The Hitwoman and the Poisoned Apple (Confessions of a Slightly Neurotic Hitwoman Book 8) (10 page)

I’d believed him.

I’d trusted him.

I’d fallen in love with him… and all he’d ever done was keep me at arm’s length.

I was the world’s biggest fool.

After stopping at the mall to buy live crickets for God, a new bone for DeeDee, and a beefy cat food for Piss, and stopping to pick up a bag of chips and a gallon of ice cream for me, I walked into the B&B grouchier than a swarm of killer bees.

In the kitchen I ran into Griswald, practically begging Aunt Susan to go out with him. I dumped the animal treats bag on the counter and pulled the ice cream out of one of the other bags.

“I’m flattered,” Susan told him coolly, “but no thank you.”

Yanking open the freezer door with more vehemence than necessary, I grumbled beneath my breath, “Don’t be an idiot.”

“I thought I made it clear earlier that this is none of your concern.” Susan’s tone was colder than the inside of the freezer.

“Right. None of my business.” I took a second to move stuff around before stuffing my ice cream inside. “Why should I give a damn whether or not you end up happy?”

“Language, Margaret!” Susan snapped.

“Screw language.” I slammed the freezer door shut to emphasize my point. “Screw language. Screw happiness. Screw you.” I reached for the bag of stuff for the four-legged family members, but Griswald had already confiscated it.

I glared at him, expecting him to tell me that I owed my aunt an apology or something.

He studied me for a long moment before asking quietly, “What’s wrong?”

Surprised by his reaction, I blinked. I grabbed for my bag, but he held it just out of reach. He almost dropped it when the crickets in the container inside broke into a rousing verse of Madonna’s “Like a Prayer.” He peeked inside before saying, “You’re obviously upset.”

“That’s no excuse to speak to me like that, young lady,” Susan griped. “In fact, I—”

Griswald turned on her, silencing her with a look.

Keeping his voice deliberately bland, Griswald rotated back toward me. “What happened?”

I shook my head. I couldn’t confide to anyone how much Patrick’s unwillingness to be with me hurt.

“It might be better to confide in someone than to binge on chips and ice cream,” the US Marshal suggested mildly, holding the bag out so that I could reclaim it.

“I appreciate your concern,” I murmured. I really did. Siding with me wouldn’t help him earn his way into Susan’s heart, yet he’d put my well-being over her offended feelings. “Thank you.”

He offered a self-deprecating smile. “I didn’t do anything. You won’t let me help you.”

“But you tried,” I choked out, tears burning the backs of my eyes. “You cared.”

“Lots of people care,” he lectured softly. He glanced toward Susan. “Some of us just express it differently.”

“Are you joining us for dinner?” Susan asked. “I made chili.”

Chili is one of my favorite foods. Even in my distraught state, I knew she’d made it to let me know she appreciated the conversation we’d had in Katie’s room. Only a monster wouldn’t accept her offering.

“As long as Marshal Griswald joins us,” I said.

Surprise flickered in Susan’s gaze, which made me think she’d expected me to reject her. “Of course.”

I winked at Griswald, grabbed the bag of pet foods, and said, “Give me ten minutes to take care of the creatures and freshen up.”

“Take fifteen,” Susan called as I clambered down the basement stairs.

Some people call their living quarters a sanctuary. Mine is bedlam.

I hadn’t reached the bottom stair when I was assaulted.

“Food!” the lizard bellowed from where he was locked inside the bedroom. “I’m starving.”

“Gotta! Gotta!” DeeDee yipped, racing to meet me, almost tripping us both in the process.

“The pain!” the cat wailed pitifully. “The agony.”

Since not having to clean up after the dog was my highest priority, I hurried over to the storm door and let her run free.

Then, because the crickets sounded like a bad karaoke group, I rushed to feed them to the lizard.  Lifting the lid off his enclosure, I dumped the bag of creepy crawlies inside.
“Bon appétit.”

Instead of going in for the kill like any self-respecting, nearly starved reptile would do, God said, “What the hell happened to you?”

“It’s too complicated to get into now. I’ll tell you later.” I turned to go find the crying cat.

“Maybe you should take me with you,” he suggested.

I spun back around. “I put you in here because you were afraid of her. Now you want to go place nursemaid?”

