The Hitwoman and the Family Jewels (8 page)

Patrick moved faster, knocking my arm free of the marshal’s grip, and pinning him against the wall with an arm against his throat.

A gaggle of gossiping nurses gathered to watch the exchange. Vinnie joined them.

“Jesus,” I muttered, remembering how Patrick had pledged to kill Kowalski for laying his hands on me. “Rule Number One.”

Patrick slid a sideways glance at me, not appreciating that I was reminding him of his
Don’t Get Caught
rule.

Out of the corner of my eye I noticed that Delveccio had stepped into the hallway to find out what all the commotion was about. I didn’t think it was a good idea for the mob boss to see the hitman lose his cool. “Who are you?” I demanded of the marshal. “What are you doing by my niece’s room?”

“Easy,” the marshal wheezed. “I was just reaching for my I.D.”

Patrick patted down the front of the man’s jacket. Removing his arm from the man’s throat, he took a step back, resting his hand on the butt of his gun.

There was a collective gasp from the rubber-necking nurses.

“Take it out,” Patrick ordered. “Slowly.”

The marshal did as he was told. “U.S. Marshal Frank Weller.” He held out his credentials for Patrick to study.

They looked legitimate to me. Then again, I hadn’t really bothered to look at the last set of U.S. Marshal credentials flashed my way
the last time
my father had taken an unsanctioned vacation from the big house.

Releasing his grip on his gun, Patrick reached into his pant pocket and pulled out his badge. “Detective Patrick Mulligan.”

“And I’m Maggie Lee,” I said, not to be left out of the conversation.

“I know who you are, Ms. Lee,” the marshal said, pocketing his identification.

“Then you know that it’s my niece lying in that room.”

“I know, ma’am. That’s why I’m here.”

I leaned against the wall weakly. “She’s in danger?”

The marshal, a tall, thin man, about thirty, watched me carefully. His angular face reminded me of a fox and I got the distinct impression he was as crafty as one. “You tell me, Ms. Lee, do you think Archie Lee would hurt his own granddaughter?”

I stared at him. “My dad?”

He waited.

“Are you crazy?” I asked.

“He
was
convicted of murder,” Marshal Weller reminded me.

“But he didn’t do it,” I argued.

Weller’s expression turned hard. No doubt he’d heard countless family members of criminals declaring the innocence of their loved ones.

“She isn’t here because of her father,” Patrick interjected. “She was attacked by a police officer earlier. He hasn’t been apprehended and Miss Lee was worried about the safety of her niece.”

"Her niece is safe," Weller said.

That didn't do much to allay my fears. "I want to see her."

"Just let her in," Patrick urged.

The marshal stepped aside, but before I could open the door to Katie's room, Aunt Leslie burst out.

"What's all this commotion?" Leslie asked.

"It's a long story," I started. "Is Katie...?" I trailed off as a woman about my age wearing a red dress so tight it looked as though it had been shrink-wrapped onto her curves, stepped out behind my aunt.

"Leslie?" the woman asked on a sexy whisper.

"Who the hell is she?" I demanded.

"This is Blanche," Leslie said. "My sponsor. Blanche, this is my niece, Margaret."

"It's a pleasure," Blanche practically cooed. "I've heard so much about you."

I gritted my teeth. No doubt Leslie had regaled her Narcotics Anonymous meeting with the story about how I'd told her to hand over the key to my place after she'd passed out against my front door. That had been her 'bottom' that had caused her to seek help for her drug problem.

"Your aunt says you hold a unique place in her life." Blanche said it with a smile, but I was pretty sure I detected disapproval in her tone.

"Funny," I muttered. "She's never mentioned you, Blanche." She didn't look like a Blanche. A Blanche should wear billowing chintz. I knew just looking at her that this woman wouldn't be caught in anything billowing, let alone chintz.

"Margaret!" Leslie exclaimed unhappily.

I didn't care that she thought I was being rude to her sponsor. I had other things to worry about.

"Let me get this straight," I said, addressing the marshal who was eyeing Blanche appreciatively. "You let my aunt's N.A. sponsor in, but you won't let me see my own niece? I'm her legal guardian."

The marshal bristled. "The nurses assured me that Leslie is on the approved family list."

"And I'm not?"

