Maggie Lee (Book 7): The Hitwoman and the 7 Cops (12 page)

“That’s assault,” Armani helpfully pointed out.

“Battery,” the detective muttered.

I held my breath waiting to see what Bob would do next.

He just winked at Susan. “I’ll just fix that kitchen window for you now.”

Susan made a grab for the moo shu pork, but her sister slapped her hands away.

“Calm down. You’re embarrassing yourself,” Leslie instructed, sounding more like the uptight sister than the reformed pothead.

Bob sauntered away whistling a jaunty version of “That’s Amore.”

“It’s a nuthouse,” Detective Brian Griswald muttered. “An absolute nuthouse.”

No one disagreed with him.

Little did I know I’d be going to the real nut house soon enough.

Chapter Fourteen

When dinner was over, I finally got the chance to escape to the basement, using the excuse I had to check on the injured cat.

“Sneezy was here.” God drawled as a way of greeting.

“Patrick?” I asked, hurrying over to Piss, who was curled up in a ball in the corner.

“There’s something wrong with him.” If I didn’t know better, I’d swear I could hear concern in the lizard’s haughty tone.

“Allergies, I think.” I bent down and gently stroked the top of the cat’s head. She raised her head and mewled sleepily, “Hey, Sugar.”

“It’s not allergies,” God opined. “He fed her and gave her some drugs.”
“How are you feeling?” I asked the cat gently.

“She’s stoned,” the lizard complained.

“Feelin’ fine,” she purred, lowering her head, making it clear she was going back to sleep.

“He didn’t feed me,” God groused. “He just put me in here like I’m some kind of museum exhibit.”

Straightening, I looked over at the little guy who was pacing the length of the terrarium. He looked agitated.

I closed my eyes and mentally counted to ten. Why had I expected to find peaceful respite from the drama down here?

“I don’t know how she can sleep with the cacophony going on upstairs,” the lizard complained.

Opening my eyes, I moved toward his enclosure. “Are you okay?”

He drew himself up to his full height, which is only a couple of inches, before responding. “Of course I’m okay.”

“You seem a little tense.”

“Do you have any idea what kind of day I’ve had?”

I pointed toward the ceiling. “You heard what kind of day I’m having.”

Instead of offering me the sympathy I craved, he turned his back on me. “He left you a note on couch.”

Turning I spotted the note and a white paper bag. For a moment I was thrilled, thinking he’d left something for me to eat too. Hurrying over, I scooped it up and peered inside.

There was no edible treat. It contained medications and bandages for the cat.

Sighing, I bent and picked up the note. Like most things that Patrick did, it was cryptic.  “
INFO
”

Before I could decipher the message, there was a sharp series of raps against the basement door. Since it didn’t automatically swing open without an invitation, I deduced that someone other than a family member was knocking. I considered pretending to be asleep or not there.

The knocking grew more insistent.

“Enter,” God decreed royally.

But to the rest of the world, his voice was just a squeak.

“Maggie?” Zeke called through the door.

I shoved Patrick’s note under the couch cushion. “Come in.”

Zeke swung open the door and descended the staircase slowly, each step heavy and deliberate.

“You don’t look so good,” I told him, noting that besides the newly-closed cut over his eye, he was pale and worry lines creased his forehead.

“I feel worse.” He sank onto the couch, directly on top of the cushion I’d used to hide the note.

I sat down beside him. “Thank you. For what you did for Marlene.”

“You need to hang out with less dangerous people,” he murmured, trying to focus his gaze on me, but not quite succeeding. “Alice had her psycho ex, Gypsy and those people…” He shuddered for emphasis. “And now Marlene…”

Considering that he’d shared that he too was a criminal and that he was sitting on a message from a hitman, I figured he was right. But I didn’t say anything. I just waited for him to get to the reason he’d come looking for me.

“Considering everything you’ve got going on, I feel badly asking for your help,” Zeke said slowly. “But I don’t know who else to ask.”

“Don’t do it,” God ordered sternly from his enclosure. “Don’t even think about it.”

Zeke looked around searching for the source of the squeaking.

Wordlessly, I pointed at the lizard who was madly puffing out his bright orange dewlap, ballooning his throat to three times its normal size.

