The Hitwoman Hunts a Ghost (2 page)

I bit into the PB&J as I looked at the little wooden squares. I wasn’t the psychic one, so I didn’t know what she wanted me to say, but since I was grateful for the sandwich, I did my best to look concerned. “Maybe you should have him pick some more.”

Armani shook her head. “It doesn’t work that way. You don’t get to pick and choose your fate just because you don’t like what you’ve been given.”

“So what are you going to do?”

“I’ll tell him I couldn’t read them.”

Putting my sandwich down, I said, “You’ve done readings for pretty much everyone here, and you’re going to tell our boss that
he’s
the only one you can’t come up with a prediction for? Bad idea.”

“But I can’t.” She buried her head in her good hand. “What am I going to do?”

Considering that Armani usually had Harry bending over backward to accommodate her, it was worrisome to see her so concerned.

“Just make something up,” I suggested. “Tell him you see a promotion in his future.”

“I can’t do that.”

“Why not? Zimmer has to retire or die eventually,” I reasoned about Harry’s boss who was rumored to be closing in on ninety. “Everyone knows Harry’s waiting to get his job.”

“I can’t disrespect or abuse the gift that way.”

Considering that Armani’s “gift” had once consisted of her telling me to “meet the man” and that had ended up having more to do with a leg of lamb than a date with a guy who eventually tried to kill me, I wasn’t sure her abilities really counted as a “gift”.” But I didn’t tell her that.

Instead, I suggested, “Then tell him the time isn’t right to read them, that you’re waiting for a sign or something.”

She nodded slowly. “That might work.”

“It will work,” I assured her. “It’ll get Harry off your back for the moment and buy you some time to figure this thing out.”

She didn’t look convinced as she fiddled with the tiles absentmindedly, turning them over as though she hoped to find her missing vowel on the other side.

Satisfied I’d solved her problem, at least temporarily, I resumed eating my lunch. “You make a mean sandwich.”

“It’s bread, peanut butter and jelly,” she said, distaste dripping from every syllable. “It’s the most boring combination imaginable.”

“But I like it.”

“Then you should remember to make it for yourself,” she chided gently. “I know you have a lot on your mind, but you really need to take care of yourself.”

“It’s time to get back to work,” I said, not wanting to continue the conversation.  I got up from the table. “Any good calls this morning?”

Armani rolled her eyes. “Just a woman who wasn’t sure how to spell her daughter’s name.”

Grabbing both my garbage and hers, I headed for the trash can. “Hopefully the afternoon is equally uneventful.”

Afterward, I realized I’d jinxed myself.

“Insuring the Future, this is Maggie. How may I help you?”

“Hello, Maggie, this is Ms. Whitehat.” The caller paused a moment, letting the significance of her words sink in.

I swallowed hard as a wave of fear built inside me, threatening my ability to reason. Ms. Whitehat worked for (or maybe she ran, I hadn’t figured that bit out yet) a powerful, shadowy organization. When we’d first met, she’d assured me she knew my darkest secrets, had the ability to destroy my almost-lover Patrick Mulligan, and the group wasn’t above committing murder to further their cause.

“You do remember me, don’t you, Ms. Lee?” The echo of her cultured voice taunted me.

“Yes,” I muttered, wishing I didn’t.

“Good girl. Now put your hands on your keyboard and pretend to type before you catch the attention of your supervisor.”

Doing as I was told, I glanced around my workplace furtively, trying to figure out how she was watching me. Nothing looked out of place and no one seemed to be paying the slightest bit of attention to me.

“Now look at your screen,” Whitehat instructed.

“How…?” I began to ask.

“We see everything, Ms. Lee,” she interrupted brusquely. “That’s something you’d do well to remember.”

Dutifully, I stared at my monitor and clicked the keys of my keyboard, but nothing showed on my screen except for the Insuring the Future logo.

“I have a job for you,” Whitehat said.

I frowned, then realizing she could probably see my expression, I did my best to adopt a blank stare. “What kind of job?”

“I need you to find something.”

I thought about challenging her assumption that I was ready and willing to do her bidding, but was afraid what that might mean to my safety.

“How can I help you?” I chirped in my best Insuring the Future professional voice.

“I need you to find a dog.”

