Maggie Lee (Book 11): The Hitwoman Hires a Manny (11 page)

I turned the card over and saw that the only thing on the other side was a phone number. Thoroughly confused, I finally asked, “You’re advertising PMS?”

“Of course.” She sank into the nearest chair. “How else would I grow the business? It’s all about the Law of Attraction, baby.”

I slowly lowered myself into the seat beside her, choosing my words carefully. “I don’t think most people are too keen on attracting PMS.”

She glared at me, eyes sparkling with anger. “Just because you don’t believe, doesn’t mean others don’t.”

Her use of the world ‘believe’ gave me some insight into what was going on. “Hang on. What does PMS stand for?”

Looking at me like I was the dopiest person she’d ever met, she spat out, “Psychic Matchmaking Service. What did
you
think it meant?”

“PMS,” I replied weakly. “Premenstrual Syndrome.”

She rolled her eyes. “Why would someone advertise that?”

I shrugged helplessly.

“P for Psychic. M for Matchmaking. S for Service.” She frowned at me sternly. “Pay attention.”

“Sorry,” I muttered.

“Some people won’t want the world to know they’re using a matchmaker.” She eyed me suspiciously. “You do know that’s me, right?”

I nodded.

“That’s why I figured I’d make the card discreet.”

Deciding that the conversation was just going to devolve into further ridiculousness, I tried to redirect it. “How’s
that
business doing?”

“Not as well,” she admitted grudgingly.

“I’m sure it takes a while for word-of-mouth to spread,” I soothed lamely.

She nodded with a lot more confidence than I felt. “Of course it will.”

“If anybody can do it, you can.” I stood up. “Now I’ve really got to get to that paperwork.”

“Sit down,” she ordered imperiously. “I told you this was important.”
 

I sank back into my seat. “I thought PMS was important.”

“It is, but not to you.” Armani grabbed my hand. “I have a warning for you, chica.”

I swallowed hard, a wave of nausea welling up within me. I may not be a psychic but even I know that getting a warning from a reporter and a psychic so close together wasn’t a good sign. I squared my shoulders to brace myself by asking, “What is it?”

Armani tilted her head to the side and regarded me carefully. “Is something wrong?”

“You just told me that you’re delivering a warning,” I reminded her with more than a touch of sarcasm. “So I’m guessing the answer to that question is a resounding ‘yes’. Wouldn’t you agree?”

“You should use my dating service. You’d be the perfect candidate since you already believe in my powers.”

I winced. I wasn’t an ardent believer in her “powers” but she’d said too many things that were semi-accurate predictions for me to ignore what she had to say.

“I’d give you the friend’s discount,” she continued.

I shook my head, refusing the offer.

“Okay, I’ll do it gratis.” She flashed a magnanimous smile.

“No thanks.”

Her smile turned upside down. “Why not? Do you want to be an old maid? No life left in you? Dried up like a corn husk?”

The corn husk analogy made me chuckle.

She wasn’t amused.

“I’m serious, Maggie. You haven’t been out on a date since that Paul guy.”

“He tried to kill me,” I reminded her.

She shrugged. “You win some. You lose some.”

I bit my tongue to prevent myself from mentioning that her last relationship had resulted in her being kidnapped by a ring of deadly criminals.

“We should at least go out for a drink before you’re saddled with the kid full time,” she declared.

“I’m not going to be saddled.”

She rolled her eyes. “You. Me. Fruity drinks, some cute guys and a good time.”

I shook my head. “I can’t. I’ve got too much going on.”

Armani narrowed her gaze. “You’re turning down a cute guy?”

“You make it sound like I’m addicted to dating and am doing something out of character.”

“Who said anything about dating?” She winked at me. “That’s so old-fashioned.”

I shook my head and pantomimed that I was zipping my mouth closed, effectively ending the discussion.

Realizing she wasn’t going to win the argument, she returned to the original subject. “About that warning.”

I waited, trying to ignore the dread that pooled in the pit of my stomach.

“It’s going to sound weird,” my PMS friend warned.

I rolled my eyes. Her messages were
always
weird.

She looked away as though maintaining eye contact was suddenly too difficult to bear. “Don’t shoot the messenger.”

“Just tell me.”

“It’s about your niece…” she began.

My entire body went cold. The thought of something happening to Katie paralyzed me.

Armani hung her head and whispered, “Don’t let her near the ocean. I keep seeing her drowning.”

I let out a shaky sigh of relief. “She’s nowhere near the ocean. She’s safe.”

Armani nodded slowly.

I jumped up. “She’s fine. She won’t be near the ocean any time soon.”

Armani didn’t say anything.

