couple of times. She caught it and returned it to me.

The judge never looked up.

“Okay,” I whispered. “This is it.” I handed her the dvd. “Gently.”

I threw the Frisbee once more. Instead of chasing it, she went straight to the judge and dropped the disc at his feet. 

He didn’t seem to notice.

DeeDee looked at me, uncertain of what to do. I waved her over to where I’d unlatched the first gate to escape the dog park. She loped toward me.

And as she did, the mastiff approached the dvd.

I held my breath, hoping he wouldn’t break it.

“To the car,” I whispered to DeeDee. I didn’t even bother to leash her. I just opened the gate.

With his dog’s attention at his feet, the judge finally became aware of what was going on around him. I turned away when he bent to pick up the dvd. I was in my car before he even got the case open.

“Good job!” I congratulated the dog.

“Bacon?” she begged.

“As promised,” I agreed.

Our deal had been that if she delivered the disc without me getting caught, I’d buy her some bacon.

If only all of the deals I made in my life were that simple.

Chapter Twenty-three

After making the drop to the judge, I bought the dog her bacon, dropped her at home, picked up the lizard and headed to the town library with the envelope I’d found at Belgard’s house.

I hadn’t been there for years, but the place still smelled like old books and copy toner. I smiled, remembering how I’d played hide-and-seek among the stacks with my sisters.

It took me a little bit, but I soon figured out the shelving system. It only took a few minutes to find the Finsler Geometry book. I couldn’t reach it, so I had to go in search of one of those rolling things to stand on.

As I dashed through the racks, I saw him.

There was no missing that flash of red.

“He’s here,” I whispered.

“Who?” God asked.

“Cupid.”

I only saw him in profile, much like when I’d witnessed him murdering Fern Cardinale, but afraid that he’d seen me, I ducked behind the nearest shelf.

“Hide!” God urged.

Hiding was probably the dumbest thing I could have done. Cupid had never seen my face. All jumping behind bookshelves would do was draw attention to myself. Still I sidled alongside the nearest rack, trying to get a better look at him.

As though he sensed he was being watched, he glanced over in my direction. His expression was bland, but his eyes were dead.

I pulled a book from the shelf and flopped it open, just so that it would look as though I was reading.

“Reading is my superpower,” I muttered, trying to prevent the escape of the hysterical laughter welling up inside me.

“Shh,” God shushed. “Are you trying to attract his attention?”

“My chest is squeaking,” I countered. “Do you think that might make him look twice at me?”

The lizard fell silent. So did I.

Deciding that I should just act naturally, I continued my search for a stool to stand on. Finding one, I returned to the row that held the book I wanted. Hopping up, I could barely lift the heavy book off the shelf. It took some maneuvering to get it free.

“Who was this guy Finsley?” I muttered. “And why the hell would anyone want to write this much about math?” Finally the book became dislodged and I swayed unsteadily on my precarious perch.

I almost fell off the stool when I caught the flash of red visible on the other side of the row.

“Got it?” God asked.

I couldn’t very well tell him to be quiet for fear of alerting the killer on the other side of the stack to my presence. Being a calm, cool, and collected contract killer myself, I balanced the book on my hip and simply used my free hand to pull my collar away from my shirt. I lowered my head, and blew on the lizard ensconced between my breasts.

Which is how Cupid found me.

Blowing into my shirt.

If I hadn’t been so terrified, I would have been mortified when I looked up and saw the man with a predilection for killing people with bows and arrows staring at me like I was the freak of nature.

I held my breath, wondering if he recognized me from Belgard’s house. I tightened my grip on the book, wondering if it was the reason he was there.

Shaking his head in disgust at my antics, the killer strolled away.

Once I was sure he was gone, I climbed down off the stool and sat down on it.

“What on Earth is going on?” God whispered.

“Not now,” I whispered back. Glancing around to assure myself that nobody was watching, I flipped open the book, eager to find out why Belgard had thought it was so important.

I found the reason wedged in between chapters five and six. It was a thin accounting ledger, written in some kind of code I couldn’t easily decipher, but one thing was clear,

a lot of money had changed hands.

God scrambled up my bra strap so that he could peek over my collar to see what was going on.

“Take it with you,” he whispered.

“Sure,” I whispered back. “All I have to do is waltz out with it in front of the guy who’s here looking for it. Piece of cake.”

I wedged Finsler Geometry back into its slot and tucked the ledger into the back of my jeans. No doubt it’s an understatement to say my posture was anything less than bizarre as I walked out, with a book down my pants and a lizard down my shirt.

But I didn’t get caught.

Which was a good thing, considering it was almost time to help host a party.

--#--

I’d told Cam that I’d bring the gluten-free ice cream to the class party. I’d promised.

But I couldn’t find any. I went to three different stores and all were sold out.

By the time I got back to the B&B to change clothes and hide the ledger beneath the couch I was pretty stressed out.

I had barely gotten out of my car when Aunt Leslie accosted me.

“She’s going to drive me to drink,” she complained, eyes wild, hair looking like it hadn’t seen a brush in days.

“Who is?” I asked, getting out of the car.

“My sister.”

“Which one?”

“Loretta, of course. She’s insufferable.”

“So stop visiting her,” I suggested mildly. I mean, what else could I say? Her twin
was
at times insufferable.

Unhappy with my response, Leslie stalked away, muttering under her breath.

I quickly headed for the back entrance of the basement hoping to avoid any more humans.

“Maggie!” Marlene called from the kitchen door before I could reach the shelter of the cellar. “Come in this way.”

Sighing, I changed course and headed for the kitchen.

“Guess what I’m doing for Valentine’s Day,” Marlene gushed excitedly.

“Delivering pizza?” I guessed weakly.

“After that.”

I shrugged. “I have no idea.” I didn’t add the “And I don’t care” that was on the tip of my tongue.

“Ballroom dancing at midnight.” She sighed happily. “Isn’t that the most romantic thing you’ve ever heard?”

Remembering that she’d be double-dating with Aunt Leslie, I smiled tightly. “Have a good time.”

“What about you?” Marlene asked as Aunt Susan and Griswald strolled into the kitchen carrying empty coffee cups. “What are you doing for Valentine’s Day? Big plans?”

“I’m going to help out at the party for Katie’s class.”

“That doesn’t sound very romantic,” Marlene pouted.

Considering my sister had spent years working as a professional escort, I really didn’t think she was an expert on romance. I clenched my jaw to prevent myself from blurting that out.

“Everything all set for the party, dear?” Susan interjected. I could see from the worried look she was giving me that she knew I was about to rip Marlene’s oh-so-in-love head off.

“No,” I admitted grudgingly.

“No?” Susan’s voice squeaked with dismay.

“I’m supposed to bring gluten-free ice cream, but all of the stores I went to are sold out of it.”

“You should have bought it ahead of time,” Susan lectured. “A little thinking ahead goes a long way.”

I knew she was right, but her pompous attitude grated. “Ya think?”

Susan glowered at me, put out by my sarcastic tone.

“Maggie has a lot on her mind,” Griswald interrupted calmly. “I’m sure ice cream is low on her list of priorities.”