The Hitwoman Hunts a Ghost (Confessions of a Slightly Neurotic Hitwoman) Page 14

  “I already earned it.” The hooker tapped her foot impatiently. “I’m not in the mood to hand out freebies.”

  “You’re not in the mood?” Ira asked, stepping closer to her. “That’s rich coming from a street whore.”

  She lowered her head, staring at his crotch and sniffed derisively. “Just pay up, shorty.”

  He moved so fast, the hooker never saw it coming. With one punch, he knocked her off her feet. She scrambled away from him on all fours.

  “Did you want to change your mind?” Frankel asked. “About whether I owe you? About that mood you claim to not be in?”

  The hooker kept scooting backward as he advanced toward her.

  “Sure,” she said desperately. “Whatever you want.”

  “What I want,” Frankel said, bending to pick up a loose pipe on the ground. “Is to have never seen your ugly face.” He raised the pipe overhead.

  Remembering he’d smashed in the head of his last victim with a crowbar had me rushing toward them.

  I was barely aware of God’s dismayed shriek as he fell from my shoulder.

  “Stop!” I shouted at Ira Frankel.

  Surprised, he turned toward me. “What the hell?”

  I leveled the gun at him.

  “Get away from her.”

  “Or what, princess? You’ll shoot me?”

  “In a heartbeat,” I promised.

  He still held the pipe aloft, and even in the shadows, I could see the calculation in his gaze. It’s something you can spot in the eyes of all remorseless killers, a flash of evil. I’d seen the same look on the faces of Delveccio’s son-in-law and in Gary the Gun. I’d killed both those men.

  Chapter Seventeen

  “This isn’t some game of Rock, Paper, Scissors,” I said with a hell of a lot more bravado than I felt, focusing on the spot between his eyes. As Patrick had told me, “The NRA also says, ‘Be absolutely sure you have identified your target beyond any doubt.’”

  I sensed rather than saw Frankel throw the pipe at me. I didn’t duck. I don’t think I even flinched. I just squeezed the trigger with steady, firm pressure, just like I’d been taught.

  The pipe hit me square in the chest, knocking my breath right out of me. Stumbling backward, barely able to remain standing, I instinctively waved the gun toward the moving finger.

  “Don’t shoot,” the hooker begged. “Please don’t shoot.”

  Blinking, I took a moment to get my bearings.

  The hooker was staring at me with wide-eyed terror.

  Ira Frankel lay on the alley floor, half his head blown off.

  I’d done it. I’d killed the man.

  “We should flee before someone witnesses what you’ve done,” God suggested from behind me.

  “Get out of here,” I told the hooker, lowering the gun.

  Turning away from her, I headed toward God who was saying, “Warmer. You’re getting warmer. Don’t you dare step on me.”

  It hurt my chest to bend over to pick him up, but I did it. When I turned back toward Ira Frankel, I realized the hooker was in the midst of emptying his pockets.

  Realizing I was watching her, she froze fearfully.

  “Let her take it,” God urged. “The cops will assume it was a robbery.”

  Turning back away, I walked away from my victim and the hooker.

  “Hey, princess,” she called after me.

  I stopped, but didn’t turn to face her.

  “Thanks. For saving my life, I mean.”

  I raised the gun and did my best imitation of a royal wave as I walked away.

  “I knew you could do it,” God crowed from his spot on my shoulder.

  “Yeah,” I muttered. “I could kill a man, but not hold onto a dog. That’s the story of my life.”

  When I got back to car, I ripped off Middleton mask. “I hate this thing.”

  “But it did come in handy,” God said. “You should keep it.”

  I stowed the gun back in the glove compartment of the car. It wasn’t the best place to hide a murder weapon, but I was too tired to figure something else out.

  “I wonder how long it will be before someone finds his body,” the lizard said.

  “Maybe not ’til morning. It is the middle of the night.”

  “So let’s go home.”

  “Can’t. We have to find that damn dog.”

  “Now?”

  “Now.”

