Table of Contents

- ABOUT JB LYNN

- OTHER TITLES BY JB LYNN

- Chapter One

- Chapter Two

- Chapter Three

- Chapter Four

- Chapter Five

- Chapter Six

- Chapter Seven

- Chapter Eight

- Chapter Nine

- Chapter Ten

- Chapter Eleven

- Chapter Twelve

- Chapter Thirteen

- Chapter Fourteen

- Chapter Fifteen

- Chapter Sixteen

- Chapter Seventeen

- Chapter Eighteen

- Chapter Nineteen

- Chapter Twenty

- Chapter Twenty-One

- Chapter Twenty-Two

The Hitwoman and the Seven Cops

Book 7

JB LYNN

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © 2013 by Jennifer Baum

Cover by Hot Damn Designs

Interior design and formatting by The Eyes for Editing

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. It may not be re-sold or given away to others. If you’d like to share this book (and the author hopes you’ll want to), please purchase an additional copy for each person. To obtain permission to excerpt portions of the text, please contact the author at jblynnauthor@gmail.com

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www.jblynn.com

ABOUT JB LYNN

A Jersey Girl transplanted to the Sunshine State, JB (you can call her Jen) writes laugh-out-loud suspense and mysteries with a dash of romance, but she’s been known to dabble in the occasional goose bump-raising thriller.

She loves interacting with readers so make sure to visit her on Facebook https://www.facebook.com/jb.lynn.14 and Twitter https://twitter.com/jb_lynn_author

OTHER TITLES BY JB LYNN

Confessions of a Slightly Neurotic Hitwoman

Further Confessions of a Slightly Neurotic Hitwoman

The Hitwoman Gets Lucky

The Hitwoman and the Family Jewels

The Hitwoman and the Neurotic Witness

The Hitwoman Hunts a Ghost

The Hitwoman and the 7 Cops

The Mutt and the Matchmaker

The First Victim

Find out more at: http://www.jblynn.com

THE HITWOMAN AND THE SEVEN COPS

Chapter One

You know it’s going to be a bad day when you’re awakened by the phrase, “Give me all your cash.”

I opened just one eye to glare at the woman trying to separate me from my hard-earned money.

Instead of flinching like I’d hoped she would, my sister Marlene shook my shoulder to make sure I was awake enough to hear her outrageous demand. “Wake up, Maggie. I need your cash.”

I swatted her hand away. “I heard you the first time.”

“Gotta! Gotta!” a high-pitched bimbo-y voice insisted.

Sitting up, I surveyed my surroundings. I was disappointed to see I was in the basement apartment of the Bed & Breakfast owned be my aunts, and not, as I’d been dreaming, in a gorgeous Venetian ballroom waltzing with Patrick Mulligan.

“Gotta!” The “bimbo” was my seventy-five-pound Doberman pinscher, Doomsday (who prefers to be called DeeDee).

Sighing my disappointment, I flopped back, spread-eagle, onto the couch I’d fallen asleep on. I closed my eyes, trying to recall the thoroughly enjoyable imaginary dance with the sexy, redheaded, cop/hitman.

“Seriously, Maggie. I need your cash. All of it.”

“Gotta! Gotta!” DeeDee panted.

Grudgingly I opened my eyes and squinted at Marlene. “Why?”

“I just do. I’ll pay you back.”

“How?”

It’s not like Marlene, having recently returned to the family fold after an extended career as a call girl, has any visible means of financial support. She lives in my bedroom in the B&B (which is why I’m stuck living in the basement…. Well, that and the fact my apartment on the wrong side of town was blown up by this crazy bomber dude).

“I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.” Marlene pouted petulantly.

“What do you need it for?”

“Gotta! Gotta!” Desperation pitched the dog’s whine higher than usual.

“In the name of all that is holy, set the beast free before she soils herself,” a haughty male voice with an English accent intoned.

I frowned at the glass enclosure on the other side of the room that housed the small, brown anole lizard named Godzilla (“call me God”) that had been my niece’s pet. Hanging out on a piece of driftwood at the bottom of his cage, he stuck his tongue out at me. I’m pretty sure that’s the reptilian version of flipping someone the bird.

“Are you going to give it to me or not?” Marlene stomped her foot and crossed her arms over her chest, just like she’d done when she was five and was about to throw a temper tantrum.

“Gotta!” DeeDee barked insistently, her need to empty her bladder overriding the house rule of using her inside bark.

I pointed at the dog. “Do me a favor and let her out?”

“C’mon, mutt,” Marlene muttered, hurrying over to the cellar storm doors and letting the dog out so she could do her early morning business.

While they did that, I reached for my purse and pulled out my wallet. “All I’ve got is forty-two bucks.”

“That’s not enough.” Still, Marlene didn’t hesitate to pluck the bills out of my hand.

“Enough for what?”

“Wally.”

“Who’s Wally?”

“My… manager.”

I snatched my money right back. “You mean your pimp?”

That made her flinch.

I slapped my hand over my mouth guiltily, but the gesture was too late. The damning words had escaped and now hung between us like an electrified fence neither of us were brave enough to touch.

We hadn’t talked much about how Marlene had survived over the years she’d been estranged from the family, but I imagined her life hadn’t been easy. Who was I, someone who’d taken to killing people for money (albeit for the very good reason of paying for our niece’s medical care), to judge someone for taking money for performing sexual acts?

Silently, I extended the crumpled bills toward her, my version of an olive branch.

Instead of taking them, she whispered, “I’m scared.”

Swinging my legs over the side so I was sitting on the couch instead of lying on it, I patted the seat beside me. “What’s going on?”

Marlene perched on the cushion beside me, teetering on the edge like she was ready to take off at any moment. She twirled her hair around her index finger just like she had as a nervous eight-year-old who’d accidentally broken one of Aunt Susan’s prized vases. She looked at me with the same rounded eyes, thoroughly expecting me, as her older sister, to be able to fix the situation and make it better.

My stomach lurched traitorously. I knew I wasn’t in any position to help her. I could barely pull off the jobs asked of me by the chocolate-pudding-loving mob boss, Delveccio, and the mysterious Ms. Whitehat, who wasn’t beyond blackmailing me to get her assignments done.

Yet, despite knowing how ill-prepared I was, I reflexively asked, “How can I help?” Gently, I pressed the forty-two dollars into her hand.

Marlene shrugged. “I don’t know. He knows I’m here.”

“And he wants money?” I looked at her knuckles, white from clutching the cash so tightly.

“He wants me to come back to work for him.”

“And you don’t want to?”

The shake of her head was almost imperceptible.

“You’ve told him that?”

She nodded.

“And what did he say?”

She shuddered. “You don’t want to know. Let’s just say he’s a guy accustomed to getting what he wants and he’ll use any means necessary to get it.”

Wrapping an arm around her shoulders, I gave her a reassuring hug. “You’re safe here, Marlene.”

She chuckled, the sound rough and incredulous. “This from the woman who was attacked and almost killed in this very house.”

“You heard about that, huh?”

“No secrets in this place. Aunt Loretta claims that Templeton saved your life. Is that true?”

“It is.” While I’d never been certain about the motives of Aunt Loretta’s latest love, he had saved my life.

“But you don’t trust him?”

I shrugged. “It’s not like Loretta’s relationship track record is that impressive.”

“Yeah. Did you see that Uncle Jose died recently? Crushed by a chandelier at his daughter’s wedding.”

“Tragic,” God mocked from his enclosure.

I nodded. Jose Garcia had been a member of the family for a short time. He’d also been a murderous drug dealer, which is why I’d been tasked with killing him. I hadn’t been able to complete that particular assignment, but I took credit for his death by disco ball.

The idea of murdering a man, who’d made a fairly decent uncle, in front of his family had been too much for me to stomach. I hadn’t killed Jose Garcia, but Delveccio thought I’d had. Since he paid Katie’s hospital bill to show his appreciation, I never disabused him of that notion.

Marlene sighed. “You don’t know Wally. This isn’t going to end well.”

“Is he violent?”

Trembling, she nodded.

“I won’t let him hurt you.”

She hugged me tightly. “Don’t take this the wrong way, Sis, but I don’t think you’ll be able to stop him.”

I couldn’t very well tell her that I’m way more capable than she imagines. After all, I’ve killed a mobster’s son-in-law, a paid assassin, and a seemingly mild-mannered accountant who’d bashed someone else’s head in with a crowbar. Somehow, I didn’t think a guy who got off on terrorizing young women would be much of a challenge.  “How much does he want?”

“A grand.”

“We should be able to come up with that.”

“It’s what he wants this time,” Marlene corrected. “Next week, he’ll probably demand two thousand. It’ll never end.”

“So what are you going to do? Go around begging people for money, hoping you can pay him to leave you alone?”

She shrugged. “I could leave town.”

“Don’t you dare!”  I knew things weren’t perfect with Marlene, but the idea of losing her again so soon after our sister Teresa had died was enough to break my heart.

“You just don’t want to be left alone with the witches,” Marlene teased lightly, calling our aunts by the nickname we’d used for them growing up.

“I don’t want to lose you,” I told her seriously.

“You don’t even know me, Maggie.”

“I’d like to.”

“Oh save me from the treacle-laced sentiment,” God groused from his enclosure.

Sitting beside Marlene meant I was unable to tell him to shut up without looking like I was a crazy woman. I shot him a dirty look, which wasn’t nearly as satisfying.

Before we could get anything settled, Aunt Leslie opened the storm doors and let the dog back inside. She followed closely behind, despite the fact she hadn’t been invited.

“Good morning,” Leslie trilled. “How are my favorite nieces?”

She’d become a much cheerier person since she’d hooked up with Narcotics Anonymous. While most of the time I approved of her changes, I wasn’t overly fond of her early chipperness. Then again, I’m not a morning person. “Morning,” I muttered.

“We’re your only nieces who aren’t dead,” Marlene told our aunt. “So I guess we’re in better shape than the others.”

Leslie’s smile faltered. “I didn’t mean…”

Elbowing Marlene in the ribs, I said, “She didn’t mean that, Aunt Leslie.”

“I kinda did,” Marlene countered.

Her twin, Darlene, had been murdered years earlier.

(Or at least that’s what everyone believed….everyone except me, who’d recently been told by a psychic that our older sister Teresa, Katie’s mother, had passed along the message that Darlene, was, in fact, still alive).

The only thing I knew for certain was that Teresa had perished in the accident that had left me with the ability to talk to animals. Needing to change the subject before I, or anyone else said something stupid, I said, “Thanks for letting DeeDee back inside.”

“Hungry,” DeeDee panted, as though having her name spoken aloud gave her permission to speak.

“Your cat’s still out there.” Leslie informed me. “She didn’t seem to want to come inside.”

“She’s fine out there.” I wasn’t worried about the one-eyed, one-eared Southern Belle of a cat who pretty much did as she pleased.

“I’m going to visit your mother,” Leslie said. “I was wondering if either of you would like to go with me.”

“I promised Katie that I’d visit with her and I’ve got a meeting scheduled with one of her doctors.”

“Do you think they’re getting ready to send her home?” Leslie asked hopefully.

I secretly hoped the meeting wasn’t about that. While I desperately wanted Katie to make a full recovery from the car accident that had killed her parents and left her in a coma, as her legal guardian, I didn’t feel like I was prepared yet to provide the best post-hospital life for her.

“I wouldn’t get your hopes up,” I told Leslie.

“What about you Marlene?” Leslie asked, undeterred. “Would you like to visit your mother?”

“Umm,” Marlene said hesitantly.

I knew the feeling. I was never too eager to go visit Mom either.

Marlene surprised me by saying, “Okay, I’ll go.”

I raised my eyebrows silently, asking her about her sudden change of heart.

She looked away, which left me to wonder if she was thinking of hiding from Wally at the nuthouse where Mom resides.

“Wonderful!” Leslie clapped her delight.

DeeDee plopped her heavy head into my lap, looked up at me pitifully, and whined softly, “Hungry.”

“What’s wrong with the mutt?” Marlene asked.

“Let me count the ways,” God shouted from his enclosure.

Marlene frowned at the reptile. “And why’s the lizard squeaking?”

“I don’t squeak!” God thundered.

But to Marlene and Leslie it sounded like a squeak.

“The dog’s hungry,” I said quickly.

“I’ll feed her,” Leslie offered.

Faster than a sailor abandoning a sinking ship, DeeDee left me and bounded over to Leslie. She waited expectantly at my aunt’s feet.

“It’s like she understood what I said,” Leslie marveled.

“She can’t even understand what comes out of her own mouth,” God griped.

“Maybe the lizard’s squeaking because he’s hungry too,” Marlene suggested.

“I do not squeak!”

“I’ve got a headache,” I muttered as Leslie and DeeDee made their way up the stairs and into the kitchen.  Once they were out of earshot, I turned my attention to Marlene. “We’ll figure out what to do about this Wally character. Just promise me you won’t do something stupid like take off.”

“Okay,” she agreed grudgingly. “But only because I couldn’t get very far on forty-two bucks.”

Chapter Two

“Margaret? Are you awake?” Aunt Susan called from the top of the stairs.

I rolled my eyes. Considering that she couldn’t have missed Leslie and DeeDee barreling into the kitchen moments before, it seemed like an idiotic question.

“Glad she’s looking for you and not me,” Marlene whispered, hopping off the couch and heading for the storm doors to make her escape before our most uptight aunt could single her out.

“Are you up?” Susan climbed down a couple of stairs on one side of the room, while Marlene scampered up the flight on the opposite of the room.

“Yes. Unfortunately I am,” I responded in my grumpiest voice.

“Good. There are a couple of gentlemen here to see you.” The disapproval in her tone made me want to cover my head with a blanket and hide.

My stomach lurched nervously. “Who?”

She walked to the bottom of the stairs so she could look me in the eye. “One’s a police detective and the other’s a U.S. Marshall.”

“Griswald?”

“Yes and no,” Susan said mysteriously. “Don’t keep them waiting. They seem impatient.”

“That can’t be good,” I said weakly, getting to my feet. Since I’m not exactly a law-abiding citizen, I should have been alarmed that a member of the police force wanted to talk to me, but the addition of the Marshal made me think this impromptu visit wasn’t about me, but about my dear old dad who was supposed to be in the Witness Protection Program. I wondered what new trouble my father had managed to wreak.

I braced myself for a lecture as Aunt Susan ran a critical eye over me.

Instead, she surprised me. She pulled me to her in a quick, tight hug. “I’m proud of you, Maggie,” she whispered before pushing away from me.

I stood there for a moment, too shocked by her display of affection to move.

She cleared her throat. “Well don’t dilly-dally. Get up there and see what they want. If you don’t hurry, I’m afraid Loretta may eat the one who looks like a young Robert Redford alive.”

“Bring me,” God urged from his enclosure.

Unable to think of a reason for scooping up the lizard that my aunt would be comfortable with, I left him behind. I hurried up the stairs with Susan following closely.

Susan hadn’t been exaggerating about Aunt Loretta and the agent who looked like a movie star. She was practically shoving her barely clad bosom into the young man’s face under the pretense of pouring him a cup of coffee. To his credit, the guy looked mortified as he made a point to keep his gaze averted.

“Ooh coffee. I’m dying for a cup.” Even though I said it to distract Loretta from her full-court seduction attempt, I didn’t have to fake my enthusiasm for the liquid caffeine. “Can I have a cup?”

Loretta nodded, grudgingly leaving her would-be conquest’s side to find a mug for me.

“Miss Lee?” Robert Redford’s partner, a young man with dark circles under his eyes, stood and extended his hand. “I’m U.S. Marshall Mike Griswald.”

I shook it, trying to ignore the way his sport coat gaped, revealing his holstered gun. “Any relation to the other Griswalds who were after my father?”

He smiled ruefully. “My uncles and I are afraid the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree on that one.”

“They sat right there”—I pointed to a chair across the table—“and polished quite a bit of silver.”

Mike hesitated as though he were trying to figure out if polishing silver was some kind of euphemism.

I hid a grin, happy to keep the U.S. Marshall off his game a bit longer. “So how are you related to them again?”

He shook his head. “My mom is their sister.”

“So I guess law enforcement runs in your family.” I didn’t point out that criminal activity runs in mine.

Mike shrugged. “For some of us, but unfortunately not for all.”

Something in his tone revealed that he wasn’t thrilled with some choices made by unknown family members. I could relate and found myself smiling at him sympathetically.

“Here you go, sweetheart.” Loretta placed a cup of coffee in front of me.

“Thanks.”

“Our Susan was quite taken with your uncle,” Loretta revealed with a coquettish smile.

Deciding that particular topic of conversation was even more loaded than what they were really there to discuss, I quickly said, “So what has my father done now?”

“Have you heard from him?” young Robert Redford asked.

“I’m sorry, you are?” I asked.

“Ummm…. I’m… um…..”

I waited, wondering why the guy didn’t know his own name. Piss, the one-eyed cat, leapt into my lap and eyed the tongue-tied man.

“Aww, he’s bashful, bless his heart,” she drawled, though to anyone else it just sounded as though she was purring contentedly.

“Detective Brian Griswald,” Mike supplied. “He’s giving me a hand with the search.”

Wondering how a guy too shy to even introduce himself had ever made detective, I looked from one man to the other. They didn’t look like brothers.

“Perhaps we should just make this conversation between the three of us,” Mike declared, staring pointedly at Loretta, who was batting her eyelashes at the other Griswald.

Taking pity on the poor detective who didn’t seem to know what to do about Loretta’s unwanted flirtation, I nodded. “I think Aunt Susan needs help in the kitchen.”

Loretta didn’t take the hint.

Brian shot a helpless look at Mike. The Marshal yawned.

“We need some privacy,” I told Loretta firmly.

She pouted slightly, but got up and left the room, though she definitely wiggled and sashayed as she did it.

Poor Detective Brian gulped, spots of color blooming on his cheeks.

“She’s really quite harmless,” I assured him.

A blush tinged the tops of his ears pink.

“About your father,” the Marshal said, firmly bringing our attention back to the topic at hand.

“Haven’t seen him.” I sipped my coffee. “Has he been missing long?”

“A day. Maybe two.”

I raised an eyebrow, but didn’t ask how they’d manage to lose track of the star witness against the Lubovsky crime family.

“We’ve got a list of his known associates. Do you mind looking it over and telling us if there’s anyone you can think of who’s not on it?”

Brian Griswald handed me his cell phone.

I glanced at the list of names. “To be honest, my father and I aren’t all that close.”

“And yet you negotiated his entrance into the protection program.” Mike smothered another yawn.

“The things we do for family.” The things I did for family not only included getting people into the United States Federal Witness Protection Program, but killing complete strangers in order to fund my niece’s hospital stay.

“According to my uncles, you helped bring down the Lubovsky syndicate in order to protect your sister.” Mike checked his watch. “Is she here?”

I shrugged. “She was earlier.”

“But she’s not now?”  The marshal guzzled his coffee like a man who’d just crossed the Sahara on foot.

I smiled slightly. “I’ll check for you.”

“I’d appreciate that.”

“Marlene!” I screamed at the top of my lungs.

Marshal Griswald almost dropped his coffee cup.

Detective Griswald flinched.

Even Piss dug her claws into my jean-covered thighs in protest.

I took an audible deep breath and yelled again, “Marlene! Are you here?”

“For heaven’s sake, Margaret,” Susan complained, bursting into the room, “must you act like you were raised in a barn?”

“I was raised in a barn,” Piss meowed from her spot on my lap. “And no one, not even the idiot chickens, behaved as abysmally as you.”

I mentally tucked that little nugget of information away since I didn’t know much about the Southern Fried Cat. “Sorry.”

Susan glared at me. “Why are you shouting?”

“Because these gentlemen want to know if Marlene is here.”

“And you’ve suddenly been rendered incapable of getting up and searching for her like a civilized human being?”

Instead of answering my aunt, I directed my attention at the two men sitting across from me, catching Mike mid-yawn. “I think it’s safe to say she isn’t here.”

“She went with Leslie to visit your mother,” Susan interjected, her disapproval that I hadn’t accompanied them evident in her tone.

I ignored her. While my relationship with my mother had improved recently, I didn’t relish the idea of going to the mental health facility where she resided. The other residents creeped me out. Quite frankly, they were a reminder that I was only a step or two away from ending up there myself if anyone knew I talked to animals or killed people. Shaking my head to rid myself of the disturbing thought, I tapped Brian Griswald’s phone with my finger. “That’s who’s not on your list. My mother.”

“What list?” Susan demanded worriedly.

“A list of Archie’s known associates.” I gave the phone back to the detective. “Depending on the day, my mother, Mary Lee, may not know Archie, but he definitely knows her.”

Susan pressed a hand to her chest. “You don’t think he’s going to try to take Mary, do you? Every time he does, she suffers a setback.”

“We have someone watching her,” Mike assured us quickly.

Susan’s sigh of relief was audible. She sank into the nearest chair. “Thank you.”

I drained my coffee like it was a shot of liquid courage. “So tell me, does the fact you’ve lost track of him mean he’s kicked out of the program?”

The marshal’s mouth twitched in the semblance of a smile. “We need him in order to make the case against the Lubovsky family. As long as we can get him back before he does something stupid like breaking the law, his status as a protectee won’t change.”

“You don’t know Archie Lee,” Susan said. “The man was born getting into trouble.”

“Will you help us find him?” the Marshal asked.

“I don’t have any idea of where he is,” I told him honestly.

The reserved detective cleared his throat nervously. “What about Jeffrey Hendricks?”

Every muscle in my body tensed and the back of my neck suddenly felt cold.

“You okay, Sugar?” Piss peered up at me through her one good eye.

Throat tight, I was barely able to get out my response to the detective. “He’s not on your list.”

“And you didn’t mention him.”

“You said it was a list of his known associates. I assumed that meant you were looking for people who might help him.  If he runs into Jeff Hendricks, he might end up dead.”

“That wouldn’t help our case,” the marshal inserted.

For the first time, Brian made eye contact with me. “Why would Hendricks want your father dead?”

I exchanged a look with Susan.

Like me, her tension had ratcheted up at the mention of Jeff Hendricks. She twisted a handful of linen tablecloth.

“Miss Lee?” The detective leaned closer, his bashful, bumbling Columbo act momentarily forgotten. “Why would Hendricks want your father dead?”

“Because,” I said slowly, “even when my dad does the right thing, it comes back to bite him.”

Chapter Three

Before I could elaborate further, there was a crash and the tinkling of shattering glass from the kitchen. Then a truncated scream, followed by a resounding thunk.

It was the scream and thunk that alarmed me.

Both the marshal and detective were out of their seats, drawing their guns and rushing toward the doorway before I registered that the cat had already left the room. Jumping up, I followed closely behind.

“What on Earth?” Susan murmured worriedly.

“Stay here.” I pressed down on her shoulder, pinning her to the seat.

She tried to grab my hand to keep me with her, but I pulled free and charged toward the kitchen.

“Sugar, don’t—” the yowling cat tried to caution.

But the warning came too late. I barreled in and was forced to skid to a stop as I was confronted with the carnage.

Aunt Loretta and her fiancé, Templeton, were both prone on the floor. There was glass everywhere and blood pooling beside Templeton’s head.

Brian was on his cell phone, barking orders, while Mike grabbed a dishtowel, wadded it into a ball, and pressed it against the gash on Templeton’s forehead.

“Oh my God,” Susan wailed from behind me.

Instinctively, I turned and grabbed her as her knees buckled. Half-dragging, half-carrying her, I managed to deposit her in the nearest dining room chair. “Stay here. Let me see what’s going on.”

“Loretta,” she cried, tears already streaming down her face.

“I’m sure it’s worse than it looks,” I assured her. “Just stay here.”

Leaving her side, I rushed back into the kitchen. The marshal and detective were both kneeling, providing first aid to the two victims on the floor.

“Go out to the driveway and flag down the squad car when it gets here,” the marshal ordered.

Nodding dumbly, I stumbled past them, glass crackling beneath my feet with every step I took. My legs felt heavy and a peculiar weakness gripped me, but I forced myself to walk to the street.

“Maggie?” a familiar male voice called.

I turned slowly in its direction.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

I struggled to focus on the man in front of me.  “Zeke?”

My teenage friend/nemesis/crush grabbed me by the shoulders and shook me gently. “What’s wrong?”

I frowned. As much as I like Zeke, his return to town always seems to spell trouble for me.

The sound of approaching sirens reached my ears. “They’re coming here.”

Zeke tensed. “Why?”

“The detective called them.”

Like me, Zeke isn’t actually a law-abiding citizen. I saw a moment of fear, a desire to run, flash in his eyes, but he held his ground.

