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“Yeah. No class at all. Want to tell me about the health inspector?”
“Joey’s on it. But what exactly did you put in my basement?”
“Acid,” he said. “It’s to open the bomb shelter down there.”
“A bomb shelter wasn’t on the inspection checklist when I bought the house. Why do you want to open it?”
She was surprised that Shane actually looked a bit sheepish. “There’s a chance Frankie Fortunato’s body might be in there. And the five million dollars he stole twenty-five years ago.”
“Five million dollars,” Agnes nodded. “And you were going to tell me this when?”
“I didn’t know until Joey told me yesterday.”
“Did it ever occur to anybody to tell me that the reason people kept showing up in my kitchen with guns pointed at me was that there was five million dollars in my basement?”
“We didn’t want to worry you,” Shane said and told her the story Joey had told him, part of which Lisa Livia had told her years ago anyway, except for the bomb shelter part
“Lisa Livia is not going to be happy about this,” Agnes said, but a part of her mind slid to the fact she could have five million dollars in her basement.
“We’ll know tomorrow,” Shane said.
Agnes took a deep breath. “All right. So how was your day? You kill anybody?” She stopped, realizing with horror that he might have. “That was supposed to be a joke. You know, like you asked me if I killed Taylor. I don’t really want to know?—”
“I didn’t kill anybody.”
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”
“Agnes—”
“I’m still sort of...” She searched for a word that wasn’t insulting. “... freaked ... by your ... job.”
“Good,” he said. She jerked her head up. “Good?”
He shrugged. “Some women get turned on by it. Not that I’m against that, but it’s not?—”
“Turned on?” Agnes looked out over the water. “Huh. Well, it wasn’t unappealing when you killed the guy who was trying to kill me. I mean, after I stopped throwing up, I was definitely on your side.” And if you find five million dollars in my basement...
“Agnes—”
“And I’m sure that anybody you’ve killed had done something to deserve it?—”
“Agnes—”
“Like John Cusack in Grosse Pointe Blank?—”
“Agnes, it’s okay.”
“Did you ever kill the president of Paraguay with a fork?”
“The fork is your weapon.” He took her hand. “If it helps, every target has known exactly why I was there.”
Agnes swallowed as his palm touched hers, warm and safe, and then she nodded. “This very special organization you work for. Is it the mob?”
Shane looked at her as if she were nuts. “No. Jesus, Agnes. I work for the U.S. government.”
“You what?” She drew her hand away from him, stunned. “The government kills people?”
“Yes, Agnes,” Shane said. “It sends them to war and it sends them to the electric chair, and sometimes, when it wants to be more efficient and merciful, it sends me. I’m much more precise and efficient than a bomb dropped from ten thousand feet.”
