The Hitwoman and the Poisoned Apple (Confessions of a Slightly Neurotic Hitwoman Book 8) Read online

  While I sympathized, all I could think was how much I’d like to be alone without my dysfunctional family, demanding pets, and crazy friends.

  But there was no point in telling Armani that. I could tell from her expression that she was hellbent on getting this, whatever this was, done.

  Reaching into the bag, I plucked out seven letters one at a time.

  “Excellent.” Snatching the bag away, she headed back toward the car, leaving me to follow her.

  I glanced at the letters I held: D, D, E, E, I, K, M, wondering what she’d make of them.

  Before leaving I crouched down in front of Teresa’s gravestone, resting my hand against the cool, rough surface, I touched her engraved name. “I’m doing my best,” I whispered, hoping she could hear me on whatever spiritual plane she existed. The responsibility of caring for her daughter weighed heavily on me. “But I’m scared, Teresa. I’m scared it’s too much for me.” Tears burned my eyes as I choked out, “I don’t want to let you down.”

  Hanging my head, I allowed the tears to fall and spotted the gardenias on her tombstone again.

  “Weird,” I muttered again.

  Teresa had been terribly allergic to them. She hated gardenias.

  Chapter 3

  After driving Armani home, I headed over to the hospital under the guise of visiting my niece, Katie. What I really wanted to do was to see if I could find out how Patrick was doing, but since he was in a completely different wing of the hospital, I wasn’t sure how I could do that without attracting unwanted attention.

  I went to Katie’s room first, but the only occupant was Dominic, the little boy who lay unconscious in the other bed. Dominic is the grandson of Delveccio, the mobster I sometimes do work for. As a favor to me, Katie and Dominic share a room so Katie is better protected. But today I hadn’t spotted Delveccio’s hired muscle (and nephew) hanging around.

  Feeling sorry for the little boy, I smoothed the hair off his forehead and whispered in his ear, “C’mon, Dominic. We’re all waiting for you. Just open your eyes.”

  “She’s in physical therapy,” a woman said from the doorway.

  Startled, I whirled to find my Aunt Leslie watching me.

  “You’re here early.” She stepped inside, a book tucked beneath her arm.

  “The office is closed. Some massive computer glitch shut everything down.” Personally I thought the technical difficulty had been caused by my lecherous boss, Harry, who was rumored to be taking off to Vegas to marry the animal control officer Armani had set him up with, but I wasn’t going to complain about an extra day off.

  “That’s nice, dear.” Leslie sank into the chair beside Katie’s empty bed and stared off into space.

  Against my better judgment, I found myself asking, “Something bothering you?”

  “Susan.”

  Aunt Susan, her older sister, is the most normal of my three aunts.

  “What about her?”

  “I’m worried about her.”

  She wasn’t the only one. Recently I’d glimpsed cracks in the façade of the controlling woman.

  “She doesn’t do well as a leg,” Leslie declared.

  “As a what?” I asked.

  “A leg. The side of a triangle. Didn’t you learn anything in school?”

  “Math wasn’t my strong suit.”

  “Geometry,” Leslie corrected.

  “Math. Geometry. Algebra. All are not my friend.” Just the memory of equations being written on a chalkboard was enough to sour my stomach. “But I still don’t understand how she’s a leg.”

  Leslie looked at me as though I was too dumb to have even made it through school. “In the love triangle.”

  “Oh,” I nodded, suddenly understanding her reference. “The love triangle.”

  For most of my life, my three aunts filled three roles. Leslie was the mellow druggie (but now she’s clean and mean), her sister Loretta was the nymphomaniac (but now it seems she’s found true love with her fiancé, Templeton), and Susan was the strict spinster (but now she was being chased by not one, but two men).

  “You should talk to her,” Leslie suggested.

  “And say what?”

  “Help her choose between them.”

  I shook my head. I liked both of Aunt Susan’s would-be suitors. I wasn’t sure why she broke up with Bob the Builder, but he was a nice guy. I even like the other guy, Griswald, who had become besotted with her, even though he was a U.S. Marshal, which, considering my considerable criminal behavior, could pose a problem for me.

