Agnes and the Hitman

friday

cranky agnes column #12

“Coke Would Like to Teach the World to Cook”

Some people are critical of Coke, pointing out that when you drop a nail into a Coke, and leave it there for four days, the nail dissolves completely; imagine, they say, what that same Coke does to your stomach. Those who are fans of Coke Ham point out that when you pour Coke over a ham and bake it in a 300-degree oven for two and a half hours, the ham tastes delicious. But anybody who has put a nail in a can of Coke and waited four days knows that it doesn’t dissolve at all. Why do people believe everything they hear? On the other hand, Coke Ham really is good. Better than that, it’s criminally easy.

The next morning felt eerily calm to Shane, sitting at Agnes’s kitchen table in the sunshine with Rhett underneath it draped over his feet and Garth across from him, resplendent in a brand-new shirt and jeans, which he was endeavoring not to get maple syrup on. Shane’s life was crumbling at the edges, but in the middle was Agnes, making love and breakfast, wanting him to come home to her, and a big old dog, keeping his toes warm. Screw the edges, he thought, and poured himself a mug of coffee brewed from fresh ground beans as Agnes put his plate of pecan pancakes in front of him. Still he knew that it wouldn’t work in the long run. Casey Dean was out there, determined to kill somebody after the wedding, and somebody else was out there, determined to kill Agnes. Agnes’s coffee and pancakes were good, but they could only hold off reality for so long.

“I have to go to work today,” he said, trying to prolong the illusion that it was a normal breakfast between two normal people who had just made love until they’d both collapsed and were now smiling at each other in a sunlit kitchen, giddy with mutual approval.

Garth nodded, his mouth full of pancake.

“Selling insurance,” Agnes said, going back to the grill for the bacon she had crisping there.

The pancakes were golden, the butter he slathered on slid off the tops in fragrant melting rivers, and then Agnes reached across the counter and handed him the syrup pitcher Garth had left up there, and he absentmindedly watched her breasts move under her T-shirt as he took it.

“Right, insurance,” Shane said, and poured the syrup, its scent reaching deep into his brain.

Garth gave them both the fish eye and shoveled the last of his pancakes in.

“To get that gold watch,” Agnes said.

“Yep.” Shane cut into the pancakes and forked up a bite: light, tender, nutty, sweet, and buttery, just like Agnes. Home cooking.

The phone rang and Agnes answered it. “Good morning, Reverend Miller. What is it this time?” She listened for a moment and then said, “What? No, she’s not pregnant. Jesus wept, man, are you insane? Do you know what Evie Keyes would do to you if she knew you were calling people and insinuating that her son is going around knocking up girls?” She listened again and then said, “Yes, that is exactly what you just implied, and I am shocked, just shocked that you’d spread gossip like that about a Keyes. And you a man of the cloth. What the world is coming to, I do not know. God must be listening to you right now and reaching for the bottle, that’s all I can say.” She hung up and said, “That man needs medication.”

“They should just put it in the water here, medicate the whole damn town.” Shane said, but he said it without venom-Keyes was what it was and a lot of it was good, the breakfasts, for example-and took another forkful of pancake.

Agnes filled a plate with bacon and came around the counter with it, as Garth got up to go. “I’m gonna go pick up that ground cover for the bare spots around the gazebo,” he said.

“Let me give you money,” Agnes said, but Garth said, “Nah,” and went out the back door as she called after him, “You look really nice in that shirt,” and got a grin through the screen door in return. “Please don’t steal plants from people,” she yelled as he went down the path and he waved without turning around.

“I wouldn’t ask any questions about the landscaping,” Shane said when Garth was out of earshot.

Agnes nodded. “I’ll deal with that later. Listen, I know this has probably been screwing up your job, babysitting me and the wedding-”

“No,” Shane said. “It’s part of my job. The wedding is my job.” He watched the warmth fade from her face and the wariness creep back in. “I didn’t know that when I came here. The Don set up a hit here, at the wedding. I’m here to take the hitman, named Casey Dean, out, to stop it.”

Agnes drew a deep breath. “At the wedding.”

The phone rang and she went to answer it. “Yes, Butch, you bastard,” she said, her eyes on Shane, “that was me who left you the message. I know who you are and I know the zoo where you work. If you don’t get Cerise and Hot Pink back there today, I am going to turn you in. I don’t care about your three children or your grandmother with the operation.” She listened for a minute and then she said, “No, two is not enough for a flock as you well know. You take them back today, Butch, or your ass is grass and I am a John Deere super-classic riding lawn mower with a V6 engine and a double cutting blade, do I make myself clear? Good.” She hung up and went back to the griddle and flipped the second batch of pancakes, perfect golden pancakes, while the coffeemaker brewed its second fresh-ground pot.

“Is it a coincidence that all of this is happening at once?” she said. “That Brenda is using the wedding to take the house back, and that your hitman is using the wedding for his hit, and that somebody was in the vault for the first time in twenty-five years just this week?”

Shane put his fork down. “I don’t know. I don’t like coincidences. But I don’t see how they connect, do you?”

She frowned, thinking hard, and he just looked at her for a minute. Agnes. On his side. In her kitchen full of life.

“Who does the Don want dead?” she asked.

“Don’t know.”

She smiled at him weakly. “I don’t suppose there’s a hope in hell that it’s Brenda?”

He smiled back. “I wouldn’t count on it.”

The phone rang again and she answered it. “Kristy. Hi. I wondered what happened to you yesterday. Yeah, probably a smart thing to do, leave when Brenda starts killing people. No, she swears it was an accident. Right, tonight. Rehearsal dinner’s at six, bachelor and bachelorette parties right after that. Pictures at the beginning only, please. Right. Mother and father of the groom, mother and grandmother of the bride. No father of the bride. Yep. See you then.” She hung up and looked at Shane. “So. Life goes on. Unless you’re Four Wheels.”

Carpenter came in from the hall. “Good morning, all. Pancakes?”

“Just in time,” Agnes said, and loaded a plate for him, adding enough bacon to feed a family of four.

Shane nodded to him. “Any ideas on who could have broken into the shelter and put that frying pan and the money wrappers there?”

Carpenter sat down and frowned at him over the plate Agnes put in front of him. “Good morning to you, too.” He picked up the warm maple syrup. “Have some respect for fine cooking.” He took the syrup and poured it over the cakes and breathed in the sweet maple perfume.

Agnes got him a mug of coffee, looking worried, and Shane felt like hell for having unloaded the hit and the Don on her, but she had to know. Keeping her in the dark wasn’t fair, either. Although lately the dark was the place they were both happiest, so maybe that wasn’t such a bad plan after all.

Carpenter cut into the pancakes and tasted them. “Marry me.”

Hey, Shane thought, and it must have shown on his face because Carpenter grinned.

Lisa Livia yawned in the doorway and said, “So this is what happens when I sleep late.”

“Damn fine pancakes,” Carpenter said, and kept eating as she came into the kitchen, patting his back as she sat down.

“You up for pancakes?” Agnes said, and Lisa Livia nodded and Shane watched Agnes serve up more food, round and warm and flushed, happy again, looking very pattable.

Too many people in this kitchen.

He was wondering what the chances were of luring her back upstairs, when his phone buzzed and he pulled it out. He glanced at the identifier, which indicated that it was a message from Wilson. He was surprised to see it was in plain text, not encrypted:

dock. five minutes. bring carpenter.

He looked up at his partner, who was wolfing down breakfast. “We have to meet the boss.”

Carpenter nodded and spoke around pancake. “When and where?”

“Five minutes on the dock.” He watched Agnes, wondering how she felt about her dock being used for his business meetings. Probably not as upset as her wedding being used for his hit.

Carpenter’s eyebrows were up a notch. “Let’s get moving, then.” He scooped up another forkful of pancake and got to his feet. “That was an elegant breakfast, Miss Agnes,” he said. “Simply wonderful,” he added, smiling at Lisa Livia.

“Thank you,” Agnes said, and smiled back, but she watched Shane, worry in her eyes.

Shane got to his feet, too, displacing Rhett, who snorted and then slept on. “That was my line,” he said to Carpenter. “The breakfast one. Except in the movie it was dinner.” He paused, realizing both Agnes and Lisa Livia were looking at him blankly now. Apparently they didn’t watch the classics, either. “Okay. Yeah. Great breakfast.” He tried a smile for Agnes, which didn’t really work. “Sorry.”

“No,” Agnes said, catching his meaning, another good thing about her. “It’s good to know.” She drew a deep breath. “I sure am looking forward to Sunday.”

“What happens Sunday?” Lisa Livia said.

“With any luck, not a damn thing,” Agnes said, and when Lisa Livia still looked blank, she said, “The wedding will be over, the house will still be mine, we’ll all be alive, and Shane and Carpenter will have sold that life insurance policy.”

“Life insurance policy?” Carpenter said.

“To Casey Dean,” Shane said. “Who will have cashed it in.”

“Ah,” Carpenter said, looking surprised at the security breach.

“It was on a need-to-know basis,” Shane told him. “She needed to know.”

“I guess she did,” Carpenter said, and Agnes smiled at him, a damn good smile this time.

“I miss a lot when I sleep late,” Lisa Livia said, looking from one of them to the other.

“Yeah,” Shane said, wishing for the first time in his life he could take the day off. He nodded to Carpenter. “Let’s go meet the boss.”

He wasn’t supposed to tell me that, Agnes thought, watching Shane and Carpenter walk down the path to the dock. He broke rules to tell me that. That made it better, that she was special enough that he’d break rules for her. And he was coming back to her, too. Maybe this time, she thought. Maybe-

“So today we sink my mother’s boat,” Lisa Livia said.

“I really don’t have time.” Agnes put more cakes on the griddle for her. “I have to decorate a wedding cake and a groom’s cake because your rattlesnake of a mother did something to the baker, remember? There’s a wedding tomorrow.”

“Oh, right.” Lisa Livia sat down in Carpenter’s chair. “Maria’s bridesmaids come in today, don’t they?”

“Bachelorette party is upstairs on the second floor, which is also where they’re staying tonight. Bachelor party in the barn.” Agnes watched the pancakes bubble. “Taylor talked Palmer into it so he could get the money for renting it twice. Rehearsal dinner first Joey’s taken over the catering, so that’s something, and Kristy just called and said she’ll be here tonight to take the pictures, and Butch swears he’ll get Cerise and Hot Pink out of here as soon as he gets his work done at the zoo and can sneak a truck out. This afternoon, I have to get the bows on the gazebo, but Garth is a fast learner so he can help, and most of the real prep will be early tomorrow morning. The rental stuff’s all here, so that’s not a worry. Really, as long as Maisie gets her daisies here and I get the cakes done and Joey gets the catering done…” She felt her stomach cramp as she thought about all the ifs between now and the wedding. “… we’ll be fine. Plus, you know, my column.” My career. Mother of God, I have to get my priorities straight. Once I figure them out.

“I believe you.” Lisa Livia picked up Carpenter’s fork and began to finish off his breakfast. “My plan for today is just to get the mildew off Venus, so I have time to help with whatever you need. When do you plan to switch out the flamingo theme for the daisies-and-butterflies theme?”

“I don’t know.” Agnes flipped the cakes. “I’m trying to take my cue from Maria because she doesn’t want to upset Evie after all the good flamingo work she’s done, but-”

Lisa Livia’s cell phone rang, and she pulled it out and answered it. Her face went rigid while she listened. “What? I can’t be-” She listened again. “Give me your number.” She held out her hand and Agnes grabbed a pencil and her To Do List off the counter and handed it to her and she wrote a phone number down. “I’ll call you back.” She hung up, sheet white, and said, “Where’s your laptop?”

Agnes pointed to the end of the counter and LL went and got it. “Internet?”