  I drove around aimlessly for an hour looking for a little white dog, but didn’t spot him.

  “You need some rest,” God told me. “Go home. Get some sleep.”

  “What am I supposed to do about Ghost?”

  “We’ll figure it out.”

  I didn’t believe him, but I was dead tired, so I returned to the B&B, taking care to park half a block away so the headlights and motor wouldn’t disturb my sleeping family members.

  “What a night,” I muttered, climbing out of the car with the little guy attached to my shoulder.

  “You did well,” the lizard assured me.

  Ignoring him, I made my way to the B&B.

  Piss met us at the end of the driveway. “I was getting worried. You were gone a long time.”

  “Maggie got her man,” God announced with satisfaction.

  “It’s not like I took any pleasure in killing the guy,” I countered as I shuffled through the backyard.

  “But you should be proud that you saved that woman’s life,” the lizard reminded me. “We both know he was going to kill her.”

  Pulling open the storm door that Patrick was so fond of using as an entrance, I grunted my agreement.

  “What about the dog?” Piss asked, scooting through my legs, down the stairs, and into the dark basement.

  “Here DeeDee,” the Doberman panted softly in the darkness. She licked my hand so I’d know she was beside me.

  I stumbled across the room, not bothering to turn on a light.

  “Not you, sweetie,” Piss drawled. “The other dog. Ghost.”

  “Had him. Lost him.” I put God in his terrarium.

  “It’s not that simple,” the lizard hurried to explain. “She saved the ungrateful creature’s life.”

  I staggered toward the couch, stubbing my toe against something. “Either way I lost him.” Collapsing on the couch, I pulled a throw pillow against my chest, which was throbbing where the pipe had hit me. “He’s lost.”

  “We’ll find him,” God assured me again.

  “No we won’t,” I murmured tiredly. “All is lost.”

  “She’s in a melodramatic mood,” God told the others.

  Throwing the pillow in the general direction of the terrarium, I rolled over and went to sleep.

  Hours later when I was woken up by a chorus of softly whined, “Gotta! Gotta! Gotta! Gotta!” the only ones in the basement were myself and the Doberman.

  Rolling stiffly off the couch, trying to ignore the dull ache in my chest, I let the dog out. I watched sleepily as she ran around, searching for the perfect spot. I’d read once where dogs like to relieve themselves with their body aligned with Earth’s north-south axis, something to do with magnetic fields or something. I considered getting a compass, mapping out the line she needed to find, and spray painting “Pee here” on the grass just so this process wouldn’t take so long every morning. I wasn’t sure t Aunt Susan would approve of that plan.

  I waited until she was done, not wanting to overwhelm her with two simultaneous tasks before asking, “Where are your cohorts?

  “Huh?” DeeDee cocked her head to the side like I’d just blurted something out in Martian.

  “Where’s God?”

  “He’s within us,” Aunt Leslie informed me, stepping around the corner and practically giving me a heart attack.

  “Jesus.” I clutched my chest, which was still sore from the pipe attack.

  “If you’re looking for God,” Leslie continued, bestowing a benevolent smile on me. “All you have to do is look within.”

  I nodded we
akly, wondering if I preferred her as a stoned addict or as a preachy ten stepper. “Actually, I was just looking for Katie’s lizard.”

  Leslie cocked her head and looked at me just the way the DeeDee had. “And you thought the dog could help you?” She frowned and gave me the same appraising look I’d caught giving my mother my whole life.

  “Of course not,” I assured her, not wanting her to think I was as crazy as her sister. “I was just talking out loud.”

  She nodded like she understood, but I got the distinct impression she didn’t believe me. “Susan’s looking for you.”

  “Why?” I asked suspiciously.

  She shrugged.

  “C’mon, inside,” I ordered the dog, wondering what Marlene had done to piss off our aunt now. I really didn’t have time for this family drama. I had a dog to find.

  I didn’t bother to shower. Taking care not to look too closely at my reflection in the bathroom mirror, I splashed some water on my face and changed out of the clothes I’d worn the night before into something less burglar/hitwoman-like.