  “Somebody has to talk to her and Lord knows we don’t want Loretta spouting all her soulmate shit.”

  I blinked, wordless. So shocked by the fact Leslie had just cursed in front of me, my vocal cords seized up.

  “I have to read now.” Leslie thumped her book for emphasis. “Are you going to just stand there staring at me or are you going to make yourself scarce?”

  I turned around and strode out of the room, thinking about how much nicer she’d been as a pothead.

  I was wandering aimlessly down the hallway when one of the nurses stopped me. “There you are, Maggie.”

  She was one of Katie’s favorite caregivers so I smiled at her. “How are you, Marissa?”

  “Good. Good. Stacy was here looking for you just a little while ago.”

  “Stacy Kiernan, the social worker?” I asked. I liked Stacy—she’d worked at the hospital when Katie was first admitted.

  “Yeah,” Marissa said. “Her boyfriend’s brother is in the ICU, so she came looking for you while he’s down there. I told her I didn’t think you’d be in until this evening.”

  “Computer problems at work,” I explained.

  “Lucky you. Anyway, I thought you’d want to know. She’s probably still sitting around in ICU.”

  I barely contained the joy that welled up inside of me. This was the perfect excuse to check up on Patrick. “Thanks, Marissa. I’ll go find her.”

  “See ya later.” With a quick wave, she was gone and I set out for the previously forbidden wing of the hospital.

  I hurried to the end of the hospital, intent on finding Patrick. It was easy to identify which room he was in. I just followed the dull roar that emanated from one of the hallways. A dozen or more cops, some in uniform, some not, milled around talking to one another in low tones.

  I gulped. If I wasn’t very careful, it would be easy to violate the Don’t Get Caught rule. I was about to oh-so-nonchalantly continue my stroll down the hallway, when they suddenly fell silent. My curiosity got the better of me and I paused to find out why.

  A woman in a wheelchair rolled out of one of the rooms, her expression grim. I guessed she was Patrick’s wife. My assumption was verified when a young man stepped behind the wheelchair. I recognized Patrick’s son immediately from a photograph he’d once shown me.

  A surge of guilt had me turning away. I had no right to be there, checking up on the man they both considered family. I took a step away as shame over my relationship with the redheaded cop flowed through me. But the opportunity to study the woman who was married to the man I was pretty sure I was in love with had me turning back.

  I hadn’t turned around for more than a second before I spotted Brian Griswald, a police detective who happened to be related to one of the members of Aunt Susan’s love triangle standing in the hallway. I ducked away, hoping he hadn’t noticed me.

  Frustration tightened every muscle in my body. There was no way I’d get to Patrick with all of those potential witnesses hanging out in the corridor.

  “There you are,” a friendly chirped from behind me.

  Turning, I found the social worker formerly assigned to Katie, standing there. “Hi, Stacy.”

  Throwing her arms around me, she crushed me to her. “I was looking for you.”

  “So I heard. That’s why I’m here.” I tried to gently disentangle from her rib-crushing embrace. “Is your boyfriend okay?”

  “His brother was trimming trees and the chains
aw got away from him,” she replied.

  It sounded pretty awful to me, but she sounded matter-of-fact about it.

  “But he’s not my boyfriend.” She waggled her fingers under my nose, showing off a sparkly diamond ring. “He’s my fiancé.”

  “Congratulations.” I offered her a genuine smile. Sure she could be overly chipper most of the time, and she’d once cried on my shoulder about how much she hated working at this hospital, but I actually liked the woman. “How far you’ve come.”

  “I know.” She grinned like a kid on Christmas before growing serious. “And I hear Katie has come really far too.”

  “She has.” Instinctively, I glanced over at the cops, half-expecting one of them to know how I paid Katie’s hospitalization bills. “You were right when you advised me to keep her here.”

  “And you did it.” She clapped her hands together in delight, a move that brought a smile to my lips. “I don’t know how, but whatever you did to keep her here was worth it.”

  I nodded, hoping my smile didn’t slip. What I’d done to ensure Katie receiving the best medical care was I’d murdered someone. Two someones actually. Two bad someones, but my choice still weighed heavily on me.