“Wireless,” Agnes said. “Through the phone lines. What-” Lisa Livia shook her head, her breath coming faster, and began to hit the keyboard, typing fast She stopped and looked at the screen and said, “No,” and then typed again and looked at the screen and said, “No,” and typed again, and Agnes came around to see what she was doing.

Bank accounts. One after another until it looked like there were ten open windows on the screen. “Jesus fucking Christ,” Lisa Livia said under her breath.

“LL?”

“She look it all,” Lisa Livia said, her breathing short and shallow. “All what?”

Lisa Livia shook her head and Agnes looked at her and said, “Put your head between your legs. Now,” and forced her head down, just as LL started to slide.

“Brenda took your money,” Agnes said, her hand on LL’s neck, keeping her head down until she got some blood back in her brain.

“Not just mine.” LL’s voice was muffled. “Let me up.”

Agnes stepped back and Lisa Livia straightened, some color in her face.

“She must have gone onto my laptop,” Lisa Livia said. “When I was staying on that fucking boat, while I was asleep or out here, she used my laptop and somehow she figured out my password. She didn’t just take everything I own, she looted the accounts I manage for my clients. She did it because I was working with you, fighting her on this house. Because I said you were family, not her. She cried all over me that night about that. I told her she should have thought ahead before she killed my daddy.” She nodded at the laptop. “This is her payback.”

“Oh, God,” Agnes said, and sat down hard. “How much?”

Lisa Livia swallowed hard. “I’ll have to…” She drew a deep breath. “In a minute when I can do this without passing out, I’ll add it up. But somewhere around eight or nine hundred thousand.”

“Dollars?” Agnes swallowed hard, too. “We’ll get it back. We’ll go out to that damn boat and-”

Lisa Livia closed her eyes. “She’ll have it in the Caymans by now. I can’t even kill her to get it, that bastard Taylor will inherit.”

“Jesus,” Agnes said. “Can’t we go ransack the boat and find the numbers or something?”

“She’ll have them hidden in one of the millions of places the Real Estate King had built into that damn thing. I wouldn’t even know how to look for them.” She shook her head, keeping her jaw set, fighting tears. “Pretty ironic. I spend my whole life working, neglect my kid to build up this safety net for us, and then because I want to be there for her at her wedding, I lose everything, including my future. And then I screw up her wedding by sticking her with flamingos.”

“Lisa Livia, it’s not-”

“I am such a fuckup.”

“No, you are not.” Agnes put her arm around her. “You don’t even believe that. I have no idea how to fix this, but we will. We’ll get your money back. We’ll do your daughter’s wedding, then we’ll sink your mother’s boat, and then we will get your money, Shane and Carpenter and I, we’ll help you get it back. I swear to you, we will.”

Lisa Livia looked at her. “You don’t even know how to sink a boat”

“I am learning many new skills this week,” Agnes said. “Eat your pancakes.”

To Do List, she thought. Throw Maria’s wedding. Return stolen flamingos. Clean up the Venus. Get Lisa Livia’s money back. Kill somebody named Casey Dean. She looked out the window to the dock where Shane and Carpenter were conferring with their boss. Sink Brenda’s boat. Write my goddamn column. Believe in Shane when he tells me what I’m dying to hear.

She went to the pantry to get the wedding cakes.

“I didn’t explain things to Agnes very well,” Shane said when they’d started down the path to the dock.

“You have to speak from the heart,” Carpenter said.

“The heart.”

“Yes. You have to open up to the world and learn optimism, and the words will come to you, and you’ll tell Agnes how you feel.” Shane stopped. “What?”

Carpenter looked at him, serene. “Contentment with the past, happiness with the present, and hope for the future. Learned optimism.”

“Oh.” Shane frowned. “I told her I wanted to come back here. She seemed pretty happy.”

Carpenter nodded. “That’s a start. Once you open yourself to the world, my friend, good things will come to you.”

“I don’t think going to meet Wilson is the best time for me to get optimistic and, uh, open my heart.”

“Indeed not. In some ways, your heart opening up is causing a lot of trouble and, I believe, precipitating this meeting.”

He nodded down the dock to where Wilson was already sitting on one of the benches, dressed impeccably in his suit. Shane felt like he was walking the gangplank as they made their way down the long dock to him. Brenda’s yacht bobbed on the water, but there was a sleeker, much newer and larger boat just off the low dock: Wilson’s mode of transportation. A dark figure was on the bridge of the boat running the engines, keeping it in place against the tide. The jet boat Carpenter had driven the last time Shane met Wilson was tied down on the front deck next to a small crane.

“I’m disappointed,” Wilson said as they arrived at the high dock.

Cerise and Hot Pink chorused their disapproval, too.

Without being asked, Shane sat down across from his boss while Carpenter took a seat beside him.

Wilson looked at Shane, his eyes as sharp as ever. “You’ve had two opportunities to take out Casey Dean, and not only have you failed in both, you have allowed Don Fortunato’s consigliere to complete down payment for the contract.”

Shane didn’t say anything, because he knew there was nothing he could say.

“There has been another death here at the house, and the local police were involved once more. This is not the performance I would expect of the man who would replace me. One thing we have always prided ourselves on in the Organization is our discretion.”

“I think you know much more than you’re telling me,” Shane said.

Wilson looked at him without reaction. “Of course I know much more than I tell you. That is the nature of my job. To know, to give orders, and to take responsibility.”

“I take responsibility-” Shane began, but Wilson cut him off.

“You are answerable to me. I am answerable to many others and you are my responsibility. This is something you need to understand about my job.

“The FBI is not pleased we took their information regarding Casey Dean and squandered it,” Wilson continued. “I do not like having to explain myself to the FBI. I am tempted to pull you from this operation. Casey Dean has been a thorn in our side for years, we gave you the two best opportunities we’ve ever had, and you fumbled both of them.”

Carpenter leaned forward. “Third time is the charm.”

“Unfortunately,” Wilson said, “I don’t-”

“We’ve got a line on Casey Dean,” Carpenter said.

Wilson stared at Carpenter in silence for several seconds then turned to Shane, who had used all the self-control he had to refrain from also staring at Carpenter. “And that is?”

“Carpenter developed it,” Shane said, “so it would be best if he explained it.”

Wilson folded his arms. “I’m waiting.”

“We’ve got Casey Dean’s cell phone number,” Carpenter said. “And Casey Dean has called a blind number on Shane’s phone that he set up. Dean seems to enjoy taunting us. We can turn that against him. He’s using a bounce signal with his cell phone, so we can’t use towers to track his exact location. But I can set up three receivers in the area and triangulate his location.”

“If he answers his phone,” Wilson said.

“He’ll answer,” Shane said.

“Why do you think that?” Wilson asked.

“Because we’ve suckered him into being overconfident.”

“Good plan,” Wilson said with a bland look on his face. Cerise and Hot Pink picked up some volume in their vocals, and Wilson’s eyes went past Shane. “We have company.”

Shane looked over his shoulder and saw Joey ambling down the dock, dressed in his usual black slacks and red shirt.

“How you guys doing’?” Joey asked as he arrived.

“Mr. Wilson, this is my uncle Joey,” Shane said, getting to his feet to do the introductions. “We’re having a meeting, Joey,” he added pointedly.

Joey nodded at Wilson and sat down on the bench. “You’re Shane’s boss.”

“Yes. And you’re Joey Torcelli who used to work with Frankie Fortunate “

“That was long ago.”

“The past catches up to us.”

“Something catching up to you?” Joey asked.

“Time,” Wilson said, “catches up to everyone.”

Shane glanced down at Carpenter, who raised his eyebrows. At any minute, Shane thought, one of them is gonna say, “The crow flies at midnight,” and then I’m gonna shoot them both.

“Sometimes things come full circle,” Joey said.

“Sometimes,” Wilson said.

“What the hell are you guys talking about?” Shane asked. “And sometimes things change for the better,” Joey said. “People get a second chance.”

“People don’t change,” Wilson said.

Shane tensed as Joey leaned toward Wilson. “I think they do.”

“Gentlemen,” Carpenter said. “My friend Shane and I have a job to do.”

Joey stood. “I’m going with you.”

“I don’t think-” Shane began, but Wilson nodded.

“Some experience might be helpful.”

What the hell? Shane thought.

“We need the jet boat,” Carpenter said.

“All yours.” Wilson stood. “A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Torcelli.”

“I bet,” Joey said.

Wilson moved off to his boat, Carpenter with him to claim the jet boat, and Shane watched Joey’s eyes follow them. “What the hell was that?” he asked the old man.

“Nothin’ good,” Joey said, looking away.

Shane stepped closer. “You’re fucking with my life here, Joey. If you know something about this, anything about this, you tell me now. This is life and death, not some old mob game.”

“It was always life and death, Shane,” Joey said as Carpenter pulled up in the jet boat. “Guys like Wilson, they ain’t no different than the Don.”

“Damn it, Joey-”

“We’ll talk in the boat,” Joey said, remnants of authority in his voice that told Shane something of what he’d used to be.

“You’re damn right we will,” Shane said, but he followed Joey onto the jet boat.

Carpenter stayed at the wheel in the center console of the jet boat. Shane locked down an M6o machine gun on the front pole mount and loaded a band of ammunition into it. Along one side of the jet boat, Joey was securing an orange coast guard logo. He’d already put one on the other side of the boat as they pulled away from Wilson’s cabin cruiser. Carpenter pushed the throttle forward and they picked up speed until the boat planed out and they were cruising out of the Blood River onto the Intracoastal. “Why am I doin’ this?” Joey said.

“It explains the machine gun mounted in the prow of the boat to anyone stupid enough to ask questions of a boat with a machine gun mounted in the prow,” Shane said, and then called to Carpenter. “Where are we putting the first receiver?”

Carpenter pointed at the GPS screen on the console in front of him. “On the eastern tip of Barataria Island. Second one, here on Middle Marsh Island, southern tip. Third one to the south, on Bull Island. That will give us good coverage.”

“Why are we looking on the water?” Joey asked, finished with his task.

“Casey Dean was on a boat the last time we saw him,” Carpenter said. “I think it makes sense he’s probably living on a boat. Makes him mobile in this area, and he can hide among the thousands of barrier islands and waterways.”

“This Wilson guy,” Joey said. “You like working for him?”

“I might not be working for him much longer,” Shane said.

Joey smiled. “You going to stay here?”

“No, I’m in line to get his job.”

The smile disappeared. “You want that?”

“It’s a step up,” Shane said.

“To where?” Joey asked.

Shane glared at his uncle. “You’re the one who sent me away twenty-five years ago to military school. This is the path you put me on. Why are you asking me questions about it?”

“I sent you away to protect you,” Joey said.

“From who?”

Shane was surprised as his uncle seemed to grow smaller in the swivel seat “Shane, what’s going on now, it’s all part of stuff that was never taken care of twenty-five years ago. There’s been a truce all those years. But this Wilson guy, that ain’t where you should be. You don’t want to be like him.”

“A truce between who?” Shane asked.

Joey hesitated. “The Don and me.”

“And now the truce is over?”

“I don’t know. But it wasn’t no coincidence you was in Savannah when I needed you.”

Considering he’d been working overseas 90 percent of the time in the previous five years, Shane didn’t think it was a coincidence, either. “Why would Wilson want me in the area? I’m getting a little tired of you old men playing me. Why is the truce breaking down now? What’s at stake?”

“You’re at stake,” Joey said.

“First transmitter goes in here,” Carpenter announced as he slowed the boat to slide the prow of the boat onto the tip of an island. Shane didn’t move. “What do you mean, Joey?”

Joey sighed and ran a hand across his coarse beard. “Your father…” He stopped and shook his head. “This ain’t good. You don’t need this now.”

“My father.” Shane stood over his uncle, looking down at him. “You never told me a damn thing about my father. You’ve always acted like he never existed. That he was some fly-by-night guy who got my mother pregnant. Big family secret.”

