The Hitwoman and the Neurotic Witness (12 page)

“I’m listening.”

I crossed the room and lowered my voice, hoping Katie couldn’t hear our conversation. “I want to take her out of here. Just for an hour.”

Delveccio’s gaze flicked over to Katie who was now giggling due to God’s antics.

“Why?”

“I want to take her for ice cream.”

“They have ice cream here. They’ve got that soft serve shit in the cafeteria and everything.”

“I want to do something normal with her. I want her to know the world outside these walls is still there for her.”

“And ice cream is going to do that?” He twirled his giant diamond pinky ring thoughtfully.

“I need an hour,” I said, hating the way my voice cracked with desperation as I made my plea. “Can your guys keep the nurses out for an hour?”

“And what do I get from this deal?” the mobster asked.

I shrugged helplessly. This was a fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants kind of plan. I hadn’t thought it out.

“Tell him I’ll visit the boy,” God said from Katie’s bed.

“You’ve seen how she perks up when I bring the lizard,” I said to Delveccio. “He could visit with your grandson.”

Delveccio squinted at me for a long moment. I couldn’t tell whether he was seriously considering my offer, or if he thought I’d lost my mind.

“Deal,” he said suddenly, extending his hand.

I shook it, slightly surprised by the strength of his grip.

“But..,” Delveccio added, “You’ve got to have the lizard visit with my boy for ten minutes first.”

Ignoring the niggling sense of guilt that I felt, knowing that I’d left Armani, DeeDee and Gypsy in the car, I nodded my agreement.

I scooped God off of Katie. “Thank you,” I whispered as I deposited him on the little boy’s bed.

Settling himself by the boy’s ear, he began whispering.

With Delveccio watching his grandson’s monitors intently, I played, Itsy Bitsy Spider with Katie.

After a few minutes I heard something that sounded like an owl’s hoot.

“Hide the lizard,” Delveccio ordered.

I quickly lifted the reptile and deposited him in my bra.

Delveccio raised an eyebrow. “You are one weird broad.”

A night nurse bustled in.

“Hello, beautiful,” Delveccio flirted.

“Mr. Delveccio.” She went about the business of checking on Katie first and the boy second with efficient professionalism.

When she was done and gone Delveccio said. “Now’s your chance to make a break for it.”

“C’mon, Katie.” I picked Katie up off the bed.

She wrapped her arms around me tightly, squeezing my neck, cutting off my air supply. It was the best feeling in the world considering there had been a time when I thought she might never open her eyes again.

“You’ll need a distraction in order to get out of here unnoticed,” Delveccio declared. “I’ll sing.”

“You’ll sing?” I asked, unconvinced that his plan would be effective.

He puffed out his chest, straining the buttons of his shirt. “My mother was a great singer. She passed along her gift.”

I knew from various news reports about the “alleged” mobster that his mother had been an Atlantic City showgirl who’d named her twins Anthony and Tony not knowing they were the same name. I didn’t point that out.

Instead I said, “Lucky you. All my mom passed along was an aversion to grape jelly.”
And the crazy gene
, I added silently. Otherwise I wouldn’t be about to take my niece out of the hospital based on the subtle suggestion of a freaking lizard.

“Wait about thirty seconds,” Delveccio commanded. “Then, once everyone’s attention is on me, you can make your move.”

“Thank you.” My voice cracked with genuine gratitude.

His eyes looked suspiciously misty as he said, “Maybe you’ll return the favor sometime when he wakes up.” He jerked his chin in the direction of his still grandson before stepping into the hall.

Tightening my grip on Katie, I whispered, “I need you to be as quiet as a mouse. Can you do that?” She’d barely uttered more than a syllable since waking up from her coma, so it wasn’t like I was making an unreasonable request.

She nodded solemnly, her big blue eyes wide.

Delveccio began to sing
That’s Amore
in a surprisingly rich baritone. Maybe his mother really had been a decent singer.

“It’s now or never,” God prodded, his voice echoing from the valley between my breasts.

Sticking my head out of the room, I looked at one of Delveccio’s goons. He made a shooing motion, indicating I should make a break for it.

Clutching Katie close, I walked through the hospital halls as quickly as I dared. Once outside, I sprinted across the parking lot.

