The Hitwoman and the Chubby Cherub (9 page)

DeeDee was more than happy to lead/drag me in the direction of the home formerly occupied by the guy who’d been murdered in the backyard of the B&B. We half-sprinted around the corner, with DeeDee charging ahead and me hanging on for dear life.

“Patrick!” she barked excitedly. “Patrick.”

I scanned the area and was shocked to see my redheaded murder-mentor conferring with a bunch of cops in front of the Belgard residence.

“Patrick!” DeeDee yipped, eager to reach him.

“No,” I ordered, digging my heels in and yanking hard on the leash while she was mid-leap. She crashed to the ground and I stumbled backward, inadvertently choking her as I tried to regain my balance.

“Ow,” she whined loudly.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart.” I hadn’t meant to hurt her, just stop her. I patted her head. “I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry.”

“Patrick,” she panted.

“We can’t see him now.” I tightened my grip on her leash before looking up to see whether the cops had noticed us.

Imagine my surprise when I saw the redhead waving at me while standing within a swarm of boys in blue.

Hesitantly I waved back, unsure of what I was supposed to do.

Patrick said something to the uniformed man nearest him and the two of them emerged from the scrum to stride toward us.

“Patrick!” DeeDee panted.

I stood there, mouth dry, wondering what the hell was going on.

“Nice to see you again, Miss Lee,” Patrick called.

“Detective,” I croaked out.

“Hello, DeeDee.” He offered his hand to the dog to sniff.

She licked him appreciatively.

I understood the inclination. Wearing a green shirt that matched his eyes perfectly, he did look pretty yummy.

“This is Officer Brown.”

The uniformed cop was staring at the dog worriedly, his hand on his holster.

I smiled at the other man, while maneuvering myself so that I stood between him and the Doberman. “Hello.”

“Out walking your dog?” Patrick asked, continuing to stroke her head.

“More like she was walking me,” I replied, following his lead to keep things light and polite.

“We’re doing some follow-up investigation regarding Kevin Belgard’s death,” Patrick explained. For Officer Brown’s benefit he explained, “The body was found on Miss Lee’s property.”

“It’s not my property,” I corrected automatically. “The B&B belongs to my aunts, not me.”

“My mistake,” Patrick said smoothly.

“Have you caught the Cupid Killer?” I asked.

Officer Brown frowned and leaned closer. “What do you know about that?”

I blinked. “Only what I’ve read in the paper.”

Brown relaxed a little.

“Any suspects?” I asked.

“Besides Archie Lee?” another man asked from behind me.

Whirling around, I found Detective Brian Griswald, Marshal Griswald’s nephew, standing there. He looked pissed. I couldn’t blame him considering that my father had assaulted his uncle and potentially damaged his professional reputation.

I wanted to apologize for my dad’s actions, but decided against it. “Is he a suspect?” I asked.

“He was seen arguing with Belgard in the hours before his death, so yeah, he’s a suspect.”

This was news to me. I’d had no idea Dad had seen Belgard. Still, since I’d seen the real Cupid Killer in action, I knew my father hadn’t done what Brian suspected. I felt like I had to defend him.

“My dad is a lot of things, but he’s not a murderer,” I said quietly.

“I don’t suppose you’ve seen him lately,” Brian wanted to know.

“Last night actually,” I replied immediately. On top of everything else, I didn’t need to be accused of aiding a suspect or whatever the charge would be. After all, I had a Valentine’s Day party to cater.

Brian blinked. “What?”

“I saw him last night,” I repeated calmly.

“Where?”

“The Corset.”

“The sex shop?” Brian asked incredulously.

“The
lingerie
shop,” I corrected. “My aunt owns it.”

“Loretta,” the detective guessed.

“Who?” Officer Brown wondered aloud, looking thoroughly confused.

“Don’t ask,” Brian and Patrick said simultaneously.

Griswald gave the redhead a dirty look before turning his attention back to me. “Did you tell him to turn himself in?”

I shook my head.

“What did he want?”

“Cash,” I admitted.

“How much did you give him?”

“None.”

Brian’s expression told me he thought I was a liar.

“But I did give him dinner,” I confessed.

“Dinner?”

“My aunt had sent it to the shop for me.”

“Loretta?” Officer Brown guessed.

“Susan,” Brian and I said at the same time.

“You should have called the cops,” Brian Griswald lectured. “He’s a suspect in the murder investigation of a police officer.”

“But you only just told me that,” I reminded him. “And I saw him last night.”

