Agnes and the Hitman

by Jennifer Crusie

  “He’s okay, right?” Agnes said, not able to stand it anymore.

  “He’s fine,” Carpenter said. “Somebody else isn’t, but he’s fine.”

  Agnes nodded. “Okay, then. Do you think there’s any chance he’s going into a new line of work soon?”

  “I think he could be persuaded,” Carpenter said.

  “Yes, but would it be fair if I did that?” Agnes said. “I mean, it’s his work-” and then Lisa Livia yelled, “Agnes, get up here!” and she said, “Oh, just hell, Carpenter, what should I do?” and he said, “Get up there,” and she went.

  When she followed the sounds of outraged female babbling, she found them all-Lisa Livia, Maria, and three bridesmaids all in slips and curlers-staring at Maria’s white wedding dress, now covered with purply red stains, the worst of which were two purply red handprints over the breast cups on the bodice. Small, Brenda-sized hands. She’s completely out of control, Agnes thought. She’s just destroying things now, anything to screw up the wedding.

  “It’s ruined!” Maria wept, and her bridesmaids clustered round her and wept with her.

  “Yep.” Agnes looked at it as she listened for the van. A car door slammed outside and she jerked her head to see out the window, praying it was Shane, but it was just the first wedding guests, complete with a little girl who was probably going to cry through the whole ceremony. Damned early birds, stay home and give your kid a nap.

  “What is that horrible stuff?” Maria wept.

  “Huh?”‘ Agnes said. “Oh, that’s the raspberry sauce from dessert last night.”

  Maria looked at her, horror-struck. “That’s all you can say? It’s dessert? My God, Agnes, it’s my wedding dress!”

  Another car door slammed, and Agnes looked again. Still not Shane. What was it with all these people coming early? It wasn’t like you got extra cake.

  “Look, honey,” Lisa Livia said to Maria. “You-”

  “And you stay out of this,” Maria said, turning on her, with her acolytes around her. “You and your mouth, butting in all the time, that’s what got me that damn flamingo dress and that’s what I’m going to have to wear now and it’s all because of you-”

  “Hey!”Agnes said, seeing Lisa Livia flinch.

  “I know,” Lisa Livia said to Maria, miserable. “Really, I know I screwed up-”

  “That’s not good enough,” Maria snapped. “You swear to me that you won’t say anything today, not one word at my wedding besides polite conversation, you will not interfere in any way, you swear it to me now.”

  Lisa Livia swallowed and nodded. “I swear I won’t say a word all day that isn’t ‘Hello, how are you, beautiful day for a wedding.’ I will not screw up anything else, I promise.”

  Another car door. Agnes looked out the window. Not Shane. Damn it. He wasn’t dead. Other people died, not Shane-

  “I don’t believe it,” Maria was saying, the bridesmaids nodding. “Like you could stop talking or interfering. This is like the worst thing that could happen-”

  “Okay, that’s it,”Agnes said.

  Everybody turned at looked at her.

  “I know this is wedding nerves,” Agnes said to Maria. “I know you’re a good sweet girl and you’ve had a terrible week, I know you love your mother, I know this isn’t you, but you just crossed the line.”

  “Oh, please,” Maria said, looking put upon.

  Agnes looked at the bridesmaids. “You should go get dressed.

  Now.” When they hesitated, she added, “Go!” and Maria nodded, and they went. Agnes took a step closer to Maria. “Now listen, you. Taylor died last night with a fork through his throat. I know in the excitement of getting married you probably forgot that-” Maria flushed. “No, but-”

  “-but he died in pain and terror choking on his own blood, so the fact that you’re going to have to wear a pink dress sewn in one night by a woman who makes a fraction of what you’re going to be spending on lunch once you marry this very nice boy who loves you-a woman, I might add, who stayed up all night to fix a dress that you dyed pink to play a joke on the mother of that boy-well, I just can’t get too worked up over your tragedy, Maria. You’re nineteen, you’re marrying a man who adores you, you’re going to be filthy rich, and, oh yeah, you’re going to have everything your mother never had because she worked her ass off to make sure you got it, and now your fucking grandmother just took all of it and her future from her, which is something you don’t seem to have much sympathy for. So while you’re screaming and moaning, you might want to look around and notice that you’re the luckiest person in this damn place and the rest of us have zero sympathy for you. Now go get those dumb curlers out of your hair and put on your pink dress and don’t give me any more tragedy about how you’re not sure Palmer loves you. If he’s been putting up with this drama princess act and he still wants to spend the rest of his life with you, he loves you.”

  Maria looked at her, outraged, and then looked at her mother for support.

  Lisa Livia shrugged. “Hello, how are you, beautiful day for a wedding.”

