'Scuse Me While I Kill This Guy Page 13

  “I don’t give a damn about the family’s interests but I do care a lot about the family members.”

  “Okay. Fine, “Dela said.” I agree with that. But let me tell you that the risk is minor right now. The mole has only promised information, but hasn’t yet delivered it yet.”

  “What are they asking for? What’s the motivation?”

  Dela leaned back. “I don’t know. The only thing we can rule out is blackmail. Apparently the mole is not under suspicion.”

  “Do we know if it’s male or female? Do we have anything to go on whatsoever?” My voice got louder.

  “I know you’re upset, Gin. But don’t take it out on me. I volunteered to be your handler. Just think how Lou, Troy or your own grandmother would take your attitude.”

  She had me there. I was behaving badly. “Sorry. I’m just a little freaked out.”

  “I know. We are too. This isn’t an easy or pleasant assignment. But that’s why we picked you.”

  “Because I’m difficult? Or unpleasant?” I smiled.

  Dela laughed. “Both. But also because you’re one of our sharpest employees.”

  I winced at her words. I never thought of myself as anything more than bungling. And calling me an employee instead of a member of the family was weird too.

  “So where do we start?” I asked, polishing off another glass of wine.

  “Well, we know it’s someone in your generation. Both contacts describe the individual as male. They refused to give us more information, perhaps because it’s too sensitive, or maybe they don’t know anything else.”

  “A young male? Well, that does narrow it down somewhat.” I ticked them off on my fingers: “Coney, Richie, Lon and Phil.”

  “And Dak and Paris,” Dela added.

  I shook my head. “No way. Dak and Paris wouldn’t do anything that stupid.”

  “It doesn’t matter what you think, Gin. Dak and Paris are to be investigated just as vigorously as the others.”

  “Yeah,” I said, “but I know neither of them are the mole.”

  “Do you?” Dela’s blue eyes went cold and I realized that even though I felt confident of Dak’s and Paris’s innocence, the Council did not.

  “Fine. Just to make you happy, I’ll look into them too.”

  “This is very serious, Gin. You have to treat all six men as equal suspects, or this won’t work.”

  “Sorry. I will.” But I knew Dak and Paris weren’t involved. Meaning I really had only four suspects. “What else can you tell me?”

  “Only that you have two weeks to find and take care of him.”

  “That’s it? Two weeks? Fourteen days? That’s all I have?” I protested.

  “In two weeks, the snitch is meeting with his contacts from both agencies at the same time. We need to neutralize the problem before that meeting happens.”

  “Wait, you know that much, but you don’t know who it is or why he’s doing it?”

  She nodded. “We even know the meeting will take place at a Starbucks in Washington, D.C., at five p.m. But we don’t know who it is.”

  I loved Starbucks. I really did. I even took offense when comedians make fun of them. For one of my cousins to besmirch the company’s name for a Bombay family takedown was over the top, in my humble opinion.

  “Since I know it’s a male, does that mean I can enlist help from my female cousins?” Liv was smarter than I was. I’d bet she could have the info to the Council in one week.

  “Absolutely not. If you’re talking about Liv, her brother is a suspect, don’t forget. Even your mother isn’t to know because of Dak.”

  “So why didn’t you use one of the female cousins who don’t have brothers for this job?”

  Dela narrowed her eyes at me. “Because we wanted you. Remember, under no circumstances are you to involve anyone else. Especially Liv.”

  “Is this a joke?” Liv’s big brown eyes pleaded with me two hours later when I, of course, told her everything. Hey, I wasn’t smart enough to do this alone. Sue me.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  “I’ve decided what I want to do with my life. I wanna be a cleaner.”

  —Mathilda, The Professional

  I waited a moment for the information to sink in. I mean, it took me about twenty hours. Of course my timing isn’t perfect. We were just getting ready to take the girls down to the conference center for their ritual. The way I saw it, Liv could think about it for a while, and then when we got to the bungalows we could discuss it intelligently.

  “I don’t believe it!” Liv looked pretty upset. Maybe I had figured it wrong.