"You are, but with your connection to Archie Lee..."

I stared at him incredulously. "You've got to be kidding me."

"He just thought having Leslie there as a steadying influence would be helpful," Blanche purred.

I glared at her. "Why don't you try following the 'Don't speak unless you're spoken to' rule?"

"Margaret," Leslie gasped. "She's my--"

"She's a complete stranger to me and I won't have her talking about what's best for Katie," I snapped.

"Maybe everyone should just take a breath," Patrick interjected hastily.

I frowned at him.

“This really isn’t helping.” His expression was all but unreadable, but I could see a warning shimmering in his steady stare.

I forced myself to take the suggested breath, knowing he was right. Fighting in the hallway wasn't helping me to get what I wanted.

Pushing past Leslie and Blanche, I got into Katie's room.

She rested in the big bed, against the white sheets, looking so small and helpless. Her eyes were closed and she clutched Dino, her stuffed dinosaur.

My heart squeezed at the sight of her. Hurrying to her bedside, I bent over and brushed a kiss to her forehead. "I'm here, baby girl," I told her.

Her eyes fluttered open, unfocused.

"Aunt Maggie is here." I took her hand in mine. She felt cold.

Releasing her, I went to the foot of the bed and unfolded the afghan Aunt Susan had knit for her. I layed it over her small, still body tenderly. "Snug as a bug in a rug." My voice was choked with tears as I tucked it under her chin.

For a moment she seemed to recognize me, but then her eyes drifted closed.

Resting my forehead on the mattress beside her, I tried to gather my strength. I wasn't sure I had much left. When I lifted my head, I saw Patrick staring at me, his expression worried.

Offering him a weak smile, I dashed away my tears as I straightened.

"Tell her," Blanche urged, pushing Leslie into the room.

"You hurt my feelings," Leslie burst out childishly.

I hung my head. "I'm sorry."

"You have no idea how hard she's working to stay clean," Blanche berated.

I stared at the tiles of the floor and counted to ten trying to maintain my cool.

"You have no right to sabotage her progress," Blanche continued.

I balled my hands into fists, fighting for control of my temper.

"Ma'am," Patrick interceded in his most professional tone. "I don't think this is the time for this. Perhaps, if you'd step outside..."

A small smile tugged at my lips. Of course Patrick was coming to my rescue.

"She's acting like a spoiled brat," Blanche opined.

"I think I made a mistake allowing you in here," Marshal Weller muttered. "Please step out of the room."

I glanced up, surprised that he was offering me a reprieve.

Blanche glared at me. "If you cared about your aunt--"

"Out!" Weller barked. "Unless you want to be charged with interfering in an investigation."

"What investigation?" Leslie asked as the marshal escorted her sponsor from the room.

I stared at her. Sometimes she still acted as though she were permanently stoned. "There's a man with a gun outside the room. Didn't you wonder why?"

She shrugged. "He asked me my name and then ushered me inside."

I looked back down at the floor. This time I counted to twenty.

"Ma'am," Patrick said, saving me from having to offer the explanation. "There was a prison break earlier today. Archie Lee was one of the prisoners who escaped."

"Oh," Leslie said. "My sister will be happy to hear that."

"Why's that?" Marshal Weller asked, reentering the room.

"Because every time Archie Lee gets the chance to mess up my mother’s life he takes it," I groused.

Leslie shook her head. "No. You don't understand. Those two, my sister and Archie, they're soulmates. Nothing can keep them apart. Not time. Not distance. Not circumstance."

"Not prison walls," I joined in mockingly. "Not manhunts."

"We get the idea," Patrick interrupted.

"I hate to see you so bitter," Leslie murmured. "You'll find love someday."

It took every ounce of self-control I possessed to not look in Patrick's direction. I had nothing left to keep myself from saying, "Like you did?"

"I had a true love," Leslie confessed dreamily.

Patrick, fiddling with his cell phone, stepped out of the room.

I stared at her incredulously. Her twin, Loretta, the sister who'd been married a zillion times, was the one who usually spouted nonsense about true love. "You did?"

She nodded. "Despite what you think, Maggie, you don't know everything about your family."

