“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 y
ards 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.”
Agnes and the Hitman Page 30