The Hitwoman and the Poisoned Apple (Confessions of a Slightly Neurotic Hitwoman Book 8) (11 page)

As though he suspected I wasn’t convinced, the lizard urged, “Don’t make any hasty decisions. Think things through. Figure out what you want and then act on that, not on how you’re feeling at the moment.”

How I was feeling at the moment was nervous because a dark-colored sedan was a coasting to stop beside us. I jerked DeeDee’s chain sharply to get her attention as the rear window of the car lowered.

I let out a shaky breath when Delveccio leaned forward and peered out at me. “You walkin’ that lizard of yours?”

“He’s riding. The dog’s walking,” I pointed out.

He handed me a photograph. “This is who I need that package delivered to.”

I squinted at it, trying to make out the face in the dim light cast by the car’s headlights and a streetlamp a few yards down the road. “Name?”

“It’s on the back along with a location. I need it delivered the day after tomorrow. Can you do that?”

“I can…” I caught myself. It’s not a good idea to tell a mob boss that you’re going to “try” to do something. I amended my statement. “I can, as long as it’s local.”

“It is,” he assured me. “And it’s important.”

I nodded my understanding.

“And nobody, not one single person can know that it came from me.
Capisce
?” His tone, intense, bordering on angry, frightened me. “Understood.”

Relaxing back in his seat, he asked casually, “You seen our mutual friend?”

I considered lying to him, but I figured Vinnie might have seen me go into Patrick’s room.  I nodded.

“How’s he doing?”

“They’re supposed to release him tomorrow.”

“That’s good. Real good.”

I got the impression that the mobster wanted to say something else, but all he said was, “That niece of yours is a pistol. Did you know she cheats at Go Fish?”

I’d have liked to have said I was shocked, but that kind of thing sort of runs in the family. Dad’s a con man and when I was significantly younger than her, I’d bitten the head off the Old Maid so I’d always know where it was in the deck. “Really?”

“Yup. When she deals. Watch her sometime.”

“Did you call her on it?”

Delveccio chuckled. “Naah. I like hearing her say,
‘I am the champion’
too much.”

I smiled.

“What you said earlier about Dominic.” Delveccio cleared his throat and looked away. “I want you to know it was appreciated. Sometimes it feels like I can’t do nothing for him…” He trailed off sadly.

“It sucks to feel helpless.”

He nodded and I was struck by how much worse it must be for a man who wields so much power to be unable to do anything besides sit by the boy’s bedside. “Day after tomorrow,” he said gruffly.

“Will do,” I promised.

“Don’t stay out too late,” he lectured. “You never know what’s out here.” With that, he rolled up his window and rolled away.

“You have the
strangest
relationships,” the lizard muttered.

I couldn’t argue with him.

When we got back to the B&B, we entered through the storm door since I could hear my three aunts bickering. I couldn’t make out their words, but I knew from a lifetime of experience that soon, they’d escalate to raised voices, slamming doors and would eviscerate anyone foolish enough to cross their path.

Having a strong survival instinct, I beat a hasty retreat to the basement apartment. DeeDee immediately attacked her new bone while God requested to be put on the cable box by the television so that he could warm up.

Under the flickering glow of fluorescent lighting, I examined the photograph Delveccio had given me. A beautiful young woman in her twenties looked back at me. With her dark hair and olive complexion, she reminded me of a young Sophia Loren, but there was something about her eyes, a mischief lurking in their depths that was almost hypnotizing.

Flipping the picture over, I read the slashes of masculine handwriting that conveyed her name and residence.

Her name was Angelina, beautiful, just like the girl, but where she lived,
that
sent a shiver down my spine.

“What’s it say?” God asked curiously, seeing my reaction.

“I know why he wanted me to deliver this,” I said in a voice devoid of emotion.  “I won’t attract any attention going in there.”

“Where?”

I sighed. “It looks like I have to go visit my mother.”

The idea of going to the facility where my mentally unstable mother was a resident was not something I could muster any excitement about.

The lizard, who is always on me to spend more time with Mom, clapped his delight. “That’s wonderful. You did say your last visit went well.”

“It did,” I admitted grudgingly. “But that’s because Dad was there. He knows how to handle her. I never know what to say.”