“Loretta and Templeton.” I waved my arm in the general direction of the B&B. “They’re hurt… at least I hope they’re hurt.”

Releasing me, Zeke frowned and took a step backward. “You hope they’re hurt?”

“I hope they’re just hurt. They’re on the floor of the kitchen.”

“I think you should tell me what’s going on.”

“I wish I knew.”

A million possibilities rolled around in my head, but I didn’t dare voice any of them. Marlene was afraid of her pimp. Loretta was about to lose her shop to a vindictive ex. Templeton gambled with mobsters and paid regular visits to a pawn shop. My father was on the loose and it was well-documented that he had more than his fair share of criminal enemies.

Or maybe this was my fault. That was my greatest fear, that somehow, because of the work I did for Delveccio and the mysterious organization fronted by Ms. Whitehat, I’d somehow brought one of my enemies to my home. Maybe I was responsible for my family’s latest suffering.

The thought made me sick. I closed my eyes, swaying dizzily.

Resting a steadying hand on my shoulder, Zeke offered his support. “Tell me how to help.”

“Can you flag down the cops and ambulance?”

“Sure.”

With the wail of the siren growing closer, I left him at the end of the driveway. Rushing back to see what I could do for Loretta, or at the very least, Aunt Susan, I tried not to succumb to the guilt-induced weight pressing on my chest.

When I returned to the kitchen, Mike was still ministering to Templeton’s wound, while Brian had his hands full… literally… with Loretta trying to climb over him to get to her fallen fiancé.

“Ma’am, you can’t,” the detective panted, trying to hang onto my squirming aunt like they were at a State Fair and she was a greased pig.

Spotting me in the doorway, Mike, his expression grim, tilted his head in their direction. “Do something.”

“Loretta,” I marched across the broken glass. “Stop it. Stop it, right now.”

“But he’s hurt,” she sobbed in protest. One set of her fake eyelashes dangled from the corner of her eye like a demented spider.

“And you’re not helping. Are you hurt?”

She shook her head. “I saw the blood and fainted.”

“Can you get up?”

She shrugged.

Catching the detective’s eye, I signaled that he should help me get her upright. He took one of her arms and I grabbed her other and we hauled her, rather unceremoniously, to her feet.

Swaying unsteadily, she caught sight of her beloved, and began to cry again. “I… he…” she blubbered.

The alarmed expression in the detective’s eyes would have been comical if I wasn’t been so worried that Loretta’s agitation was going to lead to a full-on meltdown.

“Aunt Susan?” I shouted. “Can you help me?”

Susan appeared in the dining room doorway. Smiling weakly when she saw that Loretta was conscious and upright, she opened her arms. Her sister flung herself into her embrace, sobbing.

A couple of uniformed officers, followed closely by Zeke and two EMTs, crowded into the kitchen.

While the medical personnel tended to Templeton, the detective and the marshal dealt with the cops.

I just stood in a corner, watching it all, trying to stay out of the way. Standing there, I determined that the kitchen window had been broken. I was no crime scene analyzer, but I assumed it was by the oversized brick now resting against the base of the refrigerator. That explained the broken glass everywhere, but it didn’t explain who was responsible.

“Give a girl a hand, Sugar?” Piss’s meow was barely audible over the multiple swirling discussions taking place.

It took me a second to figure out where her Southern drawl was coming from, but then I spotted her, scrunched up beneath the baker’s rack that doubles as a microwave cart.

Tiptoeing across the shattered glass, I bent down. “What are you doing there?”

“Haven’t you heard?” she joked weakly. “Curiosity kills cats.”

It was then I noticed the faint smear of blood that stretched across the floor to the cat’s hiding spot. “You’re hurt?”

“Glass.”

I carefully picked her up.

“Watch the paws,” she warned.

“Poor baby,” I crooned, holding her close.

“You can’t take me back to that awful place,” she pleaded, meaning the veterinarian’s office where I’d first met her.

“Of course not,” I soothed, carrying her downstairs to the basement so I could get a better look at her wounds.

“What’s going on?” God demanded to know from his glass enclosure as we descended the stairs.

“She’s hurt.”

“What happened? I told you to take me with you.” His tail twitched signaling his annoyance.

“Easy, big boy,” Piss mocked. “It wasn’t Maggie’s fault.”

“You don’t know that,” I muttered, laying her gently on the couch. I gingerly lifted one of her paws and peered intently at the sliver of glass sticking out of it.

She mewled softly.

“You should have an emergency vet on speed dial,” God remarked snidely. “Speaking of which, where’s the beast?”

A cold panic gripped me.  I froze.

“Where’s the mutt?” he asked again, worry straining his voice. “It’s not like her to not be in the middle of things.”

I shook my head, trying to keep a grip on my emotions. “Leslie was going to feed her.”

“But then she and Marlene went to visit your mother,” Piss reminded me softly.

“So where’s the dumb dog?” God asked, not bothering to mask his concern.

Twice before, DeeDee had been hurt saving me. What if she’d interfered again and was lying somewhere hurt?

“DeeDee!” I screamed, running toward the storm door. If she was in the yard, I had to get to her. “DeeDee, where are you?”

Bursting outside, I scanned the yard and saw no sign of her.  “DeeDee?” Terror made my voice squeak. “Where are you, girl?” I ran around the house looking for her.

She was nowhere to be found.

“DeeDee,” I sobbed, hysterical now as I imagined her dying alone. “DeeDee!”

Unable to see through my tears, I stumbled around the property searching for her.

Tripping, I would have fallen, but a strong arm snaked around my waist, holding me upright.

“Easy, Mags.” His voice, warm and steady, acted as a salve to my soul, immediately soothing my ragged nerves.

“Patrick.” I sighed, resting my head on his shoulder.

“Detective Mulligan,” he reminded me gently. “Rule Number One.”

Detective Patrick Mulligan, my murder mentor, has all these Life Lessons. Rule Number One is Don’t Get Caught.

“It’s going to be okay,” he murmured.

“There’s blood and Templeton and DeeDee and Dad and there’s a detective and a marshal and Loretta and Susan and Piss is hurt,” I told him in one breath, not bothering to pause for proper punctuation.

“The cat?”

Apparently, the only thing I said that made the slightest bit of sense was the very last thing.

“Yes. Piss. The cat.”

“Where is she?”

“Inside. I have to get her to a vet, and I have to find DeeDee, and Templeton’s hurt, and Dad’s on the loose—“

“Breathe, Mags. You’re not going to be able to do anything if you pass out.”

“Margaret? Margaret?” Aunt Susan called from around the house.

“Tell you what,” Patrick said quickly. “I’ll take care of the cat and find the dog.”

“There’s a marshal and a police detective here,” I told him.

“I’m a detective,” he reminded me with a grim grin.

Marshal Griswald rounded the corner. I moved to separate myself from Patrick and was surprised when he kept a firm grip on me. The marshal’s gaze, as he took in the sight of me leaning against the redhead, was assessing.  “Marshal Mike Griswald,” he introduced himself.

“Detective Patrick Mulligan,” my favorite cop replied. “You’re related to Larry Griswald?”

“My uncle.”

“I’ve worked with him quite a bit.” Patrick released me to shake Mike’s hand. “Good man. Good to meet you.”

The Marshal shook his hand, but didn’t bother to disguise his curiosity about Patrick’s relationship with me.

Patrick smiled easily. “I worked an escaped prisoner case with your uncle not long ago and met the”—he waved his hand to encompass the B&B—“whole family. They’re quite a crew, aren’t they?”

The marshal nodded.

“I was heading home and heard the call on my radio about the trouble here. Figured I’d swing by and see what was going on. Since Miss Lee’s father is testifying against the Lubovsky family, I was worried that they’d done something to try to dissuade him.”

The marshal nodded again. “Not out of the realm of possibility since Witness Protection has temporarily lost track of him.”

Patrick frowned. “That can’t be good.”

“To put it mildly.” Mike turned his attention to me. “Your aunt is looking for you, Miss Lee.”

“You haven’t seen my dog, have you?”

He shook his head.

“Well if you do, she’s a Doberman Pinscher. About seventy-five pounds. She’s scary looking, but a real sweetheart. Don’t shoot her or anything.”

“I don’t normally shoot dogs,” he assured me, sounding more than slightly offended. “It’s not in my job description.”

“The dog was stabbed by a bad cop recently,” Patrick interjected.

“My uncle mentioned that. Said the dog saved your life.” He looked at me pointedly.

I swallowed hard, another wave of guilt that I’d done something to endanger Doomsday, causing a painful lump in my throat.  I blinked away sudden tears.

“I told her I’d look for the dog. I carried her to the vet after she was hurt last time and I admit I developed a soft spot for the mutt.” Patrick shrugged as though he was embarrassed by the admission. “As long as it won’t interfere with your case.”

“No problem.  I’ve been known to walk my neighbor’s Husky just so I can play a game of fetch.” He cleared his throat and turned serious. “Your aunt wants you to go with them to the hospital. Under the circumstances, it would probably be best.”

“Circumstances?” I asked, my voice squeaking nervously.

“A crime scene team is going to go over the place and see if they can figure out what happened. If you go to the hospital, we can question you all there.”

I glanced at the B&B thinking about Piss and her bleeding paws. “But I was with you. You know I don’t know anything.”

“About the whereabouts of your father.”

“I don’t know where he is. I can’t go to the hospital. I just can’t. I—”

“Are you trying to avoid me, Miss Lee?” Every muscled in his body tensed and the marshal’s tone was suddenly harder and harsher.

I blinked at him. In reality I would like to avoid him. I’d like to avoid anyone and everyone remotely involved with law enforcement, since, I am, a murderer. But of course I couldn’t tell him that, so I told him the truth. “My cat’s hurt. She stepped on some of the broken glass. She needs medical attention. If I go to the hospital I can’t—”

“I’ll take her to the emergency vet clinic,” Patrick interrupted.

“She’s in the basement. I left her on the couch.”

“Problem solved.  Thanks, Mulligan.” Mike relaxed a bit and motioned for me to accompany him. “Let’s get you to the hospital.”

Resisting the urge to look back at Patrick, I followed the marshal while mentally repeating Rule Number One.

Don’t get caught.

Don’t get caught.

Chapter Four

The ride, as we followed the ambulance with its flashing lights and blaring siren, was uncomfortable.

Detective Brian and Marshal Mike sat in the front seat of their government-issued sedan while I perched in the middle seat in the rear, sandwiched between Aunt Susan and Aunt Loretta who were living up to their “witches” nickname.

Susan had started the moment we’d piled into the car.  “This is all Archie’s fault.”

“You don’t know that,” I’d automatically countered. I knew it could be my fault because of my illegal dealings, or Templeton’s since he frequented poker games with mobsters and was a regular at the local pawn shop.

“Don’t you dare defend that man,” Susan railed. “It’s bad enough when your mother does it, but you don’t get to do it too.”

“Leave the child alone,” Loretta admonished. “She’s right. We don’t know it’s Archie’s fault.”

“We don’t know? We don’t know?”

Both men in the front of the vehicle flinched as Susan’s voice hit a note that set my teeth on edge.

“What we know is that every time he comes back into our lives, every single time, something terrible happens.”

“Not every time,” Loretta corrected, twisting the mascara-blackened tissue she’d used to blot away her tears.

“Name one. Name one time.”

In a misguided attempt to keep the peace, or maybe he was trying to protect his eardrums, the marshal entered the fray. “Ladies, we don’t know—”

“We know. We know!” Susan screeched.

I shrunk down in my seat, wishing I were anywhere else besides there.

“Sit up, Margaret.” Susan grabbed my shoulder and tugged upward as though that would fix my posture.

“Why are they going this way?” Loretta fretted. “They should have taken Dogwood to Elm.”

“I’m sure the ambulance can find its way to the hospital just fine,” I soothed, deciding it was more appealing to deal with her hysterics than the ravings of Susan.

She patted my hand gratefully. “Of course you’re right, dear.”

Susan couldn’t help but butt in with, “Just like I’m right about Archie.”

“Will you please just shut up?” I requested in a roaring whisper.

“Margaret! You weren’t raised to be so disrespectful.”

“I said please,” I reminded her.

“Girls—” Loretta dabbed ineffectually at fresh tears.

Susan and I rounded on each other and said in unison, “Now look what you’ve done.”

We stared at each other accusingly; each convinced we were in the right. Who knows how long our duel would have lasted if the sound of laughter hadn’t drifted to us from the front seat.

Incredulously, I turned to discover the source. Detective Bashful’s shoulders were shaking uncontrollably as he leaned over the steering wheel.

“Young man,” Susan warned indignantly.

Imagining how it all must have looked and sounded from his perspective, I found myself chuckling to.

“Don’t you encourage—” Susan huffed.

Unable to hold back any longer, the shy detective guffawed. “She said please.”

“Knock it off, Brian,” the marshal warned sternly, even as the corners of his mouth twitched upward.

The detective’s laughter was contagious and Loretta and I joined him.  Susan, crossing her arms over her chest, sat ramrod straight, turning her head and pretending to stare out the side window. Mike did his professional best to hide his smile behind his hand. The rest of the trip passed in blessed silence.

When we arrived at the emergency room, Loretta and Susan jumped out of the car and were accompanied by the marshal inside. I, glad for any break, stayed in the car while Brian parked.

“I wasn’t laughing at you,” he apologized as we crossed the parking lot.

“Sure you were. Who could blame you? My family’s antics are something to behold.”

“You should see mine.”

I glanced over at him. Now that he’d gotten over his initial nervousness, I noticed he was a good-looking guy with an engaging smile.  “Susan’s not totally wrong. Bad things do tend to happen when my father’s around.”

“But you were the one who got his Witness Protection deal, weren’t you?’

I shrugged. “He’s still my dad.”

“I get that.”

“I really have no idea where he is.”

He nodded, motioning for me to walk through the hospital’s automatic door first. “Uncle Larry said he didn’t think you would.”

I came to an abrupt halt and whirled around. “Uncle Larry?”

He hung his head sheepishly.

“You’re not Mike’s brother?”

“Cousins.”

“And they let you work together?”

A guarded expression shadowed his gaze. “Special circumstances.”

“Archie Lee is that big a deal?”

“No, but the Lubovsky family is.” Something in his tone made me think that there was something he wasn’t sharing, but before I could ask, Loretta hurried up to us.

“Good news,” she enthused breathlessly.

Aunt Susan, arms still crossed, followed a pace behind. “He’s not going to die,” she said drily. She didn’t sound enthused about the update.

I mustered some faux enthusiasm. “That’s wonderful.”

Susan rolled her eyes and marched away as Loretta enveloped me in a bear hug.

I wrinkled my nose as I was assaulted by her too strong, too sweet perfume. I hugged her in return and then stepped back, desperate for some air.

“They’re going to keep him overnight for observation, but they say once they’re done stitching him up, I can go see him.”

Plastering on a smile, I nodded. “Wonderful.”

My jeans pocket buzzed and I flashed a sincere grin. “Gotta take this.” I pulled out the cell phone. Glancing at the display, I realized I didn’t recognize the number. I felt a surge of hope. Maybe Patrick had found DeeDee.

Walking away a few paces, I lifted the phone to my ear. “Hello.”

“Greetings, Ms. Lee.”

A shiver snaked down my spine as I recognized the cultured voice of the woman on the other end. “Ms. Whitehat” as she liked to be called, worked for a mysterious organization… and blackmailed me to do work for them occasionally.

“This isn’t a good time,” I said quickly.

“I’d imagine not, what with a U.S. Marshal and a police detective standing within earshot.”

I closed my eyes, feeling sick to my stomach. She seemed to always know exactly what was going on in my life.

Before I knew what was happening, a hand was pressed to my lips silently, and someone was trying to pry the phone from my fingers. Opening my eyes, I hung onto the phone and glared at Marshal Griswald.

Luckily I had a free hand and he didn’t. Batting away the fingers that covered my mouth, I said quickly, to warn Ms. Whitehat, “I’m telling you I don’t want your stupid subscription.”

Mike yanked the phone from me and pressed it to his ear. His eyes grew wide as he listened to what she said. He glanced at me with a mixture of surprise and revulsion.

My heart sank. Whatever Whitehat was telling him, he was obviously shocked. She could be telling him about my contract killer status, or Archie’s location, or what had happened to Templeton.

Thrusting the phone back at me without making eye contact, he hurried away and down the hall. I watched him disappear before I raised the phone back toward my head. “What did you say to him?”

She laughed, not a pleasant tinkling sound, but something rough and almost metallic… like she was rusty at performing the action.

“I told him that it was time to renew your subscription to Piggy Magazine.”

“What?”

“It’s got all the latest news for competitive eating enthusiasts.”

“Oh,” I said slowly. “Thanks I guess.”

“Your secrets are safe for now, Ms. Lee. If you want them to stay that way, you’ll have to do something for me.”

Leaning against the wall, knowing I wasn’t going to like the request, I watched Susan and Loretta bickering in the distance, being watched carefully by Brian. “What?”

“I need you to save a cop.”

Another cop?

Who was going to save me?

Chapter Five

I didn’t have time to worry about saving myself because the moment Ms. Whitehat delivered her decree and disconnected the call, I felt someone tugging on my sleeve.

Turning to find Aunt Loretta nibbling on her lower lip like a bunny with a carrot, I asked, “Is something bothering you?”

She nodded, glancing up and down the hall furtively.

“Please tell me you’re not hiding my father.”

“Of course not. I just don’t want those men to overhear.”

“Hear what?” I leaned back against the wall, anticipating I’d need the support when she finally got around to saying whatever it was she was so nervous about.

“I think it might have been Leo,” she confessed on a whisper.

“Who?”

“Leo. My ex.”

Aunt Loretta had a lot of exes, so it was kind of hard to keep track of who was who. I smiled at her gently. “Which one is he again?”

“Leo.”

It took all my self-restraint to keep from raising my gaze skyward. I exhaled slowly before saying as pleasantly as I could, “So you’ve said, but without a context, I’m having trouble placing him.”

“Leo. The one who wants The Corset. You know, the store you’re supposed to be helping me save.”

I nodded, wondering why I’d ever agreed to try to help Loretta keep her beloved lingerie shop out of the clutches of this Leo fellow. It’s not like I even like lingerie. My idea of nice sleepwear is an oversized T-shirt that doesn’t have holes or coffee stains. Most of mine have coffee stains, not that it matters, because it’s not like anyone ever sees them.

“Have you found it yet?” Loretta prodded.

“A sleep shirt?”

“The deed. You said you’d help me find it.”

“I’m trying, I’m trying, but honestly, without more to go on, it's hard.”

“I’m sure Leo did it.”

“Did what?” I asked carefully.

She looked up and down the hallway, assuring herself no one was within earshot. “Attacked Templeton.”

“If that’s what you think, maybe you should tell the marshal or detective. “

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because Leo is a police officer.”

At that moment I was really glad I’d decided to lean against the wall. My knees practically buckled at the thought of another cop in my life.  “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Loretta pressed her palm to my forehead as though checking me for a fever like she’d done when I was a kid. “You don’t look well, my dear. Are you feeling alright?”

I wasn’t, but I couldn’t tell her that. “So you’re saying the man who gifted you the building The Corset is a cop?”

“That’s what I said.”

“How did he afford a building like that?” Of course as the question left my lips, I knew the answer. I hung my head, spearing my fingers through my hair, half-tempted to rip it out as I considered this latest problem. Loretta was going to war with a dirty cop. The last time I’d done that, Paul Kowalski had almost killed me. My stomach churned traitorously.

“Are you okay, Miss Lee?” Brian called from the other end of the hallway.

“You can’t tell anyone,” Loretta begged as he hurried toward us.

I nodded my understanding.

The detective peered at me worriedly. “Do you need to sit down?”

“That would be nice,” I said weakly.

Offering me a steadying arm to lean on, he led me to the nearest chair.

“I’ll go get you a cup of water.” Loretta toddled off.

The detective stepped back and watched me. “Did something happen?”

I shook my head.

“Because if there’s something you wanted to tell me…”

Thinking that he’d arrest me in a heartbeat if I told him half of what I was thinking, I forced myself to look up at him. “I’m fine. Really. It’s just been a lot. My father and then Templeton and then Piss.”

He made a funny face. “Piss is the cat?”

“Yes.”

“And you named her Piss?”

“Oh no. The vet’s office we adopted her from called her that and she won’t tell us her real name so…” I shrugged.

“She won’t tell you?” He eyed me strangely. “And who’s this we?”

“The dog and God and me.”

“You adopted your cat with God?”

“Godzilla. He’s a brown anole.”

“You named your lizard God?” His voice cracked incredulously.

“Well his name is Godzilla, but he prefers God for short, but I didn’t name him, Katie did. He’s hers.”

The poor detective looked like his head was spinning as badly as my gut. “And Katie is?”

“My niece.”

“The girl in the hospital,” he crowed victoriously, as though he were relieved to have finally understood something I was talking about.

I nodded.

“Everything okay?” the marshal asked, striding up to us.

Brian nodded. “Yeah.  She just wasn’t feeling well.”

“We’ve got a lead on your father’s location.” Mike watched my reaction carefully.

If he was expecting me to look upset or nervous, he was disappointed.

“That’s good, right?” I asked.

“If the lead pans out.”

“So I guess you don’t need me anymore.” I got to my feet.

Mike and Brian shared a loaded look. I wondered what unspoken message they’d just conveyed back and forth.

“We’ll take you and your aunt home,” Brian said.

“That’s very kind of you,” I said. “But you don’t know Loretta. She won’t leave Templeton’s side. One time, when I was seven or eight, she slept in my bed with me for three nights straight, waiting for the fever I had to break.”

“We’re talking about your high-maintenance aunt, right?” Mike asked, amazed.

“Afterward, she put rouge on my cheeks because I lost all my color when the fever broke.” I smiled fondly at the memory. It was something I hadn’t thought about in a very long time. “My aunts have their quirks and their faults, but they have their good sides too.”

“Well, Susan is demanding to be taken back to the Bed and Breakfast,” Brian informed me.

“To clean up the mess,” I murmured. “That’s Aunt Susan’s role in life, to clean up the messes the rest of us make.”

“She’s pretty insistent.” The marshal glanced down the hall to wear Susan paced impatiently. “So if you wouldn’t mind.”

“No problem.” I was eager to get home too. I needed to find out what had happened to DeeDee. Plus, now that I knew that Loretta’s ex, Leo was a dirty cop, I was more motivated than ever to find the damn deed and get the ownership of The Corset settled.

The ride back to the B&B was quiet. Brian concentrated on driving. Mike clicked away at his phone. Aunt Susan glared out the side window, obviously still irked at me for having told her to shut up. I just closed my eyes and counted the cops currently connected to my life. I had Patrick, Marshal Griswald, Detective Griswald, Leo,  and whoever it was Ms. Whitehat needed saving. Five cops. One half-assed hitwoman. I was lucky I didn’t get carsick.

Marlene and Leslie came running out to the driveway the moment we pulled in.

“What happened?” Leslie cried, pulling Aunt Susan in for a hug she obviously didn’t want.

“Leave you alone for an hour and look what happens,” Marlene teased, but the worry in her gaze was genuine.

“How’s Templeton?” Leslie wanted to know as we moved toward the house.

The marshal and detective hung back and watched us.

“We’re not allowed in the kitchen yet,” Marlene told us.

“But the window,” Susan complained.

“Will wait for later,” I told her gently.

“I called Bob. He’s coming by to fix it tomorrow morning. The nice police people said that would be okay,” Leslie said pleasantly.

Susan stopped in her tracks. “You called Bob?”

I winced. I didn’t know why she and her beau had broken up, but she obviously wasn’t pleased that her sister had called him.

“Yup,” Leslie continued cluelessly. “He said he’d be happy to come over.”

“No doubt.” Icicles were warmer than Susan’s tone. She marched inside, followed by Leslie and Marlene.

I stayed outside, wanting to take another walk around to look for DeeDee.

Mike approached me. “Who’s Bob?”

“He’s this builder guy my aunt dated for a while.”

“Oh. Him.”

I looked sharply at the marshal who was doing that silent communication thing again with partner/cousin.

“What about him?” I asked.

“Nothing,” the marshal assured me smoothly. “My uncle may have mentioned him.”

“Your slightly smitten uncle?” I asked, remembering his infatuation with Susan.  Michael never had to answer since we heard an excited yip.

Spinning around, I saw DeeDee bounding up the driveway. “Hungry. Hungry Maggie.”

“DeeDee,” I dropped to my knees to envelope her in a big hug, but she didn’t slow down her run.

