“So, the cake,” she said in her best aren’t-we-all-glad-to-be-here voice, waving her cake plate in Maria’s general direction to distract her from whatever was about to set her off.
“I’m just thinking with everything that’s gone wrong, the wedding might be better at the country club,” Brenda said, and Evie perked up.
Rot in hell, Brenda, Agnes thought, but before she could say anything, Maria said, “Did you hear about my dress?”
“Your dress?” Evie said, but Maria was smiling at Brenda. Fixedly.
Oh, God, what did Brenda do to the dress? Agnes thought, seeing the entire wedding go south as the bride killed her grandmother in the gazebo with the cake knife. Barbie Clue.
“Oh, yes, the dress.” Brenda sipped her lemonade, looking blonde and lovely as ever. “Maria had ordered one from New York, but there was no tradition in that, so I canceled it-”
“What?” Evie said, putting down her lemonade.
“-and I’m giving her my wedding dress to wear.” Brenda smiled fondly at Maria, who smiled back. Not fondly.
“She’s at least a foot taller than you are,” Evie said, appalled. “You canceled that dress? She loved that dress. We all loved that dress!”
“It’s all right,” Maria said, still smiling.
It’s not all right, Agnes thought, trying to think of how she was going to get the dress back. And how she was going to get Brenda psychiatric help because she’d clearly gone round the bend. And how she was going to keep Lisa Livia from killing her mother, something that had been imminent all LL’s life anyway. “I-”
“In fact, I’ve been thinking,” Brenda said, and a silence fell over the table, even Evie turning to Brenda to see what was coming next. “What with Two Rivers not looking its best-I’m sorry, Agnes-and the florist quitting, and all, well, I have to agree with Evie that the country club is very beautiful, and they have flowers there anyway, so we could probably just use their flowers…”
Her voice trailed off as three women looked at her in horror.
“Well, it’s too late to get another florist, everybody would understand that, and we can’t have it here,” she said, the voice of reason. “This place isn’t even painted.”
You have lost your ever-lovin’ mind, Agnes thought.
“We cannot use the country club’s flowers,” Evie said firmly. “But I do agree that Two Rivers is a little shabby for a wedding of this stature, so I think that moving it to-”
Agnes said, trying to keep the panic from her voice, “Well, I think- “
Maria stood up. “You know, I just love my grandpa’s big old house. It’s just… the South, don’t you think?” She turned to look at it in all its scraped and scabby glory, Tara with leprosy, and turned back hastily. “And I do want a Southern wedding, in the fine old Keyes tradition. I do believe in tradition, don’t you, Mrs. Keyes?”
Evie nodded, not buying anything yet.
“But I do want a wedding that will make people sit up and take notice,” Maria said, looking at Brenda. “I want a wedding that says, Look at us, we have arrived, we belong. Right, Grandma Brenda?”
Brenda looked up at her, and for a moment she looked hungry, even vulnerable. Agnes thought, Shewonts to belong, she feels as alone as I do.
Maria moved between Brenda and Evie. “That’s what I want my wedding to be, tradition and innovation, the best of both worlds, having it all!”
The two older women looked at each other, united in confusion.
Agnes frowned. It was a nice picture, Maria uniting the two fighting houses, but she was Lisa Livia’s kid, and her cake, her flowers, and her dress had just been canceled, and now Brenda and Evie were trying to hijack the whole damn thing to the fucking country club.
Language, Agnes.
To the gosh-darned country club.
Agnes pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose, took a deep breath, and said, “Well, I think that’s wonderful, but you can just forget the country-”
“We’ll have it all,” Maria said, thrillingly. “My wedding in my grandpa’s house, which Agnes will get painted-”
Agnes started at the steel in Maria’s voice and then nodded.
“-and Taylor’s brilliant food, and Agnes’s wonderful cake, and Maisie Shuttle’s gorgeous flowers, which Grandma Brenda will get back for us-”
Brenda flinched.
“-and Evie’s cousin Wesley’s marvelous photographs, and Palmer’s fraternity brother’s uncle’s band, and it’s going to be so perfect, so traditional and yet new.”