“Well, he’s wanted for assaulting a--”

I shot him a warning look. Did he really want to publicly reveal that Archie Lee had gotten the jump on his U.S. Marshal uncle?

Thinking better of it, he changed the subject. “Did he say where he’s staying?”

I shook my head. “I kicked him out of the shop.”

Brian studied me closely. “Really?”

I met his gaze steadily. “Really.”

“Why?”

I shrugged. “Because Archie Lee is a selfish jerk.” I let some of my frustration with my father seep into my tone, giving it the ring of authenticity.

“Well,” Brian finished lamely. “If you see him again, call me.”

I nodded, knowing I never would. I was pissed at my dad, but that didn’t mean I’d ever turn him in to the cops.

Spinning on his heel, he stalked away, leaving me to contend with Patrick and Officer Brown.

“Everyone’s on edge because it was one of our own killed,” Patrick explained. “You’ll have to forgive Detective Griswald for his intensity. We’re all in mourning.”

I nodded, because I figured that’s what a gracious, normal person would do, but internally I was marveling at what a smooth and adept liar he was. Made me worry about how many of his lies I’d fallen for.

“Anyway, we just wanted to ask if you’ve noticed anyone unusual in the neighborhood,” Patrick continued with his professional patter.

“Like a guy toting a bow and arrow?” I asked.

“Just like that,” Patrick agreed.

I shook my head. “Not that I’ve noticed.” I jutted my chin in the direction of the cops gathered at the end of Belgard’s driveway. “Except for those guys.”

“We’re trying to discover whether Belgard knew his killer,” Patrick explained. “We just swept the house, but no one found anything.”

Something in his tone made me think he was trying to tell me something. I watched him closely, but his face revealed nothing.

“Yeah,” Officer Brown interjected. “They thought that since it’s an older house, there might be a hidden room or something.”

I nodded. I looked over at Belgard’s house, trying to estimate if it had been built at the same time as the B&B. If it had, there wasn’t a secret room, but I’d spent enough time exploring the B&B as a kid that I knew there probably was a hidden hiding space they hadn’t found. “Must have been a frustrating search,” I said finally, deciding not to ask if they’d double-checked the linen closet.

Brown nodded, looking at the huddle of men standing around talking.

While he was distracted, I gave Patrick an almost perceptible nod, letting him know that I knew what to look for.

His response was to pull a roll of wintergreen Lifesavers from his pocket. He offered me one before giving one to the uniformed officer.

“Well,
” he said smoothly. “We should get back. Thank you for your help, Miss Lee.”  He gave the dog an extra pat before leading Brown away.

“Hungry,” DeeDee whined softly as they left.

“Patrick can’t feed you
every
time he sees you,” I whispered. I tugged the leash. “Let’s go home.”

She trotted along, while I tried to figure out how I could get into the Belgard house and get a look in the secret compartment.

Chapter Ten

We barely made it around the corner when we stopped again.

Gino, Delveccio’s back-up bodyguard, hurried toward me.

DeeDee growled a warning at his fast approach.

He stopped in his tracks. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to startle you.”

I wasn’t sure if he was apologizing to me or the dog since he seemed to be staring at the ground right in front of DeeDee.

“It’s okay,” I told the Doberman.

She relaxed a little.

“I have a message from Mr. D.,” Gino said, slowly raising his gaze to meet mine.

I waited, wondering whether it would be about the Cupid Killer or the mysterious package he wanted delivered.

“He wants you to know that the recipient is Judge Rosendahl.” Gino watched me closely.

I hoped he didn’t see me blanch. I did my best to maintain a poker face, even though the idea of making a delivery to a judge made me sick to my stomach. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

Gino reared back. “Are you saying no to the boss?”

I got the distinct impression that refusing the mobster would be a bad idea. “I’m saying that I think it merits a discussion.”

Gino’s gaze widened. “The boss doesn’t have discussions. He gives orders.”

I nodded. “I understand, but…”

“You want me to go back and tell him you refused?” Incredulity and respect warred in his tone.

“I’d appreciate it,” I said carefully, “if you’d pass along my desire to discuss the matter.”

Gino shook his head. “It’s your funeral, lady.” He backed away from me as though I carried the plague and he didn’t want to catch it. Once he’d put enough distance between us, he spun around and race-walked away, elbows swinging.

“Hungry,” DeeDee reminded me.

The girl had her priorities.

And I had mine.

After I’d brought her home, dashing in through the cellar door so as not to have to deal with any of the human residents, I fed her, pet the cat, and deposited the lizard in my bra.