I was breathless when I arrived at the car. Armani was still in the passenger seat, but Doomsday and Gypsy were nowhere to be seen.

“Oh my god,” Armani squeaked. “You broke her out!”

Opening the back door, I gently placed Katie in the middle of the seat. “She wasn’t in prison,” I corrected, bending over to secure the seatbelt around my niece’s tiny frame.

“Did you have permission to take her?” Armani asked.

“I’m her legal guardian,” I muttered, wishing I’d thought this plan out better. I didn’t have a car seat for the little girl. That
had
to be the definition of driving her around willy-nilly.

Then again, her car seat hadn’t done her much good in the accident that had killed her parents and turned me into Doctor-Freakin-Dolittle.

“Where’s the beast?” God asked, using my bra strap like a rappelling rope to pull himself out of his hiding place.

“Where’s my dog?” I asked Armani.

“The medium was on ghost-overload so she took the mutt for a walk.” She pointed to the far end of the parking lot. “They’re over there.”

Climbing into the driver’s seat, I adjusted the rearview mirror so that I could keep an eye on Katie. “How’s my favorite niece doing?”

She flashed me a thumbs up.

“This is my friend, Armani,” I told her as I drove toward DeeDee and Gypsy.

Twisting in her seat, Armani wiggled the fingers of her good hand at the little girl. “Hey there, muchacha. Aren’t you a cute little thing?”

Katie raised a hand in a tentative wave.

Pulling up beside Gypsy and DeeDee, I said, “Get in.”

Gypsy frowned, peering into the car. “Ghost!”

Hopping out of the car, I opened the door behind me and waved the Doberman inside. “Don’t be afraid, Katie. This is DeeDee.”

“Be gentle with her, you graceless oaf,” God warned from where he was perched on Katie’s shoulder.

The mutt settled herself onto the seat beside Katie with the utmost care. Then she sniffed her, and licked her hand.

“Doggie?” Katie whispered.

My breath caught in throat. I’d missed her voice so much and worried for so long I’d never hear it again.

I watched in wonder, my eyes filling with tears, as she reached out to touch the side of the dog’s snout.

“Katie hello,” DeeDee panted softly. “Meet nice.”

“Keep?” Katie asked as she rubbed the dog’s nose.

“Yes,” I assured her “DeeDee’s part of the family.”

Katie grinned.

My heart surged happily.

“You gonna get in the car or stand there all night?” Armani asked Gypsy. “I was promised ice cream.”

“Ice cream!” DeeDee woofed.

Katie giggled.

Gypsy caught my eye and jerked her head, indicating she wanted to talk to me.

“Be good,” I told the occupants of the car, before closing the door and walking over to the nervous medium.

“There’s a ghost in the car,” Gypsy whispered.

“It wasn’t there before?” I asked.

She shook her head.

“Do you know the ghost?” I asked.

“No. It’s a woman. She seems to be attached to the little girl. She’s trying to braid her hair.”

“That must be Theresa,” I told her. “My sister. I have to talk to her.”

I turned back to the car, filled with joy. I could talk to my sister!

“She’s not talking,” Gypsy said.

“She’ll talk to me,” I told her.

“Maggie, stop.”

I turned slowly. Gypsy was staring at me with something that looked a lot like pity.

My stomach lurched nervously

“It doesn’t work that way,” she said slowly. “Ghosts don’t talk to people they know.”

I looked back at the car, imagining Theresa sitting there in the back seat. So close “Why not?”

Gypsy shrugged. “I don’t know.”

My eyes filled with tears as a giant wave of disappointment washed over me.

“I’m sorry,” Gypsy said.

I dashed away the tears with the back of my hand, forcing myself to focus. “So what are we supposed to do?”

“What do you think she wants?”

“She loves her daughter. She probably just wants to stay close to her. She won’t hurt you. Will you get back in the car?”

Gypsy looked at me skeptically, but got in the car.

I took a deep breath, trying to get control of my emotions. Now wasn’t the time to have the meltdown I wanted to wallow in. I had more important things to do.

I have to admit that the cone I got was the best damn ice cream I’d ever tasted, but if you ask me what flavor I had, I couldn’t tell you. I was too intent on watching Katie come alive as she enjoyed her frozen treat.

Armani and Gypsy had a deep, meaningful conversation about spirits, but I wasn’t the least bit interested. I was busy mentally recording every single one of Katie’s smiles and giggles.