“Not when you deal with her.” He flicked his tail distastefully. “I meant whatever you’re rushing off to do after this.”

“It’s just dinner with Susan and Griswald and whatever other crazy person decides to show up. I can handle it.”

“Well,” he said slowly, “if you need me, you know where to find me.”

“Thanks.” I closed the door behind me so the cat couldn’t get him.  “Where are you, Piss?”

At that moment she chose to stop her incessant mewling, making it difficult to locate her.

“Seriously?” I muttered.

Her caterwauling was replaced by the shrieks and last gasps of the crickets meeting their end at God’s hands… or paws… or claws… or whatever he’s got.

“I don’t have the time or patience for this,” I told the cat. I opened a can of beef food, crushed a pain pill into it, and threw it under the sofa without even bothering to check if she was there.

“Ow!” she whined when the can bounced against her.

Heading back to the storm door, I ripped open the plastic wrap around DeeDee’s new bone off with my bare teeth. Spitting out a mouthful of the film and yelled, “Come, Doomsday!”

She didn’t respond.

Worried that she’d run off again, I stuck my head out of the cellar entrance like a groundhog out of a hole. “Doomsday?”

“Surely your day couldn’t have been that bad,” a human voice joked.

I found Detective Brian Griswald staring down at me, more than a little amused. The seventy-pound black dog I’d been calling was sitting on his feet, licking his hand.

“What are you doing here?”

“My uncle asked me to stop by,” he explained.  “Is her name really Doomsday?”

“DeeDee,” the dog and I corrected simultaneously, though to Brian it just sounded like she barked at him.  I didn’t explain that when she’d belonged to Gary the Gun, an assassin I’d killed with a leg of lamb, her name had been Doomsday, but she prefers DeeDee because it sounds more dainty and feminine.

“But you call her Doomsday?” Brian pressed.

I shrugged helplessly. “It’s been one of those days. Your uncle is staying for dinner. You should too. Susan made chili, and trust me, it’s really good.”

He considered the offer for a long moment. “You’re inviting me to dinner?”

“Not really,” I confessed. “It’s just that I figure the bigger the crowd at the table, the smaller the scene will be.”

“You’re anticipating a scene?”

“Have you met my family?”

Brian leaned closer and whispered dramatically, “Don’t be offended, but I have met your family and I’m surprised more haven’t ended up locked up somewhere.”

For a moment I couldn’t believe the man who’d stammered when I first met him and had seemed painfully bashful had said something so politically incorrect.

A look of concern settled over his features and I could practically see him mentally composing an apology for the faux pas.

But before he could verbalize it, I burst into laughter. I laughed so hard that tears streamed down my face as I leaned against the storm door, too weak to remain upright myself. “You’re right,” I wheezed through gales of laughter. “We all
should
be locked up.”

He chuckled, but didn’t join me in hysterical laughter.  “Wow, you must really have had a bad day to find that so funny.”

DeeDee bounded over to me and licked the salty drops from my cheeks. “Happy?” she asked, confused.

I squeezed her tightly to reassure her I was okay. “Yes, DeeDee. I’m happy.”

Brian’s eyes shot skyward, indicating I’d just confirmed his hypothesis that I, along with the rest of my clan, am nuts.

“You’ve got to stay for dinner,” I pleaded.

“Only if you promise not to ever repeat what I just said about your family.” He extended a hand, indicating he wanted to shake on the deal.

“Deal.” I pumped his hand enthusiastically. “Let me just get her inside and I’ll hurry up to the kitchen to let you in.” As I spoke, I urged the dog down the steps and lowered the storm door overhead.

“Have?” DeeDee panted hopefully.

“Have what, sweetie?”

“Bone.”

I’d forgotten I was still holding the treat I’d purchased. I thrust it at her. “I bought it for you.”

Ripping it from my hand, she raced to the opposite end of the room and started chewing on it loudly.

“Chew with your mouth closed, heathen,” God shouted from behind the closed bathroom door. Then he let out a burp that would make a ten-year-old boy proud.

She stopped long enough to ask me as I started climbing the stairs into the house, “Later walk could me please?”

“Sure,” I promised.

“Me too,” God demanded.

“I don’t have a collar that will fit you,” I teased.

“Ha! Ha! Hahlarious,” he drawled hysterically.  “Don’t choke on your dinner, Miss Stand Up Comedian.”

