Maggie Lee (Book 11): The Hitwoman Hires a Manny (13 page)

Talking about him made me think of Rivgali and the potential threat. I frowned.

“You don’t like him?” Angel asked.

Before I had to answer, Susan cracked open a window and rang a ceramic bell, a gentle tinkling carried across the evening air.

“Dinner’s ready,” I told Angel. I ushered the dog into the basement, closing the doors behind her, and accompanied Angel to the kitchen entrance. “Don’t be shy about eating. You’ll insult Susan.”

“Is she a good cook?” he whispered, opening the door, waiting for me to walk through ahead of him.

“She’s a great cook,” I assured him, taking care not to accidentally brush against him as I walked past.

Susan was carving the chicken as we walked into the dining room. No one else was there. 

“When did that fence go up?” I asked.

Susan looked up at me, surprised by the random question. “Fence?”

“The one in the back.”

Susan frowned. “That’s been there forever. The monstrosity was your father’s idea. He insisted on it.”

A chill snaked down my spine. Had he too had a reason to want to erect a barrier between us and Belgard? My mother had already told me that he hadn’t trusted the man.

“I was just trying to remember when it went up,” I replied, trying to keep my tone light.

“While the house was still full.”

From the way she stabbed at the chicken, I assumed that meant before my mother had become a permanent resident of the loony bin.

Deciding it would be safest for all involved, I changed the subject. “Where is everyone?”

She shrugged and waved the carving knife, dripping with bits of meat and juice for emphasis. “Loretta and Templeton are at The Corset, probably performing some carnal sin; Leslie had a meeting with her N.A. sponsor; and Marlene’s off with Doc, probably practicing mouth-to-mouth.”

I glanced at Angel. His expression was neutral, but I’m pretty sure he was amused by how my aunt described my family’s whereabouts. But like me, he was smart enough to keep an arm’s length away from the blade slicing through the air.

I felt compelled to explain, “My sister Marlene is dating Doc, a paramedic.” I didn’t tell him that Doc was also a male stripper and that Marlene had spent years working as a prostitute.

Angel nodded. He flashed a calming smile at Susan. “Everything looks delicious.”

Appeased, Susan plunged the knife back into the bird. “I hope you brought your appetite.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“The three of us will have a lovely dinner,” Susan declared, but before we could sit down, the doorbell rang.

“I’ll get it.” I hurried to answer the door, through the very foyer where Paul had tried to kill me.

I threw open the door without peering through the peep hole, which in retrospect was pretty dumb considering I was worried about Rivgali appearing on the doorstep.

Thankfully it wasn’t an ex-con. It was a U.S. Marshal.

Specifically, U.S. Marshal Larry Griswald, Susan’s boyfriend.

Since he’d come to the front door instead of the kitchen door, I assumed he was at the B&B on official business. A knot formed in my stomach as I summoned a semblance of a smile for the older man. “Agent Griswald.”

“Ms. Lee,” he greeted just as formally, confirming my fear.

“
Now
what has he done?” I asked weakly, knowing that the federal agent was there about my father.

“May we come in?” Griswald asked politely.

I could have sworn that he stressed the ‘we’ slightly, warning me that he wasn’t alone.

I nodded my understanding and beckoned him inside. “We were just sitting down to dinner. Why don’t you join us?”

Griswald, followed by a baby-faced guy who looked too young to carry a badge, stepped inside. “That’s a kind offer, but we’ll have to decline.”

I thought it was telling that Griswald hadn’t bothered to introduce his cohort, so I kept my attention on the older man waiting for him to explain his arrival.

“The gravy’s going to congeal if you don’t come in soon,” Susan announced as she rushed into the foyer. She stopped in her tracks when she spotted Griswald. “Lawrence.”

He nodded at her before turning his attention back to me.

I could see that Susan was insulted by the slight, but I begged her with my eyes to stay silent about it. I trusted that Griswald had a good reason for playing things so close to the vest and I didn’t want her to blow it.

Susan bit her lower lip, shook her head, and stalked away, muttering, “Dinner
’s  getting cold.”

“And apparently congealing,” I said once she was out of earshot.

The younger guy glared at me. I smiled sweetly back. I’d faced down deadly mobsters. I ate rule-loving feds for breakfast.

At least that’s what I told myself.

I looked to Griswald. “How can I help you gentlemen?”

“We’re looking for Templeton,” Griswald announced.

I blinked my surprise, shocked that the visit wasn’t about my dad.

“Is he here?” Young Buck asked.

I shook my head.

“Do you know where he is?”

I considered my answer carefully. Technically I didn’t know where he was, though I had a pretty good idea that Aunt Susan was right and he could be found at The Corset. But I wasn’t sure I wanted to tell this annoying marshal that.