Utterly fascinated, Zeke watched the lizard’s antics. “I’m being blackmailed.”

“So you said,” I murmured.

“Blackmail means trouble,” God warned.

“I need your help,” Zeke said again.

“I got that.”

Closing his eyes, he leaned back into the sofa.

It was then I noticed the dark shadows beneath his lashes. He really did look like hell.

“Let me help,” I urged quietly.

“Fool!” God shouted.

Hoping to silence him, I shot him a dirty look.

He stuck out his tongue.

“I want out,” Zeke confessed tiredly. “I screwed up one time and now…”

I’d faced my own blackmailer when I’d first gone to work for Delveccio, so I understood better than most how much pressure the bad guys exerted. “Tell me about it.”

He shrugged “I can’t talk about it.”

“I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s going on.”

“Actually,” God piped up. “You’re fairly adept at helping people even when you don’t have a clue what’s happening half the time.”

At another time, I’d have taken that as a compliment from the smarmy reptile, but I was focused on Zeke, so I ignored the lizard.

My cell phone buzzed. I reached for it, but then, deciding to ignore it, I said, “Tell me.”

“Answer it,” Zeke muttered. “It’s probably her anyway.”

Assuming that he thought it was Ms. Whitehat calling, I glanced at the display. It was yet another unknown number. “Hello?”

The woman’s voice that responded was cold and aloof. “Are you ready to go to work?”

Zeke looked at me expectantly. I nodded, confirming his guess had been accurate. Scowling, he shook his head and looked away.

Standing up, I moved away from the couch so Zeke couldn’t hear the other end of the conversation. “It’s not like I’ve got other options,” I told Ms. Whitehat snippily.

“Certainly you do,” she replied smoothly. “You and Mr. Mulligan can go to jail.”

“Well when you put it that way,” I mocked sarcastically. “How can I refuse?”

“I knew you’d see things my way.”

I glanced over and saw that Zeke had stretched out on the couch and closed his eyes.

“Now, as I was saying. Detective Gilbert needs your help tonight.”

I thought of the woman Armani and I had met in the hospital. “What kind of help?”

“She needs to be stopped from taking the same path you’ve chosen.”

“What does that mean?”

“You’re not the only one willing to do unsavory things to pay medical bills.”

As much as I fear and dislike Ms. Whitehat, I felt a pang of sympathy for Joy. I knew what it was like to be faced with an impossible choice. “What do you need me to do?”

“You’ll know it when you see it, Miss Lee.”

Zeke snored softly in the background.

“And what do I get for helping you with this?” I asked.

“Your continued freedom.”

“I want more.”

Ms. Whitehat’s sharp intake of breath indicated that she didn’t like my demand.

Instead of filling the uncomfortable silence, I waited her out.

“What else are you hoping for?” she asked finally, her tone icy.

“I want you to let Zeke go.”

“
That’s
what you’re asking for?” God fumed from his enclosure.

I raised a finger to my lips, silently shushing him.

He shook his little head.

“I hadn’t realized he’s so important to you,” Ms. Whitehat mused.

For a split-second I thought she was talking about the reptile, but then I realized she meant my relationship with Zeke. “We have history.”

“So I gather.”

I could practically hear her pursing her lips.

I swallowed hard, bracing myself for whatever price she was going to demand for Zeke’s freedom.

“I admire your loyalty to your friends,” Whitehat said slowly. “It is one of your more positive traits.”

I bent to pet Piss’s head, trying hard to outwait Whitehat in this strange negotiation.

“Let me see if there’s a way for us both to get what we want,” Whitehat said quietly.

I paused mid-stroke, surprised that she seemed willing to work with me on this.

“But first help Detective Gilbert.”

“Fair enough,” I murmured.

“If you’re outside her home by eight tonight, you should be in the perfect position to help her. I’ll text you her address.”

“I’ve already got it.”

A note of respect crept into her voice. “Impressive. I trust you’ll be successful.”

“I’ll do my best.”

“I’ll be in touch, Miss Lee.” She disconnected the call.

I glanced over at Zeke, who was still snoring softly.

“
Now
what did you get yourself into?” God asked haughtily.

“Purple flying mice,” the cat hissed suddenly.