“Well, that’s very sweet, Maria,” Brenda said, “but-”
Shut up, Brenda, Agnes thought, seeing the red light behind Maria’s eyes, so like the light in Lisa Livia’s before the carnage began.
“And it will be all of that,” Maria said, her voice rising, “because it will all be tied together by our theme, the symbol of Palmer’s and my future.”
“Theme?” Evie said, surprised.
“Theme?” Brenda said, confused.
“Oh, God,” Agnes said, bracing herself.
Maria smiled at Palmer, out on the lawn, gazing at the grass.
“Grass?” Agnes said, thinking, Green, I could fake green by Saturday.
“Flamingos,” Maria said.
“What the hell?” Brenda said, startled.
“You’re joking, of course,” Evie said.
“Pink,” Agnes said, thinking, Pink, I can fake pink by Saturday.
Maria opened her bag and took out an eight-inch virulently pink plastic flamingo and slapped it on the table. “Isn’t it just hysterical? It’s a pen. Dina Delvecchio sent it to me when she found out that Palmer’s big successful golf course is called the Flamingo. See, the feet are like the holder, and you pull the pen out-”
“Dina Delvecchio?” Evie said, grasping at straws since the flamingo was probably beyond comprehension.
“Maria’s maid of honor,” Agnes said, staring at the flamingo pen. “Bless her heart” Goddammit, Brenda, you had to open your mouth, didn’t you?
“-and we glue the place cards to the beaks,” Maria went on. “They’re only seventy-five cents each, so they’re cheap, too, Grandma. You’ll like that”
“That’s seventy-five bucks for place cards,” Brenda said, looking at the pink plastic with horror.
“And they double as party favors,” Maria said virtuously. “I already ordered them, Agnes. They’ll be here Thursday.”
“Maria,” Evie said, staring in horror at the plastic flamingo.
“So, flamingos,” Agnes said. It was awful, but it was at Two Rivers, so she was for it Marginally. “Arriving Thursday.”
“And here’s the best part.” Maria held up the dress bag. “My dress. Or Grandma Brenda’s dress.”
“Don’t call me Grandma,” Brenda said.
“The big trend now is in colored wedding dresses,” Maria said, unzipping the bag. “So…”
She pulled off the bag and revealed an old-fashioned meringue wedding dress with a huge puffy skirt canopied with lace and bows.
All of it dyed flamingo pink.
“That’s my wedding dress!” Brenda said, standing up and knocking over her chair.
“I know,” Maria said, beaming. “I’m going to wear it just like you wanted. Brenda.”
Okay, Agnes thought, sitting down in relief. There was no way in hell Maria would wear that horror of a dress anywhere. This was payback. She met Maria’s eyes and said, “Fabulous idea. It’ll be the talk of the county,” and Maria said, “Well, I think so.”
Fifteen minutes of cool reasoning and heated reproach later, Evie had left for the Keyes mansion in silent shock, and Brenda had gone back to the Brenda Belle, the Real Estate King’s yacht, in outraged fury.
Agnes grinned. “So, flamingos.”
“Of course not.” Maria stuffed the dress back in the dress bag. “The dress was the giveaway, wasn’t it?”
“I’d pay good money to see you in it,” Agnes said. “If I had any good money
.”
Maria sighed. “Well, I had to do something. Evie’s being so snotty about everything that I’d tell her to fuck off if she wasn’t going to be my kids’ grandma someday. And she’s an angel compared to Brenda. Did you see that dress? She really expected me to wear it. And she really did cancel my dress, too, but Palmer ordered another one and they’re going to express it here Friday if that’s okay.”
Agnes nodded. “I’ll keep it for you.”
Maria shook her head. “I swear to God, Palmer told Brenda four months ago that he’d pay for the wedding, but she said no, I was her granddaughter and she was going to take care of it all, and now she’s pissed off the baker and the florist and wants to use the leftover flowers at the country club. Why did she offer to pay in the first place if she was going to act like this?”
“I don’t know,” Agnes said. “This is not like Brenda. I could see her insisting on wearing white to your wedding because it’ll look good with her tan, but meddling like this? She’s lost her mind.”