“Nah,” Joey said. “Your father was a stand-up guy. He treated my sister right. I promised them both when you were born, if anything ever happened, I’d take care of you.”

“And then you sent me away,” Shane said, anger pulsing in his veins.

“I sent you away to save you.” Joey stopped and shook his head.

Shane grabbed his uncle’s T-shirt, pulling him close. “Enough.” He could feel the blood pounding in his head, a rushing in his ears, Carpenter coming close to him, but his focus was on Joey. “Enough with the fucking games, Joey.”

“You’re a Fortunato,” Joey said, talking faster. “Your father was Roberto, the oldest brother, the one who was supposed to be the Don. You’re the Fortunato heir, Shane.”

“Oh, fuck,” Shane said, and let Joey go.

Agnes was rolling out grass green fondant and swearing at it, when Rhett growled at the hall doorway, and she looked up, ready to pulverize anybody with a gun.

Instead it was Taylor, equally pulverizable, looking like hell.

“Your murdering slut of a thieving wife is out on her boat,” Agnes said, jerking her head toward the dock. “Next time, don’t come through the house.”

“I’m sorry,” Taylor said, and his voice was low, not the coaxing, flirting tease she’d come to loathe. “I truly am sorry, Agnes. I’ve screwed up everything.”

“True. Get out.” Agnes rolled the resisting fondant over the pin and moved it to the first layer of Palmer’s groom’s cake, smoothing the top and then beginning on the sides, where things quickly went wrong. You can do this, she told herself Goddamn fondant.

“I mean it,” Taylor said, coming into the kitchen and making Rhett growl louder. “She just said all the right things, Agnes.”

“She’s good at that. Leave.” Agnes frowned as she smoothed the fondant. It looked so easy when they did it on TV-

“She killed that old man, didn’t she?” Taylor said, and Agnes looked up. “I heard about it. They were talking about it in town, that she drove right into him. Almost into you. She was aiming for you, wasn’t she?”

“Yeah,” Agnes said, watching his face. He did look truly miserable. “And she stripped Lisa Livia of everything she had, and now she’s trying to destroy her granddaughter’s marriage. She’s a real fucking prize, your wife.”

“She stole from Lisa Livia?”

“Taylor, she was going to steal this house from me, why is it so hard to believe she’d rip off Lisa Livia?”

“Geez.” He paused. “Well, I won’t lie to you, Agnes-”

“Sure you will,” Agnes said, and went back to her rapidly hardening lurid green icing.

“I was going to help her cheat you out of this house.” Taylor shook his head. “I figured you were going to do another book, you’d have plenty of money, what the hell.”

“Fuck you,” Agnes said, bent over the edge of the cake.

Angry language, Agnes.

Fuck you, too, Dr. Garvin.

You’re an idiot, Agnes. Anybody can say “Fuck you.” Do something smart for a change.

Agnes straightened and stared at her fondant. Did you just call me an idiot, Dr. Garvin? Dr. Garvin?

“But I’d never have helped her kill you,” Taylor was saying. “Jesus, Agnes, you’re worth twenty of her.”

“Twenty thousand.” Agnes looked at Taylor, perplexed, trying to figure out what it was about him that she was missing, that Dr. Garvin thought she should be paying attention to.

Tall, blond, gorgeous, desperate. Nope, he was the same complete waste of humanity she thought he was.

She went back to the cake. Maybe she could put the flamingos over the lumps. Maybe the lumps would make the flamingos look three-dimensional. Always a silver lining.

“You’re right,” Taylor was saying. “You’re twenty thousand times better than her. Agnes, if you’ll take me back, I think we can make it work.”

Agnes jerked her head up. “What?”

“You and me, honey. We can make it work.” He came closer, his face eager. “I was so damn dumb, I didn’t see that I already had it all with you. Two Rivers, the Two Rivers Cookbook, that cool blue bedroom upstairs…” He cocked his head at her and smiled the smile that had curled her toes a week ago. “Come on, sugar, we were great together.”

“I’ve had better,” Agnes said, and went back to her fondant. “Since when?” Taylor said, outraged, and Rhett barked at him, a little snarl in there for garnish. Taylor took a step back.

“Since this week.” Agnes patted a fondant lump gently to smooth it out. No dice, it was going to have to be a flamingo.

“That Shane guy? Jesus, Agnes, did you even wait a minute after you stabbed me with that fork before you went to bed with him?”

Agnes stopped patting fondant to think about it. “Couldn’t have been much more than ten minutes. Fifteen, tops.”

“Agnes!”

Agnes straightened. “Taylor, you are in no position to become indignant. You got engaged to me to swindle me out of my life savings, and now you’ve discovered you married a murdering whore, and you’re trying to dump her and latch on to me to save yourself. It’s not going to work. Even if I were stupid enough to take you back, you think

Shane’s going to come home, find you in his bed, and just say, ‘Oh, okay, no problem’? Do you know what the man does for a living?”

“No,” Taylor said. “But I think if you explained that we’d reconciled-”

“Yeah, well, we haven’t.” Agnes picked up the cake round and turned to take it to the pantry and saw Brenda staring at them through the screened door. Oh, sweet Jesus, she thought, almost dropping the cake. “If you’ve come to borrow a cup of sugar, the answer is no,” she called to her. Although I’ll trade you a cup for those account numbers in the Caymans.

“I came to see what Taylor was doing in here,” Brenda said, coming into the kitchen and fixing him with a basilisk stare.

Rhett growled again, but this time he crawled under the table.

Smart dog, Agnes thought.

“Hello, Brenda,” Taylor said weakly.

“We were just talking about the catering,” Agnes said, taking the fondant-covered tier to the counter by the window. As she got closer to Brenda, she could hear her breathing. She was almost hyperventilating. Anger, she thought. Been there, done that.

“I thought Taylor had decided he couldn’t do the catering,” Brenda said through clenched teeth, staring at her husband.

“He was just reiterating that,” Agnes said. The stupid son of a bitch.

“Yes, I was,” Taylor said, trying to sound stern.

“And I was telling him that I understood that.” Agnes picked up the next cake tier and brought it down the counter. “So now you can both vacate my premises so I can finish this cake for Palmer.”

“Green?” Brenda said, contempt all but curling from her mouth.

“Golf course.” Agnes unwrapped her next ball of grass green fondant. “With flamingos. He’s going to love it.”

“Well, nobody ever accused you of having taste,” Brenda said. “Bless your heart.”

“Taylor,” Agnes said. “You can go now. You and the whore you rode in on. Bless her heart.”

Brenda exhaled through her teeth.

Taylor looked helplessly from Agnes to Brenda while Agnes began to roll fondant, the heat of her anger making her strong and the fondant smooth.

“We can go into town now if you want, Brenda,” he said.

Brenda lifted her chin. “I suppose. I do hate picking my way across that dangerous splintered old bridge, though. I surely don’t see how anybody’s going to get to the wedding now. So I’ll call Evie-”

“Oh, the bridge is fine,” Taylor said. “Sturdy as all get-out. Much better than the old one. I drove right up to the house, so you just have to walk along the path.”

Brenda’s lips parted, but no sound came out.

Agnes smiled as she rolled fondant like a maniac. “That Shane. He sure is a miracle worker. Got that bridge in last night. It’s a beauty. And after that he hung the prettiest black shutters you’ve ever seen on every single window in Two Rivers. If you didn’t notice them, you make sure you look, Brenda, because they certainly are gorgeous. Check out the carriage lamps, too.” She beamed at Brenda. “Now get the hell out of my house.”

Taylor went over to Brenda and ushered her out the back door, turning as she went out to give Agnes one last look.

“No,” Agnes said, and he nodded and went out, a lost soul, which was what he deserved.

She rolled the fondant onto the rolling pin, lifted it over the cake, and flipped it on. “Don’t give me any crap,” she told the icing and smoothed it swiftly down over the sides.

Perfect

“No flamingos for you,” she said, and went to get the next layer, wondering exactly how much Brenda had heard and exactly how much trouble Taylor was in.

And why her subconscious thought she was an idiot.

Shane knew Carpenter was behind him, perfectly still. He could almost sense his friend’s calmness in the face of his own surging anger.

Fortunato. Fuck.

“What happened to my father?” Shane asked finally. “And my mother. You told me she died in a boating accident.”

“She did,” Joey said. “The same accident your father died in. I couldn’t tell you who he was, because that would have made you a threat to the Don, as the son of the eldest brother. He’s got no kids, he ain’t gonna have any, so you’re the heir, that’s no good. So I made a deal with him. I’d raise you, tell you nothing of your father, and he’d leave you in peace, he’d-”

Shane was on his feet before he even realized it. He punched Joey square on the mouth, knocking the old man to the floor of the jet boat, and then Carpenter was there, wrapping his powerful arms around Shane, pulling him away.

“Easy, my friend, easy,” Carpenter said.

Shane allowed Carpenter to push him back to one of the chairs and shove him into it. All the rage he’d suddenly felt was just as quickly gone. He couldn’t believe he’d lost control like that. He never lost control. And he could see it now, what his uncle had done. “You did it to protect me.”

Joey nodded as he dabbed off the trickle of blood on the side of his mouth with a handkerchief he’d pulled out of a pocket. “I did. It was okay as long as Frankie was here. He was protecting you, too. Protecting all of us. Him staying down here was part of the deal, too. Let Michael become Don even though he was youngest. Frankie didn’t want it anyway, though it sure pissed Brenda off. Then Frankie disappeared the night of the robbery, and I knew I had to get you out of here. That’s when I shipped you off to military school.”

“You could have told me,” Shane said.

Carpenter let go of him and went back to the wheel, reversing them off the beach and turning south down the Intracoastal.

“What good would it have done?” Joey said. “The name would have been a weight around your neck. And my deal with the Don was that you didn’t know. I kept my part and he kept his. He didn’t go after you, even though you being alive has always been a threat.”

“Why arc you telling me this now?” Shane asked as Carpenter pointed the boat toward another island.

“Because the Don’s coming here for the wedding. And he knows you’re here and who you are. And all this crap is coming up about Frankie and the robbery. I don’t know what’s going to happen, but it’s best you be prepared.”

The bow of the boat scraped onto a beach, and Carpenter grabbed the second receiver and jumped overboard. He slammed it into the beach above the high-tide mark.

“Tell me the truth, Joey,” Shane said. “Are you planning to whack the Don?”

“No.”

“Because he’s got a professional hitman in the area who is supposed to take out someone who is a threat to-” Shane froze. “He’s here to hit me.”

Carpenter was climbing back on board and caught the last part. “One theory. And all the more reason to take out Casey Dean first.” He came over and slapped Shane on the shoulder. “Let’s focus on the present. And get the son of a bitch.”

Carpenter revved the engine and they pulled off the sand, back into deeper water. He turned and steered the boat between two islands. Shane took a deep breath and tried to reorient on his environment and get his head back in the mission, because he knew Carpenter was right. Casey Dean was the priority-even more so now.

They were surrounded by low-lying barrier islands, some small, some stretching out for over a mile in length. Many had thick clumps of trees, others were just covered in water grass. Small inlets and openings cut off to either side, disappearing into the trees. It was beautiful, the perfect place to hide a boat.

“Here.” Carpenter turned the wheel and brought them to shore on the edge of one of the larger islands.

“I’ve got it.” Shane grabbed the third receiver, jumped into the warm knee-deep water, and waded ashore. He shoved the receiver into the sand and flipped the switch on top. He waded back out and climbed on board. He saw that Joey had his Colt Python in his hand, ready for action. Shane opened a case and pulled out another MP5 submachine gun. He held it out to his uncle. “Here. More firepower.”

“Thanks.” Joey tucked the Python back into his waistband and hefted the submachine gun.