But like the ice cream, the magic came to an end, when Katie suddenly looked right at me and asked, “Where’s Mommy and Daddy?”

The mood in the car had been joyful and boisterous, but those four words, her first complete sentence, sucked the energy right out of the adventure.

Armani and Gypsy took DeeDee for a walk to give me some quality one-on-one time with the little girl who means the world to me.

Climbing into the backseat with her, I pulled her into my lap for a cuddle and tackled the question I’d been dreading answering ever since she’d first opened her eyes. “Mommy and Daddy are in heaven, sweetheart.”

She considered this for a long moment. “Like Dora?”

Confused I looked to God for answers.

“Dora was her goldfish. It died. Theresa told her it went to heaven,” the lizard explained.

“Sort of like Dora,” I told Katie.

She scrunched up her little face and I waited for her to wail and cry.

My chest tightened and I found it difficult to breathe as I braced myself, knowing that I could only do so much to cushion her grief.

“How did they fit down the toilet?” she asked curiously.

“Wh-what?” I stuttered.

“How’d they fit?”

God chuckled. “Theresa told her the toilet was the quickest route to heaven for Dora.”

“Angels came and got them, Sweetie,” I told her, not knowing what else to say. “They took them straight up,” I said, suspecting Theresa was actually in the car with us.

She nodded contentedly, as though that made perfect sense to her. “Home now?”

“Not yet,” I told her. “I have to take you back to the hospital. You’re not quite better yet and everyone wants you to be good and strong.”

Her lower lip trembled traitorously and her eyes welled up.

“But soon,” I promised quickly.

God scampered over to whisper in her ear. I watched in amazement as her expression grew peaceful and her eyes drifted shut.

“Time to take her back,” God said softly.

Nodding, I put her down, buckled her up, and climbed out of the car, indicating to Armani, DeeDee, and Gypsy they should return with a wave.

The ride back to the hospital was quiet, until we hit the roadblock.

“What the hell?” I muttered, when I saw the line of fire trucks and police cars.

“This can’t be good,” Armani said, leaning forward to get a better look.

“Is that your psychic ability talking?” I mocked.

“Drew ire,” she reminded me testily.

“Someone died,” Gypsy whispered shakily from the back seat.

“Can you see their ghost?” Armani asked excitedly

“You don’t have to be so damn ghoulishly pleased about it,” I berated her.

Ignoring me, Armani peered out the window. “Where is it?”

“She’s standing on the corner.” Gypsy’s voice was laden with sadness. “Her dress is still smoking.”

“Can you tell what happened to her?” I asked in a hushed tone, staring at the empty corner.

A uniformed police officer strolled over toward Armani’s side of the car.

Fearing he’d notice my little niece wasn’t properly in a car seat, I said, “Quick, Doomsday, block his view. Don’t let him see inside.”

“DeeDee,” the mutt protested on a loud bark, hurdling across Katie and sticking her snarling face against the window.

“Sorry about that, Gypsy,” I apologized.

“Not a problem,” she murmured distractedly, craning her neck around the dog to watch her empty corner.

Chuckling, Armani opened her door, heaved herself out of her seat, and limped toward the policeman who’d stopped the moment he’d spotted the near-rabid canine.

I watched Armani chat up the officer, tossing her shampoo-commercial-quality hair and using her sexiest laugh. I had to admit I was impressed. She’s a first-class flirter.

I was so busy watching her show I almost didn’t notice my cell phone buzzing, but God yelled over the snarling, snapping dog, “Answer your phone.”

“Hello?” I said, covering my other ear to try to drown out some of the background noises.

“Are you driving?” Patrick asked, his tone curt and businesslike.

“Nope. Stuck at a roadblock.”

“Our mutual friend said you’d better return what you
borrowed
from the hospital ASAP,” Patrick warned, a steely note hardening his tone.

My stomach flipped nervously.

“Tell me you didn’t take what I think you took,” Patrick said.

I didn’t reply.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” he growled. “Is the gene for impulse control just not in your DNA?”

“I’m not sure that’s even in one’s DNA,” I joked weakly, trying to lighten the mood.

He hung up on me. My heart fell.

Armani climbed back into the car. “What is the world coming to?”