The Hitwoman and the Neurotic Witness (13 page)

The second she closed her door, I pulled a K-turn and took an alternate route to the hospital.

“What happened?” Gypsy asked.

“Someone blew up the Honey Bunnies.”

“What on Earth are Honey Bunnies?” Gypsy asked, in a tone that signaled she already knew she wouldn’t want to know the answer.

“Strippers,” I said.

“Exotic dancers,” Armani corrected. “Some really talented ladies work there.”

“Why would someone blow up a….” Gypsy trailed off unsure of what to call the establishment that employed “really talented” exotic dancers.

“Gentlemen’s club,” Armani supplied helpfully.

Gypsy shrugged.

“Beats me,” Armani said. “Maybe someone was pissed they overcharge for their watered down drinks.”

I had my own theory, knowing that Honey Bunnies was a holding of the Delveccio family, but I kept my mouth shut. Concentrating on my driving, I set a new land speed record back to the hospital.

Katie, with God perched on her shoulder, was asleep as I lifted her from the car. Clutching her close, I hurried into the hospital, heading toward her room.

“This way,” a voice ordered as strong fingers dug painfully into my upper arm.

Startled, I looked up to find Vinnie, Delveccio’s steroid-loving nephew and bodyguard, dragging me down an unfamiliar hallway. I tried to shake him off, but he tightened his grip.

“Boss said to make sure no one saw you going in,” Vinnie grunted. “Come with me.”

While I didn’t trust Vinnie in the slightest, I knew that Delveccio would look out for me when it came to anything that involved Katie, so I followed the juicer without complaint.

“You cause a lotta trouble,” Vinnie muttered.

Hustling to keep up with his long-legged stride, I didn’t respond.

“I mean I know you’ve done the family a solid and all, but still,” he complained.

I wondered which “solid” he was referring to: the fact I’d saved the life of Delveccio’s grandson, or taken the life of his scummy son-in-law or that double-crossing hitman Gary the Gun. I didn’t ask. Instead I said, “Sorry I’m inconveniencing you.”

Glowering at me, his eyebrows knitting together like a caveman’s unibrow, he stopped in the middle of the hallway. “I don’t like your smart mouth.”

I bit my tongue to keep from responding with,
I don’t like your dumb mouth
. I met his gaze steadily, showing him no fear, despite the fact he was puffing up his chemically-enhanced muscles like Bluto used to do in the classic Popeye cartoons Marlene had liked so much as a kid.

Frustrated that he couldn’t intimidate me, Vinnie stalked down the hall. I could barely keep up. I almost barreled into him when he came to a sudden stop at a corner.

“Wait here while I see if the coast is clear.”

Sticking his hands in his pockets and whistling, an absolute caricature of nonchalance, he strolled around the corner.

“You do realize that depending on that muscle-head to sneak you into the room is one of the worst plans you’ve ever come up with,” God whispered from the depths of my bosom.

Tilting my chin downward so that I could whisper into my breasts, I said, “Listening to you about taking Katie for ice cream was some of the worst advice I ever took.”

“It was a good plan.”

“Then why am I relying on Vinnie, the hired muscle, to get me out of it?”

Returning from around the corner, Vinnie caught me talking to my chest.

His eyes widened.

Jerking my chin up, I asked, “Is it clear?”

He nodded.

Brushing past him, I ran down the short length of hall to the room Katie was staying in. One of Delveccio’s other goons saw me coming and opened the door like he was a doorman at a five-star hotel. I felt the sudden urge to tip him.

As I placed Katie back on her bed, her eyes fluttered open.

“Home?” she asked sleepily.

“Soon, baby girl,” I promised. “Did you have fun?”

She nodded, her eyes drifting closed.

Kissing her cheek, “See you tomorrow, baby girl.”

By the time I’d reached the door she was already asleep.

Vinnie was waiting for me outside in the hall. He held out his cell phone to me. “Boss wants to talk to you.”

Taking it, I pressed it to my cheek. “Hello?”

“You gotta do your job,” Delveccio’s familiar voice ordered. “We lost another property.”

“I heard,” I said, trying not to retch. The phone reeked of Vinnie’s disgusting cologne and sweat.

“Time is of the essence,” Delveccio said. “I’m not screwing around.”

“I’m working on it,” I assured him.

“You’re standing in the hospital.” He hung up on me.