I ended up flat on my back with seventy-five pounds of dog panting in my face, “Hungry. Hungry. Hungry.”

Needing to breathe, I shoved her off of me. “Where were you? Where did you go? Bad dog. You scared me to death.”

She cocked her head to the side and whined softly, “Bad?”

Stumbling to my feet, I shook a finger at her. “Yes. Bad dog. We’ve talked about this. You can’t go running off. Bad, bad dog.”

“Sorry?” She lay down and rolled over on her back in supplication, begging my forgiveness.

Putting my hands on my hips, I frowned at her, unswayed by her apology.

“Chill, Chiquita. She was with me.”

Turning slowly, I saw Armani Vasquez limping up the driveway toward us. Her eyes sparkled mischievously.

“What do you mean she was with you?” My tone was deceptively quiet.

“I borrowed her.”

“You borrowed her?” My voice cracked on the last word. “You borrowed her?” I marched toward Armani, all the worry and frustrations of the past couple of hours ready to spew out like a soda bottle that had just been opened after being vigorously shaken.

As though they anticipated I might do the other woman harm, the marshal and the detective stepped between us.

“You can’t take something without asking and then call it borrowing,” I yelled.

Mike held up his hands to hold off my attack. “Miss Lee, maybe you need to take a breath.”

“Maybe you need to call me Maggie.”

“Fine,” he soothed. “Maggie. I understand you’re upset.”

Peering around the two men, Armani stared at me worriedly. “Your aura is all screwed up. Is something wrong?”

“You’re the psychic,” I spat. “Shouldn’t you know that?”

Brian hung his head. “Oh god, a psychic on top of everything else.”

“She’s a terrible psychic. She only gets things half right,” I told him.

“Hey,” Armani protested. “I’m just learning how to interpret my gift.”

“Curse is more like it,” I countered.

Trying desperately to maintain some sort of control over the situation, the marshal reminded me, “The important thing is you’ve got your dog back. She looks thirsty. Why don’t you get her a drink?”

“Hungry,” DeeDee corrected on a pathetic whine. “Bad.”

Feeling guilty for accusing her of running away, when, in fact, it seemed my friend from my day job at Insuring the Future had “borrowed” her. I knelt to pat her head. “I’m sorry. You’re a good dog. This was all Armani’s fault.” I threw my best  “if looks could kill” expression at my friend.

“Hey, it’s not my fault if Leslie didn’t tell you.”

I frowned. “Leslie knew?”

“Yeah.” Armani indignantly tossed her magnificent mane of shampoo-commercial-worth hair.

“She didn’t tell me,” I admitted quietly.

“Did she get busted?” Armani tilted her head, first toward the marshal, then at the detective.

The two men looked confused and slightly alarmed.

“No. They’re here looking for my dad.”

“What did he do now?”

“Nothing.” The marshal gave me a stern look, making it clear that I shouldn’t be discussing my father’s situation.

Armani looked from one man to the other. “Are you both single?”

Brian blushed and looked away.

“I have a newborn at home,” Mike informed her dryly.

“What about you, cutie?” Armani pressed, sidling up to Brian.

Taking pity on the poor man because he looked like he’d rather crawl into a hole than answer my pushy friend’s question, I said pointedly, “Did you want something?”

Armani pouted prettily. “I was bringing the dog back.”

“Back from where?”

She didn’t get to answer because a car pulled into the driveway. We all turned to see who the latest arrival was.

Patrick emerged, a big grin lighting up his face when he spotted DeeDee. “You found her.”

DeeDee loped toward him. “Patrick! Hungry, Patrick. Hungry. Hungry.”

Smiling, he bent to pet her. “You had us worried, girl.”

“You’ve got a fan, Mulligan,” Mike remarked.

“More than one,” Armani murmured flirtatiously.

Instead of ignoring her comment, Patrick had the audacity to wink at my friend. A surge of white-hot jealousy shot through me. Clenching my hands into fists, I fought the urge to throttle them both.

Turning back to the car, Patrick reached inside. “I’ve got the cat.”

Rushing forward, I was beside him when he turned back around, Piss cradled in his arms.

The one-eyed, one-eared kitty looked even worse for wear than usual. Pain clouded her gaze in her good eye.  “Aw, sweetie,” I whispered, reaching out to rub the spot between her eyes. “How are you doing?”

“Not going to run any races any time soon, Sugar,” she meowed softly, her words slurring together.

“Hurt, Piss?” DeeDee sniffed the cat’s rear paws worriedly.

“The vet gave her something for the pain and a sedative. She’s got to sleep it off.” Patrick handed her to me.

The slight contact our bodies made during the hand-off offered a split-second of comfort, but then he stepped back.

“Poor baby,” Marlene cooed, walking up to pet the cat. “What happened to her?”

“She stepped on broken glass.” I handed her to my sister. “Can you take her inside and feed the dog?”

“Sure.” The look Marlene gave me was loaded with gratitude since she knew I was providing her with an escape from the marshal and detective. Carrying the cat carefully, trailed closely by the dog, she disappeared into the B&B.

“I should go check on Susan.” Leslie followed Marlene.

“Be careful,” I warned. “She’s in rare form.”

“She always is when your father’s involved.” Shoulders back, Leslie went in search of her older sister.

“I have got to meet your dad,” Armani declared.

Instead of responding to her, I turned my attention to Patrick. “Thank you. For taking care of the cat.”

He gave me his best professional nod. “She’s a tough old thing.” He turned to Mike. “Anything I can help with?”

The marshal shook his head. “Not right now, but why don’t you give me your number. My uncle thinks you’re a good guy to have in our corner.”

Watching my red-headed murder mentor exchange his number with the cousins, noticing that he had bloody paw prints on his shirt, I couldn’t have agreed more. Having Patrick Mulligan in your corner was a good thing.

Chapter Six

Before Patrick left, Marlene burst out of the B&B like she had the hounds of hell on her heels.

Unshed tears glittered in her eyes, and her cheeks were tinged with pink. I had a pretty good idea from the set of her mouth what had set her off.

“Hi, Marlene.” Armani waved her good hand at my pissed-off sister.

Marlene grunted an unintelligible response as she stalked down the driveway and across the street.

“Geez, you’re all so uptight,” Armani complained.

As I watched my sister move away, a niggling concern took root in my gut. If I’d been alone, I would have chased after her, but I didn’t think having the marshal and detective following her would help to improve her state of mind.

“Is she okay?” the detective asked, tracking her progress.

“He speaks!” Armani mocked.

Shooting her a warning look, I assured Brian, “She’s fine.”

Mike stared at me intently. “Do you think she’s going to meet your father?”

I chuckled, a harsh, grating sound. “No. I think Susan said something to her and she’s gone to cool off.”

I looked away, not wanting him to spot the doubt in my eyes. I didn’t think she’d gone to meet Dad, but I did worry whether she’d come back. She’d walked out on the family once and hadn’t returned for years.

As though he knew what I was worrying about, Patrick cleared his throat and said, “If you don’t need me for anything else, I’m going to get going.”

Mike shook his hand. “Good to meet you.”

Brian followed suit. “Thanks for your help earlier. We’d heard this family takes some special wrangling skills.”

“You have no idea,” Patrick said with an easy laugh, but I knew he was talking to me and was about to chase down Marlene for me. Climbing back into his car, he gave a general wave and sped off in the direction my sister had disappeared.

“Never a dull moment,” Armani said. “Do you think I could bum a dinner here?”

“No,” I said flatly. “The kitchen is closed.”

She blinked, taken aback. “But I had something I wanted to talk to you about.”

The marshal, who’d been in the midst of covering a yawn, snapped to attention. “What kind of thing?”

Flipping her hair disdainfully, Armani turned her back on him. “What business is it of yours?”

I gulped. I really didn’t need her antagonizing these cops and making them suspicious. “Just tell them,” I pleaded.

“He”—she jerked her chin in Brian’s direction—“already put down psychics.”

“She,” he countered, no trace of his usual shyness visible, pointing at me, “said you’re a terrible psychic and get everything wrong.”

They glared at each other while I meekly corrected, “Actually, I said she’s half right.”

“I don’t get paid enough,” the marshal muttered. “C’mon, Brian. Let’s get out of here before she puts a curse on you or something.”

“I only use my powers for good,” Armani informed him haughtily.

“And I’m sure the world’s a better place.” Mike turned to me. “We’ll be in touch. If you hear from your father, let us know?”

“Of course,” I answered automatically.

He shook his head, signaling he didn’t believe me, before leading his cousin away.

“I’m starving,” Armani announced as they made their exit. “I’m craving a fried bologna, grape jelly and pickles on white bread sandwich.”

I fought the urge to retch. “Where do you come up with this stuff?”

“My friend Robyn Gleason made it for me once. Do you think your aunts have bologna?”

“The kitchen really is closed. It’s a crime scene,” I told her.

“Really? What happened?”

“Long story. I haven’t gone to see Katie yet today. Do you want to grab a bite in the hospital cafeteria?”

“I love cafeterias. They always have tapioca pudding and lots of condiments.”

Trying not to think about what disgusting food combination Armani was dreaming up, I headed into the B&B. “I’ve got to check on the cat and get my car keys.”

“I could drive,” she offered.

Accepting a ride from my semi-psychic, semi-handicapped, one hundred percent crazy friend seemed like asking for trouble, so I ignored her offer and headed inside.

I could hear Susan and Leslie arguing upstairs, so I quietly scurried down to the basement. I almost tripped as I reached the bottom of the stairs because of the sight I beheld. Piss, bandaged paws and all, was curled in a ball on the floor. DeeDee had wrapped herself around her and God was on top of the cat’s head, massaging her bad ear with his little feet.

I didn’t ask how he’d gotten out of his enclosure.

“She’s sleeping,” he whispered.

Nodding, I grabbed my keys, and tiptoed back upstairs, convinced Piss was in good hands… or paws.

On the ride to Apple Blossom Estates Premium Care Facility, I filled Armani in on all of the day’s excitement, minus Loretta’s concern that it was her ex, Leo, who’d injured Templeton and the fact that Ms. Whitehat needed me to save a cop.

When I was done, Armani let out a low whistle. “So maybe you don’t want my warning.”

“Warning?” I was thinking I could have used a warning before the day had started, but since some of her predictions had come true, I figured I should hear what she had to say. Sighing heavily, I said, “Hit me with it.”

“Thrusts.”

“I don’t suppose you have any idea what that means?”

“Sorry, Chiquita. No clue.”

We rode in silence for a few minutes. I don’t know what she was thinking about, but I was trying to decipher what thrusts could possibly mean.

My thought process was interrupted when she asked, “So the hero cop showed up again?”

That’s what she, and to be fair, half the city, calls Patrick Mulligan. All because of some heroic deed he’d performed when he’d been on his way to kill someone.

“He took Piss to the vet.”

“He’s got it so bad for you,” she teased.

“No, he doesn’t.” Even as I voiced the denial, my cheeks warmed as I remembered some of our more intimate interactions. “And if that’s the case, why were you flirting with him and why did he wink at you?”

“Nothing wrong with a man who knows how to flirt a little.” She laughed softly. “Maybe you should take some private lessons from him.”

I didn’t respond and she chuckled again. “Boy, you have it bad for him.”

Thankfully, we arrived at the hospital and I was able to hop out of the car and avoid her. “I don’t want you to tell Katie what happened to Templeton. She likes him.”

“Oh yeah?”

Realizing that Armani was struggling to keep up with me as I crossed the parking lot, I slowed my pace. “He does magic tricks and shit for her.”

“And yet you don’t like the guy?’

“He has his faults.” Like hanging out with mobsters and hocking stuff.

We walked through the entrance of the hospital. I gave a familiar wave to the woman at the reception desk and continued toward Katie’s room.

“Hey so, about that woman you had me set up with Harry.” Her tone was light, but I knew she was about to lay something heavy on me.

“What about her?”

“I heard through the grapevine that she and Harry are considering eloping. To Vegas. Isn’t that cool?”

It would be cool if Harry, our boss, stopped hitting on me. Otherwise I could care less. “They just met.”

“Thanks to one of my predictions,” she reminded me. “Not the first couple I’ve set up. “

I rolled my eyes. “Let me guess. You’re thinking of getting into the matchmaking business.”

“Don’t sound like that. I’ve got skills.”

As we rounded the corner, I saw Vinnie, nephew and bodyguard of crime boss Tony Delveccio, lounging against the wall. The steroid-fueled moron and I weren’t exactly on the friendliest of terms. “Do me a favor,” I muttered. “Fix up that muscle-head.”

I’d only been kidding, but apparently Armani took me seriously. As I breezed past Vinnie with a curt nod, she fell behind to talk to him.

“Hey there, baby girl,” I called softly as I entered Katie’s room.

My niece smiled at me, and all of the sudden, my troubles of the day melted away.

“I drew you this, Aunt Maggie.” She picked up a piece of paper and waved it in the air.

“Well thank you.” I took it from her and beamed at the brightly drawn squiggles I couldn’t make heads or tails of. The doctors thought her weakness in fine motor control was a result of the accident that had killed her parents and left Katie in a coma, but the truth was I’d never been able to decipher her artwork. “It’s beautiful. What did you do today?”

She happily rattled off everyone she’d seen, doctors, nurses, physical therapists, occupational therapists, orderlies, and the guy who came to fix the air conditioning.

Glancing over at the other bed, I saw that her roommate, Delveccio’s grandson, the reason I’d been invited to become a paid assassin in the first place, wasn’t there. “Where’s Dominic?”

“Tests,” she said importantly. “His mommy and grandpa went with him.”

I frowned, wondering why Vinnie was out in the hallway chatting up my friend if Tony Delveccio’s grandson was in another part of the hospital.

“His mommy was crying, but Mr. D. was smiling,” Katie shared.

I wondered if that meant Dominic was finally showing signs of improvement.

“Did Mommy cry when I was here?”

Her unexpected question about Theresa caught me off guard. I blinked back the sudden tears that burned my eyes. “We all cried because we were worried about you, sweetheart.”

It was easier to say that than to try to explain to the little girl that her mother had died instantly in the car accident.

“Even you?”

“Especially me.”

She stared at me, considering the idea. “When I leave here, I’m going to go live with you?”

“Yes, baby girl.” This was something we’d discussed before, multiple times, but she seemed to be having difficulty wrapping her head around the concept. I was sure it was because she didn’t fully understand that her parents were dead and gone. I made a mental note to ask her social worker who I should talk to about that.

“And Godzilla?”

I nodded.

“And DeeDee? I really like her.”

“She really likes you too.”

“But not Mommy and Daddy.”

Her innocent blue eyes searched mine, squeezing my heart.

“No, sweetheart.”

“Aunt Leslie says they’re in heaven.” She looked at the ceiling as if expecting to spot them.

I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, unsure of how to comfort her.

“He came to see me.”

“Who?”

“The man Aunt Marlene knows.”

My stomach lurched. Had my father been stupid enough to come see her? A warm feeling settled over me as I imagined he cared enough to visit his granddaughter.  “Grandpa?”

“No. Marlene’s friend.”

I frowned, wondering who Marlene had exposed our niece to. Before I could ask Katie more about her mysterious visitor, a nurse bustled in. “Time for Miss Katie’s P.T.”

I stood up to allow the nurse to perform her professional maneuvering. Hearing a movement, I turned to find Aunt Susan standing in the doorway watching.

She smiled at Katie, a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

“Everything okay?” I asked.

Instead of answering me, she said, “Your friend in the hall says you’re going to get something to eat in the cafeteria.”

I nodded slowly, waiting for her to berate me for my choice.

“I’ll go with Katie. You should get something to eat.”

Knowing it was the closest thing to an olive branch she could muster, I murmured, “Thank you.” Turning to Katie I grinned and said, “See you later, alligator.”

She giggled, the joyous sound a balm for my frayed nervous. “In a while, crocodile.”

I pressed a quick kiss to her cheek and then walked out past Susan.

Armani and Vinnie were on opposite sides of the hallway, glaring at each other.  You could practically see the tension dancing in the air like dust motes.

“Great,” I muttered.

Armani swung her gaze toward me. “Can we eat now?”

I nodded. “Um. Yeah. Sure.”

“You should see if there’s chocolate pudding,” Vinnie suggested.

I looked at him sharply, trying to decide whether he was relaying a message from his boss or just being a smart-ass.

“Oooh, do they top the chocolate pudding with whipped cream or that chemical stuff?” Armani limped away. “I love those chemicals.”

I gave Vinnie one last look. He scowled back at me. Shrugging, I rushed to catch up with the failed matchmaker.

“Your aunt interrupted my moment.”

I smiled at one of Katie’s nurses.  “Susan?”

“Of course Susan.  You don’t see any of your other loco family members here, do you?”

I glanced around, half-expecting to spot my dad, but didn’t recognize anyone.

“I was about to seal the deal with Vincent and she marched up.”

“You called Vinnie Vincent.”

“It’s his name. He’s a twelve.”

For a moment I worried that she was rating the juicing idiot on a scale of one to ten and had elevated him to deity status, but then I remembered she calculated  peoples’ names based on the value of Scrabble tiles. I let out a tiny sigh of relief knowing she hadn’t totally lost her mind. “What did Susan do?”

“She called him a Neanderthal.”

I winced. While I’d certainly thought that about him, I didn’t think saying it aloud about a mobster’s bodyguard was a good idea. I hoped Susan’s sharp tongue hadn’t earned us yet another enemy.

“He didn’t like that.”

“I’m surprised he even knows what it means.”

She elbowed me with her bad arm. “People are not always what they appear to be. You should know that.”

I did. I look like a doting aunt when I’m actually a contract killer. Well, technically I’m both.

There was a lull in the conversation as we reached the cafeteria. I looked around for Delveccio, but my favorite mobster was nowhere to be seen. Armani looked at all the little bowls of pudding.

“They have butterscotch! You didn’t tell me they have butterscotch.”

I flicked my gaze toward the rows of little bowls filled with sugary goodness.  Sure enough, there were rows of brown, white, and golden stuff.

My cell phone buzzed. “Hang on a sec,” I told Armani, but she ignored me, shuffling toward the desserts like a lemming toward a cliff’s edge.

I didn’t recognize the number, which meant it was probably one of two people calling: Patrick or Ms. Whitehat. The phone vibrated in my hand as I debated whether or not to answer the call.

“You going to get that, Chiquita?” Armani, paused a few paces in front of me, watching me curiously.

“Yeah,” I told her. “Get me a chocolate with no white stuff.”

She scrunched up her face, signaling her disapproval of my boring choice.

I lifted the phone to my ear, a knot of trepidation growing in my gut. “Hello?”

“Time to get to work, Ms. Lee,” Ms. Whitehat informed me smoothly.

“I’m sort of in the middle of something.” I hurried back toward the hallway so I wouldn’t disturb anyone with my call.

“But there’s no time like the present.”

I leaned against the wall and closed my eyes.

“Ms. Lee? Are you there?”

“Unfortunately.”

“I understand that you’ve had a rough day.”

“You could say that.”

“Uh-huh.”

It occurred to me that Ms. Whitehat could use a class or two in empathy training like I’d been forced to take at Insuring the Future. Then she would have known to add, “I’m sorry to hear that.” Instead she said, “Too bad.”

Clapping my hand over my mouth to hold back the hysterical chuckle that rose in my throat, I opened my eyes in time to see a harried woman about my age rushing into the cafeteria.

“You have a job to do,” Whitehat reminded me sharply.

I didn’t bother to mask my less-than-stellar attitude. “Hard to do considering you haven’t told me what it is.”

“I told you. You have to save a police officer.”

“Someone specific or just any cop?”

“The one who’s wearing a bright pink banana clip in her hair.” Whitehat didn’t disguise her revulsion at the woman’s choice of hair accessory.

“Banana clip?”

“It’s plastic and makes a…” I could practically see the uptight Ms. Whitehat shuddering. “It makes a ponytail. On a grown woman. An accessory named after a piece of fruit that makes an animal part.”

“The horror,” I mocked dryly.

“Save her,” Whitehat ordered.

“From what?”

“The same poor choices you’ve made.” With that mysterious missive, she disconnected the call.

I stared at my phone for a minute, waiting for her to call back to give me a little more to go on, but nothing happened.

“A banana clip,” I muttered. “Save the banana clip. Save the world.”

When I re-entered the cafeteria, Armani was sitting with her back to me, engaged in conversation with the harried woman who’d walked past me earlier. I had a job to do, albeit a bizarre job even by my standards, and really didn’t have time to make chitchat with a stranger, but I didn’t think Armani, who had three bowls of pudding in front of her, would care about my plight.

“Hey,” I said as way of greeting, approaching the table.

The other woman, around my age, wearing a navy blazer that was a size too small for her over a black T-shirt, eyed me warily as I approached.

“Maggie, meet Joy.” Armani waved her good hand between us, making introductions. “Joy, meet Maggie.”

“Hello. Nice to meet you,” I said automatically. Aunt Susan would have approved of my manners.  I extended my hand.

The other woman grasped it firmly, pumping it twice with no-nonsense efficiency.  “Joy.”

“Joy has a relative here too,” Armani supplied helpfully.

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.” I said the phrase so often at Insuring the Future that I wasn’t sure if the sentiment was genuine or a trained-response. Sometimes I feel like a trained seal. There’s not much difference between clapping on command and spouting faux sympathy.

I moved to lower myself into the chair beside Armani.

“We need spoons.” My friend looked at me expectantly.

I froze, half-squatting over my seat, before straightening. “Okay, I’ll get some.”

“Thanks, Chiquita.”

I hurried to get the plastic elements, thinking that the faster I could get them, the quicker I could get Armani out of the cafeteria so I could get to work finding the mysterious banana-clipped cop who needed saving.

Snatching up a handful of spoons, I spun back toward the table.

“And napkins,” Armani shouted. “We need napkins.”

Rolling my eyes, I grabbed a bunch of napkins, wondering if Vinnie felt this stupid when Delveccio made him do his demeaning tasks.

Making a mental note to thank Vinnie the next time he got stuck doing Delveccio’s bidding, I returned to the table. I almost missed it as I passed Joy to go sit by Armani. Almost. Not quite.

Silently screeching to a halt like a cartoon character slamming on the brakes, I put myself into reverse.

Armani looked at me strangely, but I ignored her, focusing instead on the back of Joy’s head.

It was there. The pink, plastic banana clip. I’d found the person I was supposed to save. Now I just had to figure out what she needed saving from.

Chapter Seven

The conversation with Joy didn’t yield much in the ways of answers. She wasn’t terribly forthcoming. I think she was distracted by Armani mixing together her three bowls of pudding together to make a mixture that pretty much looked like puke.

Personally, I was relieved she hadn’t added any of the condiments she’d been so excited about. Sure, tapioca, chocolate, and butterscotch was a gross combination, but it could have been a lot worse if she’d added catsup, mustard, or relish.

Maybe being unreadable and mysterious is a cop thing because they’ve constantly got their guard up and aren’t inclined to let people in.

Or maybe it’s because I suck at asking the right questions.

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.

I blinked and took in the officer’s uniform. It was probably a good thing I couldn’t yet speak since the only thought that came to mind was, “Great. Another cop.”

The cop’s name tag identified him as Sergeant Victor.  “You swerved into traffic.”

“We were being chased,” I whispered painfully.

“Chased?” He looked alarmed. “By who?”

I looked to Marlene to explain, noticing for the first time the dark smudge of a bruise blooming on her cheek.  She looked away.

I wondered what Patrick would say about me getting a moving violations ticket. It was probably a direct violation of his “Don’t Get Caught” rule. I winced at the thought of how pissed he’d be. Then I let out a yelp, remembering I’d hung up on him.

I bent over to look under the seat for my phone.

“What’s wrong?” Marlene asked worriedly.

“Phone,” I whispered. “I dropped my phone.”

“You shouldn’t use the phone and drive,” Sergeant Victor lectured. “Only hands-free are legal in the state of New Jersey.”

“Great.” I felt around for the phone.  My voice was scratchier than one of Aunt Leslie’s hemp bracelets.

Victor chuckled. “I’m not going to ticket you.”

“Here it is.” Marlene handed me my phone.

“I need to make a call,” I told Victor, disengaging my seatbelt. “May I get out of the car?”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” He took a step back, but grasped one of my elbows to steady me when I swayed unsteadily once I was standing.

“I’m fine. Do you mind? This is a private call.”

Shrugging, he circled the car to go open Marlene’s door.

I stumbled a few paces while I placed the call, taking care not to step into the path of oncoming traffic. I held the phone to my ear and was pretty sure I heard a sneeze over the dull roar of the passing cars. “Are you there?”