Maria picked up the dress bag. “Well, it doesn’t matter. I’ve settled her hash.”
“So, just checking to make sure here, no flamingos?”
“Oh, the flamingo pens are coming,” Maria said. “I don’t know how far I have to carry my bluff. But the wedding is just like I planned it, white butterflies and daisies. I’m going to let them both stew for a while and then graciously agree to go back to the original plan, and they’ll be so grateful, they’ll get out of my way.” Maria looked out over the lawn and waved to Palmer, who obediently turned and trotted back toward them.
She watched him with an odd expression on her face, and Agnes felt a chill.
“Are you two okay?”
“Yes,” Maria said, and then frowned toward the house. “Is that Bobbie Hammond?”
“What?” Agnes said, and turned to see Detective Hammond coming out of the house. “Yep. So Palmer-”
“Robbie and I dated one summer,” Maria said, watching him instead of her fiancé, who was now approaching the gazebo.
Oh, great. “He doesn’t seem real bright,” Agnes said.
Maria scowled at her. “He’s a nice guy.”
“Not much of a future,” Agnes said.
“He serves and protects,” Maria said.
“I think he has a girlfriend,” Agnes said, having no idea what Hammond had.
“I’m engaged,” Maria said coolly.
“Okay, then.” Agnes began to clear up the cake plates. “Now I have to get Maisie Shuttle back on the job with the daisies and bake you some cake. What kind do you want?”
“Whatever holds up the icing,” Maria said. “The coconut was good.”
“Thank you,” Agnes said. “I’ll give you the chocolate raspberry for the rehearsal dinner.”
“Wonderful,” Maria said, but her voice was flat as she looked past Agnes to her intended, coming up the steps.
“Everything okay?” Palmer said.
“Yes, dear,” Maria said.
They looked at each other in fairly cold silence.
No, no, no, Agnes thought. “I have some cake,” she said to Palmer and prayed that whatever it was, they’d get over it by Saturday.
God, I’m shallow, she thought, and headed back to the house to make out her list of cake supplies and to work on her column. That had to be done by Saturday, too. Everything had to be done by Saturday.
Sunday’s going to be a good day, she thought.
Assuming she lived that long.
An hour after he left Two Rivers, Shane sat outside Joey’s diner in the Defender and worked at the message on his cell phone until he had it all decrypted:
WRONG TARGET HIT
CASEY DEAN STILL ACTIVE
CALL TO SET UP MEET TO DISCUSS ASAP.
“Fuck.” He’d killed the wrong guy. Too many intel screwups like this lately. Somebody needed to go in there and kick some ass. Wilson would have once, but he was getting old.
Rhett was hanging his head out the passenger window, looking miserable. I know how you feel, Shane thought. He slammed his head back against the headrest and closed his eyes. First Joey and his little Agnes and his mysteries, and now this screwup.
Shane flipped open the cell phone and punched in number 2on the speed-dial. It was answered on the second ring.
“Wilson.”
“I’m in Keyes.”
“Why?”
“Personal business. What happened with the intel?”
Three seconds passed, which was a very long time in Shane’s experiencedealing with Wilson. The emptiness was tilled with clicking noises as the signal was encrypted, bounced between government satellites, and decrypted.
“I’ll meet you in Keyes this evening, twenty-two hundred hours,” Wilson said. “Location?”
Shane blinked. He always came to Wilson. “There’s a floating dock at the junction of the Blood River and the Intracoastal Waterway.”
The phone went dead and Shane closed it. He saw Joey lock up his diner and come slowly over, a newspaper in one hand. For the first time, he looked old to Shane.
“What’s in the back?” Joey asked, jerking his head toward the large box in the bed of the truck as he got in, shooing Rhett over at the same time.
“Air conditioner unit,” Shane said. “The one at Two Rivers isn’t enough.”
Joey raised his eyebrows. “Agnes come into some money, did she?”
Shane started the truck. “You shutting down for the day for real?”
“There’s someone I need to talk to,” Joey said. “Anybody I know?” Joey hesitated.
Shane figured he’d shown enough patience. “I got some questions, Joey. That’s just the first.”
