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

Regardless, I found Joy to be almost as difficult to read as Patrick can be, and I soon gave up, deciding it would be easier to just ask someone else what was going on with the woman than to get her to confess her secrets. I knew from experience that the hospital was a petri dish for gossip. It wouldn’t be that hard to figure out Joy’s closely held secrets.

Armani, on the other hand, was eager to read our new friend after she’d devoured half of her disgusting pudding combination. She pulled out her purple cloth sack.

“Maybe you shouldn’t,” I warned quickly.

Joy eyed first me, then the bag, suspiciously. “Shouldn’t what?”

Armani shook the bag, the Scrabble tiles clattering inside. “Take seven.”

Joy frowned. “Seven?”

“So I can read you.”

“Read me?”

I watched the police officer’s expression darken.

“She thinks she’s psychic,” I explained hurriedly.

Armani tossed her hair. “I
am
psychic.”

Joy’s eyes widened. “For reals?”

I stared at her. Did grown women in New Jersey really say
“for reals”
or was she yanking Armani’s chain?

Without further prompting, she reached into the bag and pulled out a handful of tiles. She counted them in her palm. “Six.”

“Seven.” Armani dangled the bag in front of Joy so she could choose her last piece.

I held my breath as they were spread out on the table, hoping they’d give me a clue about what Joy needed to be saved from.

E H P O R S T

At first glance it meant nothing to me. I looked to Armani.

“Interesting.” She fingered the tiles. “Very interesting.”

“What does it mean?” Joy leaned forward.

“I don’t know yet,” Armani admitted. “But it’s interesting.”

Joy leaned back in her seat, clearly disappointed.

“Don’t despair, chica. Not long ago my boss pulled tiles that made no sense at first, but then I fixed him up and now he’s getting ready to elope. Isn’t that right, Maggie?”

I nodded grudgingly. Technically, I’d been the one to figure out the meaning of the tiles, but I was willing to let Armani claim the matchmaking success, rather than add the job to my list of odd job skills.

Joy tilted her head to the side and squinted at my beautiful, but slightly unhinged friend. “You’re a matchmaker?”

“A little of this. A little of that. A matchmaker. A psychic. A little bit of everything that makes the world a magical place.” Armani flashed her most beguiling smile at the woman across the table.

Joy’s eyebrows knitted together as she sank deeper into her seat.

“Not to mention she’s a senior customer service rep at Insuring the Future,” I couldn’t resist adding.

Joy perked up. “Really? Could you help me get a lower rate on my policy?”

“We’re not—” I began to explain.

Armani waved her hand, signaling me to shut up. “Give me your personal info and I’ll see what I can do.”

“That would be great.” From the depths of her blazer pocket, Joy whipped out a business card and began scribbling on the back of it.

Even though I knew Armani had no way of getting Joy’s rates changed, I had to admire how smoothly she’d managed to get the other woman’s name, phone  number and address.

As Joy finished writing, her cell phone rang. Pulling it from another pocket, she frowned at whatever she saw on the display. Pushing the card across the table, she got to her feet. “I’ve got to go. Call me?”

“Tomorrow,” Armani pledged.

Joy hurried away, focused on her phone.

I looked at the Scrabble tiles she’d chosen. E H O P R S T. “What do you think they mean?”

Armani shrugged. “I dunno. But I think she might be perfect for Vincent.”

I chuckled.  “A cop and a mobster’s henchman?”

She stuck her spoon in her pudding mixture. “I don’t think he’d like being called a henchman, and what makes you think she’s a cop?”

“Maybe I’m psychic,” I joked weakly, trying to quell the wave of panic that rose inside me. She was right. I shouldn’t have known Joy was a cop. I’d slipped up, letting two facets of my life bleed into one another. The knowledge made me queasy.

“She does look like a cop,” Armani admitted. She picked up the tiles Joy had chosen and held their weight in her good hand. “Maybe that’s why I’ve got the feeling she’s in danger.”

“Danger?” My voice squeaked as I picked up the card left by
Detective Joy Gilbert
.

Armani nodded. “Something pretty bad is about to happen to her.”