I was inordinately glad she was calling me Maggie again. It meant she was no longer furious with me. No one, except Aunt Susan, called me Margaret unless they were mad at me. I'd have felt even better if Patrick was in the room. His absence made me feel unmoored. I leaned against Katie's bed needing the support.

"So you think Archie Lee will go find his wife?" Weller asked.

I gave him a hard look. "Are you telling me you're not having her watched? That you don't have someone stationed outside of her room too?"

He had the good sense to look away. "It's not my investigation."

"I'm sure Griswald has her covered, but it wouldn't be a bad idea to check," Patrick suggested helpfully, stepping back into the room.

Nodding, the marshal stepped into the hallway, pulling out his cell phone.

I nodded my thanks to Patrick, certain that he knew that I wasn't worried about my father reaching my mother, but I was concerned that Kowalski could go after her.

"What happened to your face?" Leslie asked suddenly. "And why is there blood on that shirt?"

I bit my tongue to keep from saying, "Can't get anything past you."

Patrick, taking my silence for an unwillingness to answer, filled in the blanks. "She was attacked by Paul Kowalski."

Leslie cocked her head to the side. "Surely not.”

“He did.” I stared at her, willing her to believe me.

“But he’s such a nice young man,” she said, unable to wrap her head around the idea.

"Psychopaths can be charming," Patrick muttered darkly.

Leslie raised her eyebrows at him before turning her attention to me. "Is that true?"

"That psychopaths can be charming?" I asked. "I guess so. I mean look at Ted Bundy."

Leslie shook her head. "But why would Paul attack you?”

"Probably because I deserved it," I drawled sarcastically, angry that it had taken her so long to notice I was hurt and she still hadn't asked if I was okay.

Leslie stiffened. "That wasn't what I was saying."

"Are you sure?" I asked. "Maybe you need to go ask Loretta's clone what you should be saying."

"Who?" Leslie's confusion would have been comical if I hadn't been so pissed.

"Blanche. She's like a younger version of your twin," I spat out. "She's a sexpot who's telling you what to think, what to say, how to act."

Leslie shook her head in denial, but I could tell she was considering what I'd said.

"You need a new sponsor, Aunt Leslie. That one," I jerked my chin in the direction of the hall, "is not good for you."

Weller walked back through the door. "There's a marshal on your mother."

"I hope he's not too heavy," I quipped.

Patrick chuckled softly.

Weller frowned at him. “Griswald said you'd probably have a picture of this dirty cop I'm supposed to keep an eye out for."

Patrick held out his cell phone for the other man to examine. "He's bad news. Shoot first, ask questions later."

Weller eyed him suspiciously. "So much for the boys in blue looking out for one another."

Patrick stared at him impassively.

After a long moment Weller said, "My orders are to stay with the little girl."

Patrick swung his gaze to me. "Marshal Griswald has requested I bring you back to the B&B, Miss Lee. He has some questions for you."

I nodded, appreciating how he managed to come across as solely professional. It gave me a glimpse of how he juggled all his different lives.

Turning to Leslie, he said politely. "Do you need a ride home, ma'am?"

She shook her head. "I'll stay here."

Looking down at Katie sleeping peacefully, I said softly. "I think you should go home. Aunt Susan was very upset and I'm sure Loretta will be too once she finds out Templeton was almost killed."

"How?" Leslie asked.

"Kowalski," Patrick supplied. "You're all being placed under protective custody until he's caught. Marshal Weller will stay here with the girl. There's a team watching over your mother. More officers are at the B&B. That should keep everyone connected to you safe."

While it sounded as though he was reporting what was going on to Leslie, I knew he was doing his best to reassure me.

I nodded my understanding. "We should go back," I told Leslie. "Let’s go.”

Afraid I’d lose my resolve to leave Katie, I barreled past them all and into the hallway.

I promptly slammed into Delveccio's hired muscle, Vinnie. No doubt he'd been lingering outside the door, eavesdropping for his boss.

"Hey!" he shouted. To his credit, he didn't let me fall on my ass in the hospital corridor. Grabbing my arm in a vise-like grip, he held me up like a dangling, raggedy doll.

I shoved at his muscle-bound chest. “Hey, yourself.”

Vinnie looked to his boss, who was lounging in the doorway of the room next to Katie’s, to see what to do about me. Patrick and Weller reached for their weapons.