  I crept up the stairs and scored a cup of coffee before Aunt Susan spotted me.

  “We have to talk, Margaret.”

  “Okay, but can I get something to eat first?”

  She handed me a banana and then motioned for me to follow her. We ended up in the dining room. She settled herself into the seat at the head of the table and I sat at a ninety-degree angle from her.

  I waited expectantly as she crossed her hands in her lap and straightened her shoulders, signaling we were about to have an important conversation.

  “I want to talk to you about the future, Margaret.”

  I sipped my coffee, savoring the rich bitterness, allowing it to wake up my senses.

  “More specifically your future. I don’t think you should stay in that job you’re in.”

  Thinking of my conversation with God, I said, “You’re not the only one.”

  “Good. Good.”

  “I’ll call her,” I promised.

  “Call who?”

  “Bob’s sister. What’s her name again?”

  Susan frowned.

  “Sorry,” I muttered defensively. “I’m not good with names.”

  “Why would you call her?”

  Utterly confused, I’m pretty sure I cocked my head the same way DeeDee and Leslie had. “About the job she’s offering me. That is what we’re talking about, aren’t we? I thought you and Bob wanted me to—”

  “Bob and I are over,” she said stiffly.

  “Oh.” Her announcement didn’t come as a total shock since I’d sensed tension between them. “I’m sorry. So I guess you don’t want me working for his sister.”

  “You don’t really think you’re cut out to sell real estate, do you?” Susan sounded appalled.

  “Well, no,” I admitted. Then I found myself echoing God. “But maybe I’d hate it less than I hate it at Insuring the Future.”

  “So at best you’re looking at a lateral move.”

  I took another gulp of coffee to fortify myself since the conversation was starting to give me a headache. “Why don’t you just tell me what it is you’re thinking?”

  “You should quit your job at the insurance company.”

  In agreement with that assessment, I nodded, taking another sip.

  “And go to work for Loretta.”

  The outlandish suggestion made me choke on my coffee. Spluttering, I shouted, “What?”

  “There’s no need to raise your voice, Margaret,” Susan admonished, handing me a napkin.

  “But… you said…. Are you crazy?” I wheezed, using the very turn of phrase I hated so much.

  “She can offer you an accommodating work schedule.”

  Obviously Susan didn’t know her sister was in danger of losing her business.

  “You’ll need that kind of flexibility to care for Katie,” Susan continued.

  “You want me to work at the Corset? I’m guaranteed to hate that even more than the insurance company.” I coughed, still unable to catch my breath after choking.

  “We all have to make sacrifices to meet our responsibilities,” Susan lectured. Something in her tone made me think she wasn’t talking just about me, but the steely look her gaze prevented me from asking her to elaborate.

  Gasping like a beached fish, I stared at her. She had no idea the sacrifices I’d made in the name of responsibility. She was clueless to the things I’d done to provide the best possible care for Katie. Instead, she sat there judging me. Basically letting me know I wasn’t up to snuff.

  “Cool your jets, Sugar,” Piss suggested mildly, hopping up onto my lap. “Blowing a gasket at the biddy isn’t going to do anyone any good.”

  “Get that animal out of my dining room,” Susan shouted, swatting at the cat.

  Shielding the cat from the blow, I scooped up Piss and marched away without another word or even a backward glance at Susan.

  My escape was hampered by the fact I ran into Loretta in the hallway. She was twisting a tissue and I could tell from her smeared mascara that she’d been crying.

  “Have you found it?” she asked plaintively.

  “The deed?”

  She nodded, wiping at her eyes.

  “Not yet.”

  “But you’re trying?” Her hope was so fragile that I didn’t have the heart to tell her I hadn’t looked for it.

  “I am.” I offered her what I hoped was a reassuring smile. “We’ll find it.”

  “Susan wants you to come work for me,” Loretta confided on a whisper.

  “So I’ve heard.”