I handed Vinnie back his phone. “Thanks.”

Mr. Universe-wannabe snatched it out of my hand. “Scram.”

I raised my eyebrows. “Scram?”

He glowered at me. Calmly, I strolled away at a relaxed pace, even though internally my heart/my mind was racing.

“I’m sorry about your loss,” I said to God.

“What loss?”

“Your friend. Dora.”

“Have you ever tried to have a conversation with a fish? All they ever say is ‘Glug-glug. Glug-glug.’”

Chastised by the lizard and out of Vinnie’s field of vision, I hurried through the hospital and back to the car.

“You get her settled in okay?” Armani asked as I climbed back into the driver’s seat.

I nodded.

“She’s a cute kid.”

“Where’s Gypsy this time?” I asked.

“They went that way,” Armani pointed toward the hospital’s exit.

Putting the car into gear, I asked, “Why did you want to bring her along?”

“She’s sad.”

“So you took pity on her. Why didn’t you just tell her to let out her inner Chiquita?” I mocked as the car’s headlights swept over Gypsy and DeeDee. They were standing on the side of the road, staring up at a billboard.

“I don’t think she has one,” Armani confessed. She rolled down her window and shouted, “Get in. We’ve got to get On the Wagon Leslie.”

Both the dog and the woman quickly got into the car.

Catching Gypsy’s gaze in the rearview mirror I asked, “No ghost?”

She shook her head.

“She must be staying with Katie,” I murmured.

“Hang on a second,” Armani interrupted. “Are you telling me there was a ghost in this car?”

“That’s what she says,” I said, jerking my head in Gypsy’s direction.

Armani twisted in her seat to look at the medium. “Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t I sense it?”

“Maybe your aura’s off,” I said drily.

“Shut up!” she snapped at me. Focusing on Gypsy, she asked, “What was the ghost like? What did it want?”

Gypsy looked to me for permission to respond.

I nodded my agreement.

“She’s Katie’s mother,” Gypsy told Armani.

Gasping, Armani covered her heart with her good hand. “Oh, wow. Like a Guardian Angel.”

“She did seem benevolent,” Gypsy agreed.

“Did you talk to her?” Armani asked.

“Yes.”

“What did she say?”

I glanced at Gypsy’s reflection, wanting to know that myself. Did Theresa think I was doing a terrible job with Katie? Had she thought I was a horrible person for driving her around without a car seat?

“You’re not really buying this poppycock, are you?” God interjected from his hiding spot in my bra.

Armani looked at me sharply. “Where’s the lizard? I heard him squeaking.”

“I don’t squeak!” God thundered.

“Squeak! Squeak!” DeeDee panted.

Armani leaned over to peer down my shirt. “Is it in there?”

“Do you mind?” I huffed. “I’m
trying
to focus on my driving.”

“Tell her I don’t squeak,” God ordered imperiously.

“Squeak!” DeeDee barked.

“Everyone shut up,” I shouted.

Mercifully they all fell silent as I turned into the church parking lot.

The meeting had let out. People stood around in small clusters, scattered around the parking lot, talking to one another.

“No one says a word about Katie or ghosts to Leslie,” I said sternly. “She’s in a fragile enough state as it is. Is that understood?”

Armani and Gypsy nodded.

“I’m going to go find her.” I got out of the car. “Be good.” I shut my door firmly for extra emphasis.

“She’s not talking to Theresa’s ghost,” God said quietly.

“Just like I can’t be talking to you?” I said, crossing the parking lot slowly.

“That’s different.”

“They both sound crazy,” I muttered, spotting Leslie talking to an older woman just a few yards away. “Hush now. It’s time to deal with my aunt.”

Pasting on a smile, I approached Leslie from behind, unsure of what kind of mood she was in. “Hi, Aunt Leslie.”

She turned around. “Margaret!” Grabbing my hand, she dragged me forward to introduce me to the woman she’d been conversing with. “This is my niece, Margaret. The one I was telling you about.”

The woman smiled kindly. “Nice to meet you. I’m Diana.” She extended her hand. “It’s always such an honor to meet someone’s inspiration.”

Her handshake was surprisingly firm for a woman her age.

“I’m sorry. I don’t follow,” I said.

Diana looked to Leslie.

Leslie smiled at me. “I shared with everyone how impressed I was with how you’ve stepped up for Katie and how I want to do the same.”