  “Oh, well that’s just fine,” Maria said, and flounced off, but there was a wavering edge to her voice that gave Agnes hope.

  Lisa Livia looked back at the dress. “Brenda did that.”

  Agnes said, “Yep, and if she was nuts enough to do that, then she’s going to do some more stupid things today and get herself caught.”

  She heard a door slam below and this time it sounded like a van, but when she looked out, she saw only Joey and Frankie getting out of Carpenter’s van.

  “No,” she said, her blood going cold, and ran for the stairs.

  Shane was surveying the backyard when he felt somebody sack him from behind, her arms going around him so tightly, his air went out with an oomph. He turned around, not easy as tightly as Agnes was clinging to him, and said, “Hey,” as his arms went around her. She said into his chest, “I thought you were dead, I didn’t see you come back with Joey and Frankie,” and he said, “Nah, I told you, I’ll always come back.” Then she lifted her face, and he saw how terrified she’d been and he kissed her hard, and she held him a little longer than he’d intended, and the longer she held on and kissed him, the more the ugliness of the past receded, and all the good that was Agnes and Two Rivers washed over him.

  When she broke the kiss, she said, “I want you to quit that damn job,” and he nodded. “Okay, then,” she said, and kissed him again, and then he let her go and realized she was wearing something very un-Agnes, a low-cut, tight pink dress that made her look like Jessica Rabbit.

  “Nice dress,” he said, trying not to laugh, and more of the ugliness went away. It was never all going to go away-there was too much of it, and some of it still had to be dealt with-but Agnes was a pretty good antidote for right now.

  “Lisa Livia picked it out,” Agnes said, starting to grin, too, which was good; he hated it when she was worried. Another reason to stop killing people for a living.

  “Well, it looks great,” he said, because it did. Kind of.

  “She bought one for Evie, too,” Agnes said. “I don’t believe Evie’s going to wear it, but it was kind of a mother-of-the-bride thing. Or something. Sometimes I don’t follow Lisa Livia’s thought processes.”

  “I don’t follow Carpenter’s either sometimes, but it’s always good,”

  Shane said, holding her away from him to look at the dress again. “It’s not the kind of dress yon could run in.”

  “That’s very practical of you, dear,” Agnes said, and turned to go back to the house, which was when Shane saw that it was really tight through the rear and had no back at all.

  “I really like that dress,” he said, and her laugher floated back to him.

  Shane grinned, thinking, That’s my girl, and she turned and smiled back at him, and just for that second before she went on he imagined that she looked like his mother might have, smiling back at his father, and the need for vengeance rose up again like a knife. But vengeance had been
Frankie and Joey’s to take, not his. And his father and mother had found each other in the beginning, had had each other for a while, had had a life together for a while.

  It would have been so much worse never having found each other.

  Agnes stopped at the porch door and looked back at him again in her Jessica Rabbit dress, so much love in her smile, so grateful he was back, and he grinned at her and she went inside and he walked down to see what was going wrong at the wedding.

  Because everything was just fine at the house.

  Agnes walked into the kitchen, trying not to beam, but it was hard. He was going to quit. Maria was mad but she was going to marry Palmer. If Butch would just show up with his van and pick up Cerise and Hot Pink, and Frankie would cough up the money, and she could get her column done-

  “Uncle Michael isn’t here,” Maria said, her hands on hips, splendid in her pink wedding dress.

  Agnes blinked at her. “What?”

  “Uncle Michael. The Don.” Maria folded her arms. “The guy who was giving me away. He’s not here.”

  “He ain’t gonna be here,” a brand-new Frankie said from the doorway as Rhett padded past him, oblivious to the drama going on around him. “And you ain’t gonna miss him.” He straightened the jacket of his tux and lifted his newly shaven chin, and he looked every inch a Fortunato.

  “Oh, God,” Agnes said. “What happened to the Don?”

  “I’m giving you away, Maria,” Frankie said, offering Maria his arm.

  Maria blinked at him. “Doyle?”

  “I’m your grandpa Frankie, honey,” Frankie said.

  Maria looked at Lisa Livia.

  “This is my daddy,” Lisa Livia said. “Frankie Fortunato. Your grandmother tried to kill him twenty-five years ago, so he swam the Blood River and got away from her, but now he’s come back and he’s going to walk you down the aisle.”

  Maria sat down on of the kitchen chairs.

  “Want a drink?” Agnes said. “‘Cause I’m thinking I’m going to need one after the next question.” She looked at Frankie. “Where’s the Don, Frankie?”

  “He’s sleeping with those he did wrong to,” Frankie said.