“We’re on line,” Carpenter announced, looking down at the GPS unit

“Now we’ve got to get Casey Dean on the phone.” Shane pulled out his phone and dialed in Casey Dean’s number. It rang four times; then the answering service came on.

“Casey Dean, this is Shane Fortunato. Seems like we might have some things to talk about. I don’t think you’re going to be able to complete your contract.” Shane cut the connection. Shane Fortunato. Fuck.

“Now what?” Joey asked.

“We wait,” Shane said as Carpenter drove them over to a small inlet and brought the boat to a halt in the shade of overhanging trees. “What if the mutt don’t call?” Joey asked.

“You got something better to do?” Shane asked. “If I’d have known the truth-”

Joey cut him off. “If you’d have known the truth, you’d have never achieved what you have. You’d have been looking over your shoulder all the time and asking too many damn questions.”

“So you know what’s best for me?”

“I believed I knew,” Joey said. “Now you got to make your own decisions.”

“Thanks for-” Shane began, but his cell phone buzzed. He checked the screen as words appeared. Carpenter was at work with his equipment near the GPS.

SHANE FORTUNATO.

PLEASURE TO HAVE MET YOU.

PERHAPS WE’LL MEET AGAIN SOON.

THE CONTRACT WILL BE FULFILLED. CASEY DEAN.

The letters stopped coming. Shane looked up at Carpenter in question. Carpenter smiled as he grabbed the controls and put the boat in reverse, pulling them out of the inlet and into the waterway. Shane moved past the center console and manned the M60 machine gun.

“About three miles from here,” Carpenter called to him, checking his small screen.

Shane looked back at his uncle Joey, who was hanging on to the boat with one hand, the other holding the submachine gun. “Let us deal with this,” Shane called to him.

“I can still pull a trigger,” Joey said.

“Two miles, ahead and to the right,” Carpenter announced.

Shane looked ahead. They were in a quarter-mile-wide waterway between an island covered in sea grass on the left and thickly forested mainland on the right.

“One mile,” Carpenter said as he pulled back on the throttle, slowing them. He turned the bow of the boat toward an opening in the trees. It was about two hundred yards wide and curved out of sight less than a quarter mile inland as it narrowed. “I’d say Casey Dean’s boat is up this waterway.”

The jet boat picked up speed. The sides began to close in as they curved left, giving them less than a quarter mile of width.

“Not far now,” Carpenter said. “Around the next bend.”

Shane had his hand wrapped around the pistol grip of the M60 machine gun and the stock of the weapon pulled in tight to his shoulder. The jet boat banked and they skidded around a tree-covered point of land, revealing the same cruiser from the previous day sitting in the middle of the waterway less than two hundred yards in front of them. Shane began to squeeze the trigger and then paused in surprise. A beautiful redhead was lying on her stomach on the bow of the boat, just below the cabin. She wore a thong and skimpy top.

“What the fuck?” Joey said.

She lifted her head and waved at them, making no effort to cover her slender well-tanned body. Shane scanned the rest of the boat, but there was no sign of anyone else. Carpenter was throttling back, slowing them further. They were less than a hundred yards from the cruiser when the woman got to one knee, reached down, and brought up a long green object.

There was a flash of explosion, and a rocket-propelled grenade roared forth from the RPG launcher she held, straight at the jet boat. Shane pulled the trigger on the machine gun just as Carpenter slammed the throttle forward and pulled the wheel hard left, causing Shane’s rounds to go high and left

“Geez!” Joey yelled as the RPG round whooshed by less than two feet from Carpenter’s position and slammed into the trees behind them, exploding. Shane was scrambling to bring the machine gun to bear, but Carpenter was doing a full circle and the cruiser was suddenly behind them, and he couldn’t fire down the length of his own boat. He abandoned the gun and ran aft, joining Joey.

There was no sign of the woman now, just a dark figure in the bridge, and the cruiser coming straight toward them. There was a flicker of red just below the bridge, and Shane yelled “Get down,” just as the sound of a machine gun firing echoed across the water and the first rounds cracked overhead.

Shane slammed Joey to the floor of the jet boat, protected by the Kevlar plates on the rear. He looked over his shoulder. Carpenter was crouched down as far as he could be and still have a hand on the wheel and see where they were going.

More rounds cracked by overhead, and Shane popped his head up to risk a glance back. The cruiser was picking up speed.

“Faster!” Shane yelled to Carpenter.

His partner slammed the throttle full forward and they raced back down the waterway. Shane slid the tip of his submachine gun over the rear fantail and blindly fired off an entire magazine. He popped his head up once more. The cruiser was still coming and still firing. The only good thing was that the fixed machine gun wasn’t accurate, firing high.

Carpenter drove them through the twists and turns. Shane fired off another magazine, this time aiming, seeing the rounds hit the dark glass at the front of the cruiser’s bridge with no effect.

“That was some dame, huh?” Joey said with a lopsided grin.

“Yeah,” Shane agreed. “I especially liked the rocket launcher accessory.”

“We’re clear,” Carpenter called out as they came out of the narrow waterway into the river. He turned right. Shane got to his feet. “Spin us and I’ll fire as it clears,” he ordered as he ran past Carpenter back to the front of the boat.

He grabbed the M6o and aimed back where the waterway met the river, finger on the trigger. The bow of the cruiser appeared and Shane fired. The first rounds hit low, right in the water in front of the bow. Shane walked them up into the hull and then up higher as the rest of the boat appeared, focusing the string of bullets on the bridge. The 7.62 mm rounds slammed into the bulletproof glass and Shane knew it would only hold for a little while longer against the onslaught.

“Watch it!” Joey screamed as the woman popped up through a hatch in the bow, RPG on her shoulder. She fired and disappeared. Shane cringed as the rocket-propelled grenade streaked toward them. It hit the Kevlar armor on the front of the jet boat and exploded.

Shane felt a powerful hand slam into his chest and lift him into the air. Time seemed to move in slow motion as he flew upward over Carpenter, over Joey, over the entire boat and tumbled into the water behind the boat. He went under, the weight of the gear he was wearing taking him down. He couldn’t breathe, the force of the explosion having knocked the air out of his lungs.

Shane unbuckled his combat vest and tore it off. He felt pain radiating through his chest and could only wonder at what wounds he’d sustained. They wouldn’t matter if he couldn’t get back to the surface and air.

He blinked, trying to figure which way the surface was. He forced himself to remain still for a moment and looked about. He kicked toward the light.

Shane popped to the surface right behind the jet boat. Carpenter and Joey were leaning over the rear, Carpenter stripping off his gear, getting ready to jump in.

“I’m all right,” Shane managed, but he couldn’t hear his own voice, just a loud ringing.

A brief smile crossed Carpenter’s face and his mouth moved, but Shane could only hear the ringing. Then the smile was gone and Carpenter was looking over his shoulder, shouting something. He shoved Joey over the side, diving off himself. Just as the bow of the cruiser sliced over and into the jet boat, crushing it and forcing it under. Shane blew the air out of his lungs and went back under, seeking the safety of the deeper water.

He was buffeted as the cabin cruiser churned by overhead, propellers ripping what remained of the jet boat to shreds, slicing by scant feet above his head. He forced himself to remain underwater as he watched the propellers move away. He stayed under until his lungs were screaming for air; then he went for the surface, using a piece of the wreckage to cover breaking the surface.

He sucked in air as he watched the cruiser continue to plow away. When the cruiser disappeared around a bend of the river, he looked around for the others. Carpenter was hidden by an overhanging branch, holding on to a piece of wreckage with one arm, the other around Joey, who had a cut on his forehead, blood seeping down his face.

“That didn’t go as planned,” Carpenter said.

“Lousy work,” Shane gasped, his ears still ringing. “We’d have stayed to clean up.”

“Well, thank you, Mr. Dean, for being a sloppy-ass killer,” Carpenter said.

“We should deliver that in person,” Shane said.

“We should do that later,” Carpenter said, nudging a dazed Joey toward the bank.

“Yeah,” Shane said, looking back in Casey Dean’s direction. “But we’re definitely gonna do it.”

When Joey hadn’t shown up by live, Agnes began to panic. The rehearsal dinner was at seven, and while Garth could set up the tables and even put out the plates and silver, she had to be down there dressing the place with flowers and favors. Beyond that, catering was not within her grasp. Family cooking she could do; catering a rehearsal dinner for the first family of Keyes? No.

She wiped her hands on her Cranky Agnes apron and stepped over Rhett to open the fridge and looked at the turkey Joey had put in there. Taylor had promised that he’d make Palmer’s favorite meal, turkey and dressing, and Joey had sworn he could handle it. But now it was too late to make the turkey, and Palmer had wanted some special kind of gravy with bourbon in it, and… She looked at the turkey and thought, I’m screwed.

Rhett bayed, and she heard Taylor say, “Agnes?”

Agnes turned around to see him standing in the doorway again. “Not now.” She turned back to the fridge. There were new potatoes in there. That could be simple. Maybe butter sauce-

“I want to work this out.”

Rhett growled.

Agnes closed her eyes. “Well, that’s just great. No. Now get your ass out of here. I’m busy.” Pay attention, Agnes. “Where’s Joey?”

“I don’t know,” Agnes said. “Beat it.” Don’t be stupid, Agnes.

She heard him come closer, and Rhett growled again.

“He’s not here?” Taylor said.

“No.”

“Do you want me to cook?”

She turned around. “You quit, you lying, cheating bastard-”

Agnes, you dumbass, you need him.

“I know,” Taylor said. “That was wrong.”

Agnes…

Dr. Garvin, I hate him.

Okay, first of all, this isn’t Dr. Garvin, this is you, talking to yourself, obviously, so pull yourself together.

Second, you need help and he owes you big.

Third, you can use this to your advantage, if you’d get your head out of your butt and stop doing the easiest thing, which is anger, but no, you have to wallow in your emotions and hide behind your rage, so go ahead and screw up your life again. Go ahead. Feel free.

I want Dr. Garvin back.

“What’s Joey got in there?” Taylor reached around her and opened the fridge, and Rhett growled again, and Agnes hesitated and then bent to pat the dog.

“It’s okay, Rhett,” she whispered, and the dog looked at her as if to say, Sucker, and then padded back to his place under the table and collapsed into semi-slumber.

“Huh,” Taylor said. “Okay. Sure.” He began to take things out of the fridge. “Get me a tray or a box or something so I can get this stuff down to the kitchen in the barn. Did you do the dessert?”

“Raspberry-chocolate heart-shaped cakes,” Agnes said. “I covered them with ganache and plated them, and I’m going to use raspberry sauce as… Look, Taylor-”

He closed the fridge door and opened the cupboard next to it. “I screwed up. I know this won’t make up for it, but it’s something. And besides…” He grinned down at her. “I want to show the Keyeses I can cook.”

You gonna be smart or you gonna be dumb, Agnes?

Agnes drew a deep breath. “You want back in. You’ve looked around and realized you backed the wrong woman and that the Keyeses aren’t going to side with Brenda, especially since she’s losing her grip and killing people now, and your future is going down the tubes, and you want to switch sides.”

“Yes.” He looked embarrassed but determined.

“So you want to come back so you can be part of the wedding and have the catering business and the Two Rivers Cookbook and everything we were going to do.”

“Yes.” He was eager now, and she began to see how easy it had been for Brenda to lay things out for him. Almost like leaving a trail of bread crumbs for him to follow.

“Okay,” Agnes said, starting her own trail. “You can cater the dinner tonight and the wedding tomorrow, on two conditions. The first is that you work your ass off on this wedding and make sure it happens. You are on my side now, and you do everything in your power to make sure this wedding happens and that I keep the house.”

“Yes,” Taylor said.

“The second is that you sign your share of the house over to me.” Taylor’s face went blank.

“I’ll finish the cookbook with you, and I’ll let you cater out of the barn, but you sign your share of this place over to me. You tried to swindle me out of it, you sign it over to me. The house belongs to me entirely. I get it all.”

