“Good question,” Shane said. “What we got here, Joey, is a food chain of hitmen, and I need to know who got the original contract and who let it. And I need to know it fast, before some pro shows up here instead of these amateurs. So you got any idea who would try to have Agnes hit?”

Carpenter was typing on his computer, but Shane knew he was listening to everything.

“Hold on,” Joey said. “You’re saying someone’s trying to whack Agnes?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“No idea.”

“Shit.” Joey sat down and passed his hand over his face. “Is she okay? Is she in there alone?”

“She’s never alone now,” Shane said. “Lisa Livia’s in there, Garth’s in there, Doyle’s working on the bridge. Now answer my question.”

“Right.” Joey nodded. “Jesus. Well, Four Wheels probably ain’t too happy about Two Wheels moving on to the afterlife and Three Wheels disappearing.”

“I don’t see Four Wheels sending Garth and Macy on the same night,” Shane said.

“Or somebody might not like you guys trying to open up that shelter and might figure whacking Agnes will stop that.”

“Nobody knows we’re opening that shelter,” Shane said.

Joey stared at him like he was stupid. “Lots of people know about the basement being opened. Stanley Harrison, the health inspector, was down there yesterday. He’s been telling everybody about some acid thing you’re doing down there. There ain’t many secrets here in Keyes.”

You’re keeping some, Shane thought, but he shook his head. “I still don’t see how killing Agnes is going to stop us from opening up that damn shelter.”

“Excuse me,” Carpenter said. “But as I understand it, if Agnes dies, Taylor inherits the house as part of the partnership agreement because of a survivorship clause.”

“What?” Shane said, taken aback. “How the hell did you find that out?”

“Lisa Livia told me last night,” Carpenter said. “What I’m saying is, maybe the hit isn’t about stopping us from entering, maybe it’s about allowing someone else to enter if they think there’s five million dollars in that bomb shelter.”

“That fuckin’ hairball is tryin’ to hurt my little Agnes? I’ll kill the bum.” Joey pulled his gun out. “Let’s go whack him.”

“No,” Shane said, though it was tempting. “We have to stop the immediate threat. Agnes can take care of Taylor with a toothpick, she doesn’t need us for that.” He turned to Carpenter. “What do you have on the stiff?”

Carpenter read from the screen. “One Vincent Marinelli, aka Vinnie ‘Can of Tomatoes’ Marinelli.”

“Oh, fuck,” Joey muttered.

“I thought you didn’t know him,” Shane said.

“I never met him,” Joey corrected. “But I heard of the mutt. Small-time muscle man out of Savannah. Works for the Torrentino brothers sometimes. They’re the closest thing to the mob down in the low country since Frankie disappeared. They kick up, when they remember, to the boss in Atlanta, and the boss in Atlanta collects when he remembers those guys exist in Savannah. Small-time stuff.”

Carpenter’s fingers had been working the keyboard while Joey was talking. “The Torrentino brothers. Your uncle is right. Small time, but somewhat connected.”

“So somebody put out a hit on Agnes, and whoever got it subcontracted it to this Marinelli guy, who subcontracted it to Macy,” Shane said.

Carpenter looked over from his computer. “The package that I disposed of Monday night in Savannah was also affiliated with the Atlanta mob. I’ll print you out the information.”

“What the luck is he talking about?” Joey asked. “What package?”

“Put the gun away, Joey,” Shane said absently. A plan. He needed a plan. He turned to his uncle. “You gotta level with me, Joey. It’s important. Are you planning to rat out the Don when he comes here? Or whack him?”

“Hell no. Why would I do that?”

Shane rubbed his forehead, trying to forestall the headache that was growing. He was starting to sympathize with Wilson. “There’s a rumor someone is planning on ratting out the Don when he comes here for the wedding, and that the Don has hired somebody to hit that person in return. I want to know who that person is. And I want to know if any of that can be connected with these amateurs who are showing up here to hit Agnes.”

“How?” Joey asked.

“Are you going to answer any of my questions with anything other than a question?” Shane asked.

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.”

“Considering the minor in question, I doubt we’d be contributing much.” Lisa Livia forked up more omelet. “I think he’s fully funded his juvie trust. This omelet is really good.”

The phone rang and Agnes answered it and then heard silence.

“Hello?” she said, and then Brenda said, “Agnes. I was just calling to see if Lisa Livia was all right. We had a disagreement and-”

“She’s right here,” Agnes said, thinking youtreacherous bitch.

“That’s all right, then,” Brenda said. “As long as she’s safe. Everything okay out there?”