  “Well, I don’t believe it either. That is, that Dak or Paris could be involved. I mean, I definitely believe it about the mole,” I fumbled.

  “We’ll discuss this later!” she hissed and I got the distinct impression she was pissed off. Not good. Not now, at least.

  An hour later, after the older kids went through their ceremonies, I felt my insides bunch up into my throat as Grandma (wearing a goat skull for some ungodly reason—I never did get that part of the ritual; frankly, I think she just liked wearing it.) called Romi and Alta to the front of the candlelit room.

  “Now, we open our arms to the youngest members of the family,” Grandma intoned dramatically. I couldn’t help doing the old eye roll in Liv’s direction. She shot me a fierce look that pierced my spleen. Okay, she was still pissed.

  Romi and Alta looked doubtfully at Grandma, but nodded when she asked them if they were ready. Ready for what? To start killing people? To hunt down errant family members if necessary?

  Romi looked back at me with a cocked eyebrow. My darling little cynic. She thought we’d all lost our minds. That was so cute! And they looked darling in their little white dresses.

  Uncle Lou stepped forward, droning on and on about loyalty to family, blah, blah, blah. Then he asked them to hold out their arms.

  Shit! I forgot to tell them about this part! Romi freaks out when she gets a shot. Liv grabbed my hand, and I realized she was thinking the same thing. I started thinking that it would be cool if we really had telepathic abilities. I bet we could really kick some ass....

  An angry shout brought my attention back where it belonged. Uncle Lou had drawn the ceremonial dagger (which, personally I think should have been replaced two millennia ago—I mean, seriously, we could get tetanus from that old thing!) across Romi’s palm, drawing blood. And my daughter responded by clocking him in the nose with a pretty impressive right cross. I couldn’t help smiling.

  I was about to go up there when Grandma pulled her aside, whispering something into her ear. Alta stood there stoically (or maybe she was in shock) as Lou did the same to her. Romi still looked angry as they were led to a table and signed their names to the family book in their own blood. Nice. Too bad Hallmark doesn’t make a card to mark that sort of occasion.

  “Mommy!” I heard Romi yell. “I do not like this!” My older relatives gasped in shock while I saw Dak smothering a grin. He flashed me the thumbs-up sign.

  It was even worse when Grandma tried to get them to wipe their bloodstained hands on their snow white gowns. It was part of the thing. Innocence lost—crap like that. Unfortunately for her, the girls fought hard. Ruining a “princess dress.” as they had called it earlier that evening, was out of the question. Romi kicked Grandma in the shins while Alta ran in evasive zig-zag maneuvers. It was pretty funny. Even Liv joined me in laughing, which was inappropriate, I guess.

  Grandma and Lou gave up, finally, and our daughters, in their pristine gowns and completely disheveled hair, marched like queens back to us. Liv and I carefully bandaged their hands, but they only glared at us. Okay, so not preparing them for it was a bad idea. It was clearly going to be a very long night in the bungalow.

  “I’m never going to forget this, Mommy!” Romi said for the fifteenth (or was it fiftieth?) time. She shoved a handful of popcorn into her mouth and chewed angrily (if that’s possible).

  “Yeah!” Alta added, look
ing mournfully at her bandaged hand.

  “I told you, I’m sorry!” I said again, hoping it would sink in this time.

  Alta glanced sideways at her mother. “Did you really do that when you were a kid?” Liv had tried empathy, pleading that the same thing had happened to her, Woody, even Grandpa Pete, but Alta didn’t seem to believe it.

  Okay, we blew it. All I could see was failure. Hell, I’d probably blow the sex talk in a few years too.

  “Look,” Liv pleaded, “it’s getting late and we’ve had a long day.”

  I nodded. “Yes! Good idea! We can talk about it more tomorrow.” Something in Romi’s glare told me that it would be an unpleasant discussion. “At the beach,” I added as a bribe.

  The girls glared at us one more time, then curled up in their beds and closed their eyes. Liv and I waited until we were sure they were asleep, and we had a couple of beers. Then she asked me to tell her the whole mole story again. I tried to throw in a few dramatic flairs to make it seem more interesting, but my heart just wasn’t in it.

