Pauley let the smallest of smiles break the tension. Millicent’s attempt to make her feel better was enough to snap her out of her pity party.
“Even if your Love Potion worked as well as you said it would, we’ll still have a little time.” Pauley picked up the cloth napkin from the table, and dunked it into her ice water.
Millicent shook her head at the etiquette faux pas. “What do you have in mind?”
“I need to get my gun, that’s the first thing,” rubbing the cold cloth on the back of her neck, Pauley then scrubbed at her face. “I need to clear the room, wipe traces of us being there.”
“Even if there’s an immediate autopsy, which might happen since Niles most likely has a few disgruntled clients, we’d have a day or two before we have to really worry.” Millicent tried to pull the napkin away from Pauley. “But, won’t going back to the hotel be… unwise? You’ll be recognized.”
‘That oversized suit you first saw me in was my idea of dressing up,” Pauley surrendered her damp cloth. “I’m conspicuous in this get up because I’m so damn awkward. I can look 14 when I want. I can be invisible.”
Now that she had a plan brewing, Pauley began to calm down and her renewed confidence brought a smile to Millicent’s lips.
The women left the diner separately, each taking several taxis, but neither going directly to the Hennessy.
Millicent had their disposable phones, dismantling them in the back of her cab. Asking the cab driver to lower her window, feigning a sick headache, she surreptitiously dropped pieces of electronics along the road.
Pauley slipped into the hotel parking garage, making her way to the housekeeping basement. Finding the laundry, she got out of her blue lace facade, and donned a starched, white maid’s uniform.
A housekeeping cart was the perfect camouflage for removing items from their room. Once inside, she stripped the bed and piled the room towels together, hiding her precious .22 beneath the linens. A quick wipe down with industrial cleaner blurred any fingerprints.
Back in the laundry, Pauley found the stash of abandoned luggage and scrounged a new outfit of jeans, a dark T-shirt and Doc Martins. Pulling her long hair into its normal pony tail, Pauley left the hotel looking to all who saw her like a random teenager, and not a hired killer.
Millicent strolled through the nearby Bijou mall, purchasing the travel ensemble her young accomplice suggested. Reluctantly disposing of her casino dress, she hailed a cab and made her way to meet Pauley.
The women no longer resembled the two assassins witnesses at the Oracle would later describe to the police.
Millicent knocked on the apartment door, shocked to see a kid answer. Pauley pulled her into the room before Millicent could leave.
“What is this place?” Millicent asked, looking around the sparsely furnished flat. She wrinkled her nose at the smell of gun oil. Pauley’s Walther lay in pieces on the coffee table where she was cleaning the weapon.
“It’s my safe house, not even Butch knows where it is,” Pauley pointed to an oversized chair for her to sit, then plopped down on a dingy sofa. “I guess I’ll have to find a new one.”
“So, what now,” Millicent eased into the chair, sitting on the edge of the cushion as if she would catch a deadly disease.
Pauley thumbed through her cell phone contacts,“now, we call Butch for a face-to-face, he was some explaining to do.”
More from female assassins Millicent and Pauley, in Dead Money. Written with my accomplice Lance, author of My Blog Can Beat Up Your Blog. Check out his next chapter, “This Wasn’t Supposed To Happen“.