“Or do you know where he might be?” Griswald prompted, as though he’d read my thoughts and knew I was considering misleading them.

“He
might
be with my aunt,” I admitted grudgingly.

The younger man leaned in menacingly, glowering at me. “Where?”

I met his gaze steadily, letting him know I wasn’t so easily intimidated.

Griswald let out a sigh of exasperation. “Maggie?”

Transferring my gaze to him, I noticed he looked tired. I wondered if working with the obnoxious new partner was wearing him down. “I’ll take you to him.”

Griswald nodded his gratitude.

“But first,” I said, “I’m telling Susan I’m leaving. If she thinks I’ve run out on this feast she’s prepared I’ll never hear the end of it.”

“By all means,” Griswald encouraged. “We’ll wait here.”

I hurried into the dining room where Angel was chowing down and Susan was pushing food around her plate.

“I’ve got to go,” I said, grabbing one of the homemade buttermilk biscuits.

Angel looked at me curiously.

My aunt threw her napkin on the table. “Why?”

“Because I don’t want to piss off the nice U.S. Marshals.”

I thought I saw Angel tense at the mention of the lawmen, but his expression remained neutral.

Susan put her napkin back in her lap. “What do they want?”

“How should I know?” I had my ideas, which included illegal poker games with known criminals and a just-released ex-con who had it in for him, but I didn’t see how sharing any of that would help the situation.

“Danger! Run! Run! Danger! Hide!” DeeDee began to bark frantically from inside the basement.

Susan threw up her hands in disgust. “Things aren’t bad enough? Now the dog is carrying on?”

“Danger! Run! Run! Danger! Hide!” DeeDee continued, her bark hitting a shrill pitch that made her sound insane.

“Something’s wrong,” I muttered, running toward the kitchen.

“I never wanted that dog here,” Susan yelled after me.

Yanking open the basement door, I was almost knocked over by a
blurry ball of  crazed canine.

“Run!” DeeDee whined, a wild look in her eyes.

Somehow I managed to grab her collar, yanking her to a halt.

“What’s wrong, sweetie?” I dropped to my knees so that I was eye-level with her.

“Fire,” she whimpered pitifully. “Run.” She tried to pull away from my grasp.

I sniffed the air. I didn’t smell smoke. I wondered if God had somehow tortured her into believing something was burning.

“It’s okay,” I soothed.

But at that moment, the young marshal, burst into the kitchen, gun drawn. “Freeze.”

His dramatic arrival further traumatized poor DeeDee, who’d been shot once before and almost died. She collapsed to the ground, a crying, quivering mess.

The marshal aimed his gun at her.

“Do not shoot my dog,” I screamed at the top of my lungs. Forgetting my own safety, and maybe my sanity, I jumped between the lawman and the Doberman. Heart pounding, adrenaline pumping, I was ready to rip the weapon from his hands. “Who the hell do you think you are, scaring her like that?”

The marshal looked around, unsure of what to do.

“Put that away,” I yelled.

Griswald, followed closely by Angel and Susan, burst into the kitchen.

“Put. It. Away,” I continued to bellow.

“Put it away, Browley,” Griswald ordered, slowly moving toward us. “Take a breath, Maggie. Nobody’s going to get hurt.”

As I looked from one man to the other, Piss purred, “Actually someone might if you don’t do something about the fire.”

Whirling around, I saw that she’d sneaked out of the basement and was kneading the back of the terrified dog.

“It’s real?” I asked.

The cat wiggled her whiskers. “Sugar, I’m the one with the messed up face, but even I can smell it.”

“Is what real, Margaret?” Susan asked, her voice cracking with concern.

I wanted to tell her that unlike her sister, my mother, I wasn’t quite ready for a rubber room yet, but there wasn’t time. Instead I looked at the animals. “Show me.”

They both leapt up and headed for the door that led outside. I followed and threw it open for them.

“Where are you going?” Browley asked.

“Come back,” Susan begged.

I raced outside after the animals, who were headed to the front of the house.

Due to the direction the wind was blowing, I saw the fire before I saw the smoke.

When I rounded the corner and saw the circle of flames in the center of the front yard, I jerked to a stop. For a second I didn’t move. I couldn’t move. It hadn’t been that long ago that I’d almost died in a forest fire. Now this. Was it some kind of sign that I was going to hell?

“Fire!” a voice roared from behind me, interrupting my bizarre thoughts. “Fire! Call 9-1-1.”

Angel dashed past me.

“The hose is over here,” I yelled to him.

“Dirt’s better.” To illustrate, he ripped open one of Aunt Susan’s newly purchased bags of topsoil and dumped its contents on the flames closest to the house.