“What the hell, Mags?” Patrick sounded more ragged than I’d ever heard him.

“Sorry. There was this guy chasing Marlene and…” I looked around, trying to spot the pimp, but he was nowhere in sight.  The arrival of the cop must have scared him off.

“What guy?”

“Her old pimp.”

“Wally?”

“I think so.” Hating that he knew more about Marlene’s past than I did, I leaned against the hood of a beat up, old, yellow Mustang parked behind us. It was warm and solid and steady, which was a good thing since it seemed like the rest of the whirl felt slightly off-kilter.

“Why is he after her?”

“She owes him money.”

“How much?”

“I don’t know.”

“Find out.”

“Now?” I glanced over at Marlene, who was being examined by Sergeant Victor. “There’s someone else…”

“I heard.”

His tone was taut with annoyance and rubbed me the wrong way.

“Look, this wasn’t my fault. None of this was my fault. I didn’t ask for any of this. I don’t go looking for trouble. It just finds me. So before you go getting all high-and-mighty on me, maybe you should—“

“Easy, sweetheart,” he said gently, using the same tone he soothed the injured animals with. “I know it wasn’t your fault.”

“None of it,” I insisted, tears prickling the backs of my eyes. “I just have the world’s worst…” I trailed off, my mouth dropping open.

“Mags?”

“Um… yeah?” I muttered absentmindedly.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Not as fine as Marlene.”

“Huh?”

I watched in amazement as Sergeant Victor wrapped his shirt around Marlene’s shoulders and she leaned her head against his shoulder. While it registered in the back of my mind that Victor’s actions were strange, I was too distracted by the cop’s Channing Tatum physique to pay much attention to anything else. “Holy cow.”

“Is something wrong?” Patrick asked.

“Um… I don’t think so.” I shook my head and averted my eyes. It’s bad form to mentally drool over a guy while talking to another man.

“You’re sure you’re okay?”

“Just peachy.”  Although, not as peachy as Marlene appeared to be.

“That call… You’re going to be the death of me, Mags.”

Considering that Delveccio had once almost hired me to take out Patrick, that wasn’t out of the realm of possibility. “I’ve got to get Marlene back to the B&B.”

“You’re sure you’re okay?”

“When am I ever okay?” I quipped lightly and disconnected the call before he could reply.

I walked back to Marlene and Sergeant Victor.

The cop’s concern was evident as he cradled my sister’s frail form against him. “She’s going into shock.”

Taking in Marlene’s full-body trembling, I had to agree with his assessment. “She had quite the scare.”

“I don’t think she needs to go to the hospital. But she should go home and get some rest.”

Marlene gave me a worried look.

“Don’t worry.” I opened the passenger’s door, trying to not let my eyes dwell on the fresh dent that had been left by Wally’s kick. “I’ll make sure the witches back off.”

“Witches?” Victor asked.

“Bitches,” Marlene corrected bitterly as she climbed into the car.

“Our aunts.” I closed her door firmly. “Thank you for your help, Sergeant Victor.”

“My friends call me Doc.” There was a strain in his voice I couldn’t identify.

I smoothed my palm over the dent in the door. “Yeah?” I couldn’t imagine ever being friends with another cop, so I really didn’t care what he was called.

“Yeah. There’s kind of a funny story about that.”

I turned to shake his hand and realized he was still shirtless. “Oh.” I looked from his bare chest to Marlene. “She has your shirt.”

“Let her keep it,” he urged. “I’ll follow you to make sure you get home safely.” Turning around, he headed for the yellow Mustang.

I got into the driver’s seat of my car. Marlene’s eyes were closed. She was pretending to sleep, just like she’d done whenever she encountered a problem as a little kid. Understanding her reticence, I played along and silently drove back to the B&B, keeping a close eye on the yellow Mustang following closely behind.

It was mercifully quiet when we pulled into the driveway.

“You’ve got his shirt,” I reminded Marlene as she stirred, pretending to awaken.

She pulled it from her shoulders and tossed it into my lap. “Tell him thanks.”

“Why don’t you…?” I began, but she jumped out of the car and ran inside before I could finish.

Scooping up the shirt, I slowly got out of the car and walked toward the Mustang idling at the edge of the driveway. Sergeant Victor climbed out as I approached.

“She said to say thank you.”

He nodded, holding out a ridiculously muscled arm to take the shirt.

I handed it to him. “Thank you, Sergeant. I know it’s all part of your job, but if you hadn’t stopped…”

“Actually it isn’t, but I was glad to help.” Amusement glinted in his gaze. “And it’s Doc. I told you that my friends call me Doc.”

I dipped my chin. “Thanks, Doc.”

He shrugged into his shirt, the fabric stretching. “Do you think it would be okay if I stopped back to check on your sister?”

“Um. I guess so.” Far be it from me to tell a cop what he could or could not do.

“Cool.”

I blinked, startled. “Cool?”

“I’ll see you soon.”

Uncertain whether that was meant as a threat or a promise, I dumbly nodded my agreement.

The Mustang roared off in a cloud of smoke. I watched it disappear from view before turning to head back toward the B&B.

“Good-looking guy.”

“Aaah!” I gasped, stumbling backward.

“Sorry, Maggie.” Coming around the corner, Zeke flashed his easy grin at me. “Didn’t mean to interrupt your daydreams about Mr. Chippendale.”

“Zeke. What the hell are you doing here?” Remembering for the first time that he’d shown up when I was waiting for the ambulance, I added, “Where the hell did you go?”

“Miss me?”

“No. Forgot you were even here.”

Throwing back his head, he laughed. “That’s why I like you. You’re always so brutally honest.”

I smiled weakly. He had no idea the lies I’d told and secrets I was keeping. “What are you doing here, Zeke?”

Grin fading, he jerked his chin in the direction of the street. “Walk with me, Maggie.”

I looked longingly at the house. All I really wanted to do was go inside and curl up with my animals.

“It’s important.”

Nodding, I turned back around toward the street. The last time Zeke had needed something from me, I’d ended up babysitting a wacky ghost whisperer, breaking up a sex slavery ring, defusing a bomb, and finding out that my sister Darlene, Marlene’s twin, might not have been murdered as we’d long believed. Considering everything else that was going on, I wasn’t sure I was up to whatever he needed from me now.

Casually draping his arm around my shoulder as we walked, he asked, “Talked to Alice lately?”

“She seems happy in Chicago.”

Our mutual childhood friend had married a man from the Windy City, gotten knocked up with his kid (just not in that order), and they’d moved to his hometown, halfway across the country.

“Glad to hear it.”

I doubted that he wanted to talk about Alice, but that was as far as the conversation went for another block.

Finally he dropped his arm. “I’ve got a problem.”

“What kind of problem?” I asked cautiously.

He kicked a rock out of his path. “I’m being blackmailed.”

So was I. By Ms. Whitehat. But of course I couldn’t tell Zeke that. “What do you need?”

Zeke stopped in his tracks and stared at me. I kept walking.

Hurrying to catch up, he said, “You do realize that anyone else would have asked what I’m being blackmailed about, don’t you?”

I shrugged. “Does it matter?”

“Seriously?”

“You’re going to ask me for help. Chances are I’m not going to turn you down. So do the specifics really matter?”

“You could turn me down.”

I shook my head. “I seem to have difficulty doing that with anybody lately.”

Reaching a corner where I had to pause to let a car pass, he caught my wrist, forcing me stop walking so that he could look me in the eye.

“I hate asking, Maggie, especially since you’ve got so much going on.”

“You wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important,” I supplied helpfully, watching a car slow behind him.

“Exactly. It’s just that I’m in a bind and I don’t know who else I can trust.”

Something, maybe Armani’s abilities were rubbing off on me, I don’t know, but something made me look at the driver of the car, as he made the turn. Wally headed straight toward the B&B.

“No!” I shouted.

Startled, Zeke dropped my wrist and backed up a step. “Um… okay. You don’t have to.”

“It’s Wally.” Spinning around, I ran back toward the B&B. “I have to stop him.”

“Who’s Wally?” Zeke asked, running up beside me.

“Her pimp,” I panted, silently cursing myself for not taking Alice’s advice and taking up running as a hobby.  Being able to run faster than a sloth would probably be advantageous in my line of work.

While I was sucking wind, Zeke hadn’t broken a sweat. “Whose pimp?”

“Marlene’s,” I explained breathlessly. “He’s after her.”

Have you ever seen one of those cartoons where one character leaves another in the dust? That’s what Zeke did.

The moment he realized Marlene was in danger he kicked it into high gear, leaving me behind. As he sprinted ahead, I slogged onward, hoping the old better late than never adage would apply in this situation.

What the hell kind of hitwoman couldn’t run a couple of blocks?

Chapter Ten

I probably arrived at the B&B thirty seconds after Zeke, but those thirty seconds made all the difference.

When I got there, the front yard resembled a war zone. Marlene was crying, Zeke was bleeding from a cut over one eye, and Wally was out cold on his back with DeeDee snarling as she circled his head.

Susan and Leslie came out on the porch to see what the cause of the commotion was.

“Oh my.” Leslie hurried to hug Marlene.

“Archie Lee,” Susan muttered, turning to go back inside the building.

“Man bad. Man bad.” DeeDee growled.

“Good girl.” Trying to catch my breath, I staggered over to Zeke who was swaying unsteadily.

He was holding shards of a terra cotta flower plant, no doubt the first thing he’d seen to use as a weapon.

“You okay,” I wrapped my fingers around his bicep to support him.

He leaned against me heavily. “Dizzy.”

“You should sit.” I led him over to the front steps, past Marlene who was sobbing hysterically and Leslie who was helpless to comfort her.

Lowering Zeke into a sitting position, I grabbed his chin and tilted his head so that I could get a better look at his injury. “What’d he hit you with?”

“His fist.”

Aunt Susan stalked back onto the porch. “The police are on their way, the US Marshals too. Can you think of anyone else I should call?”

“No, ma’am.” Even when injured, Zeke was decidedly polite.

“What happened to my flower pot?” She frowned at what remained of the pottery strewn across the yard.

Marlene wailed louder in response.

“Get a hold of yourself, Marlene.” Susan, hands on her hips, glared at my sister. “Loretta already had a breakdown today. I’m getting tired of mopping up tears.”

“Hey!” I shouted, my temper flaring.

Zeke winced.

Before I could compose a more eloquent defense of Marlene, Leslie went at her sister like a bull after a waved cloak. “You stop it, Susan.” Leaving Marlene’s side, Leslie marched past us onto the porch so that she could go toe-to-toe with Susan. “Just stop it. Loretta had the right to be upset. Marlene is shaken up. If you can’t say anything nice, don’t say anything at all. Just go.” She pointed at the entry to the B&B.

Susan blinked, unaccustomed to being challenged. “But—”

I chuckled and looked down at Zeke to see if he too was entertained by the exchange. He didn’t look amused. His eyelids fluttered quickly.

“Zeke?” I grabbed his shoulders, catching him as he pitched forward. “Help!” I yelped.

Susan and Leslie, their disagreement forgotten, rushed toward us. Together the three of us carefully lowered Zeke to the ground.  Swallowing her sobs, Marlene hurried over and knelt so that we could rest his head in her lap.

“He’s pale.” Leslie used her shirtsleeve to wipe away some of the blood that had run down his face.

Susan, her voice loaded with self-recrimination, said, “I should have called for an ambulance.”

“Maggie! Maggie!” DeeDee barked.

I ignored her. “Zeke? Zeke can you hear me?”

“Man bite bad?” the dog whined worriedly.

I turned to see what she was carrying on about just in time to see Wally propping himself up on his elbows.

DeeDee bared her teeth, the sight of which temporarily paralyzed the pimp.

Jumping to my feet, I snatched up the nearest weapon I could find. Raising another of the flower pots overhead, I advanced on Wally.

Afraid that she was going to once again get hurt defending my family, I waved DeeDee off.

“Don’t you move,” I warned.

Instead of obeying, he flipped over so that he faced me while on all fours. A nasty sneer stretched across his face.

“Out look.” DeeDee leapt between us, growling her warning.

In one quick, fluid movement Wally pulled out a gun and waved it at me. “You think you or the dog can stop me?”

Behind me, I heard Aunt Leslie’s gasp on dismay.

My grip on the flower pot weakened as cold fear swept through me.

He smiled, liking my reaction. “Come here, Jewel.”

“Stay where you are, Marlene.” I shouted.

“Now, Jewel.” Wally took aim at me. “Or this interfering bitch gets it.”

The wail of approaching sirens reached us. The cavalry was almost there. All I had to do is keep Wally busy for another few seconds.

“Bad. Bad. Bad.” DeeDee’s growls grew louder.

“Easy, girl,” I whispered. “I’ve got this.” I tightened my grip on the pot. I might be, as my grandmother used to say, “remarkably, unremarkable,” but there was one thing I’d been good at, the best at actually.

Wally squinted at me. “Who the hell are you?”

I grinned. “The queen.”

“The queen of what?”

“Dodgeball.” With that, I chucked the flowerpot at his head.

I missed.

I might not be good, but I was lucky. It hit him square in the chest, sending him stumbling backward.

“Now, Doomsday!”

The dog and I charged Wally together. She latched onto his wrist, while I did my best NFL tackle impression.

My best isn’t very good.

He stayed on his feet.

Thankfully the dog was better at her job than I was at mine. He dropped the gun.

Groaning, Wally tried to hit DeeDee. Grabbing his punching arm, I was lifted off my feet.

I heard multiple women screaming behind me, but I couldn’t make out what they were saying.

“Let go. Let go, DeeDee,” I urged, feeling as though I was on some bizarre bungee cord as I hung on for dear life and was repeatedly raised off the ground every time Wally tried to strike the dog.

To my surprise, she obeyed and released his arm, leaving behind bloody teeth marks. Of course, without the dog holding him back, Wally could use his newly-freed hand on me.

“You crazy bitch.” Yanking a handful of my hair, he wrenched me backward, so I was suddenly doing a macabre version of the limbo.

“Owww!” Instinctively reached for my scalp with both hands, which was a bad idea because it meant his other was now available to choke me with.

His fingers squeezed my throat. Pain and panic made me kick wildly as he deprived me of oxygen.

Then there was the crash.

Actually it was more like a dull thud.

And then we were falling.

Luckily, he fell backward, dragging me on top of him, cushioning my fall. We landed in a heap, his stranglehold releasing. Scrambling away from him, I desperately tried to catch my breath.

I realized the dull thud had been the blow to Wally’s head when I saw Aunt Susan standing over his prostrate form, the remains of a flowerpot in her hands.

DeeDee trotted over to me and licked my face. “Hungry.”

I laughed, but the sound came out a muted gurgle. I patted her head before resting my palms on her back to steady myself as I slowly stood.

“Don’t move,” a male voice boomed behind me.

Startled, I almost fell over.

“Put the gun down,” the man ordered.

Something about his voice was familiar. Slowly, I swiveled my head in his direction.

The uniformed police officer, arms stretched in front of him and aiming his weapon, looked vaguely familiar, but I couldn’t remember where I knew him from.

“Put it down now.” He adjusted his stance.

Dumbly, I looked to the spot on the grass where the gun had fallen. It was no longer there.

Slowly, not wanting to make any sudden movements, I turned to see where the gun had ended.

My breath caught in my throat.

Aunt Leslie was staring at the hunk of metal in her hands like she had no idea how it had gotten there and even less of an idea of what she was supposed to do with it.

“Don’t shoot,” Aunt Susan pleaded.

I wasn’t sure if she was talking to the cop or her sister.

“It’s going to be okay,” I said as calmly as I could, hoping that everyone involved thought the reassurance was meant for them. “It’s all going to be okay. Everyone just needs to take a breath. Can you do that, Aunt Leslie? Can you take a breath for me?”

Nodding shakily, she sucked in a breath, her shoulders rising.

“Good. Good.” I risked a look at the cop, who was still on alert. “I know this is confusing for everyone.”

“Put down the gun or I’ll shoot.”

I was pretty sure I could see the cop’s finger twitching over the trigger.

“This is all Archie’s fault,” Susan muttered.

“Will you shut up?” I whisper screamed at her.

The cop swung his gun in my direction.

I raised my hands, signaling my surrender. “Look, this is all one big misunderstanding.”

“There are two men on the ground.” He swung his weapon back toward Leslie. “I think it’s more than a misunderstanding.”

“My sister,” I said, jerking my chin toward Marlene, who still knelt on the ground, cradling Zeke, “was attacked by that man.” I tilted my head toward Wally.

“Says you,” the cop replied sullenly.

I frowned. “Do I know you from somewhere?”

“No.”

“Because I could swear we’ve met before.”

“Shut up. You’re not going to distract me.”

Another siren was approaching.  I hoped Leslie would put the gun down before the scene became any more chaotic, but she looked more spaced out than when she was stoned.

I wracked my brain, trying to remember how I knew the idiot.

“Boom apartment.” DeeDee panted.

Realizing she knew who he was, I looked at the dog, silently willing her to give me another clue.

“Leash no gone.”

“Aha!” I cried. We’d had a run-in with this not-so-bright officer after my apartment was blown up.

The cop swung his weapon back toward me.

“Sorry,” I murmured quickly, recalling that logic didn’t work terribly well with this particular guy. “If you call Sergeant Victor, he can confirm the earlier attack,” I told the cop.

“Who?”

“Sergeant Victor. Big guy. Blond.”

“Are you messing with me?’

“What?”

“There is no Sergeant Victor on the force.” The cop frowned.

“But—” I protested weakly.

“I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing, lady, but it’s not going to work.”

“Problem, officer?” a male voice interjected.

I spun around, never so happy to see a member of the Griswald law enforcement clan. “Help!” I squeaked.

Without a shred of bashfulness, Detective Brian Griswald flashed his badge at the guy in the uniform while striding over to Leslie. Plucking the gun from her fingers, he shook his head.  “Never a dull moment at this place.”

“Hungry!” DeeDee barked.

The uniformed cop swung his gun in the direction of the dog.

“You shoot the dog and I’ll shoot you,” Brian warned.

“Sir,” the uniformed officer protested. “I was just assessing the situation.”

Instead of responding to him, Brian turned his attention on me. “Want to tell me what’s going on?”

I opened my mouth to answer, but my reply was drowned out as Susan, Leslie, and Marlene all began to talk at once.

“Quiet!” Brian shouted. “I asked Maggie. I want to hear what she has to say.” He spun around in a quick circle, silencing both my aunts and my sister with a hard stare.

“He attacked us earlier.” I pointed to Wally. “But Sergeant Victor chased him off.”

“Lady, there is no Sergeant Victor,” the uniformed cop reminded me.

Brian Griswald turned the same look he’d used to silence my family on the officer.  “Cuff him.”

Holstering his gun, the uniform obeyed the order.

The detective looked at me expectantly, waiting for me to continue.

“And then I was walking with Zeke and we saw him heading toward the house and we ran back, but Zeke is a lot faster than me, probably because I eat too many frozen meals.”

“Hungry!” DeeDee yipped excitedly.

“She also says I should take up running, which is probably good advice. Alice does, not Dee.”

Griswald shook his head as though he was trying to unhear the last couple of tangential statements. “I’m not even going to ask who Alice is. That’s Zeke?” He jutted his chin toward my friend who was starting to stir in Marlene’s arms.

“He was just protecting me.” Marlene glared at the detective defiantly.

“What happened?” Zeke groaned.

“Wally hit you.” Marlene helped him sit up.

“Oh yeah.” He grinned up at me ruefully. “Not exactly a knight in shining armor moment for me.”

“You’re my knight.” Marlene pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“Do you want an ambulance?” Griswald asked.

Zeke shook his head. “Nothing an ice pack and a decent meal wouldn’t fix.”

“Gonnakillyou,” Wally slurred, having regained consciousness.

“Put him in your car,” Griswald ordered the uniformed cop.

Hauling the swearing and stumbling  pimp to his feet, the officer led Wally away.

“You four…” Griswald pointed to Marlene, Zeke, Susan and Leslie. “Go inside and wait for me.”

“You,” he said as I moved toward the house, “need to stay here.”

I nodded, swallowing the lump of nervousness that rose in my throat. While I was grateful for him taking charge, I wouldn’t have minded a return of the mild-mannered, shy man I’d met earlier.

“Hungry,” DeeDee whined.

“What’s wrong with her?” Brian asked.

“She’s hungry.”

His cell phone buzzed. He glanced at it and then offered me a temporary reprieve. “You can go inside and feed her, but then come back out.”

“Thanks,” I murmured, hurrying toward the B&B’s entrance.

“Thanks,” DeeDee panted gratefully, bounding inside ahead of me.

“I know it’s important, but I haven’t had a chance to ask her yet,” Griswald said as I stepped through the doorway and out of earshot.

I had the distinct impression I didn’t want to know what he was going to ask.

Chapter Eleven

“Let me out! Let me out!”

I winced as I heard God shouting at the top of his tiny, reptilian lungs.

Opening the door to the basement, I almost stepped on him as he scurried out.

Bending down, I offered him my palm to climb onto. “What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong? What’s wrong? You’re asking me what’s wrong?”

“You’re starting to sound like Aunt Susan,” I warned as I stood and held him at eye level. “Is something wrong with Piss?”

“Nothing’s wrong with the feline. She’s in a drugged-out stupor. No doubt dreaming of hunting poor, defenseless prey.”

“You don’t mind when she catches crickets for you.” I reminded him.  “Now tell me what’s got you so bothered that you were trying to pull off The Great Escape.”

“There’s yelling and screaming and crying and sirens and I don’t know what’s going on.” He flicked his tail as he made each point.

“Everything’s okay,” I assured him.

“Hungry but DeeDee,” the dog complained.

“Don’t let the beast eat me!” The lizard scampered up my arm to hide on my shoulder.

“Drop the drama queen act.” I frowned at the entryway of the kitchen. It was blocked off with yellow crime scene tape.

“How am I supposed to feed you if I can’t get in there?”

“Hamburger? Ice cream?” DeeDee suggested cheerily.

It was Patrick’s fault that the mutt thought take-out was designed just for her. My murder mentor had the annoying habit of spoiling the dog. Of course the ice cream thing was my fault, so I couldn’t lay all the guilt on the red head’s feet.

“How can you eat at time like this, you callous cretin?” God raged.

DeeDee hung her head. “Hungry.”

“I know you’re hungry, sweetheart. I’ll find something for you,” I soothed. “As for you…” I tried to glare at the lizard perched on my shoulder, but he was too close to my face, so all I ended up doing was inadvertently crossing my eyes. “You, shut up.”

“But I haven’t even said anything,” Leslie murmured.

I whirled around to find her standing beside me, a pen in one hand, a pad in the other.

“Not you. I was talking to the lizard.”

She nodded as though that was a completely reasonable response. “Susan’s ordering take-out. Chinese. What would you like?”

“DeeDee feed?” the dog whined.

I patted her head. “Can you get an order of steamed chicken and broccoli for DeeDee?”

The mutt flashed her wolfish grin, pleased with my choice.

“And I’ll have some everything lo mein and an egg roll.”

“How can you eat at a time like this?” God whispered in my ear.

I was sorely tempted to swat him away like a buzzing mosquito.

“What do you think the detective would like?” Leslie whispered, peering over her shoulder.

“How should I know? Ask him.”

“Could you ask him?” my aunt whispered.

“Why are we whispering?” I whispered back.

“Susan wants me to ask him, but he seemed very angry.” Leslie cocked her head to the side and blinked rapidly as though an idea was just occurring to her. “You could ask him.”

“It’ll cost you your fortune cookie,” I warned.

She nodded, amenable to the deal.

Shrugging and almost dislodging the squealing lizard, I turned to go back outside.

“Thank you, Maggie.”

I flashed a grin that I hoped looked more confident than I was feeling. “No problem.”

I marched back out to the yard. The detective and uniformed officer were deep in conversation, so I didn’t interrupt them. I just waited.

God surveyed the flowerpot carnage from his vantage point on my shoulder. “None of this would have happened if you hadn’t left me behind.”

Finishing his conversation with the other cop, Brian Griswald headed toward me. “I just have a couple of questions.”

I held up a finger, signaling I needed him to wait a minute. “I have my own questions.”

Something that looked like amusement mixed with annoyance flashed across his face.

“One.  Since we can’t use the kitchen we’re ordering Chinese. Would you like some?”

The question caught him off-guard and he seemed suddenly shy as he answered, “Steamed vegetables with brown rice.”

“Steamed vegetables with brown rice,” I shouted to Aunt Leslie, who was hovering in the doorway, pen and pad at the ready.