  “Well,” she sniffed, “I think it’s safe to assume that Dak and Paris are clear.”

  “I tried to tell Dela that. But she insists we investigate them just as thoroughly.”

  “And we only have two weeks?” Liv asked again.

  I brightened. She said “we”! I nodded like a bobblehead doll.

  “Well then, let’s start with Dak and Paris so we can write them off immediately.”

  “Brilliant!” I opened another beer. “Then the Council will see that I did what I was asked. And don’t forget, you know nothing about this.”

  She nodded. “But, Gin, two weeks isn’t enough time to investigate one hit, let alone six men. Maybe they’ll give you more time?”

  I shook my head. “Sorry. The mole squeals in a Starbucks to two different governments in two weeks. I have to have him hog-tied and bleeding before then.” Why did I sound like an extra from Deliverance?

  Liv opened another beer. “I guess we’ll just have to get started immediately. How are we going to do this, by the way?”

  I gaped. “I thought you knew! Hell, that’s why I brought you into this mess!”

  She shook her head. “I’ve had too much to drink and apologizing for the last two hours has given me a migraine. Let’s work on it tomorrow.”

  “Another great idea! I knew filling you in was the right thing to do!” I slurred rather drunkenly. Yes! We would think about it tomorrow! After all ... tomorrow is another day! And we don’t even have to make clothes out of the drapes! Woo-hoo!

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  “Death is life’s way of telling you you’re fired.”

  —Author Unknown

  You know, I was getting pretty drunk on this stupid island. But can you blame me? I had been “rescued” by the one person I loathed more than Vivian Marcy, given an impossible job by the Council (but they did give me a good evaluation, so I guess that counts for something), and watched my baby take the blood oath that would bind her to the Bombay merchant o’ death machine and begin her training as an assassin.

  It’s funny how many people I met in college who were going into the “family business” after school. Some were proud to—others dreaded it. I never realized how much I was like them before now. Romi had just started her education last night, and I was going to be killing off one of my cousins soon.

  Hell, I couldn’t even get relationships right! I seriously doubted that anyone had killed off her lover’s client and managed to make the relationship work. I hadn’t heard from Diego. I didn’t even know whether he had found out about his boss. For all I knew, he could’ve been on a flight back to Australia as I was thinking this!

  Liv was in the shower and the girls were putting on their swimsuits. I slipped out of the bungalow and pulled out my cell phone.

  “Diego Jones speaking.” His voice was as rough and warm as good scotch.

  “Gin?” asked the voice, “is that you?” Shit. He had caller ID. “Um, hey, Diego. How’s things?”

  “I’ve been trying to call you.” His voice sounded urgent, “The shit’s hit the fan here. I lost my client.” There was an awful pause. I knew it wasn’t easy for him to admit that.

  “Diego, I’m so sorry. What happened?” Like I didn’t know.

  “I’ll tell you when you get back. We have a lot to talk about.”

  Uh oh. What did that mean? “Um, good. I’ll be home tomorrow night. Why don’t you come over the next day at nine, after I take Romi to school?” So we can have sex and I can make you forget your terrorist-funding client, who, by the way, I happened to have killed.

  Liv stepped out onto the porch, her arms crossed over her chest, smiling at me.

  “Sounds good,” Diego said. “And Gin? I really miss you,” he said before hanging up.

  He missed me! I leaned against the doorway to keep from swooning.

  “Lover Boy from Down Under doesn’t connect you to the hit, does he?” Liv teased.

  “God, I hope not. That might negatively impact our romance.”

  “Riiiiiiight.”

  The girls bounced out the door and down the steps to the beach. Liv and I scooped up the cooler and lounge chairs and followed their tiny footprints in the sand.

  The girls, we discovered, were way more interested in chasing fiddler crabs and wading into the surf than in hearing from us about their future careers. Liv and I found an isolated shady spot and set up our stuff.

  “So,” I started, “I investigate our brothers first.”