My hands stilled over the keyboard. I’d been asked by mobsters to kill people, but I’d never fielded a dog request before. “Any special kind of dog?”

“A missing dog.”

“I thought you saw everything,” I blurted out without thinking about what the ramifications might be for the flippant comment.

The icy silence that emanated from Ms. Whitehat indicated that she wasn’t amused.

My stomach churned nervously.

Finally she spoke, her tone even colder than usual. “This is a very important dog and it’s paramount he’s found.”

Suddenly the image on my computer screen flickered and the Insuring the Future logo was replaced with the image of a little white dog with curly hair and big black eyes.

Freaked out that the shadowy organization had enough control to attack Future’s system, I spun around in my chair to spot the culprit. I came up empty.

“This is your target”.” Ms. Whitehat’s tone was matter-of-fact, like it was normal to send a hitwoman after a dog.

Staring at the cute, trusting face of my four-legged target, bile rose in my throat. “I can’t kill a dog.”

“Who asked you to kill it?” Whitehat sounded as horrified as I felt.  “I don’t want it dead. I want it returned. Track it and catch it.”

“I really don’t have any expertise as a dog catcher,” I said carefully. “I wouldn’t even know where to start looking.”

“You own a dog.”

“Yes, but”—”

“A dog, I believe, that had been owned by a contract killer who went by the name Gary the Gun.”

I winced as she reminded me none-too-subtly that she had the upper hand since she knew I’d killed Gary the Gun. (But it was self-defense….sort of.)

“I have faith in your rather unusual abilities, Ms. Lee. I have no doubt you’ll be able to perform this task.”

“I’ll try,” I said weakly.

“Good. And you won’t be working alone.”

“I won’t?”

“No, you’re being paired up with a partner for this assignment.”

“Does
he
have experience as a dog catcher?”

“No,
she
doesn’t.”

I didn’t really understand why two people who didn’t have a clue what they were doing would be better than one clueless soul, but I wasn’t about to argue.

“Your partner will contact you soon.”

“How will I know who she is?”

“She’ll introduce herself,” Whitehat drawled drily. “Now thank me for calling Insuring the Future.”

“What?”

“Your boss is coming.” My computer screen switched over to an already completed claim form screen.

“They record these calls you know.” I could just imagine trying to explain this conversation during my monthly audit with Harry.

Miss Whitehat chuckled. “We can circumvent the phone system and your computer. I think we can handle deleting this call. Now, stick with your script and thank me for calling.”

“Thank you for calling Insuring the Future,” I said obediently. “Have a nice day.”

I hit SEND as the unmistakable of odor of pepperoni teased my nostrils. I knew, without turning, that Harry stood directly behind me.

“I need to talk to you in my office,” Harry said. “Now.”

Still shaken by the phone call, I followed him to his office without thinking twice. As he closed the door, I wondered if Whitehat had the room under surveillance.

“You have to talk to her for me,” Harry practically begged.

“Her?” I asked, confused.

“Armani. She told me she needs some time to give me my Scrabble reading. Do you know what that means?”

I watched my boss pace nervously across the length of his office. Granted, it was only five paces, but he milked it for all it was worth. “That she needs some time?”

He shook his head. “No. It means it’s bad news and she’s just trying to figure out how to break it to me.”

“I don’t think that’s it.” I considered telling him he’d failed to pull any vowels, but I didn’t think that would be a comfort to the distraught man.

“But I need to know what it is. I need to know how much time I’ve got. I need to prepare.”

“Prepare?” A little part of me delighted in his desperation.

“For the end,” he declared solemnly.

“The end of what?”

“The end of my life.”

“You think seven Scrabble tiles are going to tell you when and where you’re going to buy it?” I asked incredulously.

Harry cocked his head to the side and examined me closely. “You’re not a believer?”

“A believer?”

“You don’t think she has a gift?”

I shook my head slowly, knowing full well that Armani’s predictions had saved my tail a number of times. “I didn’t say that. I just think you should wait to hear what she has to say instead of planning your funeral or whatever the heck it is you’re doing.”

“You think so?”

I nodded, finding it surreal that I found myself comforting the letch who’d, up until recently, made my work life a living hell.

“But you’ll still talk to her for me, right?”

