The Hitwoman and the Chubby Cherub Read Online Free Page B

wrapping up?" Aunt Susan asked, gliding into the kitchen.
     
    "This and that," Griswald replied smoothly. Like me, he knew that any mention of my father would put Susan into an instant bad mood.
     
    "Angel is looking for you," Susan told me. "He's in the backyard."
     
    Grateful for the chance to escape, I murmured my thanks and dashed out the door.
     
    I was sort of sorry I did when I saw him scowling at the storm door that led to the basement. Arms crossed against his chest, stretching his U.S. Navy t-shirt to the point where it looked like the seams might split at any moment, he did not look happy.
     
    I considered ducking back inside and avoiding whatever it was he wanted to talk to me about, but before I could make up my mind he looked over at me.
     
    “Hey.”
     
    “Hey,” I said back. “Susan said you wanted to talk.”
     
    He beckoned for me to join him in his perusal of the door. “We need to do something about this.”
     
    “This?”
     
    “We’ve got to secure this door.”
     
    “I use that door,” I reminded him, walking over to stand beside him. “It’s fine the way it is.”
     
    “It’s not.”
     
    “It’s how I let DeeDee out.” I didn’t add that it was how Patrick Mulligan sometimes let himself in, though he hadn’t done that in a while.
     
    “It’s not safe.” Angel turned to look down at me. “Or have you forgotten that a man was murdered in this very backyard?”
     
    “I had nothing to do with that,” I replied a tad too quickly.
     
    Angel raised his eyebrows. “No one thinks you did.”
     
    I glanced toward the kitchen door and then whispered, “I think Griswald thinks I might have.”
     
    Angel shook his head. “No, but he suspects your father might have been involved.”  He watched me closely as he delivered that nugget of information.
     
    I’m pretty sure my mouth dropped open. “He does? How do you know?”
     
    “I overheard him talking to his nephew.” I knew he was talking about Detective Brian Griswald, but what I didn't know was why he said “nephew” like he hated him. Was it because Brian's a cop and Angel’s from an organized crime family, or was there something personal between the two men?
     
    “It wasn’t my dad,” I said.
     
    Something that looked a lot like sympathy passed over Angel’s face.
     
    “It wasn’t,” I repeated with conviction.
     
    “You can’t know that,” Angel said quietly.
     
    I couldn’t very well tell him that I’d witnessed the Cupid Killer in action and he definitely wasn’t my father. He’s a chubby guy with a penchant for wearing red.
     
    “Sometimes people surprise us. Disappoint us.” Angel had a far-off look in his eyes and his shoulders were tense.
     
    I got the impression he was no longer talking about my father, but about someone who’d let him down.
     
    “Everything okay?” I asked carefully.
     
    He shook his head, like a wet dog after a bath, and when he spoke again, he was completely in the moment. “We’ve got to do something about the door.”
     
    “No,” I said firmly.
     
    “No? What if someone were to sneak into the basement?”
     
    “DeeDee would bite them.”
     
    Angel rolled his eyes, letting me know he didn’t think the Doberman offered much protection. He’d never seen the dog in her protective mode. Even I thought she looked scary when she was like that.
     
    “She’s tougher than she looks,” I assured him.
     
    “It’s not safe, Maggie.”
     
    “I’m not going to let you lock me up in there.”
     
    “No one’s talking about locking you up. I’m just suggesting that it might be prudent to make an effort to keep certain people out.”
     
    “Like my father?”
     
    He shrugged. “He sounds like trouble.”
     
    “He is,” I muttered. “And a locked door won’t keep him away.”
     
    “Why are you trying to keep Daddy away?” a voice asked.
     
    Angel and I spun around to find its source. My sister, Marlene, was frowning at me the same