“What?” I asked, no longer worried about blurring lines. If Armani could figure out how to save the cop, I’d take the help.

She shook her head. “If my gift was that clear, I wouldn’t be working at Insuring the Future.” She chuckled. “That reminds me, has Loretta gotten any closer to finding the thing she’s looking for?”

I shook my head, doing my best to ignore the twinge of guilt that soured my stomach. Aunt Loretta had asked for my help saving her shop, and I really hadn’t done anything to help find the deed.

“And you haven’t been able to figure out what DINGBAT means?”

“Nope.”

She dumped the tiles back in the bag. “You will.”

I hoped she was right. A lot of people were depending on me.

~#~

After our cafeteria feast, I dropped Armani at home and then headed toward Patrick’s apartment, wanting to thank him for taking care of Piss.

But before I got halfway there, I got another call.

I pulled to the side of the road before answering since some studies have indicated that talking on the phone while driving is more dangerous than drinking and driving. ‘Cuz while I may dabble in dangerous sideline, I’m all about safety. Besides, Ms. Whitehat tends to say things that shock me, never a good thing to happen when you’re behind the wheel.

I answered just before it went to voicemail, bracing myself for her haughty tone. “Hello?”

“Hey, Mags.”

The tension seeped out of me at the sound of Patrick’s voice. “Hey.”

“I wanted to…” He trailed off.

I waited a second and then asked worriedly, “Are you there?”

“Achoo!”

“Bless you.” Aunt Susan could rest easy. My manners are intact.

“Sorry, allergies or something,” Patrick muttered.

“I hope you’re not getting sick.”

“I’m fine. I wanted to check and see how you’re doing.”

“Better now.”

“Better now because things have improved or”—his voice dipped lower—“or better because you’re talking to me?”

“Both,” I murmured as certain body parts tingled in response to his sexy tone.

“Mmmm.”

I could practically hear his smile of satisfaction.

A companionable silence stretched between us as we each entertained our own thoughts for a long moment.

Finally, realizing that the side of the road wasn’t the optimal spot for my wayward fantasies, I cleared my throat. “Did you find Marlene?”

His tone all business, he replied, “No. Sorry she gave me the slip. She hasn’t come home yet?”

“I don’t know. I went to the hospital.”

“Katie’s okay?”

“She’s great.”

“Achoo!”

“Are you sure you’re not coming down with something?” I had a terrible thought. “You’re not allergic to Piss are you?”

He chuckled. “Nope. Just allergies or something.”

“I wanted to thank you for taking care of her.”

“It was the least I could do.”

“It was important to me.”

“I know. That’s why I did it.”

His quiet statement hit me like a sledgehammer. I’ve spent my whole life taking care of other people, but here was this man who
wanted
to take care of me. If he wasn’t married, he’d be perfect for me.

Tears burned my eyes. I smashed the steering wheel with my palm, needing to vent my frustration.

Life was so unfair.

“You there, Mags?” His concern should have soothed me. Instead it felt like sandpaper being dragged across a wound.

“I’m here,” I choked out.

“Are you...?”

He sneezed again.

“Bless you.”

“Are you okay?”

“Sure,” I replied with forced flippancy. “Dad’s managed to, once again, bring law enforcement down on me, Marlene’s getting into who knows what kind of trouble, and I’ve got a job that I don’t know how to do.”

“You’ve got a job?” His tone crackled with annoyance.

Realizing he thought I meant I had an assassination assignment from Delveccio, I quickly said, “Not that kind of job.”

“What kind?” he asked suspiciously.

I stared out the car window at the traffic whizzing by.

“Aunt Loretta needs help with something.”

“Oh.” There was so much relief packed into that single syllable that I couldn’t help but smile a little. “I wouldn’t worry about Marlene.”

Knowing that she owed her pimp meant that advice was useless, but I didn’t bother telling him that.

“Achoo!”

“Bless you.”

“And as for the Griswalds, they’re after your father, not you.”

“They’re too close for comfort,” I groused.

“I know. Which is why, if you know where your dad is, you should tell me so that I can bring him in.”

“But I don’t know.”

“You’re sure?”

“Of course I’m sure.”

