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Joey sighed. “Rat the Don out about what?” He held up a hand. “Sorry. The Don’s been doing bad stuff for decades, and he’s never gotten caught.”
“There’s no statute of limitation on murder,” Shane said. “If the Don had Frankie killed and someone here has evidence on that, the Don would want that person silenced.”
Joey rubbed his hand across his chin. “Agnes wasn’t here then.”
“You were,” Shane said.
Carpenter leaned forward. “If there’s evidence in the vault pointing to the Don, he might be trying to keep us from getting in there.”
Shane looked at his uncle. “I was in Savannah to take out a professional painter named Casey Dean that the Don had brought in to take out this rat. A preemptive strike. The job got screwed up, and Casey Dean is still out there.”
Joey pointed at the body on the floor. “This mutt ain’t a professional and Macy sure wasn’t. And a professional wouldn’t subcontract. Especially on a job ordered by the Don.”
Shane was trying to fit the pieces. Think like Wilson. “That means we’re dealing with two contracts. One from the Don, put out on the rat. The other from somebody put out on Agnes. Plus we got Four Wheels sending the little Wheels out here looking for the necklace and the five million.”
“What a fucking mess,” Joey muttered.
“No shit,” Shane said. “Carpenter, stay here with Joey and watch Agnes. I’m going down to Savannah and talk to the Torrentino brothers and explain to them that either Amateur Night gets canceled or they do. I’ll be back in time to see what’s in the bomb shelter when the acid burns through the lock.”
“Any instructions?” Carpenter said.
“Yeah,” Shane said. “Shoot anybody who looks at Agnes funny. And anybody else you don’t like. I’m getting tired of this shit.”
“Somebody needs a hug,” Carpenter said. “Humor,” Shane said. “Har.” Then he left the van and headed for Savannah.
The Dixie Chicks were singing “Goodbye, Earl” on the stereo, Rhett was asleep under the kitchen table, and the Venus was standing unscathed by the basement door as Agnes made her sixth omelet, this one for Lisa Livia, and tried to write her column in her head.
“The hall is really clean,” LL said, taking her toast out of the toaster. “I’m sure some luminol would beg to differ, but the man is good.”
“Carpenter? Very good.” Agnes flipped the omelet closed. Okay, wedding cake, there must be something original to say about wedding cake. Maybe if she led with the Romans bashing the bride with it?—
“Probably because he’s a man of the cloth.”
“You know, I find that so hard to believe.” Agnes slid the omelet onto a plate.
“I don’t see why.” Lisa Livia buttered her toast. “He’s a Spiritual Humanist. I think he’s very spiritual. He’s ordained and everything.”
“Uh-huh.” Agnes thought about saying, Do you know what the man does for a living: and then remembered that she was talking to Lisa Livia Fortunato. Of course she knew what he did for a living.
She handed LL her omelet as the phone rang and then answered it.
“Agnes,” God intoned.
“Good morning, Reverend Miller.”
Lisa Livia stopped with her fork poised above her omelet.
“I’ve been wondering,” Reverend Miller said. “Does Maria intend to have children?”
You putz. “Yes, Maria definitely plans to have children. Palmer wants enough for a foursome at least. Although what business that is of yours, I have no idea. Good-bye.” Agnes hung up and said to Lisa Livia, “Don’t even start, I know he’s an idiot.”
“Jesus Christ,” Lisa Livia said. “Carpenter’s ordained. Let’s keep him on as backup for the wedding.” She cut into her omelet.
“Yeah, I’m sure Evie Keyes will go for a Spiritual Whatsis performing her son’s wedding ceremony.” Agnes began to break eggs into her blue bowl for her omelet. “You haven’t seen my To Do List, have you? It has my cake order on it, and I don’t think I’m going to make it into Savannah today, so I’m going to have to call it in and then rush in tomorrow and pick it up?—”
“Why don’t we both go later today?” Lisa Livia said. “I need to get some stuff to clean the mildew off the Venus anyway. And we can sell Taylor’s ring then, too. Pay for some landscaping if Garth can’t steal what we need.”
Agnes frowned at her as she began to whisk. “Garth is not stealing anything. We are not contributing to the delinquency of a minor. I’ve got to go talk to his grandpa to see if he can stay in school. And I’ve got to get him some better clothes. He went home last night and snuck some out of his trailer, but they’re worse than the ones he was wearing.”
