The Hitwoman and the Chubby Cherub (4 page)

For another thing, the Cupid Killer had knocked off Kevin Belgard, the guy I’d suspected was responsible for my sister Darlene’s abduction years before, so how bad could the killer with a bow be?

Delveccio tapped his spoon against his pudding bowl impatiently. The movement made his obscenely garish pinky ring glitter like the ball in Times Square on New Year’s Eve. “He meets your…requirements,” the mobster said.

I looked up at him. “Because he killed a cop?”

Delveccio leaned closer. “I thought you had a beef with Belgard.”

“I do. I did.”

“Yeah, well he might have deserved what he got, but Fern didn’t.”

“Fern?” I’d been following the coverage about the Cupid Killer, specifically the stories by crime reporter Jack Stern, who’d shown up at the B&B’s door about five minutes after the call had gone out on the police radio that Belgard’s body had been discovered. He hadn’t written about any female victims.

“Fernando Cardinale. Old friend. Salt of the earth guy.”

“The restaurant owner?”

Delveccio nodded approvingly. “Good to see you stay up on the biz.”

I didn’t tell him that I’d witnessed Cupid murdering his old friend. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

The mobster squinted at me. “You say the damnedest things.”

I shrugged. “You said your old friend died. I conveyed my condolences.”

“He didn’t
die.
” Delveccio said the last word as though I’d insulted his mother. “He was executed.”

I nodded, knowing what he said was true.

“I want that Cupid guy buried. And soon.” He pushed his half-eaten treat away, as though the conversation had ruined his appetite.

“Why?” I asked.

“
Why
?” He leaned back and drew himself up to his full height, giving me a look that could freeze running lava. “Because I said so.”

I shook my head. “Why was your friend executed?”

Delveccio’s posture deflated. “Damned if I know. Fern was a friend to all. Smart, honest businessman. Philanthropist. He didn’t have an enemy in the world.”

“Except someone wanted him dead,” I reminded him.

He scowled. “What does it matter, the why?”

“Because if I knew who wanted him,” I hesitated, “…dealt with, I should be able to find Cupid.”

The mob boss considered that for a moment. "I honestly couldn't tell you."

"Then the job may take me a little while."

He nodded his understanding. "In the meantime, since you said you need it, I have another job for you."

"Great.”

"How do you feel about being a mule?"

“You’re already an ass," God whispered from the depths of my bra.

Delveccio made a funny face. "Are you carrying around that lizard again?"

"I thought Dominic might want to see him," I lied smoothly.

"Good thinking. Now about this mule thing--"

"I'm sorry, I'm not following."

"Courier," he explained. "I need a courier with your special skills."

I had no idea what special skills he thought I possessed, but I wasn't about to tell him that.

"You'll be given a package, a recipient, and the delivery will be time-sensitive." He twirled his pinky ring. "Think you are up to that?"

I nodded, despite not knowing whether that was the truth. "You can count on me."

"I always do. Now go take that lizard to see my grandson while I finish your pudding.”

I left him with the sweets and hustled back to the room. Gino was watching the kids play, which meant reaching into my bra and pulling out the lizard was a tad bit awkward. The bodyguard raised his eyebrows, but thankfully remained silent.

"Look who I brought to see you," I said to the little boy.

Dominic's eyes lit up. "Godzilla!"

For his part, the lizard kept the children amused with his antics, jumping and scurrying about, as though he didn't have a care in the world. I was both entertained and surprised since the behavior was so out of character for him.

When Katie and Dominic started to look tired I announced it was time for us to go home. Neither protested and Katie fell asleep about 30 seconds after I'd buckled her into her car seat.

Her nap on the drive home revived her, and when we returned to the bed and breakfast she was more than willing to help Aunt Leslie with an arts-and-crafts project that had something to do with buttons.

That left U.S. Marshal Lawrence Griswald and I alone in the kitchen together.

"I don't suppose you've heard from your father?" the Marshal asked.

I shook my head. "I'm sorry, but I haven't."

Griswald shook his head sadly.

"I'm really sorry," I said.

"We've been over this before. There's no reason for you to apologize."

But we both knew there was. I had asked him to put me in contact with my father, who was in the Witness Protection Program, because I had questions regarding the disappearance of my sister Darlene. Griswald, being a decent guy, had arranged the meeting. My dad, Archie Lee, a lifelong criminal, had repaid his generosity by knocking him unconscious and disappearing.