Startled by her outburst, the lizard and I stared at her.

Curled up in a ball, she appeared to be asleep. Her whiskers twitched and she purred. “Tastes like tuna, purple flying mice.”

“I take it back,” the lizard groaned. “She’s not stoned. She’s tripping. Those drugs your boyfriend gave her must be pretty strong.”

I slapped a hand over my mouth to keep a hysterical giggle from escaping.

“You’re making a deal with the devil and the cat’s flying high.” The lizard held his head. “Dare I ask what kind of trouble is the beast getting herself into?”

“The last time I saw her, she’d climbed into Detective Griswald’s lap,” I whispered, not wanting to wake Zeke or Piss. I tiptoed toward the cellar’s storm doors, intent on making a secret escape. “I’ve got some things to do, so I’ll see you later.”

“Don’t you dare leave me.”

I hesitated.

“Please don’t leave me,” the lizard amended painfully. “I can be of assistance.”

I doubted that, but I still walked over to his enclosure and scooped him out. “Promise me you’re going to behave?” I whispered, holding him up to my eye level.

“But of course,” he said, as though the possibility of being on less-than-perfect behavior had never even crossed his mind.

I wasn’t sure that I believed him, but I slipped him into my bra, knowing I was in need of a sounding board.

“Thank you, Maggie,” he piped up from between my breasts as I clambered up the steps to the storm door and left the B&B without anyone knowing.

Chapter Fifteen

“I don’t know why we had to come here. It’s cold.”

God squeaking complaints coming from my chest got me some strange looks as I boarded the hospital elevator.

“I told you,” I whispered once I disembarked and was making my way toward the room I was told Templeton occupied, “it’s been crazy.”

“That’s an understatement.”

“And Loretta is going to lose her shop if I don’t help her.”

“You do remember that Armani’s clue was dingbat right? Maybe that’s somebody’s way of saying she deserves to lose the store.”

“Quiet,” I murmured just before striding into Templeton’s room.

I should have knocked first.

Templeton was propped up on a pile of pillows, eyes closed. Loretta sat in a chair beside the bed, but her hand was busy working underneath the bedclothes.

Spinning around to avert my eyes and hopefully save my scarred psyche, the earlier Chinese food threatening to return, I cleared my throat loudly.

“Oh hello, Maggie,” Loretta trilled happily. “I’m so glad you stopped by.”

Without turning to face them, I said, “I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

“Templeton’s awake.”

“Hi, Maggie,” Templeton said, confirming his status.

“How are you feeling?” I asked.

“Turn around, dear,” Loretta ordered.

Keeping my eyes half-closed I slowly shuffled so that I was facing them. A quick glance in the direction of Templeton’s nether regions revealed that Loretta’s hands had vacated the area.

I let out a relieved sigh.

“Did you need something?” Templeton’s voice was strained with pain.

For the first time, I focused on his face. He was obviously uncomfortable.

I felt a twinge of guilt. Perhaps Loretta’s sexual ministrations had been providing him some distraction from his discomfort.

“I needed to talk to you,” I said to Loretta pointedly, thinking it wasn’t a good idea to discuss her possibly violent ex in front of her latest fiancé.

“Is it about Leo?” Templeton asked on a pained whisper.

Surprised, I looked to Loretta for guidance.

Loretta drew herself up to her full height and raised her chin proudly. “There are no secrets between us. That’s the secret to a good relationship you know.”

Considering how many times the woman’s been married, I was pretty sure she
didn’t
know, but I kept that opinion to myself.

“Guess that means you and the redhead are doomed,” God muttered. “Star-crossed lovers.”

I didn’t correct him by saying that Patrick and I weren’t lovers. Life kept getting in our way.

Loretta and Templeton stared at my squeaking chest.

I tried to keep the conversation on track. “About this Leo character.”

Loretta scowled. “Leroy Braun.”

“I thought you said his name was Leo.”

“Well that’s what I call him.” Loretta tugged on her earlobe nervously.

“But his name is Leroy,” Templeton gasped.

Loretta patted his shoulder. “Maybe you shouldn’t talk, dear.”

“Okay, tell me about this Leroy Braun.”

“He’s a bad man.”

While that might be an accurate description, it wasn’t very helpful.