“Agnes,” Taylor said, trying to smile. “Agnes, honey, with the down payment and everything I put into the barn, that’s over a hundred and fifty thousand-”

“The high price of being a bastard,” Agnes said. “You sign your half of the house over to me, and I’ll finish the cookbook with you and let you cater from the barn. Otherwise you lose everything.”

Taylor tried one more charming smile, which slid right off Agnes, and then he nodded. “All right. But maybe when you’ve had time to think about us again-”

“I never think about us,” Agnes said. “Us is deader than a doornail. I have a new Us, and I’m keeping it. The only thing I want you for is this rehearsal dinner and the wedding tomorrow. Cook. And show Garth how to do everything, because you need an assistant and he needs skills, and for God’s sake, try to remember whose side you’re on this time.”

Taylor nodded and emptied her cupboards while she went to get a tray for him, not even trying to understand why he’d do anything like what he’d done to her, just crossing her fingers he’d stay on her side until the wedding was over or until Brenda found out what he was doing and came after him with whatever she was driving next. She was really going to miss Dr. Garvin.

“We’re much obliged, Mister Jimbo,” Carpenter said as the shrimp boat edged up to the floating dock at Two Rivers three hours later.

“Just Jimbo,” the burly man at the wheel of ancient boat said.

Shane watched in the furious silence he’d maintained since they’d hauled Joey ashore on the closest island and then used Carpenter’s sat phone in its waterproof case-of course Carpenter had his phone in a waterproof case-to let Joey call for help.

It had taken Jimbo a while to reach them, and Joey had done a guilt-stricken play by play over letting Agnes down on catering the rehearsal dinner, saying now they’d be sitting down to the dinner, now it was dessert, now they’d be breaking up for the bachelor and bachelorette parties, until Shane thought about holding his uncle’s head under water just to shut him up. It should have been a great relief to be on board the shrimp boat, watching Jimbo expertly reducing the throttle while turning the large wheel at the same time, but it was just one more thing that was pissing Shane off. He was supposed to be an expert, too, but if you judged by his performance the past couple of days, he was a fucking beginner, they’d have kicked him out of Hitman Prep, hell, they’d have kicked sand in his face at the Hitman Preschool-

The boat touched the floats on the edge of Agnes’s dock with the slightest of bumps. Shane’s chest throbbed with pain, but it didn’t appear that anything had been broken, so at least his body hadn’t betrayed him-

“I owe you one,” Joey said to Jimbo, touching the white bandage on his forehead.

“Call me any time you need help, Joey,” Jimbo said.

Shane could see lights on in every window in the main house and hear loud music thumping away in the barn, pretty much in time to the vein pulsing in his forehead -

“Sounds like we made it back in time for the bachelor party, but not the dinner,” Carpenter said. “I sure would have liked to have had some of that turkey-”

Shane ignored him, and Carpenter fell silent as they trooped off the boat onto the dock.

Shane led the way up the metal plank to the high dock and then down the long walkway to land.

“You know,” Joey said, “it wasn’t your fault-”

Shane shot him a look, and Joey shut up.

At the top of the dock Carpenter said, “My friend, you are taking this too much to heart,” and Shane faced him. “That’s three times- four if I count the time I ran into Casey Dean in the woods-that he’s beaten me. It’s obvious he uses women to front for him and protect him. That redhead in the room in Savannah with Marinelli was one of Casey Dean’s people, the same one with the RPG on the boat while he drove. And I let her go.”

“You might be missing something,” Carpenter said.

“That’s what I’m saying. I’ve been missing a lot of things,” Shane said with a glare at Joey. “But that’s done with.”

He turned and went on and then stopped short of the house, hearing the sound of girls giggling and catching the silhouette of a skimpily clad woman in one of the upstairs windows. “Great,” he muttered.

“Bachelorette party,” Carpenter said. “Lisa Livia told me that-”

“I don’t care,” Shane snapped. He cocked his head, listening to the music coming from the barn.

“Bachelor party,” Carpenter said. “You know, Casey Dean’s target, given that it’s not your uncle here-”

“Hey,” Joey said in warning, but Carpenter spoke over him.

“-and on the off chance it’s not you, will most likely be at the bachelor party. Although the bachelorette party could be interesting.”

“Focus,” Shane said.

“There’s a shower in the barn in the rear,” Carpenter said. “I could grab some clothes for us from my van. We could get cleaned up.” He sniffed. “You might not be aware of it, but we smell of-”

“Get the clothes.” Shane turned on his heel and headed down the path for the barn. Carpenter disappeared into the dark, and Joey fell in beside Shane. They trudged up the path, their shoes making squeaking noises as water squished out of them.

Shane reached the barn. The music was overwhelming, and he could see a crowd of men inside split into two distinct groups: a bunch of a-couple-years-out-of-college former frat boys on one side with mugs of beer in their hands acting stupid with several kegs surrounding them and Palmer looking miserable in the middle with a flamingo hat on his head; and a smaller bunch of goombahs from New Jersey seated on the other side, shot glasses in hand, a neat row of bottles stacked on one of their tables. Shane noticed Hammond standing off to one side, looking equally miserable, with neither group.

“This looks like fun,” Joey muttered.

“Downer invited the Don’s men?” Shane shook his head. First the flamingos, now this. He recognized a tall figure seated at the rear of the mobsters. “That’s the consigliere. You know him?”

Joey shook his head. “Nah. It’s been twenty-five years since I seen any of those mutts.”

“Let’s go around and take the back stairs.”

They skirted around the building and climbed up the stairs to the loft apartment. “You use the shower first,” he told Joey. “Carpenter should be here in a minute.”

Joey went into the bathroom while Shane went to the balcony door and cracked it open so he could look down on the barn floor. The frat boys were now chanting something Shane couldn’t make out, all looking in one direction at something underneath the balcony. Shane opened the door further to see, when the lights in the barn went out for a moment, then a spotlight, controlled by Downer-who else?-was trained in the direction everyone had been staring. Shane edged forward and looked down.

Two of the groomsmen appeared below, pushing a large round bed toward the light. They stopped it and then ran to join their buddies. Shane noted that even the goombahs were perking up in anticipation.

The music suddenly changed, going from the loud thumping techno-whatever that had been playing, to what sounded like monks chanting in Latin.

Shane stepped back as Downer drunkenly turned the spotlight, which flickered over a slight figure dressed in black robes at the top of the stairs from the balcony. Downer corrected, bringing it back and fixing the figure in the glare: a woman dressed in a nun’s habit and dress.

“This is going to be interesting,” Carpenter said, coming up behind Shane.

The woman moved down the stairs, head bowed in apparent prayer-I’d be praying, too, with that crowd, Shane thought. She reached the bed, and the music abruptly shifted to Madonna’s “Like a Virgin,” and the nun began to dance, dropping pieces of her habit, which came as a surprise to no one, although the frat boys roared anyway. She took off her wimple to reveal her long blonde hair, and then she dropped her robe to reveal a lace bustier, a black leather miniskirt, and fishnet stockings. Downer yelled, “I always wondered what they wore under there!” and his buddies roared again while Palmer continued to drink and look miserable.

“And that’s the future of America,” Shane said.

“Downer?” Carpenter said. “Surely not.”

The blonde jumped on the bed and unhooked her bustier to reveal perfect breasts, covered with pasties of pink-sequined flamingos. When she bumped, her breasts bumped, and the flamingos’ sparkly heads bobbed. The flamingos were a terrible thing to do to a great pair of breasts, Shane thought, but you really couldn’t help but watch the shiny pink sequins, and after a minute, there was something almost Zen about it. Then she shimmied the miniskirt off her washboard abs and the hoot grew louder: she was wearing garters and a

G-string, also decorated with sequined flamingos so that with every bump and grind, spangled flamingos bounced on her beautiful body. Jesus, Shane thought. That is truly tasteless. Agnes would look great in those flamingos.

And she’d laugh her ass off, too, if he showed up and handed them to her.

“That’s for you, buddy!” Downer said as the stripper began to de-flamingo herself toward her big finish. He slapped Palmer on the back, making him spill his drink.

The goombahs watched, the consigliere in the back row with his arms folded. Evidently the flamingos weren’t impressing them.

“Flamingos,” Carpenter said. “Tasteful.”

“Downer,” Shane said. “Most likely to be shot by accident on purpose on Halloween.”

Carpenter’s phone rang and he answered it, his face growing serious. “I’ll be right there,” he said finally, and when Shane looked curious, he said, “Lisa Livia. She had a really bad day. If we’re done, I’ll go see her.”

“What’s going on?” Joey asked, coming out of the bathroom, rubbing his head with a towel. He looked out. “Flamingos?”

Shane shook his head. “We’re done. I’m going to shower and then go find Agnes.”

Carpenter nodded. “The flamingos got the blood going, didn’t they?”

“Yeah,” Shane said. “Flamingos. They do it for me every time. If Casey Dean’s target is down there, he can have him.”

By the time the rehearsal dinner ended, Agnes had been ready to go out and stand in the water with Cerise and Hot Pink and scream. Jefferson Keyes had pinched the bridesmaids, Evie had ignored him by drinking steadily, and Lisa Livia had stared like a basilisk at her mother throughout. That, Agnes thought, was entirely understandable, given that LL had gone out to the yacht and confronted Brenda about her theft, and Brenda had flat out denied it and then accused Lisa Livia of breaking her heart with her suspicion. Because LL hadn’t been quiet about it, the rest of the party had found out and had pretty much cut a wide swath around Brenda instead of making her the belle of the party as usual, so that by the end of the evening she was thin-lipped, her eyes narrow and sharp and often as not fixed on Agnes, who was getting all the compliments. Only Taylor had come through, serving a perfect dinner on the beautiful china he’d bought for his catering, and even he had kept up a running commentary that was practically a prospectus for Taylor’s Two Rivers Catering Service. “The best thing you can say about this dinner,” Agnes told Lisa Livia, tying on her Cranky Agnes apron to help with the cleanup, “is that it’s over.”

“The food was really good, and Garth was terrific,” Lisa Livia said as they watched the teenager clear the tables with what was almost a practiced hand, looking like a fine upstanding citizen in the clothes Palmer had bought him and the haircut Palmer had made him get in exchange for the clothes. “And you got a lot of payback tonight. Taylor was all but wearing a hair T-shirt that said, I Married the Wrong Woman.”

“Yes, and Brenda’s going to make him pay for that,” Agnes said. “My heart bleeds for him,” Lisa Livia said, and went back to the house.

Taylor had caught her arm. “Thank you,” he said, and his sincerity was clear.

“Dinner was great,” Agnes said, because that was true.

“The wedding luncheon will be, too,” he said eagerly. “I’m going to make it up to you-”

“Did you sign the house over to me?” Agnes said flatly.

“Barry’s bringing the papers tomorrow,” Taylor said. “When he comes to the wedding. He’s got them drawn up. We’ll do it tomorrow morning. You can call him and ask.”

“Until those papers are signed, you haven’t even begun to make it up to me,” Agnes said. “But the food was terrific.”

When the barn had been cleared for the bachelor party, and Garth had been given money to go into town to the movies so he wouldn’t be corrupted by the sight of the stripper, Agnes had gone down to talk to the flamingos as usual-”Butch is coming for you in the morning, swear to God, but at least you have each other, how’s the shrimp?”- and then gone back to the house where the bachelorette party was in full swing upstairs and finally worked on her column.

Two hours later, she was still staring at her laptop screen. The recipe was done. She had the points she wanted to make: sturdy enough to hold the fondant, tastes great, reflects the personality of the bride and groom, and oh, those Romans, what a bunch of cutups, breaking the cake on the bride’s head. But the column was… blah.