  Liv looked at me over her sunglasses. “Actually, you should investigate Dak first”

  I nodded. “Right. So how do I do that?”

  Liv peered at the lame dossier Dela had given me. “I don’t know.”

  “I could check on his whereabouts on the dates the mole met with the two agencies. How hard could that be? He never goes anywhere without telling me or Mom.”

  She nodded. “And he has no motive, really. Dak loves his playboy-with-a-trust-fund lifestyle. In fact, I’m curious what the motivation is at all.”

  “I’ll check with him about those dates first. Then I’ll hack into the bank’s computer and confirm that his accounts haven’t suddenly become larger. Do you think that will do?”

  “I guess,” she replied absently. “I mean, what else is there? You only have two weeks.”

  “You check out your brother. Gather the same evidence. That will save us some time. Oh! And we should search their homes too. That way, we can prove we had nothing to go on.”

  Liv sipped her margarita. “So who do you think it is?”

  I leaned back. “I hope it’s Richie. But it could be Lon and Phil. I’m sure it’s not Coney.”

  “How can you know that?” Liv asked.

  I shrugged. “I don’t know. We’ve always gotten along, and I just don’t see him doing that. Lon and Phil are weird, though.”

  “Yes they are, but that doesn’t mean they would turn the whole family in.”

  “Well, why not?” I argued. “After all, they don’t have wives or kids to worry about. If they get some kind of deal, it’s only their mom who goes to prison.”

  “And their father, grandmother, and so on. I don’t think we can count on that. Whoever the mole is, he obviously has selfish motives.”

  We sat there quietly for a moment, turning the idea over in our heads. And while I appreciated a good mind-bender like anyone else, I hated this.

  “Well, let’s just start on Paris and Dak and figure it out as we go,” Liv finally said.

  “Fine.”

  The day went very well as we sat there, watching the girls playing while we made small talk. Liv suggested I keep Diego at a distance ... at least until this mole issue was taken care of.

  And maybe she was right. Diego and I had issues that would take years of therapy to work out. And I wasn’t so sure he was ready to become Diego Bombay. And at this point, I wasn’t so sure I still wanted to be a Bombay. The girls were avoiding an
y conversation on last night’s fiasco, and I had a sticky job to do.

  I outlined in my head (while Liv napped in her chaise beside me) what I needed to do to get Dak off the hook when we got home. That made me feel a little better. Well, that and the fact that I would see Diego soon.

  Later that afternoon, we went back to the manse. Liv and I had given up talking to the kids about the family. They formed a tiny but impenetrable wall of defiance we couldn’t breach. I’d be lying if I said we weren’t relieved to be failures.

  After dinner, Liv and Dak took the kids to the pool while I slipped out to visit Missi again. I couldn’t tell her what was up, but I had to see if she had any good surveillance stuff. And maybe I could get a little intel on her cousins Lon and Phil.

  I came bearing kiwi daiquiris (Missi’s favorite), and she seemed pleased to see me. I felt like I should whisper “I’m in” to some electronic device on my person.

  “Surveillance equipment, eh?” Missi chewed on her lip. She turned and led me to a corner of her workshop. “I have the usual stuff, X-ray binoculars, mini-cameras hidden inside souvenir snow globes, Chia Pets with supersonic listening devices and ...”

  “Chia Pets?” I interrupted.

  She shrugged. “Weird as it may sound, nearly everyone gets one as a gift at some point in their lives. Works really well too.” She pointed at the photo on the box with the plants forming an Afro on the terra cotta head. “I’ve created plants where half the leaves are fiber optic microphones.”

  I wondered if my cousins would throw them away the minute I gave them out. What reason would I have to send these guys Chia Pets anyway? I’d have Liv think about that one. She’d come up with some good reason.

  “I’ll take six.” I said.

  Missi grabbed a basket. “Any preferences? I’ve got everything from human heads, to hedgehogs, to Scooby Doo.”

  “Just give me one of everything.” I had no idea what I was doing. When in doubt, always go with an assortment. That’s what I always said. At least starting right now, that’s what I always said.