“You’ll figure it out.”

“Candy bring,” DeeDee suggested.

“That’s not a bad idea.” Mom had always had a sweet tooth. Bringing something for her to enjoy
might
make things go smoother. “Of course once I’m there, I’ll have to find this Angelina woman.”

“Ask your mother for assistance,” God suggested.

I wrinkled my nose at the suggestion. The woman couldn’t be trusted to take care of herself. She was the last person I’d ask for help.

“She’s still your mother,” God lectured. “She’ll want to help you if she can.”

“
If
she’s lucid.”

He nodded.

“That’s a big
IF
,” I grumbled.

Before he could argue, my cell phone buzzed. Glancing at the number, I realized it was from the phone I’d given to Patrick.

I sat down on the sofa, preparing myself to at least listen to his apology or explanation. I owed him that much. “Hey,” I answered softly.

“I only have a minute,” he whispered hurriedly. “I can’t get a moment’s peace.”

“Okay.” Warmth blossomed in chest, chasing away some of the heartbreak ache, as I realized he’d made an effort to call me.

“I need your help.”

The warmth faded a bit. This didn’t
sound
like a heart-to-heart.

“My wife is being framed for the poisoning,” he said in a rush. “I need you to help her. They’re watching me too closely. I’m counting on you, Mags.” He disconnected the call, leaving me with dead air silence.

I slowly lowered the phone to my lap.

“Breathe,” God urged, scampering down off the cable box and skittering across the room toward me. “Breathe!”

His words finally registered and I’d exhaled the stale air I’d been holding and sucked in some fresh.

Abandoning her bone, DeeDee leapt up onto the couch beside me, placed her head in my lap and stared up at me with dark, worried eyes.

The lizard climbed up the side of the sofa and perched on the arm. Gasping from his exertion, he asked, “Are you okay? What happened? What’s wrong with you? Did something happen to Katie? Is she okay? Why aren’t you answering me?”

“Because you haven’t shut up,” Piss drawled, pulling herself out from beneath the couch. She looked a bit ragged, but she didn’t appear to be imagining purple mice. She fixed her one good eye on me. “Tell us what happened, sugar.”

I relayed the conversation in short, halting bits.

When I was done, DeeDee licked my hand. “Patrick help.”

“Quite the conundrum,” God said quietly.

“Bastard.” Piss flexed her claws and swiped at the air.

I agreed with all of them. Owing him so much, I had to help Patrick, but how to do it posed a conundrum, and quite frankly, I thought he was a jerk for even asking. It was bad enough he had chosen to stay with her instead of being with me, but now to actually help her?  It felt like a new insult.

“What are you going to do?” God asked.

I sighed. “Help him. I have to.”

Piss made a buzzer-like sound to indicate I’d given the wrong answer.

“He helped you,” I reminded her.

“That tomcat jerked you around, sugar. Trampled on your heart. I say let the bastard fry.”

I eyed her warily, half-expecting the claws come out again. “Is that you or the drugs talking?”

“Maybe both,” she admitted.

“But
how
can you help him?” God wondered aloud, always the one for harping on pesky details.

“He’s convinced it wasn’t her, so I guess it would be helpful if I can figure out who actually did it.”

“I should go undercover,” the lizard proclaimed.

“Undercover?”  I asked.

“As if he could keep his superior yap shut long enough,” Piss sniped.

“She has a point,” I told him.

“Doubters. Naysayers. Negatarians,” the lizard boomed.

“What’s a negatarian?” the cat mocked. “Something that only eats smug lizards?”

“Those who dwell in the negative of life, are negatarians,” he declared righteously.

“Have you been watching a lot of PBS fundraisers?” I asked, not able to imagine where else he would have picked up that kind of
feel good
junk.

“Did I say one word while you talked to the boss?” he asked.

“Boss?” DeeDee asked.

Irritated, he flicked his tail. “Delveccio. The head of the Family. The boss. You moron.”

“No,” I soothed, seeing DeeDee flash her teeth at the little guy. “You were mercifully silent during the conversation.”

“See? I
can
go undercover.”

Since I couldn’t come up with any other options, I found myself grudgingly asking, “Where?”

“At the scene of the crime!”

“You want me to sneak you into their house?”