  “You look tired,” Stacy remarked. “Are you okay?”

  “No rest for the wicked,” I joked weakly.

  “Is there anything—?”

  “Hi, Maggie,” a familiar male voice interrupted.

  I turned slowly to face him, suddenly wanting to throw up as part of my brain reverberated with Don’t Get Caught! Plastering on my best fake smile. “Hey, Brian. What are you doing here?”

  The police detective studied my face carefully. “You don’t know?”

  I shook my head, afraid if I spoke, he’d hear the lie.

  “Patrick Mulligan is a patient. He was poisoned.”

  “Oh!” I gasped doing my best to appear shocked. “That’s terrible.”

  “Is he a friend of yours?’ Stacy butted in.

  Grateful for the opportunity to turn away from Griswald’s prying eyes, I pivoted toward the social worker. “He saved my dog’s life.” Since that’s true, I didn’t think the detective would find it suspicious.

  “Wow,” Stacy sounded suitably impressed.

  “Where are my manners? Aunt Susan would kill me if she knew I hadn’t made introductions.” I winked at Brian for emphasis, since he knew my aunts and had an understanding of how demanding they were. “Brian, this is Stacy. Stacy, Brian.”

  They shook hands and exchanged polite pleasantries.

  “Stacy was the first social worker assigned to Katie’s case.”

  “Your niece who’s in a hospital?”

  “This hospital,” Stacy interjected. “Since I’m here with my fiancé and his brother, I’d run down to that end of the building, trying to find Maggie, hoping we could squeeze in a quick visit. She was so awesomely nice to me when I worked here. If it wasn’t for her, I’d never have quit my job and met the love of my life.”

  Brian nodded, his eyes glazing over a bit at her abbreviated life story.

  I, on the other hand, was pleased by Stacy’s chatterbox tendencies. It made my reason for standing around the corner from Patrick’s room seem more than plausible.

  “Well I just wanted to let you know about Mulligan,” the detective said to me, while backing away from the talkative social worker.

  “Thanks.” Pushing my luck, I asked, “He’s going to make it, right?”

  “The prognosis is good.”

  “That’s great,” I murmured.

  “Nice meeting you, Stacy,” he muttered before turning and hightailing it back into the sea of testosterone outside of Patrick’s room.

  “I want you to meet Clyde,” Stacy said.

  “Clyde?” It sort of sounded like something you’d name a pet, not a baby.

  “Yeah. I’ll go find him. Wait here?”

  I nodded. Leaning against the wall, I watched her disappear down the hallway.

  “All right. Time to clear out,” an authoritative man boomed.

  Thinking he meant me, I practically launched myself off the wall. It took a minute, but then I realized he was talking to the police officers.

  “Back to work. Or go home. Or go for a drink, but get outta here,” the man continued. “Mulligan’s in the clear and the hospital says our presence is disruptive.”

  The crowd groaned softly, but through a miracle of shuffling feet, they moved away.

  Detective Griswald nodded in my direction as he walked, engaged in an intense conversation with a uniformed colleague.

  I watched them all go and counted under my breath. “One. Don’t get caught. Two. Don’t get caught. Three. Don’t get caught. Ten. Ready or not, here I come.”

  Turning the corner, I hurried down the newly deserted hallway.

  My heartbeat sped up as I walked, but I wasn’t sure if it was due to my physical exertion, the fear that I could get caught, or the knowledge I was about to see my favorite redhead.

  I paused for a moment in the doorway, taking a shaky breath to fortify my resolve. I could hear monitors beeping inside the room.

  I braced for myself for how severe Patrick’s condition might be, pushed open the door, and tiptoed inside.

  Even against the bleached white sheets, he looked pale. Eyes closed, chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm, he appeared to be asleep. I felt a stab of disappointment that even though I’d managed to sneak in here, I wouldn’t get the chance to talk to him.