“Thanks.” Griswald eyed the lizard on my shoulder. “I take it that’s Godzilla?”

“The one and only.” I watched as the cop car drove away with Wally glaring murderously at me through the rear window. “What’s going to happen to him?”

“We’ll book him on some outstanding warrants while we get some things settled here.” Griswald watched me carefully. “Would you like to go sit down inside?”

“Not particularly.”

He chuckled, but didn’t seem surprised by my answer. “Can’t say I blame you. What do you say we pull up a porch step?”

He sat down and patted the board beside him as an invitation.

“Who is this guy?” God asked, as I lowered myself onto the stair.

Brian raised his eyebrows at the squeaking lizard, but thankfully didn’t comment on the noise he was making.

“I take it this isn’t a social call, detective,” I said quickly, hoping to keep God quiet.

“We didn’t finish our conversation earlier.”

“We didn’t?” I tried to remember what he was referring to, but drew a big, fat zero. “I’m sorry. I’m not trying to be difficult. I just have no idea what you’re talking about.”

He waved a hand dismissively. “I forgot about it too in all the excitement. You were going to tell me about Jeffrey Hendricks.”

An involuntary shiver snaked down my spine.

Brian Griswald’s eyes narrowed as he watched my reaction.

I cleared my throat nervously. “I’d rather not.”

His left eyebrow twitched. “Excuse me?”

“I’d rather not talk about it.” I rubbed the back of my neck, trying to chase away the icy chill that had settled there.

“It?”

“Him. It. It was a long time ago.”

Instead of strong-arming me like I expected, he sat back, crossed his arms over his chest, and regarded me steadily.

I wondered if it was some sort of advanced interrogation technique, but I didn’t ask.

“You should tell him,” God opined from my shoulder.

“Shhh.”

“He’s a talkative little guy.”  Brian stretched his legs out in front of him. “Believe it or not, Miss Lee, I’m—”

“Maggie,” I interrupted, automatically correcting him.

“Believe it or not, Maggie, I’m trying to help.”

I nodded. I did believe him. I just didn’t believe that drudging up ancient history was going to be of any help to anyone.

“You seem to be the sanest of the bunch, which is why I’m asking you.”

I chuckled. “You do know that’s not saying much.”

“My uncles seem to think that even though you’re a little out there, you’ve got your act together.”

“Do they?” I’d always liked the older Griswalds.

“Your dad’s in trouble,” Brian said quietly.

“My father is always in trouble.”

“So tell me about Hendricks.”

I clamped my jaw shut.

Frowning, Detective Brian Griswald rubbed his chin. “How about we start with what we already know?”

Holding my breath, I gave a quick nod.

“A number of years ago Jeff Hendricks had his wife, Mitzi, committed to the same mental institution your mother resided in.”

I nodded.

“Your mother and Mitzi became friendly?”

Every muscle in body tensed. “So I’ve been told.”

“You don’t know?”

I shrugged. “You should ask one of the others about that. The witches all visited her.”

“Witches?”

“My aunts.”

Brian nodded like he understood. “You didn’t visit your mother?”

I shook my head.

“Breathe,” God ordered.

“Can I ask why not?” Brian asked.

Absentmindedly, I circled the diameter of a knot in the wood step with my finger.

“Miss Lee? Why didn’t you visit her?”

Tapping the bull’s-eye of the pattern, I tried to quell the wave of anger building inside me.

“Breathe, Maggie,” God urged.

I took a shallow breath. “I hated her.”

“Your mother?”

I nodded.

“Why?”

I’d blamed my mother for my sister Darlene’s disappearance and death. If she hadn’t been such a distraction at the time Darlene was taken…

I shook my head, unwilling to voice my grievances. “That was a long time ago. It has nothing to do with…”

Brian uncrossed his arms and rested his hands on his knees. “Your father broke them both out of the hospital.”

“Liberated.” It was the word my father had used to describe their adventure.

“Why?”

I shook my head. “My dad is a lot of things: a liar, a thief, a hustler, a con, but he’s also a man who loves his wife. Sometimes I think he’s crazier than she is.”

“So he had some notion about whisking her off to a romantic interlude?”

“Probably.”

“So why take the Hendricks woman?”

“That,” I murmured, “depends on who you ask.”

“What’s that mean?”

“If you ask Jeff Hendricks, he’ll tell you that Archie Lee was looking to use his wife for a big score.”

“By your own admission, that would fit your father’s profile.”

“Sure, hit up the crazy socialite for a chunk of her inheritance.” Realizing how bitter my tone sounded, I stopped talking.

“I’m not asking Jeff Hendricks. I’m asking you.”

I shrugged. “I wasn’t there.”

“In the name of all that I hold dear, just tell the man what he wants to know,” God groused.

Considering that all he seemed to value was Wheel of Fortune, tacky reality TV shows, and live crickets, I wasn’t moved by his plea.

“You know something,” Brian prodded.

I looked over at the man who was regarding me with steady interest. “I don’t.”

“That’s it,” God announced, skittering down my arm and jumping off my hand onto the step. “I’m going back inside. I’d rather listen to drugged-out hunter and the grammatically-challenged beast than hear you beat around the bush like this.” He chased his tail like a dog does, just to illustrate how stupid he thought I was being.

“You think you know something,” Brian prodded, watching the squeaking lizard’s little tantrum with undisguised fascination.

I sighed heavily, trying to dislodge the invisible weight pressing on my chest. “I know what they say.”

“They?” the detective and the lizard asked in unison.

I rolled my eyes at how absurd my life had become. “My parents. I know what they say.”

Brian looked at me expectantly.

“It’s hard to believe.”

“Try me,” he invited.

“They claim”—I started slowly, wanting to make sure that it was clear I wasn’t sure I believed them—“that Mitzi needed to go back to that house to get proof that she wasn’t nuts.”

“What house?” God asked.

I glanced down. I raised my eyebrows, silently asking why he hadn’t returned to the hunter and the beast.

“What house?” he asked again.

“The Hendricks house?” Brian asked.

I nodded.

“The place where Mitzi Hendricks took a swan dive out a third-story window?”

I frowned. “If you already know so much, why are you asking me these questions?’

“Tell me why you think Jeffrey Hendricks wants to kill your father.”

“Because Dad doesn’t believe Mitzi committed suicide. He thinks someone killed her.  He told the cops that at the time.”

“But they didn’t believe him.”

I shook my head. “Who’s going to believe a career criminal and his wife who just escaped from the loony bin?”

The detective didn’t answer.

I stole at a look at him. He stared off into space, deep in thought.

“Do you believe him?” God asked.

Glancing down I saw he’d curled into a ball and was watching me almost as raptly as he did Vanna White.

I shrugged.

“Your aunt doesn’t like your father,” Brian said slowly.

“That’s an understatement.”

“So why did she freak out when the Hendricks name was mentioned?”

I felt his gaze on me and lifted my eyes to meet his. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“That whole bumbling, bashful thing you did earlier, is that some sort of Columbo act or something?”

He chuckled. “I got nervous.”

“Again, an understatement.”

“This case means a lot to my family.  I’ve never worked with Mike before. Professionally, I mean. Family dynamics change when we each put on our respective badges.”

I nodded. “Gotchya.”

“I don’t want to be the one who gets discussed at Thanksgiving dinner as the one who screwed up the case.”

“I understand. Managing family expectations during the best of times is a challenge.” I should know.

“Why is Susan afraid of Hendricks?”

“Because he threatened her.”

“Threatened?”

“He’s this millionaire big shot. He threatened to bring a civil case against my mother, blaming her for his wife’s death. The stress of that would have pushed her over the edge.”

Brian shifted uncomfortably.

I knew what he was thinking.  “She comes back.”

“Excuse me?”

“My mother comes back. She has lucid moments. Times when she seems”—I made quote marks in the air with my hands—“normal. Susan thought that the suit would push her to a place she couldn’t ever come back from.”

“Oh.”

“That’s why Susan freaked out at the mention of Hendricks. I don’t see how any of this is going to help you find my father though.”

“There are bigger fish than your father,” Griswald said mysteriously.

“Hey, Chiquita!” Armani interrupted, limping up the driveway.

“Speaking of crazy,” Brian muttered.

I chuckled. “She’s not that bad.”

“No offense, but having met your family, I’m not sure that you set the bar all that highly.”

“The man has a point,” God said.

“Oh,” Armani said, arriving slightly breathlessly at the bottom of the stairs. “I didn’t know he was here. The skeptic. The non-believer.”

“Armani Vasquez, this is Detective Brian Griswald. Detective, this is Armani.”

“The world-renowned psychic.”  The detective stood and offered his hand.

Armani eyed it distrustfully before sliding her good hand into his. “Are you hassling her?”

“No, ma’am.” Notes of annoyance floated through his tone.

“You’d better not.”

“He’s here to help.” I stood so I could throw myself between the two of them if they decided to come to blows. “Why are you back?”

“I have a message for you.”

“From the dead?” Brian mocked.

Drawing herself up to her full height, Armani shook her head haughtily. “I’m not that kind of psychic.”

“From mysterious powers?”  Brian scoffed.

“You,” Armani said, poking at his chest with her finger, “have a seriously screwed up aura.”

He glared at her and you could practically see sparks flying between them.

Thinking that he could probably hold her for assault or battery or something for striking him, I slapped her hand away from him. “Where’s the message from?”

Without breaking eye contact with the detective, Armani said, “It’s from your father.”

Chapter Twelve

“Delivery! Delivery!” another voice chimed in.

We all turned to see a pregnant Chinese woman balancing two huge, grease-stained, paper bags toddling toward us.

I charged the woman, eager to relieve her of the bags before she took a header and exponentially increased the drama of the day. Brian was only a step behind me.

We each took a bag.

“Okay. Thank you.” Grinning, the woman turned to leave.

“Wait. You haven’t been paid,” I reminded her.

“Paid over the phone.”  She waved at us. “Tip too.”

The delicious smell of peanut oil and spice wafted from the bag I held. Suddenly, I was starving and my stomach growled.

“Is there enough for me?” Armani asked.

“Sure. Aunt Susan always orders extra.”

Grinning, she turned to limp up the steps.

“Save me!” God bellowed.

“Wait!” I screamed, almost dropping the bag.  “Don’t move.”

Armani froze in place. “What the hell?”

Rushing past her, I scooped God up off the step.

“You almost got me trampled to death,” he huffed indignantly.

Armani pushed herself up the steps. “Do you know why you haven’t gotten laid in forever, Chiquita? It’s because of your relationship with that creepy thing.”

I was pretty sure I heard a smothered chuckle from behind us. I swung around to glare at Brian Griswald, but he was staring intently into the bag of food he held.

“God isn’t creepy,” I weakly told Armani’s back as she breezed into the B&B.

“Gee, thanks,” the lizard harrumphed. “Not exactly a glowing endorsement.”

“Food’s here,” Armani announced at the top of her lungs to the B&B’s inhabitants.

DeeDee was the first to greet us. “Hungry!”

“Where is everyone?” I asked her.

“Dining room,” she panted.

“Head for the dining room,” I told Armani.

She glanced back at me, a strange look in her eyes.  “Did the dog tell you that?”

I forced out a laugh. “Sure.”

Susan, Leslie, Marlene and Zeke were all sitting around the dining room table. None of them looked happy.

“Food’s here.” I forced a smile, trying to improve the mood of the room.

“What happened to you, handsome?” Armani limped over to Zeke to get a better look at the cut over his eye.

“A fist,” he murmured dryly, arching his other eyebrow at me.

Grinning, I put the food down on the table and stepped back, indicating to Brian Griswald that he should do the same.  He barely got out of the way before Susan, Leslie and Marlene fell upon it like a bunch of hyenas ripping into a water buffalo.

Keeping a watchful eye on the frenzy of activity that consisted of arguing and dishing out food, Griswald asked Armani. “What was the message? You never said.”

She scrunched up her nose at him. “The message wasn’t for you, Mr. Skeptic Bossypants.”

“Uh-oh,” Zeke grinned. “Someone is not on Senorita Vasquez’s nice list.”

“But you could be on my naughty list.” She winked cheekily at Zeke.

“Tempting.” Zeke waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

Armani’s rich, warm laughter filled the room, soothing the jagged edges of noise caused by my family’s bickering.

“The message,” Brian said forcefully.

“I told you.” Armani flicked her hair disdainfully.

“Just tell me.” I filched an egg roll from a plate in the middle of the table. It was so hot I ended up juggling it back and forth between my hands.

“Can we please pretend we’re civilized human beings and sit down to eat?” Susan’s request was so shrill I had the urge to plug my ears.

“Hungry!” DeeDee barked, reminding me that not all of us were humans.

“Feed the beast,” God grumbled, having settled once again on my shoulder

“Steamed chicken and broccoli for DeeDee,” Leslie cooed, spooning a large portion onto a plate and lowering it toward the floor.

“We are not feeding a dog on my china,” Susan bellowed. Her wild, wide-eyes made her look a lot like my mom, her sister, on her bad days.

Leslie’s movement halted halfway to the floor.

DeeDee stared at the plate, drool dripping from her jowls.

“Ugh. Disgusting,” God groaned, sticking his head under the collar of my shirt so that he wouldn’t have to witness the display.

Leslie looked at her half-crazed sister for a long moment before calmly stating, “It’s our china.”

She put it on the ground with a resounding clatter.  DeeDee didn’t wait for an invitation. She went at her food with gusto.

Following the dog’s example, I took a bite of my eggroll. It was still too hot, and burned the roof of my mouth.

Susan weakly sank into the nearest chair moaning, “This is all Archie’s fault.”

“About that message?” Brian Griswald said in a tone that indicated he was just about out of patience.

Armani shrugged and looked me in the eye. “He wanted me to tell you he forgives you.”

He forgave me? What the hell had I ever done to him except save his ungrateful butt? I sucked in an outraged gasp and choked on the eggroll.

“What do you mean he forgives her?” Brian asked Armani.

Coughing, spluttering, and spraying a mouthful of food onto the floor, I clutched my throat, unable to breathe.

Mike eyed me suspiciously, probably thinking that anyone who subscribes to Piggy Magazine isn’t going to choke on a mere mouthful of food.

“The Heimlich!” God shouted, pounding on my shoulder with his little feet, because it was the only place he could reach. “She needs the Heimlich maneuver.”

“Oh my God, she’s choking!” Marlene screamed.

“Are you choking?” the detective and Zeke asked simultaneously.

Griswald pounded on my back, but whatever was lodged in my airway stayed in place.

The room dimmed as I stumbled backward, trying to breathe.

“She’s choking!” Marlene screamed again. “Somebody help her!”

Actually, I was suffocating, but I couldn’t speak to tell her that.

Leaping from his chair, Zeke caught me before I fell. He too banged on the spot between my shoulder blades to no avail.

“Thrust!” God shouted. “Don’t you morons know anything? You need to thrust. Thrust!”

“Maggie?” Zeke shouted, holding me upright against him. “Maggie stay—”

Before I knew what was happening, I was ripped from his arms.

“Aaaah,” God screamed as he lost his grip on my shirt and fell.

I felt a sharp pain in my belly as something was driven into it with considerable force. The second jab dislodged the piece of food that had blocked my windpipe. I gasped for air, greedily sucking it into my lungs as tears streamed from my eyes.

“Ewwwwww!” God shrieked.

I looked down and saw DeeDee prone on the floor and the lizard balanced on the dog’s outstretched tongue.

“Of all the repulsive, abhorrent, foul, nasty, loathsome, disgusting things,” God wailed, sliding off her tongue onto the ground. “I shall never recover from the trauma.”

DeeDee grinned up at me. “Him caught.”

Dry-heaving, God scurried away.

“Are you okay?” Leslie and Brian Griswald asked simultaneously.

“This never would have happened if you’d sat down to eat,” Susan lectured.

“You gave us a scare, Maggie,” Zeke chided from beside me.

Marlene though, stayed silent. Staring past and above me with eyes as big as silver dollars.

It was then I realized there was someone else in the room and that whoever it was had their hands on my arms, making certain I didn’t pitch over.

I turned slowly to see my savior.

The blond, blue-eyed man with bulging biceps peered closely at me. “Feel better?”

I nodded dumbly at the man who’d saved me twice that day. This time instead of his uniform, he wore a tight T-shirt that showed off his defined physique.

Sergeant Victor grinned. “Cool.”

“Who the hell are you, cutie?” Armani asked.

“Ben Atwood.” He waved a greeting at everyone around the table.

“I thought you were Sergeant Victor,” I managed to choke out.

He chuckled. “Nah, that’s just part of my act.”

“Act?”  I gave Zeke a weak grin as he helped me sit down on a chair.

He shrugged apologetically. “I’m a stripper.”

“A stripper!” Susan gasped, burying her head in her hands.

“There is a god,” Armani rejoiced triumphantly.

Zeke bent and whispered in my ear. “Do you have any idea of what’s going on?”

I shook my head. “Not really.”

“I’m not going to be a stripper forever,” Ben Atwood explained. “But it’s a good way to pay the bills while I go through paramedic training.”

“That’s why you’re called Doc.” I was unduly proud of myself for figuring something out.

“Yup.”

“Was that the Heimlich maneuver you used on our Maggie?” Aunt Leslie asked.

“Yes, ma’am. I was at the door when I heard someone shouting that someone was choking and needed help, so I just let myself in. I hope that’s okay.”

“Of course.” Leslie waved a hand over the Chinese food. “Join us.”

“What’s the Heimlich thingie?” Armani asked, mentally undressing my stripper savior with her eyes.

Considering what he did for a living, Ben seemed to find her blatant perusal to be surprisingly offensive. His body posture stiffened and his voice became very formal. “A couple of well-delivered thrusts use air pressure to forcefully dislodge whatever is blocking a choking victim’s windpipe.”

“Thrusts!” Armani crowed victoriously. “I knew it.” She gave me a thumbs-up.

I ignored her.

“So wait,” Marlene said slowly. “If you’re not a cop, why did you chase off Wally?”

“Can we get back to why she choked in the first place?” the detective interrupted. “Why does your father want you to know he forgives you?”

I shrugged. “How should I know?” I turned to Armani. “Was there another part of the message?”

She shook her head. “He just said to tell you that he forgives you.”

“And you don’t have any idea what that means?” Griswald asked, clearly not believing me.

I shook my head helplessly. “I don’t.”

“I do,” Leslie murmured.

All eyes in the room focused on her.

“This is all my fault.”

Chapter Thirteen

Leslie’s gaze skittered nervously around the room before finally landing on me. “I’m sorry.”

“About what?” I asked, bewildered.

“I made a mistake.” Leslie bowed her head.

I wasn’t in the mood to play Twenty Questions. “What did you do?”

“I told them where to find him.”

“Told who?” Griswald and I both blurted out with the same note of panic making our tones strident.

My stomach somersaulted nervously at the thought someone might now my father’s location. Sure the man drives me crazy, but he’s still my dad.

“Blanche.”

“Who the hell is Blanche?” Brian thundered.

I wondered how I’d ever thought he was bashful.

“My sponsor,” Leslie whispered, eyes wide.

“Wait,” I said, catching up to what was being said. “The one who was in cahoots to kill Marlene and me?”

“Cahoots?” Armani mocked.

“Shut up,” I growled.

She pouted prettily, pretending to look offended.

“Blanche,” I tried again. “The one who was mixed-up with that whole deal that ended up with Dad going into the Witness Protection Program?”

Leslie nodded.

“But she’s supposed to be locked up.” I turned an accusing eye on Griswald. The detective shrugged helplessly.

“She might be,” Leslie offered agreeably.

“She might be?” I raised my voice. “Might be? You don’t know? And you offered up Dad’s whereabouts to a homicidal criminal?”

“Easy, Maggie,” Zeke interjected in his most soothing tone.

I rounded on him, ready to rip his interfering head off.

Dabbing at the cup above his eye with a paper napkin, Zeke focused on my traitorous aunt. “Leslie?”

Chewing on her lower lip, she met his gaze nervously.

Zeke gave her a reassuring smile. “When did you tell this Blanche woman where to find Archie?”

“A while ago.”

Digging my palm into the space between my eyes, I tried to rub away the tension headache I was forming.

Zeke, keeping his tone soft, like he was talking to a skittish horse, looked for clarification. “A while ago as in a couple of hours ago, or as in a couple of days ago.”

“Weeks ago.”

Detective Brian Griswald’s sigh of relief was audible.

I closed my eyes, striving to sound half as reasonable as Zeke. “That doesn’t explain why you think Dad was calling to forgive me.”

“Well what else could he possibly be blaming you for?” Leslie countered.

I shook my head. A conversation with the grammatically-challenged dog would make more sense.

“So you don’t know where Archie Lee is?” the detective asked.

“Of course not. Why would I?” Leslie answered, seemingly perplexed by the question.

Griswald turned his attention on Armani. “But you do?”

She shook her head. “Nope.”

“But he got a message to you?”

Armani tossed her hair. “That’s what I said, isn’t it?”

“How did he get the message to you?” I interjected before their squabble could gain steam.

“He called me.”

My head pounded. “In a meta-physical psychic way?

Armani looked at me like I was crazier than her predictions. “Are you loco? He called my phone.” She held up the device and waved it at me for emphasis.

“Give me your phone.” Brian Griswald held out his hand so she could give it to him.

“Get a warrant.” Armani glared at him defiantly, hiding the phone behind her back.

“Give the man the damn thing,” I said through gritted teeth.

“Screw you,” she countered.

“Ladies,” Zeke interjected. “Perhaps—”

“Shut up!” Armani and I yelled simultaneously.

“The food’s getting cold,” Aunt Susan said mildly. “Won’t you join us, Mr. Atwood?”

All eyes in the room focused on the stripper-EMT.

He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing.

“Please?” Marlene pleaded softly.

He looked down at her and smiled. “I’d love to.”

“Lovely!” Susan beamed in all her Stepford-hostess glory. “If everyone would just have a seat…”

Poor Detective Griswald blinked rapidly, obviously unsure of what to do next. I decided for him by snatching the phone out of Armani’s hand.

“Thief!”

Since I’m a paid killer, being called a thief didn’t bother me in the least.  I calmly held out the phone to Brian.

“You stole from the handicapped,” Armani railed theatrically. “There’s a special place in Hell for you.”

“This”—I waved my empty hand to encompass the room and its inhabitants—“this is Hell.”

Griswald stared at the phone in my outstretched hand, but didn’t take it. “Technically she’s right,” he muttered. “You don’t have her permission to have that.”

I frowned. “I thought you wanted it.”

“I do, but…”

Armani lunged for the phone. I pivoted away, holding it so that she couldn’t reach it.

“No fighting at the dinner table, girls,” Susan bellowed.

Armani and I hesitated like we were caught up in some weird version of freeze tag.

“I mean it,” Susan banged on the table with a pair of chopsticks.

“Mean what, Honeybun?” another voice asked from the room’s doorway.

We all turned to look at Bob, Susan’s ex, lounging in the doorway, watching the drama with a bemused expression.

A flying chopstick hit him in the face, the other bounced ineffectually off the doorway trim.

All eyes slid back to Susan, who was now empty-handed. She glared at the latest visitor with a white-hot fury that threatened to turn the man to a pile of ash.

“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.

“Bad, bad Leroy Braun,” God sang softly.

Loretta and Templeton stared at my chest again.

“It’s the lizard,” I explained off-handedly. “Have you figured out what dingbat means?”

Loretta shook her head. “I’m not sure your friend is that great a psychic.”

“Me either.” But I knew from experience that Armani’s predictions usually turn out to be right, even if it’s in the most bizarre ways. “When’s the last time you remember seeing this note from Braun giving you the title to The Corset?”

“Not to The Corset, dear,” Loretta corrected. “To the building.”

I bit my tongue as I waited for her to get around to answering my question.

“Answer the girl, ‘Retta,” Templeton wheezed. Deathly pale and breathing heavier than the prank callers who sometimes bothered me at Insuring the Future, he really didn’t look or sound good.

“When Mama died.” Loretta used the corner of Templeton’s bed sheet to dab away a couple of tears from her eyes. “Bless her.”

Personally I wasn’t all that sure that her mother, my grandmother was worth blessing, but I bit my tongue again and kept the thought to myself. “But that was…” I mentally calculated how long it had been since my grandmother, the one who’d delighted in calling me extraordinarily ordinary, had died. “Ten years ago.”

Loretta stared at me blankly.

The shadows of a suspicion formed in the back of my mind, but I couldn’t quite grasp what my subconscious was trying to tell me. “Where was it?”

“Why in my jewelry drawer of course.”

“Of course,” God mocked. “Where else would one keep important papers?”