She looked up at Palmer’s groom’s cake, the flamingo cake with the lurid green icing and the equally lurid pink flamingos on the sides and the golf balls on white springs popping out from the layers, topped with the two pink flamingo pens, one with a paper top hat and the other with a paper doily veil. Not blah. And right beside it, Maria’s white wedding cake-with the concentric circles-easy-and the fondant butterflies on springs-a little harder-pearl trim- much harder-and the antique bride and groom-expensive-that was a work of art. I did good, she thought, and relaxed a little before she went to back to the column.

It’s worse than blah, she thought. Anybody could have written this-it’s ordinary. I’m not saying anything new, there’s nothing here that would make people think, “Gee, she’s a great writer, better rush out and get ten copies of Mob Food.” Damn it, what do I know about wedding cake that’s important? C’mon, Cranky Agnes, be brilliant: Your future’s on the line.

Inside her skull, the emptiness echoed for eternity.

Nothing, I got nothing. God, I’m a fraud. The two hundred columns I’ve done up to now have all been flukes. I got lucky. Now the truth is here. I can’t write, it’s all been a fake, I’m going to have to eat worms and die.

Maybe she could do a column on eating worms.

She saved the file and got up and saw the Venus. She looked awful.

Okay, she thought, accomplish something. She got the cleanser out and began to scrub the statue down, getting more vigorous as it became apparent that the thing was made out of some kind of eternal compound that wasn’t going to collapse under her enthusiasm. And once the scrubbing became automatic and the pearly plastic began to shine, she began to think about the week she’d just survived.

Things were good, if you looked at them just right. For example, she’d survived. And she was going to pull off the wedding, with a lot of help from her friends: The lawn was manicured to golf course perfection, the house gleamed in its new white paint, the shutters were up, the stolen landscaping was beautiful, and the gazebo was magnificent. Even the pink sand had a certain kitsch glow to it. And Taylor was going to cater and Maisie was going to do the white daisies with a few pink accents, and Maria was going to wear her white gown down the aisle, and Evie would be relieved and wouldn’t ask questions, and Butch was coming for Cerise and Hot Pink early in the morning so they’d be gone before the wedding, and everything would be beautiful. And at the end of all of it would be Shane-she slowed her scrubbing-he was worth the whole week right there, getting shot at was a small price to pay for a guy like that. She thought about him and scrubbed harder, cleaning the last of the mildew off because he’d be back soon, and she wanted- “AGNES!” Maria screamed.

“Mother of God,” Agnes said, almost dropping her sponge as Maria came running into the kitchen. “What?”

Maria grabbed her arms. “Palmer is in the barn having sex with the stripper!”

“Oh, he is not,” Agnes said, shaking her off and going back to scrubbing the Venus. “This is Palmer we’re talking about. He adores you. And he has much too much good taste to have sex with a stripper. He doesn’t know where she’s been. Or who her people are. He wouldn’t dream of it.” She put the sponge down on the counter and said, “Listen, could you read this column and tell me what’s missing? Because I-”

“Don’t make jokes,” Maria said, her face sheet white with stress and too many champagne cocktails. “He’s just like his father.”

“He is not.” Agnes went over and got her a cup of coffee. “Drink this and stop hyperventilating or I’ll make you breathe into a paper bag. He’s just like his mother. Evie would never have sex with a stripper. Who told you this garbage?”

Maria got a wary look on her face and sipped her coffee. “Somebody who knows about men,” she said finally.

“Oh,” Agnes said. “Brenda called, did she?”

Maria put the cup down on the counter. “She and Taylor had finished up in the barn kitchen and were coming back and they looked through the double doors and saw him. He had that dumb flamingo hat on his head that Downer got him for the party. She knew it was him.”

“Because nobody else could be wearing that hat since Palmer sure as hell wouldn’t have taken it off the first chance he got,” Agnes said.

“She saw his face,” Maria said. “She told me to go down and look.”

“She’s a lying bitch from hell,” Agnes said. “But let’s be adults about this and do what she said. Let’s go find out”

“What?” Maria pulled back.

“Let’s go find out.” Agnes came out from around the counter. “Let’s go down to the barn and see what old Palmer and the boys are doing.”

“We can’t go down there,” Maria said, aghast

“Why?” Agnes looked her straight in the eye. “Afraid you’ll find out he’s innocent?”

“Hey,” Maria said, getting some of her old temper back.

“That’s more like it.” Agnes sighed. “Look, if you don’t want to marry him, don’t marry him. But he’s a good guy. Be up front about it. Don’t let your bitch of grandmother frame him for something he didn’t do. Go down there and tell him you don’t want him.”

Maria swallowed. “I do want him. If he’s really the man I thought he was-”

“Why do you listen to Brenda?” Agnes asked tiredly. “Because she sounds right,” Maria said.

“Well, she isn’t. She preys on your fears to destroy your happiness so she can get this house back.” Agnes opened the drawer in the counter by the basement door and got out her flashlight. “Did your mother tell you what she did to her?”

Maria shook her head.

“She will. Come on. Let’s see who’s getting up close and personal with the stripper. I’ll bet you six M amp;M’S it’s not Palmer.”

“I don’t want that bet,” Maria said.

“Good girl,” Agnes said, and opened the screen door, looking back at the Venus as she went.

She was looking pretty good. Well, there’s one thing I finally got right, Agnes thought, and then followed Maria down the path to the barn.

When Shane came out of the shower, Joey and Carpenter were gone. He went downstairs and saw that the large round bed was still there below the balcony, but the party appeared to have moved outside toward the lawn and dock, where he heard male voices chanting “Drink, drink, drink.” Yeah, there’s a good time, he thought, and went down the balcony stairs and started for the big house, but paused when he heard a woman’s voice raised in anger coming from the one of the rooms under the balcony.

Great. Some stupid frat boy and an angry stripper. Just what Agnes needed, a scandal the night before the wedding.

The woman’s voice was definitely coming from the door marked office. “You fucking tried to rip us off,” she was yelling. “You think you can short us?”

Downer was probably trying to stiff her, Shane thought. In more ways than one.

“Twenty-five large,” the woman said, and Shane frowned. No stripper got paid twenty-five large. “I want the damn money. Tonight.”

Shane opened the door and paused. In the moonlight coming in the window he could see the stripper, in her miniskirt and bustier, standing at the side of a desk. She had a gun against the forehead of the man seated in the desk chair. The Don’s consigliere, Shane realized.

She turned at the sound of the door, and Shane lunged forward, grabbing her gun hand with both hands as she brought it to bear on him. She smacked him on the side of the head with her free hand, the open palm against his ear, stunning him on top of the damage from the RPG explosion earlier in the day.

Shane squeezed her hand and she dropped the gun just as she brought her knee up hard, missing his groin by scant inches to slam into his right hip as the consigliere scrambled across the room. Shane jerked her arm up and then twisted it, spinning her about as he kicked the gun under the desk.

He put his other arm around her neck in a half nelson and applied pressure, bending the stripper forward, and saw the compass tattoo in the gap between the skirt and bustier.

“Casey Dean’s girl,” Shane said.

She was bent over the desk, her ass in his crotch, just as it had been in Savannah.

“Fuck you,” she said, but she was grinding against him again.

“Didn’t work last time, won’t work this time,” Shane said. “I’ve finally-”

He didn’t finish as she turned her body counterclockwise under him, locking his arm under her body, and smashed her free elbow into his face, the perfect reversal move to a half nelson.

Stunned, Shane let go for a moment, and she slithered out of his grip. She dived for the floor, searching for the gun. He leapt for her just as she decided to make a break for it and grabbed her ankle, and she kicked her foot into his face, breaking free. Shane scrambled to his feet, saw her silhouetted against the door to the room, and jumped, and his momentum shoved both of them through the door and onto the big round bed where she’d stripped, the girl squirming in his arms, trying in get away hum under him where he had her pinned facedown.

That’s when he heard Maria’s voice from the open sliding glass door: “Oh, Cod, Agnes, now Shane’s doing her, too!”

Oh, fuck, Shane thought as the girl elbowed him low.

Maria turned and tried to run and Agnes caught her and said, “Don’t be ridiculous,” and then looked past her to where Shane had a half-naked squirming woman under him on a bed. “Okay, that looks bad,” Agnes said, clamping down on her automatic urge to kill him, “but that’s not what it looks like.”

Maria looked at her, outraged. “How can you be so blind! Look at them!”

Agnes looked at them. Shane was pinning the woman to the bed, bearing down on her, and it was hard to tell, sex and violence being so closely related but… “No,” she said. “I’m pretty sure he’s trying to kill her.”

Maria looked at the bed and then at Agnes. “You’re insane,” she said, and then took off down the path.

“I didn’t mean it the way it sounded,” Agnes said, and went after her. “Maria!” She caught up with her halfway down the path. “I’m sorry, that wasn’t right, I didn’t mean kill kill. I mean, you know, subdue, arrest, Shane’s kind of a cop, and…” Her voice trailed off as Maria shook her head. “Look, the bottom line is Shane wouldn’t do that to me, and Palmer wouldn’t do that to you. Things aren’t always what they look like; sometimes you just have to trust the guy you love.”

“All guys do that,” Maria said. “Brenda said-”

“Brenda is a hag from hell who is trying to destroy your wedding so she can take my house,” Agnes snapped.

“And you’re trying to push me into this wedding so you can keep your house,” Maria said.

Agnes threw up her hands. “You really think that? You fell in love with Palmer, who is agreat guy, and you came down here completely in love with him, positive you wanted to marry him, and then that peroxided bitch poured poison in your ear and now I’m the one with the ulterior motive. Thanks a lot.”

Off in the woods, they heard voices and then someone gag, and Maria made a disgusted sound. “Probably Palmer barfing.” She raised her voice toward the sounds. “Sex and booze don’t mix, you dummy, and neither does cheating and marriage.”

“Well, it’s clear to see you love him and care about his well-being,” Agnes said, fed up with her. “Don’t put yourself out any. I’ll go see if he’s all right.”

“Hey,” Maria said as a male voice up on the path said, “Maria? Is that you?”

“No, really, stay here,” Agnes said, turning her back on her. “You’ve never looked more like your grandmother than you do right now.”

She left the path and went into the woods, shining the flash on the ground so she didn’t trip on any tree roots, and she saw his shoe first. “Palmer,” she said, and played the light up his leg onto this shirt and then his face, seeing his eyes staring terrified at the same time she saw the meat fork sticking out of his throat, not Palmer but Taylor, and then she screamed as he reached for her, she screamed and screamed and screamed.

Shane cursed to himself as the stripper tried to worm free. Then she pulled a stiletto from some hidden sheath on the miniskirt and jabbed with it and he felt it pierce into his shoulder.

Fuck this, Shane thought. He pulled back his left fist and hit her in the base of her skull as hard as he could. Her head bounced off the bed, but she was still conscious, albeit stunned. She slashed at him, narrowly missing his eyes.

Shane punched again, this time aiming for her temple, but she moved just enough so the blow didn’t strike dead on, but rather bounced off his skull. He ducked as the knife came tor his eyes once more, and then forgot all but total combat, blocked the knife hand, grabbed her head, left hand on the back, right hand on her jaw, and twisted violently. The sound of her neck snapping echoed through the barn even as he felt the point of the knife pierce the skin in his shoulder.

Shane felt the body spasm beneath him, then become still.

He rolled over onto his back, breathing hard and staring up at the ceiling of the barn.

Agnes, he thought, but he couldn’t summon the energy to get up and go after her.

He checked his shoulder. Not deep. He’d killed her before she could do real damage. He reached over and pulled off the blonde wig, revealing the short red hair.

Finally, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his replacement satellite phone. He hit speed-dial.

“Yes?” Carpenter whispered.

“I’ve got a package,” Shane said, still trying to catch his breath. “Another amateur? Can it wait? I’m with Lisa Livia at the movies. She’s had a rough day. And I thought-”

“Casey Dean’s girl. The one with the RPG on the boat.”