  “I tried telling her it wasn’t a good idea, but…” She trailed off, unwilling to badmouth her sister.

  “But she wouldn’t listen,” I muttered.

  “She thinks she knows best.”

  “Don’t I know it?”

  “Don’t be angry with her,” Loretta begged.

  But I was. I was so angry my heartbeat pounded louder than my steps on the stairs as I ran into the basement.

  “You’re cutting off my air,” the cat meowed pitifully, her head smushed against my breast as I clutched her tightly to me.

  “Oh, sorry.” I relaxed my hold on her. “I just got so…so…”

  “Surprise!” DeeDee yipped excitedly, blocking the bottom stair.

  “What?’

  “Surprise,” she barked.

  “It’s why I went upstairs,” Piss hissed, digging her claws into my shoulder and pushing as hard as she could to get away from me.

  I let her go and she fell to the floor, landing on her feet.

  “What surprise?”

  “This one,” God called from the far corner.

  I looked in his general direction. I was so shocked to see, not him, but a little white dog, that I tripped over DeeDee and fell face-first into the basement.

  “Is that? Is that Ghost?” I gasped, struggling to my feet.

  “I told you we’d find him,” God crowed victoriously.

  “We promised him you’d make sure no one hurt him,” Piss said.

  “And he believed us since you saved him last night,” God finished.

  “Great. That’s just great.” Suddenly my chest didn’t ache quite so much anymore.

  I almost forgot about Aunt Susan’s suggestion. Almost.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Pink-clad Candace drove me and Ghost to our meeting with Ms. Whitehat, but she didn’t come inside. Instead, she parked outside the rear entrance of a veterinary office and said she’d wait for me.

  The poor dog trembled uncontrollably as we approached the building.

  “Me kill?”

  “No one is going to kill you,” I promised him. “No one’s going to hurt you.” If they tried, I was prepared to pull out the gun tucked into the waistband of my jeans.

  The dog whimpered as the sharp scent of antiseptic hit us as we stepped inside. I couldn’t blame him. I hated the smell too.

  “Easy, boy.”


  Ms. Whitehat stood alone in the first examining room we reached. She looked starkly out of place in her perfectly-pressed ivory power suit.

  “I won’t let you hurt him,” I warned as way of greeting.

  Her nod was so slight it was almost imperceptible. “No one wishes to harm the animal.”

  “Whoever was shooting at him last night does.”

  “That was… unfortunate.”

  “There’s an understatement.”

  “According to Candace, you made short work of the thug sent to retrieve the dog.”

  “I got lucky,” I told her.

  “It’s been my experience, Ms. Lee, that many times all luck is, is being prepared and being willing to take action.”

  That sounded an awful lot like a compliment, but I didn’t let it distract me. “What’s so valuable about this dog?”

  “It’s not the dog, it’s his collar. May I have it?” She held out her manicured hand.

  I looked at the strip of studded fabric around the mutt’s neck. “That’s what you wanted all along? His collar?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then why didn’t you just say that?”

  “Because you’re not privy to know all things, Ms. Lee. Now if you wouldn’t mind handing it over.”

  Slipping the collar over the dog’s ears, I dropped it into her outstretched palm.

  Examining it closely, she nodded her satisfaction. “Nice job, Ms. Lee. You do seem to employ the most unusual, but effective methods.”

  “So that’s it? We’re done, right?”

  The semblance of a smile made her lips twitch. “Until you’re needed again.”

  Not wanting to think about my continued involvement with her mysterious organization, I asked, “But I can take him now?”

  “No.”

  “No? But you said we’re done.”

  “You can’t take him.”

  “Me kill,” the dog moped despondently.

  “But you’ve gotten what you wanted. The rest of what happened wasn’t his fault,” I argued, reaching one hand back to touch the butt of the gun that was tucked into my jeans. “I won’t let you hurt him.”

  “You misunderstand,” Ms. Whitehat said quietly. “It’s time for him to go home.”

  “Home?” Ghost panted, his ears perking up. “Home go. Home go.”