There was a long silence on the other end before he said quietly. “Last time you heard from him you didn’t tell me.”

I clenched my fist, trying to keep hold of my rising frustration level. “So now you don’t believe me?”

“It almost got you killed, Mags.”

I hung my head, feeling like a heel for being annoyed with him when he was clearly concerned about my safety.

“I really don’t know where he is,” I whispered.

“It’s going to be okay,” he replied softly.

I knew it was something he couldn’t guarantee, but it still felt nice and safe to be cocooned by his caring intentions. Closing my eyes, I rested my head against the headrest. “Promise?”

A sharp rap against my window scared me half to death and drowned out his reply.

Chapter Eight

“Aaaah!” I screamed. I opened my eyes, searching for this latest source of danger.

“Let me in! Let me in!” A fist banged against the front passenger window.

“Go away! Leave me alone!” I shouted, fumbling for the gear shift so I could get the hell out of there. This would teach me to just pull over on the side of the road. Safety, my ass.

“Mags?” Patrick asked worriedly. “Are you okay?”

“Open the door,” the voice pleaded.

Something in the tone, cut through my panic and I took a closer look at my would-be assailant.

Marlene’s tear-streaked face stared at me through the window as she tried to get the door to open. “Hurry, Maggie.”

That’s when I saw the rather large man bearing down on her, an expression of rage contorting his face into an ugly mask.

“Shit.” Without taking my eyes off him, I groped blindly for the switch that would unlock the door.

Marlene kept yanking on the door handle until finally I hit the right button. She jerked the door open, leapt inside, and slammed it closed as the man reached the car. I smashed the button again, locking him out.

“What the heck are you doing out here?” I asked.

“I come here a lot. It’s the last place we stopped before going to the carnival. Isn’t that why you’re here?”

I looked around and realized she was right. It was the place we’d stopped all those years ago. Mom had insisted on stopping to pick some of the raspberries that grew wild by the roadside and Darlene had declared herself a “berry princess.” It had been a magical moment before the hell that came when Darlene went missing hours later.

My reminiscing was interrupted by the guy kicking Marlene’s door.

Terrified, she tried to scramble into my lap the way DeeDee does when a thunderstorm is raging. Like the dog, she didn’t fit, especially because of the steering wheel.

“Get out here now, Jewel,” her attacker shouted, pounding on the roof of my car for emphasis.

Marlene, arms wrapped around my neck, screamed in my ear.

Since he seemed intent on using violence to get her and because he used her hooker name, I decided that he must be Wally, her pimp.

Fear and fury swirled inside me as I shouted, “Get the hell away from us.”

Unable to pry Marlene off of me, I reached for the gearshift.

Picking up a huge rock, he rounded the front of the car, heading toward my door. “I’m going to kill you.”

Blindly slamming the car into what I hoped was drive, I stomped on the gas pedal as hard as I could.

We rocketed backward, but because no one was steering, we swerved into oncoming traffic.

In the midst of honking horns, squealing brakes, and shouted curses, I stepped on the brake, bringing us to a hard stop in the middle of the road.  The momentum of the abrupt halt drove Marlene’s shoulder into my throat, cutting off my air supply.

Intense pain and a lack of air meant it took everything I had to successfully pull the car back onto the shoulder of the road.

I gasped, desperate to breathe, a shadowy darkness closing in on me, while a hulking man approached the window.

Chapter Nine

Shoving Marlene off of me took a Herculean effort, but suddenly I could breathe again.

“Ma’am? Ma’ams? Are you okay?”

I struggled to focus on the source of the voice. A big man, even bigger than the one who’d been attacking the car, leaned over and peered into the window.

“Do you need help?” he asked.

Unable to speak because it felt like I’d swallowed a billiards ball, I nodded.

“Can you open the door?”

“Don’t,” Marlene whispered.

I ignored her, knowing instinctively that the man with the blonde hair, blue eyes, and worried frown could be trusted.

I unlocked the door and he swung it open.

“Are you hurt?”

I shook my head while massaging my throat.

He looked past me to my sister. “What about you, ma’am?”

“We’re f-f-fine, officer.” Marlene’s assertion was less than convincing considering she was trembling like someone with hypothermia.