“You’re giving me too much credit,” I told her.

Leslie shook her head. “No. We’ve all seen it. Even Susan is impressed.”

I fought the urge to roll my eyes. Hadn’t she seen the way her sister had been treating me lately?

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Diana told Leslie, walking away.

“Where are you parked?” Leslie asked scanning the parking lot.

“Over there. I’ve got Armani and Gypsy with me. We went for ice cream.”

“Lovely.”

As we approached the car, Armani got out and climbed into the back so that Leslie could sit in the front. Gypsy was forced to sit in the middle, sandwiched by Armani and the big dog.

“You okay?” I asked the patchouli-wearing medium.

She nodded.

As I drove back toward the Bed & Breakfast, Leslie twisted in her seat to look back at Armani. “I don’t know how to thank you.”

“Thank me for what?” Armani asked.

“For sharing your gift. For telling me my future is to be on the wagon.”

“No problem,” Armani said flippantly. “You’re welcome.”

“I would have never gone to this meeting tonight,” Leslie continued.

Turning serious, Armani told her, “It’s only a possible future. You have to do the work to fulfill your destiny. If you leave it up to Fate, she can be a fickle master. You must stay true to the course.”

While I appreciated that she was giving Leslie a much-needed pep talk, it took all my self-control to not roll my eyes. Instead, I focused on the traffic, which was uncharacteristically heavy for the hour.

“I will,” Leslie pledged whole-heartedly. “I’ll stay the course.”

The car’s occupants fell silent. I imagined that Leslie was pondering her future, Armani was reveling in her gift, DeeDee was thinking about her next meal, and Gypsy was just altered from inhaling her patchouli fumes. Meanwhile I was worrying about how to find the bomber in order to keep Delveccio happy and Patrick safe.

We were stopped at a red light when Gypsy suddenly yelled, “Stop!”

“We are stopped,” I said drily.

Before I knew what was happening, she fumbled with the door handle and stumbled out of the car just as the light turned green and I’d started to accelerate. Slamming on the brakes, drawing the deserved ire of the horn-honking driver behind us, I yelled, “What the hell are you doing?”

Parking the car on the side of the road, I opened my door to chase after her.

“That girl is loco,” Armani muttered as I jumped out of the car.

DeeDee barked her agreement.

“Gypsy!” I shouted hurrying after the deranged medium who’d run to stare into the window of a doll shop.

She didn’t respond.

“They’re not open,” I told her as I drew closer, mentally cursing Zeke for saddling me with yet another unstable person. I had enough of those in my life, thank you very much.

“I remember,” she whispered.

“Remember what?”

“Everything.”

I waited a long moment for her to expound on “everything” on her own, but she remained silent, seemingly entranced by the glassy-eyed stares of the dolls.

All those pairs of unblinking eyes gave me the creeps. “Zeke said I should call him if you remembered something,” I prompted gently. Glancing back at the car, I saw that Armani and Leslie seemed to be engaged in conversation. Only Doomsday was watching us.

Gypsy didn’t move. She didn’t speak. She was as still as the dolls.

“Did the odiferous woman suddenly become mute?” God asked from the cradle of my bosom.

His squeaking seemed to snap Gypsy out of her trance. She turned to look at me.

Startled to see her eyes were filled with tears, I asked, “Are you okay?”

“They killed him,” she whispered.

“Killed who?”

“Derek.”

“Who’s Derek?”

“My boss. He’d sent me to pick up lunch.”

I didn’t follow the connection between lunch and death, but I decided that it wasn’t the time to ask for clarification. “Who killed him and why?”

“We broke the code. We figured out when the delivery is being made.”

I had the distinct impression that I didn’t want to know the details of the delivery. I had enough problems of my own. I couldn’t afford to get involved any more than I already was.

“We’ll call Zeke,” I told her.

Whirling away from me, she looked back at the dolls.

“We have to help them,” Gypsy’s voice cracked with emotion as she stared at the toys.

“The dolls?” I asked, confused.

“The girls.”

Apprehension made the hairs on the back of my neck tickle.

Gypsy turned slowly so that she was looking me in the eye. For once her gaze was clear and sharp. Her sudden clarity was disconcerting. “The girls being sold into human slavery. That’s why my boss was killed, because we’d figured out how to disrupt the delivery system of a human trafficking ring.”

“I’ll call Zeke,” I told her, fumbling for my phone.