Not caring that Loretta and Templeton were eyeing me strangely, I pulled out the collar, looked down my shirt, and said, “Shut up.”

He stuck his tongue out at me, but mercifully fell silent.

“Of course we’ve looked in the jewelry drawer,” Loretta continued. “And everywhere else we could think of in the B&B. Poor Templeton told me he even ventured into the attic.” She shuddered with revulsion.

Since I’d encountered Templeton in the attic not long before the wedding of my friend Alice, and had thought he was acting suspiciously, I could confirm he’d searched up there.

“You’ll find it, won’t you?” Loretta’s voice was filled with unshed tears.

“I’ll do my best.”

“There isn’t time,” Templeton gasped.

I stared at him, trying to determine whether he was paler now than when I’d walked into the room. “When’s the last time the nurse checked on you?”

He waved me off. “Just a bump on the head.”

“And the bump on the head is making it hard for you to breathe?” I didn’t always like Templeton, but he had saved my hide a couple of times and I found myself worried.

“The doctor in the emergency room said he’s fine,” Loretta said hesitantly.

“Get a second opinion,” I urged. “In the meantime, I’m going to leave so you can get some rest. Feel better, Templeton.”

He reached a hand out, beckoning for me to come closer.

I did and he grabbed my hand. “Thank you, Maggie.”

“Don’t thank me yet.” Instinctively I bent and pressed a quick cheek to his pale cheek.

I don’t which of us was more caught off guard by my surprise show of affection, but he offered me a grateful smile.

I rushed out into the hospital hallway, trying to decipher where that had driven me to demonstrate my fondness for him.

Before I could figure it out, a voice asked, “Chocolate pudding?”

Whirling around, I found Delveccio leaning against the wall, watching me. As usual, his shirt was unbuttoned halfway to his naval, flashing a disturbing amount of pudgy flesh. The skin was so distracting that I almost missed the dark stains on the fabric. Almost. But I’m a semi-pro assassin and details are important to people like me (at least that’s what Patrick has tried to drill into my head).

“Is that blood?” I tried to sound nonchalant as I pointed at his shirt.

He glanced down. “Could be.”

“Are you hurt?”

He narrowed his gaze. “Why would you ask that?”

I shrugged. “Because we’re in a hospital and there’s blood on your shirt?”

“Not mine.”

Since he’s a reputed mobster who pays my assassination fees, I thought it best to not ask whose blood it might be. Instead I asked, “Where’s the gorilla?”

The corners of Delveccio’s mouth twitched with amusement at the mention of his bodyguard. “Vinny’s watching over my grandson...”

“I heard he’s doing better.”

Seeing the crime boss’s expression darken suspiciously, I added hurriedly, “At least according to Katie.”

He relaxed a bit. “Smart kid that girl.”

I nodded.

“Yeah. Dominic’s doing better.”

“That’s wonderful.”

He nodded. I was pretty sure some moisture shimmering in his eyes before he gruffly cleared his throat. “What are you doing here?”

“Visiting my aunt’s fiancé.”

“I admire your loyalty to family.”

“Thanks.”

“You know where Archie is?” he asked too casually.

I tensed, not knowing if he wanted my father to testify against the Lubovsky family or if he’d prefer for Archie Lee to disappear off the planet. “Afraid not.”

“Relax.” Delveccio twirled his oversized diamond pinky ring. “It’s no skin off my back if he’s in the wind. I was just asking since I might have another job for you, but if you’ve got cops crawling all over you looking for your old man, it’s not a good time.”

Exhaling shakily, I quickly agreed. “It’s not a good time.”

“Too bad. You would have liked this one.”

“Why? I asked curiously.

“Let’s just say you would have found it personally satisfying.” Delveccio smiled at me kindly. “It’s best if we leave it there.”

I nodded. “Why are you here?”

“Antoinette.”

Antoninette is his daughter. I haven’t seen her much, which is weird considering her son and my niece are roomies.

“Is she okay?”

“First, she goes and marries that scum Alfonse.”

I nodded sympathetically. Alfonse had been the one who put Delveccio’s grandson in a coma. He’d also been the first person the mobster had hired me to kill.

“And now she’s fallen for an idiot cop.”

I flinched.

Delveccio nodded his approval, thinking my expression was due to a shared dislike of law enforcement. In reality I’d just been dismayed to find myself connected, however tenuously, to another cop.

“He’s the job?” I asked.

Delveccio raised an eyebrow. “Why would you think that?’

I shrugged, deciding it wasn’t the time to remind him that he’d specifically requested I kill Paul Kowalski, a cop I’d once dated, who’d then tried to kill me. I changed the subject. “Is it Antoinette’s blood on your shirt?”

“It’s the dopey cop’s.”

“You’ve got a cop’s blood on you?” I squeaked nervously, peering furtively up and down the hallway to see if anyone had spotted me talking to the bloody mobster.

“Relax,” Delveccio chuckled. “The idiot was helping Antoinette put together lawn furniture and managed to slice his hand open. She gets queasy at the sight of blood, so I did the right thing and drove him to the E.R.” He winked at me slyly. “Never let it be said that I’m not a fine, upstanding citizen, right?”

I nodded weakly.

“I’m glad everyone’s okay. I’ve got to go.”

“Ciao, bella.”

“I could use some chow,” the lizard grumbled.

Delveccio took one look at my squeaking chest and burst into laughter that bounced off the walls. “You are one weird chick.” Shaking his head, he disappeared into one of the rooms.

I scurried away, muttering at the lizard holed up in my bosom, “Tell me again why I agreed to bring you? Oh yeah, it was because you promised to keep your mouth shut when I’m talking to others.”

“But—” he protested.

“Save it.” I blew through the hospital exit, heading for my car. “I’ve got enough to worry about. I don’t need you to complicate things for me.”

“Hmmmphhh.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?’

“You complicate life plenty on your own,” the little guy said haughtily.

“No I don’t.”

“Oh no? Then why are you helping Loretta with The Corset, Marlene with her pimp, Whitehat with this Joy woman?”

“Because Whitehat will send me to prison.” I unlocked my car.

“And the others?”

“They're family,” I muttered climbing behind the steering wheel. I pounded on it for emphasis. “You’ve got to help out family when they need it.”

“I’m glad to hear you say that,” a voice said from the backseat.

“Aaaaaaahhhhhh!” the lizard and I screamed simultaneously.

Chapter Sixteen

I guess that if you’re going to have a heart attack when someone pops up in your backseat, a hospital is probably a good place to do it.

That was the only silver lining I could think of when I saw my father’s face reflected in my rear view mirror.

“Get out!” I yelled, fueled by a mixture of fear and anger that made my heart pound. “Out! Out! Out!”

He didn’t budge. “Sorry I scared you, Maggie May.”

I twisted in my seat so that I could glare at him head on. “What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to see you.” He offered me a conciliatory smile, looking more like a benevolent store Santa with his white hair and chubby cheeks than a lifetime criminal.

“More like you want something from me,” I countered, willing myself to stay angry with him.

He blinked, looking hurt.

“Do you have any idea of how many people are looking for you?” I asked.

“Lots?”

“Yes.” I spun around so that I was staring out of my dirty windshield. “And half of them are camped out on my doorstep.”

“I’m sorry about that.”

“If you were, you’d turn yourself back in.”

“But I needed to see your mother before I testify.”

I grit my teeth, hating the lovelorn tone of his voice. I suspected his obsession with his wife might lead to his ultimate downfall. “Why? Never mind. Don’t answer that. You do realize that the marshals and cops aren’t the only ones looking for you, don’t you? I’m surprised the Lubovsky family hasn’t broken down the B&B’s doors.”

“Don’t you think you’re being a tiny bit overdramatic?”

I frowned at his reflection. “I have other problems that are more pressing than your desire to see Mom.”

“Like what?”

“Like contending with Marlene’s terrorizing psycho pimp. And Loretta’s going to lose The Corset. And someone injured Templeton. Not to mention I’ve got—” I clamped my mouth shut, realizing I’d almost revealed my relationship with Ms. Whitehat.

“Loretta’s losing The Corset?”

“She lost the title.”

“How?”

“I don’t know. Apparently it disappeared around the time her mother died.”

“Your grandmother,” Dad chided gently. “Not that I was ever fond of the crazy old bat, but you should show her some respect.”

“Calling her a crazy old bat is respectful?”

“You know what I mean. Anyway, I need you to help me see your mother.”

I’d just told him that his other living daughter was being terrorized by a pimp, and he was focused on visiting the woman in the loony bin.  That’s my dad in a nutshell.

My fear and anger seeped out of me, leaving me exhausted. I slumped in my seat. “I can’t.”

“Oh course you can.”

“No, Dad, I can’t. Not even if I wanted to. The marshals and probably the Lubovsky clan knows that there’s a good chance you’ll try to see her.”

“That’s why I need you to bring her to me. Check her out for the day.”

I closed my eyes and counted to ten, trying to remain calm. It didn’t work, so I counted to ten again. Finally, when I could speak without screaming, I said, “You don’t think it would look suspicious if I waltzed in there and checked her out for the day like she’s a freaking library book?”

He sat back in his seat, looking like the Grinch had stolen his Christmas.

“Please, Maggie… It’s important.”

I squared my shoulders. “No.”

“But—”

“Absolutely not,” I reiterated forcefully. “I can’t help you, Dad. I’ve got too much on the line.”

I let him think that I meant custody of Katie, when in fact I was more worried about Whitehat and Delveccio at the moment.

“I understand.”

“I could drive you to the B&B. I’m sure there’s someone there that can return you to Protective Custody.”

“Not yet. I have some things I need to do first.”

He leaned over the seat and awkwardly pressed his lips to my ear in the semblance of a kiss. “You’re a good girl. Katie’s lucky to have you.”

Tears prickled my eyes and my throat closed as he climbed slowly out of the car.  “See ya around, Maggie May.” He gave a brief wave and lumbered away.

Dashing away tears with the back of my hand, I took a deep breath and started the car. Then I remembered something. I rolled down the window and yelled after him, “Hey, Dad?”

He turned back. “Yeah?”

“Does dingbat mean anything to you?”

“Like: Your old man is a dingbat for asking you to help?”

“I didn’t mean it like that.” I shook my head. “Never mind. Thanks anyway.”

I put the car into gear and eased my foot onto the gas pedal.

“Well that—” God began.

“Maggie?” Dad shouted.

I hit the brakes.

Gut jiggling, he strode toward the car. “I thought of something.”

I braced myself for another of his hare-brained schemes.

“It’s probably nothing,” he said slowly.

I reminded myself to remain calm.

“Your grandmother, when she didn’t know the name of something, she’d call it a doohickey or a thingamabob.”

“Sure. Aunt Loretta’s favorite word is gizmo.”

“But your grandmother was also known to call things dingbats.”

“People,” I corrected automatically. “People are dingbats.”

“Amen,” God muttered from my chest.

“No,” Dad insisted. “She called things dingbats too.”

Something in his voice made me squint at him suspiciously.  “Are you thinking of a specific dingbat?”

“I know I am,” the lizard groused.

Dad had the good sense to look ashamed as he admitted his guilt. “There was this pocket watch. Well there was no watch inside, but the case was gorgeous. Brass and engraved with flowers.”

“Big enough to hold a folded up sheet of paper?”

“Sure.”

I tried not to let my excitement show. Had I just figured out where the paper Loretta needed to keep The Corset was hidden? “Where is it?”

“I don’t know.”

“Then why are you looking like you got caught with your hand in the cookie jar. You stole it from Loretta’s jewelry drawer, didn’t you?”

He considered his answer a long time before answering. “Yes and no.”

I threw the car into park before succumbing to the temptation of running him over.

“What does that mean? You stole it, but not from the drawer.”

“It was,” he hesitated, searching for the right word. “It was liberated from the drawer, but not by me.”

“Then who?” I asked, wondering who else could want something badly enough to steal it.

I looked Dad in the eyes as we said simultaneously. “Mom.”

“Does she still have it?”

He shrugged. “The last time I visited, it was still in her locked box of personal belongings.”

I winced remembering how Mom had carried on when they’d tried to take that box from her.  “But wouldn’t one of the sisters have seen it while visiting her after all these years.”

He shook his head, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Nope.”

“Why not?”

“I’m the one who gave the box to Mary. It’s got a false bottom.”

I frowned, unsure if I was pleased with the latest development. “Get in the car.”

“Why?”

Instead of answering him, I put pulled my seatbelt across my chest, fumbling for the latch.

“Aaaaah!” God screamed.

“Not now,” I growled.

“You’re crushing me to death,” he gasped.

Immediately, I release the seat belt and scooped a hand into my bra to pull the little guy out. “I am so sorry.”

“You almost killed me,” he ranted, massaging his chest.

I felt awful for having nearly committed lizard-cide. Despite all his flaws (and he certainly has more than his fair share), he’s my best friend. I couldn’t hold back the tears. “Sorry,” I cried softly.

“I have sensitive skin. There will be bruising.”

“I’m really, really sorry.” I sobbed hysterically.

“Maggie?” Dad asked worriedly, reaching into the car to put a steadying hand on my shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

“I could have killed him,” I wept.

“Killed who?”

I held up the lizard who’d sprawled out on my palm, doing his best death-bed impression.

“It’s a lizard.” Dad sounded slightly incredulous and more than a little concerned.

“He. He is a lizard,” I corrected automatically. “He doesn’t like to be called ‘it.’”

“Of course he doesn’t,” Dad smoothed.

I wondered if that was the condescending tone he used on his wife when she lost it.

Sniffling, I placed God on the dashboard, wiped away my tears, and cleared my throat. “Get in the car, Dad.”

“Why?”

“We have to go see Mom.”

And Griswald had thought the B&B is a nuthouse….

Chapter Seventeen

It was too late to go to the mental health facility where Mary Lee resided. Instead, I bought Dad a six pack and a bucket of fried chicken and used the stack of cash Patrick had taught me to always have stowed in the car for emergencies to rent a room for the night in the seediest motel in town. It was a place that usually rented out by the hour and the greasy desk clerk had trouble calculating the math that would bring check-out time to daylight hours.

While I would have been too skeeved out to stay there, it didn’t seem to bother Dad. He promised he’d hide out there overnight and wait for me to pick him up in the morning.

I’d just left him when my phone rang. I glanced at the number and saw that it was Aunt Susan calling. I let it ring three times before answering with a teasing tone. “Worried I’m going to miss my curfew?”

“I’m concerned that you gave me the slip,” Detective Brian Griswald replied dryly, not sounding the least bit amused.

“I didn’t give you the slip.” Hoping I didn’t sound as flustered as I felt, I looked to God for guidance.

He was curled up in a ball, on top of the dashboard.  “Avoiding drama,” he coached with a yawn.

“I wasn’t avoiding you, Detective. I was just avoiding some of the family drama. Can you blame me?”

“I guess not,” he said slowly.

“It’s a bad habit I picked up as a teenager,” I confided. “Slipping out before anyone can give me a hard time.”

“But you’re safe?” Brian Griswald asked, some of the tension leaving his voice.

“Yeah. I visited Loretta and Templeton in the hospital.” I crossed my fingers as I prepared to lie. “Then I went for a drive to clear my head.”

“You’ll be back soon?”

I glanced at the car’s clock. It was 7:32. I was supposed to be saving Joy by eight. “I was going to run some errands, maybe visit a friend, but if you need me back there…” I trailed off hoping the detective would take pity on me.

“Okay. But you’re not going to break curfew, right?” I could practically hear the smile in his voice.

“Not if I can help it.”

“I’ll see you later then. Just check in when you get back.”

“You’re staying there?”

“All night.”

“You’re a brave man.”

“Not brave enough to go it alone. Mike’s joined me.”

“Great.” I tried to sound enthusiastic despite the fact I wasn’t pleased that the marshal and the detective were staying under the same roof as I was.

“Have fun.” Brian disconnected the call.

Before I could even put my car into gear, my phone buzzed again.

“What?” I asked exasperated, not even bothering to look to see who was calling.

“You’re running out of time, Ms. Lee.” Ms. Whitehat’s voice, chillier than usual, raised goose bumps on the back of my neck. “This is a very time sensitive matter.”

“I know. I know,” I muttered.

“There will be repercussions if you fail.” White hat disconnected the call.

Driving like the hounds of hell were chasing me to get to Joy Gilbert’s before eight, I cruised to a stop across from her address with three minutes to spare, parking in the darkest spot on the street.

“Now what?” I wondered aloud.

“You don’t have a dingbat prediction to help you?” God mocked.

“He sport. Port she. Hop rest. Take your pick. None of them make any sense.”

“Are you really going to see your mother?” the lizard asked, making it clear he couldn’t decipher the psychic clue either.

“I’ve got to. If she’s got that watch…”

“But if they catch you helping your father,” he warned, “who knows what could happen. You could go to jail or lose custody of Katie.”

I frowned, feeling like I was stuck between obligations. Did I do the safe thing so that my relationship with Katie wasn’t endangered? Or did I help Aunt Loretta retain her shop?

“Of course it’s understandable that you wish to assist your father,” the lizard mused aloud.

“No I don’t.”

“You don’t?”

“No.”

“Then why hide him tonight and bring him along tomorrow?”

“I need him to open the box so I can get the dingbat.”

God exhaled loudly, signaling his frustration.

“What?” I asked defensively.

“Do you really believe that you’re incapable of opening a box without him?” The challenge in his tone was unmistakable.

Instead of answering him, I stared harder at the front of Joy Gilbert’s house, hoping my reason for being there would magically manifest itself. The collection of grinning ceramic frogs that lined her front yard didn’t seem to fit her unreadable cop demeanor.

“It’s not about the box,” God pushed.

“No,” I agreed. “It’s not about the box.”

“Then what is it?”

“I don’t want to face her alone.”

“Your mother?”

I nodded. Then realizing he couldn’t see me in the dark, I said gruffly, “Yeah.”

“I thought things were better between the two of you. I thought you’d reached some level of acceptance after she attended Alice’s wedding.”

“We did.” Reaching over, I rummaged in the glove compartment until I found a package of red licorice. “But that was before I knew Darlene could still be alive.”

“So you’re angry at her again.”

“I’m not angry,” I said too quickly. Frustrated, I tore open the package of candy and jammed a sugary treat into my mouth. I chomped on it like a cow chewing its cud on steroids.

“You blame her for being a distraction that day,” God said gently.

“I blame myself for being distracted,” I spat out as years of self-recrimination bubbled to the surface.

“Nobody else blames you.”

I swallowed the sugary candy. “Maybe they should.”

“Maggie, I don’t think—”

“There she is,” I interrupted as Detective Joy Griswald emerged from her house.

It was a dark, moonless night and the lights along the path in front of her house gave her a ghostly pallor.

She peered up the road, as if waiting for someone, before she began to pace with tight, jerky steps.

“Post her,” the lizard said.

“What?”

“The tiles could spell out Post Her.”

“Yeah, sure. That makes as much sense as any of the other options.”

“Or Her Pots.”

“Awesome,” I said sarcastically.

“I’m just trying to help,” the lizard complained haughtily.

That’s when I saw him. The Chinese guy zipping down the street on a skateboard. I had to look at him twice to determine I wasn’t seeing things.

“Lucky.”

“What’s lucky?”

“Who’s Lucky?” I corrected. “You know, the guy from Atlantic City.”

“The one who tried to drown me?” The lizard knew how to hold onto a grudge.

Patrick had asked me to steal something from Lucky O’Hara a few months earlier. I’d pulled off the job, barely. I’d also seen him outside of an illegal poker game not long ago, but he hadn’t seen me.

“He keeps showing up in the weirdest places,” I muttered.

Lucky jumped off his skateboard right in front of Joy Griswald’s house. I watched as the two of them engaged in a conversation where she looked nervous, but he appeared confident.

Joy shook her head. Once. Twice. Three times.

I heard Ms. Whitehat's voice in my head. Save her from making the same bad choices you made.

I knew what happened when a law-abiding citizen entered into an agreement with a criminal. I knew that, even though I actually kind of like the guy, Lucky is a criminal.

“Stop her!” God shouted suddenly, startling me.

“Huh?”

“Stop her. That’s what the letters spell.”

“How is it you figure that crap out, but you can’t win a game of Wheel of Fortune?”

The lizard is a huge fan of Pat and Vanna.

“Stop her,” God insisted. “That has to be the message.”

“Stop her from what? All she’s doing is talking to the guy.”

“All you did was talk to Delveccio and look what happened to you.”

I couldn’t argue with that. One conversation with the mobster had turned me into a killer-for-hire.

I could tell from the change in Joy’s body posture that she was relenting.

I squeezed the steering wheel tightly. “How the hell am I supposed to stop her?”

“Shoot him.”

“Shoot him? Look I know you hold him responsible for you almost drowning in the Atlantic Ocean, but I don’t go around just shooting random people.”

“You have standards,” the lizard mocked.

“Besides,” I admitted, “I don’t have a gun.”

“You have a car. Run him over.”

“He hasn’t done anything to deserve being run over.”

“You don’t know that,” the lizard argued.

“I’m not running him over.”

I watched Joy hang her head in defeat. I could tell it was only a matter of time before she caved in to Lucky’s demand, whatever it was.

“Well pulling a Stop, Drop and Roll isn’t going to cut it,” God said, reminding me of the evasion technique I’d used to escape Delveccio’s son-in-law the first time we’d met.

“Fire. Brilliant.” Leaning over, I ransacked the glove compartment, emerging victorious with one of the burn phones Patrick insisted I keep.

“You’re going to set him on fire?” Even the lizard, who wanted Lucky dead, was appalled by that idea.

“No. I’m going to report a fire.”

“Where?”

“Here.” I turned on the cell phone, but nothing happened.  “Damn. It’s dead.”

“I’m sure the murderous Boy Scout left you a charger.”

I reached back into the glove box and for once was happy that the superior lizard was right about Patrick.

Hands trembling, I plugged in the charger and connected the phone.  “C’mon. C’mon.”

A moment later there was a flicker of light as the phone came to life.

Through the windshield I watched Joy, shoulders slumped, turn and walk back into her house. Lucky, crossing his arms over is chest, tapped his foot impatiently waiting for her to return.

I dialed 9-1-1 and held my breath waiting for an operator to answer.

“9-1-1. What’s your emergency?”

Breathlessly I blurted out, doing my best to sound terrified, “There’s a house on fire at…” I glanced at the house across the street from Joy’s to read its street number. “317 First Street. 317 First Street.”

I disconnected the call just as Joy re-emerged from her house carrying a folder full of papers.

“Too little, too late,” God predicted from his vantage point on the dashboard.

“Crap,” I muttered. “Crap. Crap. Crap.”

“There’s still time to run him over.”

When Lucky reached for the folder Joy held, she hid it behind her back.  My stomach roiled nervously as they argued. When Joy started to hand him the folder, I honked my horn.

Startled, Joy and Lucky turned in the direction of my car. I slid down in my seat, hoping they couldn’t see me in the dark.

“That’s your brilliant solution,” God sniped. “You’re going to blow the horn at them?”

“I had to do something,” I whispered. Then mercifully, I heard the sirens approaching.

Peeking over the steering wheel, I saw that Lucky and Joy heard them too. He jumped back on his skateboard and rolled away, while she scurried back into her house, clutching her folder.

“Jackpot!” I crowed victoriously.

Even God seemed impressed. He lifted a paw to high-five me. “Well done. Now let’s get out of here before you get arrested for making a false 9-1-1 call.”

Feeling extraordinarily proud of myself, I started the car and drove toward home. I’d only driven a few blocks when my cell phone rang. Thinking it was Ms. Whitehat calling to congratulate me on a job well done, I answered without looking at the display. “Hello.”

“You’ve got to get to the hospital,” Leslie said quickly, strain deepening her voice.

My good mood evaporated and was replaced by a sickening sense of dread. “Did something happen to Katie?”

“Not to Katie,” my aunt replied. “To Templeton. Hurry, Maggie.”

Before I could elicit any details from her, she’d hung up.

I rushed to the hospital, wondering what had happened to Loretta’s fiancé. I’d known something was wrong with him when I’d visited earlier, but it sounded like things had gone downhill since.

“You’re not going to do anyone any good if you crash this car,” God opined as the wheels of the car squealed in protest as I took a corner too sharply.

“I’m not going to—”

“You’re driving recklessly. You’re speeding and you blew through that stop sign.”

“What stop sign?”

“The one you didn’t notice because you’re driving so badly.”

Chastised, I slowed down. “Sorry.”

“I know you’re worried about him, but getting into an accident isn’t going to help.”