“I’ve
really
got to go,” I told her, moving away.

She made no move to stop me so I hurried inside the office and filled out the paperwork.

Armani didn’t make an appearance while I was inside, and she wasn’t in sight when I left. I wasn’t sure if she was giving me space or avoiding me, but I was grateful.

I did my best to push Armani’s warning from my head as I went to the library. I had more important things to worry about. Namely what Arnold Rivgali looked like and who Kevin Belgard was.

It was unfortunate that I had to do my research at the public library, something that seemed to fly in the face of Patrick’s assassin rule number one: Don’t get caught, but since he was out of town for who knew how long and that I’d never gotten around to replacing the computer I’d lost when my old apartment was blown to smithereens, I didn’t have many other options.

I certainly couldn’t ask my aunts if I could use their machines for this kind of work.  Their questions alone would make me nuts.

So I found the most isolated available computer in the library, pulled up a page about what changes in a cat’s eating habits could mean (I hadn’t forgotten about the strange demands of Piss) that I could switch over to in case any nosy librarians tried snooping over my shoulder, and started digging.

The first person I researched was Angel Delveccio. There was no way I could entrust the care of Katie to him without making sure he was as good as he appeared. I quickly learned about his career in the Navy, that he did indeed have a degree in Physical Therapy and had played on his high school football team. As far as I could tell, he had no criminal record. But that didn’t really mean anything.

Patrick Mulligan looked great on paper, but he’d had two wives and families and had a side hustle that included assassinating people.

Once again I found myself wishing the redhead hadn’t disappeared. It would have been nice to find out whether Angel had ever been brought up on charges, or if he was suspected of any kind.

Not that that would necessarily preclude him for caring for Katie. After all, if push came to shove, I’d trust Patrick to look after her. Strange the kinds of people I trust.

Deciding that I couldn’t discover anything else about Angel, I turned my attention to looking for someone I knew was a criminal.

It was easy to find old articles about Rivgali. I studied the photographs of the hook-nosed man with beady eyes and tried to imagine how the years in prison had aged him. I read a couple of articles Jack Stern had written about the trial and understood why he’d felt it necessary to warn me. Rivgali was one badass criminal.

Then I moved onto the mysterious Kevin Belgard. It didn’t take much to find him. All I had to do was input his name and the town and a whole string of articles popped up about him.

Basically he was a decorated cop that the whole world loved. Or at least that’s what the Internet seemed to think. I studied his picture too. Unlike Rivgali, who glared out of the mug shot, Belgard smiled proudly in his uniform, looking like an overgrown Boy Scout.

I wasn’t sure which I disliked more.

I jotted down Belgard’s address,
which was practically around the corner from the  B&B,
logged off the computer, and left the library to focus on my most immediate problem, getting Katie ready to leave the hospital.

But before I did that, I went and checked out Belgard’s house. Located on the street that ran parallel to the B&B’s backyard, I was surprised to realize that the properties practically touched. In fact, I could see the top of the fence that stood on the B&B’s rear property line.

Belgard’s house looked like every other on the street, non-descript, well-maintained, with the blue flag of some sports team hanging just below Old Glory.

I stopped my car across the street and studied the house, trying to figure out what its occupant’s connection was to my family. Had the man responsible for Darlene’s disappearance been here the whole time?

As though I’d summoned an evil spirit with my wayward thoughts, the man himself stepped out his front door. As he scanned the area, his gaze locked on mine.

I swallowed hard as he squinted at me. Afraid he would know who I was and why I was there, I gunned the car’s motor and sped away.

When I glanced in my rearview mirror, he was nowhere to be seen, but somehow I knew I hadn’t seen the last of him.

I took God back to the B&B before I spent the rest of the afternoon in a flurry of meetings with Katie’s doctors and therapists as we finalized plans for her release and follow-up care. By the time I walked up to my niece’s room, I was exhausted.

And I was in no mood to put up with the antics of Delveccio’s bodyguard, Vinny.

His eyes narrowed as I approached.

“Cheer up,” I told him. “Another couple of days and you’ll never have to see me again.”

A sneer distorted his face, making him look like a grotesque Halloween mask. “Best news I’ve gotten in a long time.”

We stood there for a moment glaring at each other, the animosity between us practically palpable.

“Hey, cuz,” a voice said from behind me.

I didn’t have to turn around to realize that Angel was standing behind me. I found it oddly reassuring that the muscular sailor had my back.

Vinny’s face morphed back into his usual bland scowl. “Hey.” 

The bodyguard stepped aside to let me in the room.

I hurried in as Delveccio’s bodyguard and my manny stayed in the hall, speaking in low tones.