I couldn't speak for Griswald, but I was pretty pissed. Once again, my dad had taken off, doing what was best for him, consequences be damned.

An awkward silence filled the kitchen.

"He's just unfinished business," Griswald said finally. "That's why I keep asking. Because I want to wrap things up."

"What are you wrapping up?" Aunt Susan asked, gliding into the kitchen.

"This and that," Griswald replied smoothly. Like me, he knew that any mention of my father would put Susan into an instant bad mood.

"Angel is looking for you," Susan told me. "He's in the backyard."

Grateful for the chance to escape, I murmured my thanks and dashed out the door.

I was sort of sorry I did when I saw him scowling at the storm door that led to the basement. Arms crossed against his chest, stretching his U.S. Navy t-shirt to the point where it looked like the seams might split at any moment, he did not look happy.

I considered ducking back inside and avoiding whatever it was he wanted to talk to me about, but before I could make up my mind he looked over at me.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” I said back. “Susan said you wanted to talk.”

He beckoned for me to join him in his perusal of the door. “We need to do something about this.”

“This?”

“We’ve got to secure this door.”

“I
use
that door,” I reminded him, walking over to stand beside him. “It’s fine the way it is.”

“It’s not.”

“It’s how I let DeeDee out.” I didn’t add that it was how Patrick Mulligan sometimes let himself in, though he hadn’t done that in a while.

“It’s not safe.” Angel turned to look down at me. “Or have you forgotten that a man was murdered in this very backyard?”

“I had nothing to do with that,” I replied a tad too quickly.

Angel raised his eyebrows. “No one thinks you did.”

I glanced toward the kitchen door and then whispered, “I think Griswald thinks I might have.”

Angel shook his head. “No, but he suspects your father might have been involved.”  He watched me closely as he delivered that nugget of information.

I’m pretty sure my mouth dropped open. “He does? How do you know?”

“I overheard him talking to his nephew.” I knew he was talking about Detective Brian Griswald, but what I didn't know was why he said “nephew” like he hated him. Was it because Brian's a cop and Angel’s from an organized crime family, or was there something personal between the two men?

“It wasn’t my dad,” I said.

Something that looked a lot like sympathy passed over Angel’s face.

“It wasn’t,” I repeated with conviction.

“You can’t know that,” Angel said quietly.

I couldn’t very well tell him that I’d witnessed the Cupid Killer in action and he definitely wasn’t my father. He’s a chubby guy with a penchant for wearing red.

“Sometimes people surprise us. Disappoint us.” Angel had a far-off look in his eyes and his shoulders were tense.

I got the impression he was no longer talking about my father, but about someone who’d let him down.

“Everything okay?” I asked carefully.

He shook his head, like a wet dog after a bath, and when he spoke again, he was completely in the moment. “We’ve got to do something about the door.”

“No,” I said firmly.

“No? What if someone were to sneak into the basement?”

“DeeDee would bite them.”

Angel rolled his eyes, letting me know he didn’t think the Doberman offered much protection. He’d never seen the dog in her protective mode. Even I thought she looked scary when she was like that.

“She’s tougher than she looks,” I assured him.

“It’s not safe, Maggie.”

“I’m not going to let you lock me up in there.”

“No one’s talking about locking you up. I’m just suggesting that it might be prudent to make an effort to keep certain people out.”

“Like my father?”

He shrugged. “He sounds like trouble.”

“He is,” I muttered. “And a locked door won’t keep him away.”

“Why are you trying to keep Daddy away?” a voice asked.

Angel and I spun around to find its source. My sister, Marlene, was frowning at me the same way she used to right before she’d throw a full-blown temper tantrum.

“I’m not,” I soothed. “We were just discussing home security since we did find a murder victim in the backyard.”

An emotion I couldn’t identify flickered in Marlene’s eyes. It made me wonder if she’d had dealings with Belgard during her time as a working girl, or if perhaps she somehow knew he was mixed up in her twin’s disappearance.

I wanted to ask her, but not in front of Angel.

“I’ve got a date,” she announced.

I blinked at the non sequitur and replied lamely, “That’s nice.”

“I’m going to be late.” She held my gaze, an unspoken challenge in her tone.

I didn’t know what she was on edge about, but it had been a long day and I was tired. I wanted no part of whatever it was she wanted to fight about. “Don’t let us keep you.”

She scowled at me again before flouncing inside.

“What was that about?” Angel asked.

I shook my head. “Your guess is as good as mine.”