“I’m worried about Loretta,” I corrected automatically. Then I added, “I should have made her get a doctor to check on him while I was there.”

“So this too is your fault?” God asked gently.

“Maybe.”

“Sometime it’s a wonder you can even function considering how much guilt you drag along.”

I wasn’t in the mood to listen to another of his lectures, so I turned on the radio and cranked it to its loudest setting.

But no matter how loud the music played, it couldn’t drown out the thought that I’d once again let someone down.

Chapter Eighteen

When I got to the hospital, having made God solemnly swear that he’d remain silent, I saw a lot of tear-stained faces, specifically those of the sisters. Loretta, par for the course, or maybe because it was her beloved who was affected, was sobbing hysterically as she cried on her twin’s shoulder. Leslie’s tears were silent but steady as she offered her support. Even Susan wasn’t dry-eyed, but she kept dashing away the waterworks like it was a major annoyance.

Since Susan was in better of control of herself, I decided she’d be the safest to approach.

“What’s going on?” I asked in a hushed voice.

“He’s had a terrible reaction to something he was given. His airway closed and he wasn’t getting enough oxygen. They saved him but”—she jutted her chin in Loretta’s direction—“as you can see, Loretta’s not doing well with it.”

“What about you?” I asked.

“Well I’m annoyed,” she snapped.

I blinked surprised. “Annoyed? At Loretta?”

“Why would I be annoyed with Loretta? For once she’s having a perfectly normal reaction to a situation.”

“But you said you were annoyed.”

“I’m annoyed that I left that insufferable man at the B&B. Who knows what kind of snooping he’ll do.”

“Agent Griswald?”

“No, not him. Robert.”

“Bob?”

She nodded. “The devil himself.”

I fell silent, unsure of what to say next.

“I need you to go there and keep an eye on him.” She snapped her fingers as though that would magically impel me to obey her command.

“But Leslie asked me to come here.”

Susan lifted her chin and spoke with authority. “That’s before I got here. Everything is under control now.”

As though to prove her wrong, one of Loretta’s sobs echoed off the walls.

I was torn between wanting to help Leslie and Loretta and doing as Susan asked.

“Besides,” Susan muttered, “I’m not sure it’s the best idea for your sister to be left alone with that marshal. Who knows what kind of questionable activities she’s indulged in. He might decide to bring her up on charges.”

That made my decision easy. “Okay, I’ll head back to the B&B after I check in with the twins.”

“Now, Margaret,” Susan ordered in a tone that brooked no argument. “Go now.”

Nodding, I waved weakly at my other aunts before heading back to my car. I was halfway across the parking lot when my cell phone vibrated.

Stopping under a streetlight, I stared at the unfamiliar number. I was sure it was Ms. Whitehat. A chill settled between my shoulder blades.

“Hello?”

“You have an interesting way of solving problems, Ms. Lee.”

Unsure of whether she meant that as a compliment or if it was a complaint, I said quickly, “I know it was only a temporary fix.”

“I did tell you that it was a time-sensitive matter.”

“I was there on time,” I said defensively.

“Indeed you were.”

“I’ll go back and figure out a way to get—”

“No need,” Whitehat interrupted coolly.

My stomach flipped nervously. She’d threatened that there would be repercussions.

“The material that was going to be exchanged is now outdated. Detective Gilbert no longer has anything the people pressuring her want. She’s safe for the time-being.”

I let out a relieved sigh. “That’s great.”

“I’ll be in touch to let you know if there’s anything you can do to help your friend Zeke.”

“But—” I started to protest. I’d thought that saving Joy Gilbert was what I had to do to get Zeke out from under her thumb.

“You’re about to have company,” the other woman declared icily before ending the call.

“Maggie?” I turned in the direction of the familiar voice.

Detective Brian Griswald hurried over to me. “How’s your uncle?”

“He’s not my uncle.” Realizing that sounded harsh, I quickly amended the denial with, “Yet. Apparently he had a serious allergic reaction to something.” Another thought occurred to me. “Unless….”

“Unless what?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know. Someone threw that rock this morning. Maybe someone poisoned him?”

With a bemused expression, the detective shook his head. “I know you’ve had a long day, but I think you’re letting your imagination get the best of you.”

“You’re probably right, but is there a way to check?”

“If he’s been poisoned?”

I nodded.

“Blood work.”

“It couldn’t hurt to check, could it?”

He frowned. “Do you know something I don’t?”

I thought about Leroy Braun and then shook my head.

“Because most of the time, people are poisoned by people they know, otherwise it’s too tough to get close enough to them to do it.”

I nodded, knowing from experience, that he was telling the truth. I’d had a hell of a time trying to poison one of Loretta’s ex’s, Jose Garcia, when Delveccio had hired me to off the drug lord. I never had pulled off the hit… not that Delveccio needed to know that. He thought I’d somehow rigged a falling disco ball to do the dirty deed.

“But I’ll have them run the tests anyway,” Brian acquiesced. “With your father on the loose, there is a slight chance this could be the handiwork of a Lubovsky family assassin.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re going back to the B&B to look after your sister?”

I nodded, deciding it was close enough to the truth.

“I think that stripper-EMT guy pretty much has that covered.”

I chuckled. “I’m sure he does, but Aunt Susan asked, and when she wants something, it’s better to just do what she says.”

“So I’ve noticed.”

“I’m sorry. I know she can be overbearing.”

He waved off my apology. “She loves her family and wants what’s best for them. Nothing wrong with that.”

“You’re going to stay here and keep an eye on them?”

He nodded.

“Thank you.”

“It’s what I get paid the big bucks to do.”

“Somehow I doubt that.”

He tilted his head to the side and looked at me carefully. “This case means everything to my family, Maggie. So if you know something or know where your father is….”

I shook my head.

“Okay, drive safe. And if Mike falls asleep on the job, feel free to throw a glass of water in his face or something.”

“Will do,” I pledged, even though I had no intention of keeping the promise.

I’ve got to give God credit, he held his tongue until we were back in the car and I’d plucked him from my bra, and placed him carefully on the dashboard.

“I thought you were going to see the redheaded stud muffin.”

“Why’d you think that?”

“Because when you have a problem, that’s what you do. You go to him, he says he can’t help you, and then the next day he gallops up on his white steed to save the day.”

I thought I detected a note of jealously in the little guy’s voice.

“Funny,” I teased. “I don’t recall seeing him on horseback.”

He flicked his tail, indicating he wasn’t amused by my joke.

“You think that instead of going to him, I should ask you for help?”

“I think,” he muttered, “that you’re perfectly capable of saving yourself and your default reaction is to turn to him.”

“Fair enough.” I put the car into drive. “But just for the record, I never said I was planning to go see him.”

“But you were thinking it.”

He was right of course. It had occurred to me that if anyone could figure out how to sneak my father into the nuthouse so that he could visit my mother, it would be the sexy redhead. I didn’t tell the lizard that of course. Instead, I said, “The Griswalds are up to something.”

“You’re just figuring that out?”

I squeezed the steering wheel as I fought the urge to throttle him.  “First the older generation practically moved in when Dad escaped from prison and now the younger ones are staking out the B&B even though they can’t really believe he’d be stupid enough to go back there. This has got to have to do with something bigger than my father.”

“Agreed.”

“But what?”

“Maybe they know about your extracurricular activities,” God suggested mildly.

My heart skipped a beat or two and I almost drove off the road.

“No crashing the automobile!” God shrieked. He really did squeak with that one.

I got the car back on track. “You really think they’re after me?”

“If I say maybe are you going to drive into oncoming traffic?”

“Of course not.”

“Fine. Maybe.”

I gulped.

“Not that you’re worth going after,” the lizard explained quickly. “But Delveccio would be, and if they could get you to roll on him...”

“Roll on him? You’ve been watching too many of those crime shows,” I mocked.

“Do you have a better explanation?”

I shook my head. “You really don’t think they’re on to me, do you?”

“I don’t know, but their presence bothers me.”

“Me too.” Despite the fact I sometimes think I’m a pretty terrible person for the things I’ve done, I really don’t want to go to prison.

“You could tell them where your father is. It might get them off your back.”

For the briefest moment, I considered the option, but then I dismissed it. Archie Lee was never going to win Father of the Year, but he was still my dad.  “Can’t do that.”

“Then you’d better become accustomed to cozying up to the Griswalds. They’re certainly going to put a damper on things.”

We rode the rest of the way back to the B&B in silence.  I don’t know what the lizard ruminated about, but I was thinking I was pretty screwed.

When we got there, Marlene and Ben Atwood were sitting on the front porch, deep in conversation. They stopped talking when I got out of the car, letting God ride on my shoulder.

“How’s Templeton?” Marlene asked.

“It sounds like it was an allergic reaction to something.”

She jerked her thumb in the direction of the entrance. “Your guy’s in there waiting for you.”

My heart did a little somersault of joy. Even if we couldn’t speak freely because of Griswald’s presence, just seeing Patrick would make me feel better. A silly smile spread across my face.

Spotting the grin, Marlene observed me speculatively.

Not wanting her to realize the depth of my attraction to Patrick, I bestowed the smile on Ben. “I don’t think I ever thanked you before for saving me from choking.”

“Glad I could be of help,” he replied easily.  “You are officially the first life I’ve saved.”

“I’m honored.”

The look Marlene shot me signaled she didn’t appreciate me monopolizing Ben’s attention.

“It’s good to see you.” As I headed toward the back of the house, I heard them resume their murmuring.

I slipped back into the basement the same way I’d gotten out earlier, through the basement’s storm doors.

“Gotta! Gotta!” DeeDee barked as a greeting.

“You always do.” I looked around and saw that Piss was now curled up in a ball on a couch cushion. “How are you feeling, sweetheart?”

She looked at me through her good eye. “Like I could use another dose of drugs.”

“Have you eaten anything?”

“Hungry!” DeeDee interjected on an excited bark. “Hungry! Hungry!”

“Mr. Smooth fed me. Both of us,” she hissed.

“Mr. Smooth?”

“Zeke,” the dog and lizard answered simultaneously.

“Zeke?” I repeated.

“Yeah?” the man himself replied from the top of the basement stairs.

“Holy crap,” I gasped, pressing my palm to my chest. “You scared me half to death.”

“Sorry.” He walked down the steps carefully. “I heard the dog barking and was worried something was wrong.”

I shot the dog a dirty look. She hung her head guiltily.

“I didn’t know you’d gotten back,” Zeke said.

“You do now,” I sniped, realizing that the “my guy” Marlene had mentioned wasn’t Patrick, but Zeke.

I tried to fight back the wave of disappointment, but realized I was scowling.

Zeke raised his hands in surrender. “I come in peace.”

I forced the scowl into the semblance of a smile. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to take it out on you.”

Reaching over to brush a stray wisp of hair off my cheek, Zeke flashed me his most charming grin.

I tried to smile back, but I was distracted by the sensations sparking throughout my body.

Leaning closer he whispered, “No harm done.”

His breath tickled my cheek and then his lips nibbled the corner of my mouth.

I turned my head so that his mouth ended up against my cheek. “I can’t,” I gasped. “We’ve talked about this. We’re not good together.”

“Oh we’re great together,” he murmured, settling his hands on my hips. “It’s just our timing that sucks.”

“Gotta,” the dog reminded me softly.

Grateful for the distraction, I stepped away from Zeke and pointed at the mutt. “I was going to let her out.”

“Okay. I fed her earlier… and the cat.” The hint of laughter in his voice told me that he wasn’t going to hold my jumpiness against me. “Susan showed me where their food was before she went to the hospital. How’s Templeton feeling?”

“It was an allergic reaction.” I peered at him closely. The cut above his eye had scabbed over, but the circles under his eyes were still pronounced. “More importantly, how are you doing?”

“Better. The sleep helped.” He shrugged sheepishly. “Sorry about that.”

“You needed it.”

“Gotta,” DeeDee whined insistently.

“Let me put her out.” I let the dog out the cellar storm door so that she could run free in the backyard before asking Zeke. “So what are you still doing here?”

“I was waiting for you to get back to see if you needed anything. I know you’ve had a heck of a day.”

“You have no idea.” Considering I was going to try to find the dingbat the next day, I was expecting a repeat of the day’s insanity.

“Can I help?”

I shook my head.

“Ask him,” God urged.

Zeke focused on the squeaking lizard perched on my shoulder.

“He’s a sneaky one. Ask him about sneaking your father in to see your mother.”

“What’s got him so riled up?” Zeke asked.

“It’s been a long day for him too,” I murmured, considering God’s suggestion as I ushered the dog back inside with a sharp whistle.  “Are you good at what you do?”

He arched an eyebrow quizzically.

“That stuff we don’t talk about. Are you good at it?”

He nodded.

“You should have this conversation in the bathroom, with the shower running,” God urged. “You don’t want the Fed to overhear you.”

Zeke stared at the lizard. “I don’t think he likes me much.”

“Like I,” DeeDee told him.

Even though he couldn’t understand her words, when she licked his hand, he smiled and said, “You like me, don’t you?”

“You like.” She licked him again.

“Thanks, darling.” He patted her head.

“C’mere,” I said, motioning for him to follow me. On the way, I dropped God into his enclosure.  Grabbing Zeke’s hand, I pulled him into the bathroom. “Close the door.”

He complied, despite looking confused.

I turned on the shower and flipped on the overhead fan for good measure.

Zeke eyed me nervously, none too pleased to be stuck with a potentially insane woman in such tight quarters.

I sat on the closed toilet in the hopes of alleviating some of his tension. “I need to keep this conversation just between us.”

He paled slightly, but nodded.

“Are you sure you can handle that?”

“I’m sure.”

I took a deep breath and carefully phrased my request. “Hypothetically, if someone wanted to sneak someone into a mental facility, how could they do it?”

“That’s it? That’s what this is about?”

I pitched my voice so that it was just louder than the roar of water. “It’s important.”

Zeke let out a relieved sigh and leaned against the sink.

I wondered what awful thing he’d imagined I was about to confide. “Zeke, I—”

“Service.”

“Service?”

“Electric. Plumbing. Cable. Any of those would work.”

“Really?” I asked dubiously.

“Plumbing would be the best bet. For one thing, people, even burly security guards freak out a bit if you mention a human waste emergency. For another, it lends itself to a great disguise.”

“Because everyone’s staring at the person’s butt crack?” I joked.

“Spread some fecal matter on the uniform and no one is looking at the person’s face. Plus, you could always wear one of those respirator mask thingees.” He flashed a self-satisfied smile. “What do you think? Will it do the trick?”

I nodded slowly. “It just might.”

“Of course, say, if the person bears an uncanny resemblance to Santa Claus, it would probably make sense to wear a beat-up baseball cap.” He watched me carefully as he spoke, making it clear he knew I was asking for my father.

I met his gaze steadily. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“And if the person resembles the Easter Bunny, you’d be better off going as TV repairman.”

“Why’s that?”

“How else could you explain the bunny ears.” He winked.

I groaned aloud.

He laughed, the sound bouncing off the tile of the small room like a pinball.

“Danger!” DeeDee barked from the other side of the door. “Coming man.”

Jumping to my feet, I slapped a hand over Zeke’s mouth to silence him. His eyes widened, but he took the hint and quieted.

“Miss Lee? Are you down here?” Marshal Griswald called.

Seeing the panic in my eyes, Zeke leaned close and whispered in my ear, “Close your eyes.”

“Why?”

“Just do it.”

Remembering that he’d never given me a reason to distrust him, I did as he asked.

Then his mouth was on mine, warm and demanding. Before I knew what was happening, his tongue tangoed with mine as he pulled me hard against him, despite my pressing against his chest with both hands. My heart might belong to Patrick, but Zeke is a damn good kisser and my body responded accordingly.

And then we were falling.

Literally.

We fell through the bathroom door, into the basement. Me on top, him on the bottom, taking the brunt of the punishing landing. He turned his head at the last possible instant, so instead of our teeth clattering against each other, my mouth bounced against jawbone.

“Ow,” we cried simultaneously.

I rolled off of him and when I looked up, I spotted Marshal Mike Griswald staring at us with a bemused expression.

“Let me guess,” the marshal said dryly. “This isn’t what it looks like.”

“It’s not,” I assured him.

Luckily he didn’t appear convinced.

Zeke rolled over and slowly got to his feet. “I guess we’re not taking that shower after all.” He nonchalantly strolled back into the bathroom to turn the running water off.

“Sorry,” Mike murmured.

“Did you want something?” I did my best to sound huffy and not guilty.

“I wanted to let you know I just talked to Brian and he said that your uncle is out of the woods.”

“He’s not my uncle.”

“Maggie hates weddings.” Zeke emerged from the bathroom. “And she hates Loretta’s weddings most of all.”

“She’s been married a lot?”

I scowled. “More times than should be legal.” Realizing that I shouldn’t plant the notion of illegal activity in the marshal’s head, I added hurriedly, “But she believes in true love and that it’s out there for everyone to find.”

The marshal rolled his eyes and then yawned.

I was pretty sure that was unprofessional behavior, but it made him seem like less of a threat. “I take it you haven’t found your true love?”

“Sure I have. I love my job.”

“Why?” I genuinely wanted to know. To me, a job in law enforcement seemed about as appealing as cleaning out septic tanks.

“Because sometimes the good guys need a hand in order to win.”

I nodded. That made sense to me. In some ways it wasn’t far off the logic I used to convince myself that killing people for money was the right thing to do.

That thought made me think I belonged in a mental institution.

Luckily I was going to one the next morning.

Chapter Nineteen

I left the B&B at the crack of dawn. I’d heard Loretta, Leslie, and Susan return after two in the morning, but hadn’t left the basement. I figured that if something life-changing had occurred, they’d come downstairs to tell me. Besides, I didn’t want to disturb Piss more than necessary.

Even though she was stoned on painkillers, she cried in her sleep.  While I hadn’t  been able to offer her much comfort despite my best efforts, DeeDee had taken it upon herself to soothe the injured cat. Wrapping her much longer frame around the kitty, she’d hummed Ice, Ice Baby, which strangely seemed to ease the cat’s agitation.

I woke before my alarm the next morning, I fed the dog and collected her poop, fed and drugged the cat, and was bullied by the lizard before the sun even rose.

I had planned on leaving the little guy at home, but he wouldn’t hear of it. “You don’t really think you can pull this off alone, do you?”

I didn’t think I’d be able to pull it off with or without his “help,” but I decided his companionship might save my sanity, so I scooped him up and brought him along.

My first hurdle of the day was figuring out where to get the plumber’s uniform disguise Zeke had suggested. Since the only place I could think of was the local costume shop and that didn’t open until ten, I decided to swing by Patrick’s place to see if he was there.

Climbing into my car in the dark, I almost hurt myself as I half-fell into the vehicle.

“Sensitive skin!” God shrieked. “Watch where you’re going, you clumsy oaf.”

Righting myself, I felt around on the floor by the brake and accelerator to figure out what had tripped me up. Hauling a crinkling brown paper onto my lap, I fumbled for the overhead light to see its contents.

I pulled out a plumber’s uniform size extra-large.

God let out a low whistle. “Mr. Smooth came through.”

“He certainly did.” I reached into the bag and pulled out a respirator and a clipboard complete with a fake work order.

“See? You don’t need the dirty cop.”

“Just because he doesn’t feed you is no reason to badmouth him at every turn,” I scolded, putting everything back in the bag and tossing it onto the seat beside me.

Considering all that was going on, I was surprised and disappointed that Patrick hadn’t called, but since I was practically being shadowed by a US Marshal and a police detective, I couldn’t really blame him.

God, on the other hand, was alarmed by Patrick’s absence from our lives. “It’s not like him to not check in.”

“He did bring the medication for Piss,” I reminded him as I drove across town toward the redhead’s place.

“And left a cryptic “INFO” note that he didn’t follow up on.”

“I’d forgotten about that.” I squeezed the steering wheel, frustrated with myself for letting something like that slip my mind.

“And that,” the lizard declared snootily, “is why I had to come along.”

I parked four blocks away from Patrick’s place, placed the know-it-all in my bra, and took off at a brisk walk, though I did stop long enough to buy a couple of coffees and a  bag of donuts at a little bakery.

“What makes you think he’s going to eat that junk?” the lizard asked, wrinkling his nose in disgust at the baked delicacies.

“If he doesn’t eat them, I will.”

“Then you’ll feel sick,” he warned, knowing too well my tendency to binge on junk food when stressed, only to regret it.

I waved at the security camera at Patrick’s place before knocking on the door. When he didn’t answer, I left a coffee and the bag of donuts (okay, I snagged a cruller for myself; girl has to eat) on his doorstep.

“Great,” God muttered, “now you’re feeding the rats on top of everything else.”

I didn’t reply since I had a mouthful of fat-filled sugary goodness.

We drove over to the motel where I’d left my father the night before. I parked in the lot and stared at the room I’d rented for him.

“Do you expect him to psychically know you’re here? You could honk the horn,” God said.

“I’m wondering if this is a good idea,” I confessed.

“Which part? The part where you help a man on the run from every law enforcement agency in the state? Or the part where you try to bail Loretta out of trouble based on Armani’s dingbat prediction?”

“I thought you were here to lend moral support.”

“I’m here to help you. I never said I approved of this plan.”

I stared at the lizard curled up on top of my dashboard. His gaze was steady. Of course it would have to be since he doesn’t have any eyelids.

“So you think this is a bad idea?”

“I think most of what you do is a bad idea,” the lizard agreed. “Don’t you?”

Grudgingly, I nodded. “Lately? Yeah.”

He licked his eyeball, his version of blinking. “You’re doing the best you can in an impossible situation.”

Instead of replying, I swallowed the last of my coffee. I rested my hand on the gear shift, tempted to abandon the foolish plan and drive away. “I can’t do this. It’s not going to work.”

“You’ve accomplished other things you thought you couldn’t do.”

Closing my eyes, I slammed my head against the seat’s headrest. “You make it sound like that’s a good thing, but the things I’ve done…” I trailed off, guilt, like bile, rising in my throat, burning, threatening to choke me. “I lie to everyone I know. I count criminals as my closest allies. I’ve killed people.” Hot tears stung my eyes.  “I’m a horrible person.”

Leaning forward, I crossed my forearms over the steering wheel, rested my forehead on them and cried. I cried, and wailed, and sobbed.

And God stayed silent.

At some point I wondered if he was judging me, but when I looked up, he was nowhere to be seen. Feeling more alone than ever, I cried harder.

Finally, when I physically couldn’t shed another tear, I lifted my head.

“You take care of those you love.” Perched on the dashboard, God spoke softly, as though he was afraid that by commenting, he might set off another waterworks session.

Sniffling, I nodded my agreement. “I try.”

“So are you going to try this wacky plan?”

I shrugged, spotting him back in his usual spot on the dashboard.

“If you don’t, you know your father will probably get caught sneaking in to see your mother and that Loretta will lose her shop. You know that, don’t you?”

I sighed. “I know.”

“So what are you waiting for? Go get ’em, champ.” He reared up on his back legs and did his best Rocky-inspired victory dance.

Chuckling, I climbed out of the car, walked up to the door of Dad’s room and knocked.  Looking back at my car, I couldn’t help but grin as I saw the lizard shadowboxing.

My amusement dissipated when I didn’t hear any noise in the room and my father didn’t answer.

I knocked again. Louder. More insistent.

My stomach fluttered nervously. Balling my hands into fists, I fought the wave of anxiety engulfing me. “He wouldn’t do this,” I whispered to myself. “He told me he’d wait. He promised. He wouldn’t break his promise.”

I pounded on the door with all my might, panicked, because Dad had broken his promise before.

“Shut up!” Someone from another room yelled.

“Sleepin’ here,” someone else shouted.

I looked back at the car. God wasn’t visible.

If I’d had any more tears left, I would have shed them, not only because I was frustrated and disappointed, but for all the other times Dad had let me down.

Hanging my head, I shuffled back to the car, knowing it was only a matter of time until he got himself caught. “It’s not my problem,” I muttered. “Everyone else is not my problem.” I reached for the car door.

“Where you goin’, Maggie May?”

I turned slowly, convinced my mind was playing tricks on me.

There Dad stood, less than ten yards away.

He hadn’t lied to me. He’d done what he’d promised.

The relief was so strong, I sagged back against the car, grateful for its support.

“I got you breakfast.” Oblivious to my reaction to his arrival, Dad held up a greasy paper bag and a cardboard tray that held two Styrofoam cups. “And coffee.”

Jovially unaware that I’d just been thinking the worst of him, Dad climbed into the passenger seat of the car. “Let’s eat while it’s hot.”