  I wrapped my hand around the disposable cell phone I’d brought for him, wondering if it were possible to leave it somewhere no one but him would find it. I swept the room with my gaze. It couldn’t be left anywhere obvious like the table beside his bed. It would be spotted for sure there. I considered lifting the blanket and stowing it beside him, but what if a nurse or a doctor lifted the cloth, or what if, unaware it was there, he knocked it to the ground in front of a roomful of cops? That would leave him with a lot of explaining to do.

  Then inspiration struck. What if I left it in the bathroom? Assuming he’d regained enough strength to use the toilet, it could be a decent hiding spot. Even if it was found, it could be assumed that someone else had left it behind.

  Turning, I walked softly toward the bathroom, taking care not to disturb the sleeping man.

  “Hey, Mags,” he rasped from behind me.

  Whirling around, I found him watching me, a slightly bemused smile tugging at the corners of the mouth.

  “You move like a cartoon burglar,” he teased.

  “I didn’t mean to wake you,” I whispered, moving quickly to stand close to the bed. I hesitated, unsure of what the proper protocol was in the situation. I patted his shoulder awkwardly. “I was worried about you.”

  “I’m tougher than I look.”

  Taking in the hollowed out look of his eyes and the weakness in his voice, I wasn’t sure I believed him.

  “You shouldn’t be here,” he murmured, reaching across his chest to take my hand. “But I’m glad you are.”

  I don’t think five words had ever filled me with such joy before. Choking back happy tears, I told him, “I brought you a cell phone.”

  He offered a smile of gratitude. “I appreciate that.”

  “I was going to hide it in the bathroom for you. Figured you’d be most likely to find it.”

  “Smart girl.”

  “You taught me well.”

  His smile wavered.

  “What do you need?” I asked worriedly.

  He frowned slightly. “I need you to be careful.”

  “Always.”

  He raised his eyebrows, signaling his disbelief.

  Instead of arguing with him, I said, “Let me stash the phone.”

  Hurrying into the bathroom, I found a vase. I pulled out the silk daisies, hid the phone, and stuffed the flowers back in. “Perfect.”

  When I returned to Patrick’s bedside, his eyes were closed again.

  “Are you awa
ke?” I whispered.

  His eyes snapped open.

  “I should leave before I violate Rule Number One.”

  “Don’t get caught,” we said simultaneously.

  “Is there anything you need?” I asked again.

  “I hate to ask,” he began carefully.

  “After all you’ve done for me?” I admonished, wagging a finger at him. In the back of my mind, it occurred to me that I probably looked and sounded a lot like Aunt Susan. “You should know I’d do anything for you. Just tell me what it is.”

  “I need you to find out who did this to me,” he whispered.

  “You don’t know?”

  He shook his head.

  “I’ll try,” I pledged.

  “But be careful and don’t get caught,” he reminded me.

  The worry in his voice squeezed my heart. Here he was, confined to a hospital bed and he was still concerned about my safety. Unshed tears tickled the back of my throat. Afraid he’d see them shining in my eyes, I bent and pressed a quick kiss to his forehead as a symbol of my promise. “You focus on getting better.”

  “You should go,” he murmured.

  “Okay,” I agreed grudgingly.

  “Thanks, Mags. For everything.”

  “I’ll see you soon.” I hurried out of the room before the tears got the best of me.

  Almost immediately, I spotted Stacy deep in conversation with a man.

  Seizing the opportunity to provide myself with a reason to be outside Patrick’s room, I called out, “There you are!”

  Turning, Stacy beamed at me. Grabbing the man’s hand, she dragged him toward me. “This is Clyde. Honey, this is my friend Maggie Lee.”

  “Hello.” I offered my hand, but he didn’t take it.

  “Yeah, hi,” he muttered, seemingly annoyed by my interruption.

  Over his shoulder, Vinnie, Delveccio’s hired muscle, appeared. He glared at me. That’s nothing new. Vinnie is always glaring at me.

  Vinnie pantomimed shoveling food into his mouth. I knew what that meant. Chocolate pudding.

  “Maggie saved my sanity,” Stacy told Clyde. “I hated my job. I hated my life. Then, one conversation with Maggie, and snap!” She actually snapped her fingers for emphasis. “Everything changed and I met you.”