“Oh.” Carpenter was silent for a few seconds. “Where?”

“The barn.”

“I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

“Thanks.”

Shane hung up and looked down at the body. The eyes had the blank look of the dead. Seeing nothing. Ever again. Soon they would cloud up, as if what remained of the soul was turning into mist. Not that he imagined Casey Dean’s girl had much of a soul.

His dark thoughts were interrupted by the sound of sirens in the distance, coming closer. Now what? Shane got to his feet and turned toward the door, then paused, looking down at the body. Carpenter had said twenty minutes. The sirens would be here before that. But they were coming for something, and he knew it wasn’t what had just happened in here. Which meant there was a very good chance Agnes was in trouble. If she’d gotten angry about seeing him with a naked stripper after everything he’d promised the night before, Cod knew what havoc she’d wreaked.

Shane took a quick look around the barn and found the stripper’s bag. A pink cell phone was in it and he pocketed that. Then he picked up the body and slung it on his shoulder. He carried it and the bag out the back of the barn and hid them behind some palmetto bushes, laying some fronds over them. Enough to escape a quick look from the cops.

He headed up the path and came to a halt as a dark figure came toward him, but he relaxed when he recognized the outline of the straw hat.

“Detective Xavier,” Shane called out.

“Mister Shane Smith.”

Shane walked up to the detective. “What brings you out here this late?”

“I might ask the same of you,” Xavier said, looking past Shane toward the barn. “Something going on in there?”

“Nope. Just checking on the damage from the bachelor party.”

Xavier nodded. “You all must have had a hell of time out here tonight. All sorts of mayhem.”

“Like?” Shane asked.

“Maybe I should check out the barn,” Xavier said. “Nobody in there anymore. Party moved out to the shore.” Xavier nodded. “Most likely you’re right. What’s important is what happened over yonder.” He gestured behind Shane, down the path. “What happened yonder?” Shane asked. “Your Miss Agnes,” Xavier said. Shane sighed. “What did she do?”

“She appears to have murdered her former fiancé, Taylor Beaufort. Which is why my associate Robbie Hammond arrested her and why he is currently on his way with her to the county jail.”

That’s my girl, Shane thought.

“I’m real sorry about this, Miss Agnes,” Hammond said as he locked the cell door behind her.

“That makes me feel so much better,” Agnes said, hugging herself against the cold. It wasn’t that cool in the jail, she knew that, but she’d been cold ever since she’d seen the fork in Taylor’s neck and felt his hand grab the edge of her apron in one desperate clutch before he died. “You can’t possibly think I killed Taylor. I was with Maria right there on the path-”

“No, ma’am,” Hammond said. “I had just joined Maria when you screamed. You were in the woods with the victim.”

“You moron” Agnes said, shivering with rage and something else.

“Hammond, can you get her a jacket or something?” Maria said.

“Yeah, Hammond, get her a jacket,” a voice said from the bottom bunk said, and the woman there rolled over-a blowsy blonde who looked like she rotated in and out of the place on a regular basis- peered out at Agnes, and then sat up to get a better look. “Well, look what we got here. Betty Crocker. Nice apron, Betty. Mob Food? That how you got in here, cookin’ for the mob?”

“Humor,” Agnes said to her, shivering. “Har.” She turned back to the cell door. “Hammond, if I’d done it, why would I have screamed?”

“To make me think you hadn’t done it,” Hammond said, sticking his considerable chin out.

Agnes gazed at him for a moment, thinking of all the things she’d like to do to his stupid, determined face. “Hammond, you’re dumb as a rock, but Xavier isn’t. When he finds out you’ve arrested me on the thought process of an addled two-year-old-”

Hammond frowned at her. “He knows. I called him.”

Oh, just hell, Agnes thought. They’re all nuts.

“He said you were better off in here than out there. Probably wanted to keep you from killin’ anybody else.”

“She didn’t kill anybody, Robbie,” Maria said, steel in her voice.

Hammond stepped back. “Okay, honey.”

“Honey?” Agnes said, and thought about reaching through the bars and strangling him.

“Hey,” the blonde said. “What are you in for, Betty? Beatin’ your egg whites?” She laughed uproariously.

“Murder.” Agnes took off her Cranky Agnes apron and tossed it on the bunk above the blonde and then climbed up, looking for a blanket.

“We’ll get you right out of here, Agnes,” Maria said, looking daggers at the blonde.

“No, you won’t,” the blonde said. “You ain’t gonna find a judge tonight or tomorrow or the next or Monday. Not on a holiday weekend, you ain’t. Now what are you really in for, Betty?”

“Murder.” Agnes pulled a tissue-thin blanket off the bunk and wrapped it around her, and then stretched out on the mattress and looked at the ceiling. It was peeling. Naturally.

The blonde poked at the thin mattress from underneath. “I ain’t askin’ you again.”

“For the love of God, Hammond, tell her,” Agnes snarled.

“She killed her ex-fiancé with a meat fork,” Hammond told the blonde.

“She did not,” Maria said, turning on him.

“Allegedly,” Hammond said hastily. “She allegedly was found standing over her ex-fiancé with an alleged meat fork.”

“I didn’t have the meat fork,” Agnes said tiredly. “He did.”

“Right,” Hammond said. “The fork was in him. She wasn’t touching it. Still, you know, he was holding on to you. That’s pretty bad.”

“Just like the rest of my day,” Agnes said to the ceiling.

“A meat fork,” the blonde said with newfound respect in her voice. “Nice touch, Betty.”

“And right after you found Shane with a stripper, too,” Maria said, her face crumpling again.

“A girl’s gotta earn a living,” the blonde said, sounding defensive.

“And she’d just been doing Palmer ten minutes earlier,” Maria wailed.

“I don’t think so,” Agnes said tiredly, still staring at the ceiling. “That just does not sound like Palmer.”

“He was wearing the flamingo hat!” Maria said.

“That also does not sound like Palmer.” Agnes took a deep breath, mostly to keep from screaming. “Nothing’s been what it seems so far. Why should tonight be any different?”

“Those rich guys,” Hammond said.

“You stay out of this,” Agnes said, rolling so she could look down to see him. “You just stay out of this. Somebody just died horribly out there, do not use this as an opportunity to make time, damn it.”

Hammond put his arm around Maria. “It’ll be different with me,” he told her.

Maria nodded with a sniffle.

“Listen to me, young lady,” Agnes said, sitting up. “What are you trying to do? Ruin your life? Fine, go ahead. Throw your life away in a big dramatic gesture even though you love Palmer and he’s the one you should be with. What the hell.”

“You want me to forgive him for cheating on me?” Maria said, grabbing on to the bars so she could glare through them. “That’s why you stabbed Taylor!”

“I didn’t kill Taylor,” Agnes said, glaring back. “Although it worries me that you think I did.”

“Of course I don’t,” Maria said, outraged. “I meant the first time.”

“There was a first time?” Hammond said.

“No,” Agnes and Maria said together.

“And anyway, I don’t see you forgiving Shane,” Maria said, changing the subject. “I don’t see you saying, ‘Hey, you boinking the stripper, not a problem, I still love you.’“

“I don’t love him,” Agnes said. “I just met him. And I don’t have to forgive him. He didn’t boink her.”

“You are so naive,” Maria said.

Hammond tugged on her arm. “We have to go. You shouldn’t even be back here.”

“Maria,” Agnes said.

“We’ll get you a lawyer,” Maria said as Hammond pulled her through the door.

“Won’t do you no good,” the blonde said, and then it was quiet, which gave Agnes plenty of time to think.

Not that there was much to think about.

Like, who killed Taylor? Well, he’d been willing to leave Brenda to come back to her and Brenda had almost certainly overheard that, and he’d flouted her to cater the rehearsal dinner, so Brenda was one suspect. And then there was…

Brenda. That was it. Nobody else would want to kill poor old Taylor. And nobody else would know that Agnes had stabbed him in the throat with a meat fork. And nobody else would be so viciously cruel as to tell Maria a story that would drive her out to the barn knowing Agnes would go with her, and then arrange for Taylor to be there at the same time, and stab him when Agnes was there, and leave him to die slowly in the woods for Agnes to find him…

Brenda. Hell, she’d already killed Frankie and Four Wheels; Taylor was just filling out her dance card. Of course it was Brenda. She’d stolen her own daughter’s life savings.

Well, that filled up a minute. Now what was she going to think about?

Well, there was Shane, having sex with a stripper. Of course he was a guy, and guys did tend to like strippers, but he also knew she was waiting for him back at the house, and Shane just did not strike her as the kind of guy who’d do that. Which was odd because ordinarily she was paranoid about that kind of thing and could work up a really good outrage, but Shane boinking a stripper a hundred yards from where she was waiting after he’d promised to come home to her?

Nah. Whatever he was doing, it wasn’t sex. Something energetic and violent, and she really didn’t want to think about where the stripper was now and what she’d done to deserve it. Maybe Taylor was hooking up with her in the afterlife. That was some comfort.

That killed another minute.

Which left her with the rest of her life.

Two Rivers was gone unless she could convince Maria that Palmer was not likely to put on a flamingo hat and screw a stripper. That was so self-evident that she was still having trouble understanding why Maria couldn’t see it-

“Why a meat fork?” the blonde said.

“Huh?” Agnes said.

“Why’d you do it with a meat fork?”

“I didn’t,” Agnes said. “As God is my witness, I did not kill him.”

“Okay, okay. What did you stab him with the first time?” Agnes sighed. “A meat fork.”

“Why a meat fork?”

“It was the first thing I grabbed. We’d had tenderloin and I’d just washed it and it was on the counter.”

“So it was just a coincidence that it was a meat fork this time, too?”

“No, somebody’s trying to frame me.”

“A lot of people knew about the first time, huh?”

“No,” Agnes said, and then stopped. “No, we kept that quiet. She must be planning on making that connection clear to the police herself, unless she already did. Huh. Wonder if she knows that’s going to backfire on her?” It wasn’t like Brenda to leave a loose end like that. Maybe she really was losing it. Beyond the craziness of murdering Taylor, maybe she was losing it completely.

“She who?”

“The woman who really did it.”

“Well, at least she killed him and not you.”

“She’s trying to kill me,” Agnes said. “It’s just not working out for her.” Which might be what was pushing her over the edge. If she was furious at Agnes for taking LL from her, if she was rabidly determined to get Two Rivers back, if she was so insane that she’d killed Taylor because he was leaving her for Agnes…

Oh, hell, Agnes thought. She’s completely psycho and she thinks all her problems are my fault. Just in time for the wedding.

“Well, you’re safe in here for the weekend,” the blonde said.

Agnes sighed again. “No, I’m not. My guy will be coming to get me pretty soon.”

“The one who fucked the stripper? Nah. I’m telling you, he can’t get bail.”

“He didn’t fuck the stripper.” Agnes rolled over on her side. “And he won’t bother with bail.”

“What’s he going to do? Break you out?”

Agnes shrugged. “Whatever it takes. I have to put on a wedding tomorrow, or I lose my house, and he won’t let that happen.”

“The wedding for Barbie there? I don’t think she’s gonna get married, I think she’s leaving with Deputy Dawg.”

“My guy’ll bring her back if she does.”

The blonde craned her neck up to see Agnes. “So this guy who fucked the stripper, he’s going to break you out of jail and help with the runaway bride so you won’t lose your house. What is he, Robin Hood?”

“No, he’s a hitman.”

“Uh-huh. You’re crazy.”

“No,” Agnes said. “But I did have a court-appointed psychiatrist once.”

Then she rolled over and made a mental To Do List for when Shane came to get her.

“Agnes didn’t kill Taylor,” Shane said as he and Xavier headed up the path back to the house. He saw the crime scene tape off to the side of the trail and the deputies tripping over each other trying to investigate it.

