The Hitwoman and The Art Thief

Confessions of a Slightly Neurotic Hitwoman Book 54

Chapter One

You just know it’s going to be a bad day when a plate of chocolate-covered sardines is being waved under your nose.

“Try it, chica.”

Retching, I slapped my hand over my mouth and turned away from my so-called friend, Armani Vasquez, who was trying to feed me the disgusting combination. When I was reasonably sure I wasn’t going to puke, I lowered my hand. “What is that smell?”

“Sardines and chocolate,” Armani replied cheerfully. “My pal, Sabrina, suggested it.”

“Some friend,” Godzilla, the anole lizard hanging out in my bra, grumbled. “The stench is horrific.”

“Try it,” Armani urged again.

“No thanks,” I managed to choke out.

“You, my friend,” Armani lectured. “Do not have an adventurous palate.”

“Or you actually possess taste buds,” God muttered.

“It’s good for your brain and heart,” my friend wheedled.

“It’s a hard no,” I replied firmly.

She sighed and shook her head. “Maybe one of the animals…”

“Hungry!” DeeDee, the Doberman pinscher, who’d been watching the exchange with interest panted.

“No!” I said sharply. “Chocolate is very bad for dogs. You should know that.”

“Okay, okay,” Armani said in a hurt tone, thinking I’d been impatient with her.

“I was talking to the dog,” I told her.

DeeDee collapsed on my bedroom floor in a dramatic heap, whining softly, like she hadn’t been fed for days.

“How about the cat?” Armani suggested, holding out the bowl that she’d waved under my nose to my one-eyed feline companion.

Back arching, hair standing on end, Piss narrowed her good eye and hissed, “Gross!”

“That’s a no from her,” I translated.

“I already had a bunch, and I’m too full to eat it,” Armani pouted.

I raised my eyebrows. “So you were giving me your leftovers?”

“I made enough for both of us,” she corrected. “I figured you were avoiding going into the kitchen, so I brought you breakfast in bed.”

I made the mistake of glancing at the chocolate-coated fish, and my stomach roiled traitorously. “Ummm, thanks.”

“You can’t hide in your room forever,” she pointed out.

“I’m not hiding.”

It was her turn to raise her eyebrows with disbelief.

“I’m choosing to avoid conflict.”

She shook her head. “It’s not like this is going to blow over. You’re going to have to deal with him eventually.”

I sighed heavily, knowing she was right. I was hiding out in my bedroom, doing my best to avoid Lawrence Griswald.  Aunt Susan’s husband had a bone to pick with me, and I didn’t want to argue with him.

“Suit yourself,” Armani said with a shrug. “I’ll leave this here in case you change your mind.” She left her disgusting food concoction on the dresser and limped out of the room. 

DeeDee trotted after her, no doubt hoping that if she looked pitiful enough, someone in the kitchen would feed her.

“She has a point,” God said. “It’s not going to blow over. You need to address it head-on. Draw your boundary. Hold the line.”

The cat, who’d been licking her paw, paused long enough to interject, “You make it sound like she’s going to war.”

Benny, the little white mouse, decided to join the conversation from his enclosure by squeaking, “No war! No war! No war!

“There’s no war,” I assured everyone. “It’s just a difference of opinion about priorities, and we’ll settle it like adults.”

“Which is why you’re sitting in your room, fully dressed, avoiding going into the kitchen because you’re afraid of running into him,” God drawled sarcastically. “Very mature.”

Since I didn’t want to prove him right, I stood up, threw open the bedroom door and marched out.

“Come back! Come back! Come back!” Benny begged.

I pivoted and immediately returned. “What’s wrong?”

“Stinky. Stinky. Stinky.” 

“He has a point,” God said. “You can’t leave him in here with smelly smothered seafood. That would be cruel.”

“Sorry, Benny.”  Fighting my gag reflex, I scooped up the bowl Armani had left behind. I kept it at arm’s length as I traveled down the hall and toward the kitchen.

“I bet Matilda or Rowdy would love that,” Piss suggested, trotting behind me.

I was holding my breath so as to not inadvertently inhale the fishy odor, so all I did was nod.

“The goat eats everything,” God reminded us. 

“But he wouldn’t appreciate it,” Piss argued. “The pig or racoon might enjoy it.”

“Maggie!” Griswald boomed the moment I entered the kitchen. “We need to talk.”

“This needs to go outside,” I announced, marching past him toward the back door.

Templeton, who was spreading cream cheese on a bagel, wrinkled his nose as I strode past. “Is that Armani’s latest attempt at gourmet?”

“Yes.” I threw open the door and stepped outside. 

“Is that for me?” Matilda oinked hopefully waddling up to me.

I eyed her suspiciously. “How did you know?”

“Mike was watching from the window,” the pig replied.

“More like the crow was spying on you,” God muttered. “It’s creepy the way he watches and eavesdrops.”

I put the bowl on the ground and watched my porcine pal devour it with gusto, snuffling her enjoyment.

“Maggie, we have business,” a voice croaked from nearby.

Spotting the black bird perched nearby, I shook my head. “Not now, Mike. I promised Griswald I’d be right back.”

“But he has to die,” the corvid insisted.

Matilda raised her snout from her feast long enough to snort with surprise, “Griswald?”

“No,” God corrected. “The man down the street that Mike is nursing a grudge against.”

“Good,” the pig approved. “Griswald gives me apples sometimes.” Then she returned to demolishing the remains of the sardines and chocolate.

“He has to die,” Mike squawked, then beat his wings and flew away. 

“Aunt Maggie, look!” a young voice said from behind me.

I turned and smiled at my nieces, Katie and Alicia. They were both holding up drawings they’d done. I couldn’t tell what either was supposed to be. “Look at those!” I exclaimed. “Wow!”

The girls beamed.

“We made them last night for Miss Lassalan,” Katie explained.

“Because she’s sad,” Alicia elaborated solemnly.

“Do you think she’ll like them?” Katie asked.

“She’ll love them,” I assured both girls, while wondering why their teacher, Lorraine Lassalan, was sad.

“See you later alligator,” Katie said, skipping off toward the barn where their classroom was housed.

Alicia lagged behind.

I crouched down so that we were eye level. “Something on your mind, sweetheart?”

She nodded but said nothing.

I waited. Unlike her cousin, Katie, who is an open book, Alicia was always deliberate and sometimes guarded.

“I think we’re staying here,” she offered without looking at me. 

“I think so, too,” I confirmed. Recently her mother, my sister, Marlene, had considered leaving the family, but now that her boyfriend Doc was living with us, she seemed content to stay.

“I’m glad,” Alicia confessed softly.

“I’m thrilled,” I admitted, opening my arms.

She threw herself into my arms and hugged me tightly, her little arms squeezing my neck like a noose of love. “Thank you, Aunt Maggie.”

“I didn’t do anything,” I told her. “It was your mom’s decision.”

“Everybody knows you always fix everything for everyone.” She pressed a kiss to my cheek, pulled away and raced to catch up with Katie.

“No pressure there,” God said softly from my bra. “All you have to do is fix everyone’s problems, all the time.”

“Time to go deal with Griswald’s problem,” I muttered and headed back inside the house.