The Hitwoman and the Jailbreak

Confessions of a Slightly Neurotic Hitwoman Book 48

Prologue

You just know it’s going to be a bad day when you’re facing down an apex predator.

My name is Magie Lee, and I was in deep trouble.

Thankfully, an unexpected rescuer was there to save me.

Chapter One

“It’s completely unacceptable.”

I arched an eyebrow at my Aunt Susan, who was sitting across from me at the breakfast table. All I’d wanted was a cup of coffee and maybe what yummy smelling treat Templeton had baking in the oven. Instead, I was getting an earful from my aunt regarding how inappropriate it was for my grandfather, her father, to go out on a date.

“This is your fault, Margaret,” she accused. 

“It’s going to be one of those mornings,” Piss, the one-eyed cat curled up on my lap, moaned. “No cream for me and a lecture for you.”

“How’s it my fault?” I asked my aunt defensively.

“If you had your friend under control, none of this would have happened.”

God, short for Godzilla, the tiny lizard hanging out in my bra, chuckled. “What makes her think anyone could control Armani?”

Hearing the sharp squeak of his voice, Susan glowered her disapproval. Despite the fact she couldn’t understand him, she was not a fan of the fact I spend most of my waking hours with a reptile cradled against my bosom.

I stared into my steaming coffee cup, trying to absorb its magical strength. I can’t tell you how disappointed I was, when, after a long moment, I didn’t feel any different. I’d been hoping it would have granted me the power to just disappear, but instead, I was forced to respond to Susan’s outrageous accusation. “Herschel is an adult.”

“And Armani is an enabler!” Susan practically shrieked.

I shrugged. “It’s not like she could choose any worse than he did for himself. He found Nonnie on his own.”

Susan shuddered at the mention of her father’s ex-girlfriend who was currently locked up, awaiting trial. “That just proves my point that he shouldn’t be out in the dating world.”

I sipped my coffee, refusing to get drawn into an argument about the matter.

“You need to have a talk with him,” she declared.

Choking on my coffee, I spluttered. Once I’d caught my breath and put my cup down, I whined, “Why me?”

From the way she arched an eyebrow at me, I had the distinct impression she thought I sounded like an entitled ten-year-old. But I was a grown woman and reacted accordingly. I crossed my arms over my chest, scowled and pouted. “You can’t make me.”

“Someone has to do it,” she insisted. “Loretta is all for him finding the next love of his life.” Rolling her eyes, she shook her head. “So, obviously, she’s not the one to talk to him.”

“Then, you do it,” I suggested.

She gave me an icy look. We both knew that due to her incessant nagging, the last person Herschel would listen to was his oldest daughter. Pretending I hadn’t made the suggestion, Susan pushed on resolutely. “Leslie just wants to be left alone about her own love life and is refusing to comment on anyone else’s.”

“She’s right,” I interjected forcefully. “We need to stay out of the business of other people and let them live their lives.”

“Not when he’s ruining his!” my aunt snapped back.

We glared at one another, each convinced we were right. Locked in a silent battle of wills, neither of us looked away when the door leading outside opened and footsteps stomped in. 

“Morning,” a familiar voice grunted.

Susan narrowed her gaze at me for a brief moment, wordlessly signaling that our argument was far from over. Then, looking away, she flashed a smile in the direction of our visitor. “Good morning, Brian.”

Detective Brian Griswald, her husband’s nephew, lumbered in. “My uncle said I might be able to get a cup of coffee.” 

“Of course.” Susan, in full hostess mode, hurried toward the coffeemaker while gesturing toward the table. “Have a seat.”

He sniffed the air and added hopefully, “And maybe whatever it is that smells so good?”

“That’s one of Templeton’s concoctions,” Susan muttered disdainfully. While she and Aunt Loretta’s better half had reached a truce about the cooking duties for the household, my aunt seemed to be resentful of the man’s ability to churn out amazing breakfasts day after day. 

“Hungry,” DeeDee, the Doberman pinscher resting her head on my thigh, whined.

The way they carried on, you’d think I hadn’t offered cream to the cat or fed the dog, but Piss was picky about who poured, and DeeDee had forgotten that she’d already wolfed down a bowl of kibble.

“It’s still baking,” I told Brian as he slid into another chair at the table. “Might be a wait.”

“I’m in no hurry. I’ve got to talk to both Loretta and Armani.”

“About what?” Aunt Susan slid a cup of steaming coffee in front of him.

“The break-in at The Corset and their kidnapping,” Brian supplied.

Aunt Susan glanced at me, clearly concerned. We might be at odds over Herschel’s dating life, but we both loved and worried about our family. Neither of us had taken the break-in at the lingerie shop owned by her sister and my friend, and their subsequent kidnapping, and almost murder, lightly.

“Why?” my aunt asked the police detective worriedly. “Has something happened?”

He shook his head. “No, Karla Nestor and her cronies are locked up. I was just hoping that maybe one of them would remember something that could help tie them to the murder of Donna Serfit.”

“That poor woman,” Susan murmured.

I lifted my cup and sipped my coffee slowly, trying to ignore the uneasy feeling in my gut. Sure, Karla Nestor was a greedy criminal, responsible for the abduction of Loretta and Armani, but when I’d confronted her, she’d denied killing Donna Serfit, who’d been leading a protesting campaign against The Corset. It wasn’t reassuring that she still hadn’t been connected to the dead woman. Would she evade a murder charge? Or was there another killer out there?

“Maggie!” Susan said sharply.

Startled, I almost dropped my mug, and ended up sloshing coffee down my hand and onto the table. 

“Answer the man,” she ordered.

I blinked, confused. “Sorry?”

“He asked if you knew anything about the dead woman,” Susan reminded me impatiently.

Realizing I must have spaced out, I busied myself with mopping up the puddle of coffee while I told Brian honestly, “I never met her.”

“Coffee cake time!” Templeton announced, striding into the kitchen. “Good morning, everyone.”

As he spoke, the kitchen timer stuck on the front of the refrigerator began to beep. He turned it off, grabbed a potholder and reached into the oven to remove the day’s breakfast treat.

“That smells amazing,” Brian announced appreciatively.

I think the human race is hardwired to love the smell of warm dough of any kind, or maybe that’s just me. Either way, my salivary glands kicked into overdrive as the aroma of sweet cinnamon wafted through the room.

“It’s got to cool for a bit before I can slice it,” Templeton warned. 

“I can wait,” Brian assured him.

“I can’t,” Piss meowed, jumping off my lap and rubbing herself against Templeton’s shins while purring, “Cream, please.”

Chuckling, he bent over and stroked the cat. “I can guess what you want Miss Piss. Let me get a saucer.”

“Hungry!” DeeDee barked softly, not wanting to be left out.

“When it’s ready, could you wrap up a piece for me?” I requested.

Templeton glanced over at me with surprise. “Not hungry?”

“I’m going to visit Mom,” I explained. “I know she’d enjoy it.”

“You’re going to visit Mary?” Aunt Susan asked at the mention of another of her sisters.

“She is my mother,” I replied dryly.

“Without being nagged to go see her?” my aunt continued, like it was some kind of miracle.

“Imagine that,” I drawled sarcastically. “Someone doing something without instructions from you.”

“Since I’m not needed, I’ll tell Loretta you’re here,” Susan told Brian huffily before stalking out of the kitchen.

Templeton shot me a worried look.

I waved dismissively. “She’s up in arms about Herschel’s love life, so she’s grouchy about everything.”

Brian suggested mildly, “Considering his last girlfriend is a murderer, maybe her fears aren’t unfounded.”