“I wouldn’t think so,” Xavier said, “except Hammond found her standing over Taylor with her meat fork through his throat and him holding on to her apron as he departed this mortal coil. I’m not looking at suicide here, by the way. And she does have that anger problem. Which is why I feel it’s best that she stay in custody for tonight.”

You want to see anger, Shane thought, check out Casey Dean’s girl’s neck.“You can’t keep her locked up. She’s got to make this wedding happen tomorrow.”

Xavier stared at him. “Let a potential murderer out of jail to put on a wedding? I might be a small-town cop and not so smart as everyone keeps reminding me, but…”

He paused because someone was coming this way. Shane turned to see who it was.

Palmer. He came staggering out of the woods, one hand on his forehead, the other extended to keep himself balanced.

“You need to go find Maria,” Shane told him when came up to them.

Palmer blinked and his unfocused eyes peered at Shane. “Maria?”

“Your bride,” Shane said. “The woman you’re marrying tomorrow.” Shane held out a hand. “About this tall. Thick, dark hair. Pretty. Loves you.”

Palmer was nodding. “Maria. Yeah. Right.” He looked about. “Where is she?”

“Probably in the house-” Shane began but Xavier cut him off.

“She’s at the jail.”

“You arrested her, too?” Shane demanded. “What for? Accessory to forking?”

“She’s not under arrest,” Xavier said. “She wanted to go with Agnes and Hammond. He’ll bring her back once Agnes is settled in.” He looked at Shane. “And I do mean settled in. Permanently. No wedding furloughs.”

“Hammond?” Palmer said, trying to frown without pain. “She’s with Hammond?”

“So if anybody was to have any ideas about early-release programs,” Xavier went on, “like, say, waking up a judge-”

Another person came down the path, this one in heels. “Palmer Anderson Keyes.” The voice was sharp, and Palmer winced, and Shane recognized Evie as she joined them. Only a mother could make a man’s full name go back to childhood. “What are you doing?”

“He’s pretty much working on standing up,” Shane said.

Evie gave Palmer a look that said she’d be dealing with him later and it wouldn’t be pretty, and then she turned to Xavier. “Maria called and said you arrested Agnes.”

“Yes.”

“Well, let her go,” Evie said. “We have a wedding in the morning.”

Xavier shook his head. “You people need to get something through your heads. This is a murder investigation. Taylor Beaufort is dead. Agnes’s meat fork was in his neck. She was standing over the body.”

“Agnes did not kill Taylor,” Evie said with finality. “You know that, Simon.”

“I don’t know-”

“Simon,” Evie said in a very low and husky voice. She stood very still, as did Xavier, her voice apparently taking him back a few years. “Shane, would you take care of Palmer while I talk to Detective Xavier?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Shane took Palmer’s arm as Evie reached out and took Xavier’s.

Xavier looked at her sternly. “Evie, I am sorry if this upsets you, but Agnes Crandall is staying in jail.” He put his hat back on his head firmly and with intent.

“Now, Xavier,” Evie said.

Shane guided Palmer to the house, listening with one ear to Evie alternately browbeating and cajoling Xavier into freeing Agnes, and by the time they reached the porch, he had a great deal of respect for Evie’s powers of persuasion and Xavier’s powers of resistance, not to mention a real curiosity about why Evie was married to a blowhard like Jefferson Keyes. The last thing Xavier said was, “Evie, I am sorry, but no, I will not,” and then Shane opened the porch door and saw Lisa Livia, white-faced and hollow-eyed, pacing while Carpenter made soothing noises, which he seemed to be good at. Beyond them, through the open kitchen door, he could see Joey and Doyle in the kitchen looking worried.

“Where’s Maria?” Lisa Livia demanded.

“She went with Agnes to jail,” Shane said, immediately realizing he’d phrased that badly when Lisa Livia turned on Xavier.

“She wasn’t arrested,” Xavier said hastily. “She was just accompanying Miss Agnes.”

“Who was arrested,” Shane added, feeling that Xavier deserved all the grief he could get.

“For what?” Lisa Livia said to Xavier.

“She is helping us with our inqui-”

“Killing Taylor,” Shane said, and while Lisa Livia zeroed in on the hapless Xavier, Shane took Carpenter aside. “The package is past the barn, behind some palmettos.”

Carpenter frowned. “Perhaps it would be prudent to move the package at a later time.”

Shane nodded. “It’s secure for now, assuming Downer doesn’t trip over it and get creative.” He looked over at Xavier now speaking sternly to Lisa Livia, who was snapping right back. “I don’t think Xavier is going to go looking for any more trouble tonight.”

Lisa Livia turned on Palmer. “And where the hell were you when all this was going on?”

“I was-” Palmer’s perfectly smooth forehead furrowed as he tried to think through the alcohol.

“He was under the weather,” Shane said.

“Under a keg more likely,” Lisa Livia said. “One of the bridesmaids said Maria said he had sex with a stripper.”

“Of course not,” Palmer said, but he swayed as he said it

“Absolutely not,” Evie said, but she gave her son the fish eye.

Shane shook his head. “Palmer didn’t do anything with the stripper.”

“How do you know?” Lisa Livia demanded. “Because this was a special kind of stripper,” Shane said, and Lisa Livia opened her mouth to argue and then shut up. Xavier looked at him oddly.

“Have you questioned the widow yet?” Shane asked him. “Brenda Dupres, uh, Beaufort?”

“She’s distraught,” Xavier said, his voice dry. “I do, however, have some queries for you-”

“She killed him just like she killed my daddy,” Lisa Livia snapped at him. “Go out on that damn boat and beat it out of her, and then bring Agnes home.”

“And Maria,” Palmer said, his swaying much more pronounced. “Maria should be home…”

“Go on, Xavier,” Evie said. “We’re waiting. Bring Agnes back.” She folded her arms and lifted her chin, and Xavier looked at her, exasperated. “Don’t look at me like that. You picked the wrong side on this one. Agnes is innocent. You’re always picking the wrong side. You did it twenty-five years ago and you’re doing it now.”

“Evie,” Xavier said.

Palmer’s swaying became downright dangerous, and Shane grabbed the front of his shirt and sat him down on the swing, which brought Shane close to Evie’s ear. “Walk Xavier to his car,” he whispered.

Evie stepped forward. “Come on, Xavier,” she said, smooth as glass. “It’s dark out there. Walk me to my car.”

Xavier started to speak, and she took his arm. “You can harass Shane tomorrow,” she said, and tugged him toward the screen door, and he shot Shane a glare full of suspicion and then he looked down at Evie, sighed, and went.

Shane straightened Palmer on the swing. “You stay here and get to know your mother-in-law.”

“Where are you going?” Lisa Livia said, almost in tears. “What about Maria? What about Agnes?”

“I’m on it,” Shane told her.

“It’ll be all right,” Carpenter said, his voice low. “We’ll be right back. And tomorrow, I’ll take care of the other thing for you. Rest.”

Lisa Livia took a deep breath, nodded, and then turned to Palmer. “You’re an idiot. But I like you. I’ll make coffee.”

Shane looked in the back door to the kitchen at Joey. “You take care of things here.”

Joey nodded and patted the gun-shaped bulge under his T-shirt.

Great, Shane thought. Just what we need. mure people with firepower. “What’s the plan?” Carpenter said.

“We break Agnes out of jail,” Shane said. “Then I convince her that I wasn’t having sex with the stripper so she doesn’t kill me. Then we come back here and take care of the package and hit Casey Dean. Then we find proof that Brenda killed Taylor and give it to Xavier so he doesn’t prosecute Agnes for going AWOL. Then we make sure Maria marries Palmer. Then we meet Wilson and I get his job and you get a promotion and a big raise.”

“Why does that sound like a To Do List?” Carpenter said.

“Get in the van,” Shane said.

Maria had come back with Agnes’s lawyer, Barry, who said the same thing about judges and holiday weekends as the blonde-”Told you so,” the blonde said-but who added that the prosecution was going to have a damn hard time explaining why Agnes’s fingerprints were on a meat fork that she’d committed premeditated murder with on the spur of the moment in the middle of her woods while she asked her alibi to wait on the footpath. “I don’t understand why they arrested you at all,” Barry said, his face cheerful through the bars. “Xavier’s usually smarter than this. We may even get a wrongful arrest out of this. I doubt it, but I can certainly try.”

“Detective Hammond is hoping to seduce my goddaughter and break up her wedding and was trying to get me out of the way so he could do it,” Agnes said, throwing Hammond to the wolves, and Barry turned to Hammond, even happier to add sexual misconduct and alienation of affection to the list, and shortly after that, Hammond’s night got worse when Maria went back to Two Rivers to stay in the second bedroom upstairs because her mother had called her and read her the riot act about behaving like a slut the night before her wedding. Hammond had come back to the cell to complain bitterly when Maria was gone, so when Agnes heard footsteps at the cell door again, she ignored them until she heard a key scrape in the lock. Then she rolled over to see Shane pushing the door open.

“You didn’t kill anybody to get in here, did you?” she said as she sat up.

“Here? No.” He walked over to her and looked up. “About the stripper. That was not sex.”

“I know. You wouldn’t do that to me.” He looked surprised, and she took a deep breath. “Is she dead?”

“Yeah,” he said, clearly regrouping. “She was Casey Dean’s girl. She tried to kill us on the boat. She tried to kill me tonight.”

“Then you had to do it.” Agnes began to climb down from the bunk, and he put his hand on her waist to help her down, sliding his arm around her as her feet hit the floor, and she leaned against him and let him take her weight because he wouldn’t let her down.

“I heard about Taylor,” he said.

She clung to him. “It was bad. He was still alive when I found him, it was a terrible way to die.” He nodded.

“You know that cool, unemotional killer thing I was going to master? It ain’t happening. I’m just not the cool type.” He nodded.

“But I’m not Crazy Rage Person anymore, either. I think I finally got what Dr. Garvin was trying to tell me.” He nodded.

She tilted her head so she could see his face. “You okay there, silent guy?”

“You really do believe me?” He held on to her tighter. “I really wasn’t having sex with her, I swear, but you really do believe me?”

She nodded. “Yeah. You’re the guy I believe in.”

He bent and kissed her, and she held on to him, so grateful he was there, she could have cried. The blonde got up and began to sidle toward the door, and he reached out and grabbed the back of her shirt and put her back on the bunk, but he never let go of Agnes.

“Let’s go home,” he whispered, and she nodded, the words hitting her hard.

“Yes, please,” she said, and they went out the door, his arm still around her.

Shane turned back to the blonde. “Sorry,” he said, and closed and locked the cell door behind them.

“Damn,” the blonde said and lay back down. “I didn’t kill anyone. How come you guys get to leave?”

“Clean living,” Agnes said, and headed back to Two Rivers with the guy she trusted, thinking fast.

Two Rivers looked calm as they walked up to it, Shane thought. No police cars, no parties going on, just the glow of lights from the windows and the occasional raucous honk from the river. Peaceful enough that you might forget that two people had just died there in the past six hours.

“I’ll get the package,” Carpenter said as Agnes walked up the back porch steps, and then Agnes said, “Shane?” her voice too high as she looked through the back door.

Shane took the steps two at a time to look over her shoulder.

Joey and Doyle were standing on opposite sides of the table with the Venus between them: Joey had his revolver out pointed at the old handyman, Doyle had a gun in his hand pointed back at Joey, and the Venus looked off into the distance, disavowing all knowledge of their presence.

Shane pushed past Agnes. “What’s going on?”

“Ask him,” Joey said, nodding at Doyle.

Shane felt Agnes behind him, and now she moved around him, looking at the two old men. “What are you doing?”

Joey gave his sharklike smile, but the gun didn’t waver. “Agnes Crandall, meet Frankie Fortunato.”

“Great,” Shane said. “Just great.”