“You told the godfather that Patrick’s going home tomorrow. I could stow along with him.”

“How?”

“I don’t know. He must have an overnight bag or something you could slip me into.”

“What about your sensitive skin?” the cat mocked.

The lizard had to contemplate that one for the moment. “I’ll brave the danger. It’s for a greater good.”

“Oh, make him a miniature freaking superhero cape,” Piss moaned. “Don’t let him do it. If he succeeds, we’ll never hear the end of it.”

Ignoring her, I voiced my concerns. “What if you get crushed in the bag? What if Patrick brings it home and doesn’t unzip it for days and you’re stuck in there without food or water? What if they’ve got pets that want to eat you?”

“I hadn’t thought of that,” he admitted, curling up into a dejected ball. “If I can’t get inside the house, I’ll never be able to help.”

We all fell silent. I actually liked his undercover plan. He could sneak around. Eavesdrop. Maybe even find the poison. But I didn’t like the idea of him getting hurt or worse.

“Piss,” DeeDee barked excitedly, startling us all.

The lizard almost fell off the arm of the sofa and the hair on the back of Piss’s neck stood at attention.

“Piss,” the dog barked again.

“Shhhh,” I covered her snout with my hand. “I don’t need the witches”—that was what I sometimes called my aunts—“knowing we’re down here.”

“Sorry?” the dog panted.

“It’s okay.” I rubbed the spot between her eyes.

“Piss,” she whined.

“What about me?” the cat demanded.

“God inside carry could she.”

I kissed the top of her head. “That’s a brilliant idea.”

“No it’s not. I’m not letting the hunter take me anywhere,” the lizard proclaimed.

Piss flicked her tail. “So much for your bravery.”

The cat and lizard glared at one another. Cats can stare a long time, but the lizard was destined to win the standoff since he has no eyelids and therefore can’t blink.

I intervened, “Are you saying you’re up to sneaking into the house?”

“Nine lives, sugar. Nine lives.”

I looked at God. He looked away.

I waited expectantly.

“Fine,” he blustered. “But don’t think for one moment I like this plan. And if anything goes wrong, I’m holding you responsible.” He stuck his tongue out at DeeDee.

She wiggled her stump of a tail.

She seemed pleased with herself, but I wasn’t convinced that this plan wasn’t a disaster in the making.

~#~

Is there more anything more disheartening than listening to someone gush about being in love when your heart’s been broken?

During our lunch break at Insuring the Future the next day, Armani told me all about Ike Medd. How great he was. What a great time they had. And, oh yeah, how great he was… ad nauseum.

While she prattled on like a girl with her first crush, I ate the leftover chili Aunt Susan had kindly packed for my lunch. I couldn’t remember the last time she’d made my lunch, but I appreciated the gesture. I even appreciated the “Have a great day!” note she’d included, just like she had when I’d started kindergarten.

I stared at that note while Armani droned on.

Finally, having exhausted her use of the word “great,” Armani noticed I was less than enthusiastic about her new-found love. “Don’t be jealous, chiquita. You’ll find a great guy soon.”

An image of Patrick flashed through my brain. I didn’t tell her that I thought I’d had, but it turned out he wasn’t nearly as interested in me as I was of him. I don’t know what made me tell her, “I met someone at the hospital.”

“Oooh, is he a doctor?” she practically squealed. “A doctor would be a good catch.”

“He’s not a doctor.”

“Oh.” A look of horror spread over her face. “Please don’t tell me he’s a terminal patient or something. Dying. Talk about a heartbreaking love story.”

I was pretty sure I saw tears glimmering in her eyes as she imagined me falling for someone who’d die before we could consummate our union.

“He’s not a patient,” I hurriedly assured her, not wanting her to weep on the picnic table. “He’s visiting a friend.”

“Excellent!” She began to rummage in her purse busily. “You have to pull.”

“No.”

“No?” she asked as though she was totally unfamiliar with the word and its meaning.

“No. I never pull anything good from your bag of tricks.”

She yanked the purple cloth bag filled with Scrabble tiles from her purse, shook it like she was mixing a martini and held it out for me, completely ignoring my protest. “Good or bad, it’ll be a message you need to hear,” she assured me.