“Yes, Harry. I’ll talk to Armani for you.”

“Thanks, Maggie. You’re the best.”

“Remember that the next time I ask to take a personal day,” I replied dryly.

After work I went to the “premium care facility” where my niece Katie temporarily resides.

A while back she was seriously injured in a car accident that left her in a coma and killed her parents. An accident that left me with the ability to talk to the animals and the responsibility of being Katie’s legal guardian.

But Katie’s on the mend now and it’s only a matter of time until she leaves Apple Blossom Estates.

I waved, nodded, and smiled at all of the familiar staff as I hurried through the maze of hallways toward Katie’s room.

It took an effort to keep my smile in place when I neared my destination and spotted Tony/Anthony Delveccio standing in the doorway. (If the cops and Feds can’t tell the identical twin mob bosses apart, I’m not even going to try.)

Cell phone pressed to his ear, Delveccio was involved in an intense conversation. He moved to the side and waved me into the room absentmindedly when I reached the doorway.

I passed the first bed in the room where Delveccio’s grandson, Dominic, lay, small and motionless beneath the hospital bedding. Every day I hoped to see a change in the little boy’s condition. Every day I was disappointed.

“Aunt Maggie!”

The sight of my niece, sitting in the hospital bed, throwing her arms wide in greeting, brought a lump to my throat and the prickle of tears to my eyes.

Rather than letting her see me cry, I rushed over, scooped her up in a tight hug and asked, “Who did you see today, Baby Girl?”

“I saw Doctor Donald and Doctor Sindhu and Doctor Brian,” she told me excitedly. “And I saw Shelby and Michelle and Carol and of course, Lewis.”

“Of course,” I said with a smile, gently placing her back in bed. Lewis is the orderly who delivers meals and he was quickly becoming Katie’s favorite person. “What did Lewis give you today?”

She looked around furtively before revealing in a stage whisper, “An extra chocolate pudding.”

I heard a chuckle from behind me.

“She takes after you,” Delveccio said. “Charming an older guy out of his pudding.”

A love of chocolate pudding is one thing Delveccio and I share. We also share some interesting history.  Namely, that he’s the reason I became a hitwoman.

“Hi, Mister D”.” Katie waved to the nice mobster.

“Hi, Katie. Did you show your aunt what I gave you?”

Katie whipped some sort of handheld computer game out from beneath her bed sheet. “See?”

I looked at it suspiciously.

“It’s completely age appropriate,” Delveccio assured me.

I nodded.

“And it’s not violent or sexy,” he said.

“You didn’t have to give her a gift,” I said quietly, trying to figure out what it meant when a mobster bestowed a gift on one’s family member.

“But I love it and don’t want to give it back,” Katie whined.

“You don’t have to, sweetheart,” Delveccio soothed. He gave me a hard look, daring me to argue with his decree. “Tell her.”

“You don’t have to give it back,” I assured Katie, telling myself it was because I didn’t want to deal with the kid’s temper tantrum, not because I was afraid of the man who could order my death with one phone call.

“Have you been in touch with our mutual friend?” Delveccio asked.

I shook my head.

The mobster squinted at me, trying to determine whether I was lying to him.

I wasn’t. I hadn’t heard from Patrick Mulligan, my murder mentor and almost lover, for a few days. His sudden absence from my life had left me with a sense of being unmoored, but I’d done my best to ignore the feeling since I had more than enough on my plate to keep me busy.

“You hear from him, tell him I’m trying to get in touch,” Delveccio said.

I nodded, staying silent. It hadn’t been too long ago since Delveccio had been threatening to have me kill Patrick. Maybe the hitman/cop was just laying low for a bit.

Delveccio walked over to his unconscious grandson, bent down and placed a tender kiss on the boy’s forehead. “I’ll be back soon,” he whispered.

Touched by the display of affection, I looked away. Focusing on Katie I asked, “Did Aunt Leslie come to see you today?”

“Uh-huh. And Aunt Loretta and Templeton. He done a magic trick for me.”

“He did?”  Templeton, Aunt Loretta’s current fiancé, is a man of many talents, but there’s something about him, despite the fact he’s saved me more than once, I just don’t quite trust. Plus, he sort of looks like a rat.