Slowly, trying to regain some control over my ricocheting emotions, I slid behind the steering wheel, forcing myself to take some deep, steadying breaths.

“I got your favorite.” Dad placed the coffee in the car’s cup holders and handed me a pile of napkins.

“Great.” Chances were, he hadn’t gotten my favorite; he always got the preferences of the Lee sisters mixed up, but I was grateful for him thinking he’d gotten something I’d enjoy.

He handed me a foil wrapped sandwich, which smelled heavenly.

“Thanks, Dad.” Impulsively I leaned over and pressed a kiss to his cheek. His beard tickled my chin. I wasn’t thanking him for the food. I was thanking him for not taking off.

“You’re welcome, sweetheart. It’s Taylor ham, egg, and cheese on a roll. That’s right, isn’t it?”

I was so grateful for his effort I would have agreed, even if he’d told me that it was liverwurst and grape jelly, but the fact that he’d actually remembered, and gotten my favorite, left me dumbfounded.

He frowned. “Did I get it wrong?”

“No, no,” I spluttered. “It’s right. It’s perfect.”

He beamed. “Eat up and then you can tell me if you’ve figured out a way for me to see my Mary.”

“I have,” I said, but it came out a garbled mess because I’d taken a big bite out of the sandwich.

“You shouldn’t talk with your mouth full,” God lectured, repeating something I’d told him plenty of times.

I chewed, swallowed, and took a swig of coffee. “I have, but it’s a crappy plan.”

God groaned at my bad joke.

I grinned.

Chapter Twenty

As plans go, Zeke’s worked flawlessly. Dad put on the plumber’s uniform, smeared himself with DeeDee’s poop that I’d collected, covered his face with the respirator, waved the official clipboard and was waved right in.

I, on the other hand, had to go through the usual official rigmarole to see my own mother, which meant that my father got to her room at least fifteen minutes before I did.

I paused outside the room and knocked timidly.

“Put a little elbow grease into it,” God urged from his hiding spot in my bosom.

I knocked louder, but there was no response.

“Just let yourself in,” the lizard said impatiently.

“They could be… you know,” I whispered.

“They could be what?” he asked, and then apparently realized the answer. “You humans are so prudish about sex.”

I tried to decide if it would be worse to walk in on my parents doing the deed or listen to a lecture from the snotty reptile on the subject.

“After all, your species, most species, wouldn’t exist if they didn’t get down and do the nasty,” the lizard opined, making up my mind for me.

Holding my breath and squeezing my eyes shut, since I couldn’t close my ears, I yanked open the door to my mother’s room and jumped inside, closing the door behind me.

I stood there, seeing shooting stars on the backs of my eyelinds from having scrunched my eyes so tightly, unsure of what to do.

“You okay, Maggie May?” Dad asked.

I risked opening just one eye.

He and Mom were holding each other, but they were upright and fully clothed.

I exhaled and opened my other eye. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Just absurdly childish,” God whispered.

Grateful for his discretion, since neither of my parents stared at my chest, I didn’t argue with him.

“You look beautiful.” Mom practically floated across the room toward me. The years haven’t dimmed her beauty and, on her good days, she seems to be buoyed by an ethereal grace that made her glow.

This was a good day.

A painful lump rose in my throat as I wished she could be like this all the time. As she hugged me tightly, I blinked rapidly to dispel the tears that threatened to tarnish the moment.

“The stench,” God gasped.

I wrinkled my nose as a whiff of dog waste hit me. “You’re gorgeous, Mom.”

Hearing the strain in my voice, she leaned back so that she could get a better look at me. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah, Mom. I’m good.” I bit back a hysterical chuckle. Because she’d hugged Dad, she now had dog poop stains on her clothes, which no doubt meant that I did too since she’d hugged me.

“Your father tells me you’re looking for something.”

I nodded. I was looking for a lot of things. Help. Security. Inner Peace.  “Something that belonged to Loretta.”

“I have it.” Her eyes danced with mischief. “But you have to tell me why you need it.”

“There may be a piece of paper inside. Without that paper, Loretta will lose her shop.”

Mom looked more horrified than I felt. “Why didn’t anyone tell me?”

“I think she’s trying to keep it a secret.” I winced realizing I’d just violated Aunt Loretta’s confidence.

“We have to do something.”

“We need the watch, darling,” Dad prompted.

“Of course. Of course.” She fluttered her hands nervously. “Where is it?”

My heart dropped to the pit of my stomach. This had all been for nothing. She didn’t have it. I had no idea how to find the paper.

“It’s in your treasure chest,” Dad told her gently.

“Oh. Wonderful.” She bestowed a beneficent smile on him.

He beamed back, obviously still besotted after all these years.

In that moment I wondered whether Aunt Loretta’s never-ending quest to find true love was fueled by the knowledge that her sister had it.

“Bottom drawer.” Mom interrupted my thoughts, pointing to the bottom drawer of her dresser.

Dad pulled out a locked strong box and put it on top of the unmade bed.

Mom bit her lower lip worriedly. “I don’t have the key.”

“Never fear,” Dad said with a twinkle in his eye.

I suppressed the urge to groan, knowing he’d say he could pick the lock.

“You’re always close to my heart, my Mary.” He pulled at a chain that hung around his neck and out popped a key.

Mom clapped her delight.

I did my best to ignore the pang of guilt I felt for assuming he’d unlock her treasures using criminal means.

Dad unlocked the box, but left it to Mom to raise the lid.

She did so with trembling hands. “So much beauty.”

She lifted a yellowed photograph from the box and smiled at it. “So much beauty.” A tear slid down her cheek. Her lips began to quiver.

“There, there,” Dad soothed, moving to wrap an arm around her shaking shoulders.

I desperately wanted to know what she saw in the picture, but didn’t dare move for fear of upsetting her.

Dad plucked the photograph from her fingers and put it, facedown on the bed. “Remember, we’re trying to help Loretta.”

Together they rummaged through the contents of the box.

Feeling like I’d be intruding if I offered to help, I stayed where I was.

God scrambled out of my bra and onto my shoulder to whisper in my ear, “What’s so beautiful?”

I shrugged.

He skittered around the back of my neck, sending shivers down my spine. He whispered in my other ear, “You reek of dog shit.”

I clapped a hand over my mouth to keep from giggling hysterically. I didn’t want to distract my parents from their task. For one thing, I really needed them to find the dingbat. For another, it was nice to see them working side-by-side. It reminded me of happier times when Mom hadn’t lost her grip on reality, and Dad wasn’t embroiled in one of his hare-brained criminal schemes.

They systematically emptied the contents of the box onto the bed, a combination of photographs, feathers, coins, movie ticket stubs, and jewelry.

Then, Dad popped out the false bottom, using a bent paper clip that he’d brought just for that purpose.

Mom pulled out an ornate pocket watch and turned toward me.

Realizing it probably wouldn’t be a good idea for the woman in a mental institution to spot a lizard on her daughter’s shoulder, God dove down the back of my shirt.

I shivered as I felt him scrabbling to hold onto my bra hooks.

“Here you go.” Mom held out the watch to me, dangling it from its chain.

I took it gingerly, unsure of whether or not it held the key to Loretta’s future.

“Push the button at the top,” Dad suggested.

Holding my breath, I pressed. My heart stuttered as it sprang open and a piece of folded, aged paper fell out and drifted to the floor.

I picked it up carefully and unfolded it. Skimming it quickly, I realized it was just what I was looking for.

I grinned.

“That’s it?” Mom asked.

“This is it.” Impulsively I threw my arms around her, dog excrement and all.  “Thank you.”

“And now we’ve got to go, my dear.” Taking the watch from me, he replaced it in the box, put the false bottom in place, and quickly refilled the empty space with Mom’s treasures.

He moved too quickly for me to see the picture that had made Mom cry.

“I’ll see you soon?” Mom asked tremulously.

“Absolutely,” Dad and I lied simultaneously.

I felt bad for lying to her, but I suspected the truth would have hurt her.

She smiled, pressed a kiss to my cheek and her lips to Dad’s lips and then waved good-bye.

Dad and I left her room, closing the door behind us.

“Where to, Maggie May?”

“You have got to turn yourself in now.” I steeled myself for whatever argument he was going to throw my way.

“I will, sweetheart, but first—”

“No buts, Dad.”

The moment we were back in the car, Dad said, “We need to make one quick stop.”

I tightened my grip on the steering wheel. “No.”

“Please, Maggie May. It’s important. I want to show you something.”

I glanced sideways at him. He seemed sincere.

“Don’t trust him,” God opined from the depths of my bra.

“I promised I’d get you into see Mom and I did. Now I need you to keep your promise to me. I need you to turn yourself back into the Marshal Service.”

“I will, sweetheart. I want to say good-bye to your sisters. Can we stop at the cemetery?”

“They’re dead, Dad. They’re not going to know if you stop by.”

Dad’s sharp indrawn breath was the only audible sound in the car.

We rode along in uncomfortable silence. Guilt ate away at me with every rotation of the tires.

Finally God murmured softly, “That was a tad harsh.”

Wordlessly, I turned the car in the direction of the cemetery. I hadn’t been there since Theresa’s funeral, but I knew the way by heart. I’d made the trip enough times after Darlene died.

“Why did you call Armani and what are you forgiving me for?”

“I wanted you to know that I forgive you for thinking the worst of me.”

I frowned. “It’s not like you gave me much choice. You’re not exactly Father of the Year material.”

“That doesn’t mean I don’t love you,” he chided softly.

A painful lump rose in my throat. I wanted to believe him, but part of me thought he was just pulling another con and I was his mark.

“Thank you, sweetheart,” Dad said as I pulled through the cemetery gates.

I didn’t answer, instead focusing on the narrow rode that wound through the rows of headstones.  When I got to the row where the family plot is located, I pulled to the side and parked.

Dad got out and looked at me expectantly.

I stubbornly stayed behind the wheel.

“C’mon,” he cajoled. “I want you to see something.”

I shook my head.

Shrugging, he walked away.

“If you leave him alone out there, he could make a run for it,” God warned.

I watched my father’s retreating figure. “Maybe that isn’t the worst thing that could happen.”

“You’re a paid hitwoman who is living in a home crawling with law enforcement officers,” the lizard reminded me.  “It’s only a matter of time until one of them stumbles on your secret. You need to get rid of them as soon as possible.”

“So I trade my freedom for his?” I asked.

“What will happen to Katie if you end up in the big house?” God countered.

Sighing heavily, I grudgingly climbed from the car and trotted after my father. “Wait up.”

“Less bouncing, please,” God hissed.

I slowed down before I bruised his delicate skin.

Dad beamed as he turned around. “ Look,” he said, pointing at a group of trees that provided shade among the graves.

“At the trees?”

“Yes. Aren’t they beautiful?”

To me they looked like normal trees, but to humor him, I nodded.

“Mary and I planted them.”

“You did?” I didn’t know people were allowed to plant things in cemeteries.

“We planted one for each of you kids.”

I looked at the trees again, more closely this time. “One for each of us?”

“Yes.” He sounded so damn proud of himself. “It was your mother’s idea.”

It would have been sweet and touching, but I’d counted the trees. “There are five of them,” I pointed out dryly. I only had three sisters, Theresa, Marlene and Darlene. The math didn’t add up.

“We planted the saplings after the twins were born,” Dad continued, ignoring my observation.  “She wanted all of you to grow up to be like the trees, tall and strong.”

A painful lump rose in my throat. No parent dreams of his or her child being cut down in the prime of life. No sibling expects to lose those closest to her.

“And look at you.” Dad swept his gaze over me. “You did it, Maggie May.”

I shook my head and looked down as tears welled. I tried to blink them away, but they coursed down my cheeks.

“You’re so much better than I ever was at taking care of our family.” His tone dripped with self-recrimination.

Looking up, I saw that he, too, was crying and I saw him in a different light. I understood that every desperate scheme, every bad choice, every law he’d broken had been in the interest of doing what he thought was best for our family.

I finally understood him because I did the same thing.

“Your mother is better off without me. I saw that today. And you’re taking care of Marlene and Katie, and even though I know it must be hard, you make it look easy.”

I shook my head, silently protesting his praise.

He cleared his throat. “I’m going to go into Witness Protection and I’ll never be back. I was never cut out to lead this family, but you are. I’m proud of you.”

“I’m not, Dad.” I gasped, wanting desperately to confess my sins. If he knew the things I’d done in the name of protecting and providing for my family, he’d be ashamed or revolted by me.

“Don’t sell yourself short. You’re extraordinary.” He pulled me into a hug, which would have been nice if not for all of the dog feces.

I still sobbed into his shoulder and he cried into mine.

And the lizard stayed blessedly silent.

Chapter Twenty-One

When I pulled into the driveway of the B&B, I woke up Marshal Griswald who had dragged one of the lawn chairs into the sun and fallen asleep with DeeDee curled at his feet.

Startled by the car’s arrival, the Marshal jumped up.

DeeDee stretched languorously, but didn’t bother to stand. “Maggie, hi.”

I waved a greeting at the dog.

The marshal scowled.

“I brought you something,” I told him as I got out of the car.

“Coffee?” he asked hopefully.

I shook my head.

He looked disappointed.

“Cheer up, buttercup,” I said with a smile, using one of my mother’s favorite phrases.

Dad got out of the passenger side. “I hear you’re looking for me?”

The marshal gaped, then realizing his mouth was hanging open, he snapped it closed.

“Father?” DeeDee whined quizzically, tilting her head to the side to get a better look at him.

“Marshal Mike Griswald, have you met Archie Lee?” I asked.

“You said you didn’t know where he was,” the marshal said through gritted teeth.

“I didn’t,” I lied smoothly. “I was on my way home and spotted him.”

“I was on my way here to turn myself in,” Dad said.

Mike cocked an eyebrow. “You were going to turn yourself in at a Bed & Breakfast?”

Dad shrugged. “Sure. Figured there’d probably be someone here waiting for me. And see? I was right.”

“Hey, Mr. Lee,” Zeke called rounding the corner. “Good to see you.”

Dad waved. “Staying out of trouble, Zeke?”

“I’m trying.” Zeke shot me a worried look and then jerked his head backward indicating he wanted to talk to me.

Dad lumbered over and gave me a tight hug. He whispered in my ear, “Thank you, Maggie May. You made this old man very happy.”

I tried to blink away my tears, but a few fell to my cheeks. “Thank you, Dad. I couldn’t have done this without you.”

Marshal Griswald cleared his throat. “I’m sorry to break this up, but we really have to get going.”

Dad released me and turned to Mike. “Let’s go before Marlene spots me and gets all upset again. Maggie’s a tough one. She can handle good-byes, but not Marlene.”

Zeke walked over and threw an arm around my shoulders, offering me his silent support.  A gesture I appreciated since I’m not as tough as my father thinks I am.

We watched Dad and Mike climb into the marshal’s sedan and drive away.

“Gone good for?” DeeDee panted, moseying over to lick my hand.

Absent-mindedly I stroked the top of her head.

“You okay, Maggie?” Zeke asked squeezing my shoulders.

“Let me guess,” I muttered. “You need to tell me that there’s something else that’s gone wrong?”

“It’s Susan.”

“Susan?” my voice cracked, signaling my alarm. Susan is the steady one. She’s not allowed to have problems.

“She’s wearing the same clothes.”

Pulling free of his embrace, I faced him to see whether he was teasing me. The set of his jaw was serious.

“What do you mean she’s wearing the same clothes?”

“The same as she wore yesterday. That’s got to mean there’s something wrong, doesn’t it?”

I nodded slowly. “I’ll go talk to her.” I headed toward the B&B.

He caught my wrist, stopping me in my tracks. My stomach fluttered at his touch.

“Change your clothes first,” he murmured.

“Why?”

“Because you smell like a rotting corpse,” God thundered.

“Because you smell like you rolled in the backyard with DeeDee. Also, I’d leave the lizard in the basement.”

I nodded, both were good suggestions.

“I take it, it worked?” Zeke asked.

“Oh gosh, yes,” I gushed apologetically. “I’m sorry. Yes. It was flawless. Thank you. For everything.” I pressed a quick kiss to his cheek.

He looked down at his fingers still wrapped loosely around my wrist. “I’d do pretty much anything for you. You know that, don’t you, Maggie?”

My heart hammered.

“We’re complicated,” he murmured, looking me in the eye. “But that doesn’t mean we’ll never work, does it?”

Since he didn’t know I was hung up on Patrick or that I’m a hired killer, he had no idea how complicated we were.

“I don’t know,” I answered honestly.

“That’s my girl,” he said with a laugh. “Telling it like it is. I’ll see you around.” He stole a quick kiss, leaving my lips tingling from his touch.

“But I haven’t had a chance—” I began.

He pressed a finger against my mouth to silence me.

“I should have never asked. Don’t worry about it, Maggie. You’ve got enough to deal with.”

“Actually,” I said with a weak grin, “things are looking up. Dad’s back in custody, I’ve found the solution to Loretta’s problem, and Marlene’s pimp is in jail.”

He shook his head. “Not so much on the third one.”

“Really?” My stomach flip-flopped nervously. “Wally’s on the loose?”

He tilted his head to the side and spoke slowly, choosing his words carefully. “He made bail and was released.”

I frowned. “That’s not good.”

“He was hit by a bus.”

“What?”

“He was literally hit by a bus.” Zeke’s tone wavered between bemusement and horror. “Someone pushed him in front of it.”

“Oh.” Suddenly I was pretty sure I knew what the job Delveccio hadn’t wanted to tell me about had been.  “So we’ll put that in the plus column?” I asked uncertainly.

“Yeah. You should also know that the fake cop hasn’t left Marlene’s side and Detective Griswald said he was going to ask patrol cars to keep an eye on the place.”

“He’s probably afraid Dad’s going to take off again.”

Zeke chuckled. “I don’t think so. I think someone’s in love.”

“Griswald? With Marlene?”

“With Susan.”

I cupped my ear. “Say that again.”

“I think Griswald is in love with Susan.”

“Oh.” I tried to imagine Susan and Brian as a couple. I couldn’t. “To each their own, I guess. Brian’s a nice enough guy.”

Zeke threw back his head and laughed. “Not Brian Griswald. The older guy who was here when I dropped off Gypsy.”

“Oh,” I said, relieved. “The silver polisher. Now he makes sense.”

Chuckling, Zeke walked away and out of my life once again.

Chapter Twenty-Two

I fed DeeDee, put God in his enclosure, and changed the poor cat’s bandages.

“Now you know why they say curiosity kills cats,” she joked weakly, still in pain.  “What have you been up to, Sugar? You smell like dog crap, bless your heart.”

Rubbing the spot behind her good ear, I told said, “I’ll let God regale you with the story.”

After showering and changing my clothes, I tried speaking to Susan, who sat in the dining room listlessly polishing. When she did respond, it was in flat monosyllables. She seemed to be in shock or something, so I gently led her to bed, tucked her in like she was a little kid, and promised to check on her later.

“It was Bob,” she whispered when I was about to close her bedroom door.

I hovered in the doorway. “What?”

“Bob threw the brick.”

Stepping closer to the bed, I eyed her nervously, wondering if she was succumbing  to the family curse of being mentally unbalanced.

“It was a juvenile trick. He wanted an excuse to see me.”

“Well,” I said carefully. “It did work.”

She snorted.

“Are you sure it was him?”

She nodded. “He admitted it to me. What should I do? Should I tell the police?”

I closed my eyes and swayed unsteadily. It had been a weird couple of days, but having Susan asking me for advice topped everything else that had happened.

“Why don’t you sleep on it?” I suggested gently.

She nodded and pulled the covers up over her head.

I tiptoed out of the room and closed the door. I couldn’t even breathe a sigh of relief because, as Zeke had pointed out, Marlene and Ben were making a good amount of noise together in her bedroom. Well, it’s my bedroom, but after hearing them carrying on, I think I’ll let her keep it.

As I searched for Loretta, Leslie hurried past me.

“Do you know where Loretta is?”

She looked at me like I’d asked if she’d seen the Loch Ness monster. “I’m going to a meeting.”

“Awesome.” I gave her a thumbs-up. “But do you know where your twin sister is?”

“She’s at the hospital playing Nightingale,” she imagined snidely. “I’m going to be late for my meeting.” She rushed off.

I watched her go, wondering where her new attitude was coming from. I didn’t like it.

Double-checking to make sure I had the paper with me, I hopped into my car and drove to the hospital. I’m pretty sure the car knows its way there itself because it seemed as though one minute I was pulling out of the driveway and the next I was pulling into the hospital’s parking lot.

I enquired about Templeton’s whereabouts and made my way to his new room.

“Knock, knock,” I called as I entered the room.

Loretta wasn’t there, so I didn’t witness anything traumatic. All I saw was Templeton lying propped up on the bed.

“Hello, Maggie,” he rasped.

“Hey, don’t talk.” I hurried to his bedside and patted his shoulder.

“I sound worse than I feel.” He covered my hand with his. “You were right about getting that second opinion. If we hadn’t… You saved my life.”

I shook my head. “I didn’t do anything.”

“You cared enough to say something. Thank you.”

Not knowing what to say or do, I changed the subject. “I found it.”

“The dingbat?”

“Those are easy to find,” I teased with a wink. “I found the paper. I’m no legal expert, but it states clearly that Leroy Braun gives the title of The Corset property to Loretta.”

“Really?” Loretta squealed from behind me.

Turning, I saw her bursting through the doorway, teetering precariously in her stilettos. “You really did it?”

I nodded. I was tempted to tell her that Mom and Dad had helped, but then I remembered they’d stolen, or liberated, the watch from her in the first place.

“You’re a lifesaver.” Loretta kissed each of my cheeks, enveloping me in a noxious cloud of her too-sweet perfume. “An absolute lifesaver.” Her smile was so large it extended past the confines of her heavy-handed lip liner.

“You’re giving me too much credit.” I pulled out the folded paper and placed in Loretta’s palm. “Now make sure not to lose this.”

“I won’t,” she pledged solemnly.

I nodded my approval and didn’t tell her that I’d made copies in case she did lose it again.

I turned my attention back to Templeton. “I’ll let you get some rest. Feel better.”

“Thank you, my dear.” Templeton’s gaze misted over. “Seeing your aunt so happy is the best medicine.”

Stunned by the realization that he truly and deeply loved the wacky woman, I didn’t reply. I waved and stumbled out, knowing that after all those attempts, Loretta had finally found her true love.

I visited Katie next. She was in a great mood, full of wit and laughter. The time I spent with her erased all the tension of the previous days and filled my heart with joy.

I was humming a happy tune when I left her room.

I was half-way down the hall when the muscled barbarian stepped into my path. Even his arrival didn’t dampen my spirits. “Hi,” I said with a genuine smile.

The greeting obviously confused Vinnie, Delveccio’s bodyguard because he regarded me like I was something he’d never seen before.

“How are you?” I asked pleasantly.

“Chocolate pudding,” he growled. “Now.”

Sighing, I changed course toward the cafeteria. I continued humming, secure in the knowledge that whatever the mobster tossed my way, I’d be able to handle it.

After all, I’d saved The Corset, saved Marlene from Wally the Pimp, saved Deb from Lucky O’Hara (a development I made a mental note to talk to Patrick about), and saved my dad from both the Marshal Service and a crime family.

For a paid killer, I was doing quite a bit of lifesaving.

Delveccio sat in the far corner of the cafeteria. Two puddings were in front of him. He was half-hidden by the newspaper he pretended to read.

“Mind if I join you?” I asked cheekily.

“Sit.”

I slid into the seat and reached for one of the creamy desserts. I’d earned this treat.

“Did you hear about our mutual friend?” Delveccio watched me carefully.

Something in his tone, made me put down my spoon before ever dipping it into the pudding. My good mood evaporated and a knot of anxiety yanked tight in my gut. “What about him?”

“He’s in the hospital.”

I looked away, not wanting the mob boss to see how much that revelation affected me. “Hurt on the job?” I tilted my head to one side than the other. “Or hurt on a job?”

“Nope.” Delveccio fiddled with his over-sized diamond pinkie ring for a long moment. “He was poisoned.”

I thought about Patrick sneezing and looking sick. I thought about him not calling.

I did my best to sound nonchalant, but my voice cracked under the strain. “Accidentally?” I asked hopefully.

Delveccio shook his head.  “Somebody wants him dead.”

The end

Don’t miss Book 8 in the Neurotic Hitwoman series.

You know it’s going to be a bad day when “CEMETERY” tops your To Do list.

Want to know why Armani “borrowed” DeeDee?

Find out in: The Mutt and the Matchmaker

Table of Contents

ABOUT JB LYNN

OTHER TITLES BY JB LYNN

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two