Joey nodded. “Charlie ‘Four Wheels’ Thibault. Grandpa of the kid who died last night.”
Shane waited.
“I used to know him. Thinking I better go see him.”
Shane nodded. “I’ll drive you. Mind the slobber.”
“Nice ride,” Joey said, thumping the heavy side panel.
Shane pulled into the street and Joey pointed which way to drive. “So how’d you get to know this Four Wheels?”
“He was one of the guys back in the day,” Joey said. “How’s Agnes doing?”
Not subtle, Shane thought “She was with Evie Keyes and Brenda when I left.”
Joey shook his head. “Poor little thing.”
Shane thought of Agnes, round in those thin sweats, attacking that pepper on the chopping block, smacking him with the frying pan. Agnes was a lot of things, but poor and little weren’t two of them. “Why’d you ask Agnes about Rhett last night, Joey?”
Joey looked out the window. “I always ask about Rhett. I worry about them both out there all alone.” He turned back to Shane. “I’ve known her since she was a kid. She used to spend summers down here with Lisa Livia when they was in boarding school. They’d come into the diner and ask questions. Lisa Livia wanted to know how to run the place, she was all about the money.” He laughed. “That Lisa Livia, she’s no dummy. But Agnes, she wanted to know how to cook. All the time, wanting to know how to make this, why’d you put that in there, Joey?”
Shane kept his eyes on the road. He couldn’t get two words about the Thibaults, but about Agnes he was getting a book. Nice try, Joey.
“Then they grew up and didn’t come back anymore,” Joey went on, seeming almost wistful. “I get a Christmas card every year from Agnes, sometimes she’d send me stuff in the mail, stuff she finds she thinks I like, diner stuff. But then about three, four years ago, here Agnes comes again, asking questions ‘cause now she has a newspaper column, and she remembered me, she’s gonna write about me.”
Shane looked over at the old man. He was grinning like it was a joke, but he was proud.
“About me,” Joey repeated, shaking his head. “And then this editor in New York read the columns about me and said she wanted a book, and Agnes wrote one. The editor called it Mob Food. It came out last month, been selling real good
, too, they say. That’s where Agnes got some of the money for her half of the down payment on the house.” He looked away, out the window. “My picture’s on the cover. Leaning on the diner counter.” He looked back at Shane. “I told her to forget about it, but Agnes said I had to be on the cover. And you know Agnes.”
Shane nodded. “I’m starting to.”
“She uses a lot of my stuff in her column, some other people’s, too. She got a lot of stuff from Brenda, too, see Brenda’s the one who taught her to cook-”
Enough. “So why did you ask Agnes about Rhett right before the kid broke in to take him?”
Joey looked out the window again. “Coincidence.”
Shane swerved to the side of the road and slammed on the brakes, putting a hand out to keep Rhett from sliding off the seat. Rhett looked up at Shane, then at Joey, then sighed and put his head back down.
Shane stared at his uncle. “That gun at Agnes’s was an old mobster’s gun. That kid was the grandson of an old mob guy. There weren’t that many old mob guys who retired down here, Joey. Just two, you and Frankie Fortunato, and now I hear about this Thibault guy. And I have to say that you retired down here pretty fucking young. You couldn’t have been forty, either one of you. So I’m thinking there’s a lot going on here that I need to know. Are you going to tell me this story? Or we gonna sit here all day?”
The seconds ticked away as Joey met his eyes; then he turned and looked out the window at the dark green woods of the swamp. Shane waited. The seconds turned into a minute, then two, and Rhett sighed once more. Then Joey sighed, deeper than Rhett, and looked back at Shane. He had a wan smile and he did look old. “You grown up, haven’t you?”
“I grew up a long time ago, Joey. You saw to that.”
Joey nodded. “Yeah. That was the idea.” He looked out the window, still nodding, and Shane waited. When he turned back, the man Shane remembered was there. Solid. The shark smile. “Okay, Frankie and me was driving down to Miami to do a job for the old Don, Frankie’s father. Our engine blew up right outside of Keyes. We got stuck here for a couple of days and we liked it. So we kept coming back every summer and then when we decided to retire,
Agnes and the Hitman Page 7