Chuckling, I stepped from bedlam into an alternate reality.

Dinner went smoothly.  There was no arguing. No loaded looks.  Griswald and Brian kept the conversation light, regaling us with stories about stupid criminals.
It was the most enjoyable meal I’d had in the B&B in a very long time and I told Brian as much as I walked him to the front door. “I don’t know how to thank you,” I concluded.

“It was my pleasure after all you’ve done for my family.”

“What?” As far as I knew nobody had ever done anything for his family.

He froze like a deer in headlights before muttering, “I don’t know why I said that. I say the dumbest things sometimes.”

He was clearly flustered. Since he’d done so much for me, I let the matter drop, despite wanting to know what he’d meant.

After seeing him out, I returned to the basement where I heard Piss purring, “Big, juicy purple mice.”

“Is she asleep?” I whispered to DeeDee.

The dog licked my hand in silent confirmation.

“Big, juicy purrrrrrrple mousie,” Piss practically cooed.

I snapped her leash on her collar and then went to retrieve God from his terrarium.

“How ya doin’, big guy?”

“There’s no TV in here,” he groused, scampering from my hand up to my shoulder. “The drugged-out feline carried on for most of the day. She’s definitely got a problem. We need to schedule an intervention.”

The three of us slipped out of the B&B unnoticed through the cellar door.

“An intervention for a cat?”

“She’s displaying definite drug-seeking behaviors. She’s demanding, exaggerating symptoms, exhibiting mood disturbances, and I’m pretty sure I spotted track marks on her legs.”

“You think a
cat
is shooting up?”

“She’s crafty,” God said defensively. “Okay, maybe not the track marks, but even the slobbering beast can confirm the other symptoms.”

“True,” the dog who was considering eating a pile of poop left behind by who or what knows what confirmed.

If I hadn’t been nursing my own suspicions about the cat’s behavior, I wouldn’t believe them, but since they were pointing out the same things I noticed, I had to face the knowledge that I had drug addicted cat.

“Okay,” I told God. “We’ll figure out a way to help her tomorrow.”

“Excellent decision. Maybe you can send her to a Narcotics Anonymous meeting with Leslie.”

“Maybe I can consult a vet for professional advice,” I countered.

“Whoa!” the little guy screamed as DeeDee lunged for a squirrel, almost yanking me off my feet. “Fair enough. Now that we’ve gotten that out of the way, tell me what happened today that got you so upset.”

I told him about Patrick’s reaction to my “revelations” about his wife and how they’d made me doubt everything about our relationship as DeeDee dragged us along the darkened streets.

“I thought he was the one,” I said with a heavy sigh. “Sure, we were star-crossed lovers, but he was
the one.
”

The lizard remained uncharacteristically silent.

“Did I put you to sleep?” I asked.

“I’m thinking,” the lizard informed me haughtily. “You might just react to everything, but I’m considering what you said, weighing it,
thinking
about it. You should try it sometime.”

I considered flicking him off my shoulder and leaving him on the road for some nocturnal creature to eat.

Sensing the tension, DeeDee lifted her nose from the ground and barked softly, “Not Patrick bad.”

“You only say that because he spoils you,” I told her.

“My saved life he,” she reminded me before returning to her incessant sniffing of the sidewalk surface.

“The beast makes some valid points,” God opined.

“Whose side are you on? You’re the one who, over and over again, has pointed out why I shouldn’t get involved with him.”

“You’re already involved with him.”

“Fine. You’ve carried on like a whistle-happy traffic cop every time I’ve come close to taking things further with him.”

“True, but that’s only because I care about you.”

“So you should be thrilled with this latest development.”

“I may not think he’s
the one
for you,” the lizard slowly, “but I do know that he’s been there for you through the most difficult time in your life. He looks out for you. He genuinely cares.”

I blew out a disgusted breath like an angry bull about to charge.

“And as loathe as I am to admit it, he’s been good for you in some ways,” God continued. “I’m not saying that what he did, or didn’t do, was wrong, but he’s only human after all. You creatures are known for making mistakes.”

As DeeDee snuffled along, I followed behind, considering what the lizard had said. I couldn’t really disagree with any of it, but that didn’t help to alleviate the dull ache that had settled in my chest when I’d found out about his deception.