  “Oh.” Agnes got out the bourbon. “Did Shane kill him?”

  “Nope,” Frankie said while Agnes poured herself a shot. “Don’t ask no more questions, Agnes,” he added with affection.

  “Wouldn’t dream of it, Frankie,” Agnes said, and knocked back her drink. “Maria?” she said, offering her the bottle.

  “No, I’m good,” Maria said. “So. Grandpa. You’re going to walk me down the aisle. Okay.” She looked at Agnes. “You find out who ruined my dress yet?”

  “Oh, that was Brenda,” Agnes said.

  Maria’s nodded. “So when she sees me coming down the aisle in her dress with Grandpa Frankie…”

  “Could be a coronary,” Agnes said. Maria stood up. “Hello, Grandpa.”

  “Wonderful,” Agnes said. “And you really do look beautiful, Maria.” When Maria didn’t look at her again, she thought, Well, I have to earn that, and started for the door, almost toppling over as her knees met the hem of her pencil skirt, a problem she’d been having all morning. Small steps, she told herself, and tried again.

  To Do List, she thought as she minced her way down the porch steps. Take back Maria’s wedding from the clowns. Get Brenda to incriminate herself. Get Lisa Livia her money back. Get Shane a better job. Write column.

  Burn this damn dress.

  Shane surveyed the wedding party. There were about a hundred people gathered. The Don’s goombahs were clustered together on Maria’s side, and they were going to be surprised when Frankie walked down the aisle instead of the Don. Brenda was not there yet. Probably waiting to make an entrance. That should be good, too.

  He checked off the players on the groom’s side: the groom, best man, ushers, preacher, musicians, and photographer were in place, and yes, there in the front row was Evie wearing something in that same pink that Agnes had been slinking around in. Evie had a jacket over hers, though. Good plan, Shane thought. Then he frowned as he looked out past the lawn: Wilson’s boat was back, anchored just off the dock and to the left of Brenda’s yacht. Coming to watch the hit?

  Had he watched a hit before? Shane wondered. Had the consigliere reported to him so that he knew the details of the deaths-the words they say echoing in his mind-or had Wilson known firsthand? What the fuck was the real deal?

  Shane walked across the lawn to the photographer, an attractive woman with several cameras dangling on straps around her neck. “Could I borrow your camera with the best zoom for a second?”

  The woman turned to him and smiled. “Sure.” She pulled one off and held it out for him.

  Shane took it. “Thanks.” He took the camera and zoomed in on the yacht. Wilson was on the bridge with another old man Shane recognized from intelligence briefings: the head of the mob in New York City. Another of Wilson’s puppets, Shane thought. Come to see the coronation of the successor in New Jersey. He handed the camera back to her.

  “Appreciate it,” he said.

  “No sweat.” She went back to the guests, and Shane walked over to Carpenter at the edge of the gazebo.

  “You do what you had to?” Carpenter asked.

  “Joey and Frankie handled it,” Shane said. “There’ve been some changes in the plan. Let’s find Casey Dean first.” He pulled out the pink cell phone he’d taken from Abigail’s bag the night before and hit number 1 on the speed-dial.

  Shane stiffened as a woman’s voice answered: “Where are you, sis?”

  He was still processing that when Carpenter nudged him and pointed. “Over there.”

  Shane looked across the cluster of guests. The photographer had a cell phone in her hand, and she tossed her hair away from it as she listened in a way Shane remembered.

  “Princess,” Shane said into the phone. “What’s your sign?”

  He saw the photographer turn her head and stare right back at him.

  “Where’s Abigail?” she said into the phone

  “I’ve got her,” Shane said. “Casey Dean, I presume? We met before. In a bar in Savannah.”

  “What do you want?” Casey Dean asked, glaring at Shane. “The Don’s dead, so your contract is, how should I say, defunct.” Shane could see her go rigid. “Bullshit.”

  “You see Don Fortunato or his consigliere anywhere around?”

  There was silence. Shane continued. “When the grandfather of the bride escorts her down the aisle, you’ll know I’m telling the truth. You do anything, I’ll have your ass.”

  There were several seconds of silence; then Casey Dean spoke. “Where’s my sister?”

  “We have her, along with the five million.”

  “What do you want?”

  “For now, the wedding to go off without ahitch. Are you clear on that?”

  “Yes.” The word was a hiss. “But you’re fucking up, big-time.”

  “Make sure to take some good pictures.” Shane hit the off button, but paused, thinking about what Casey Dean had just said. He looked at the pink phone, then hit 2 on the speed-dial and listened as the phone was answered.

  “Yes?” Wilson said.

  Shane turned the phone off, cold all over, and looked at Carpenter. “That thing we’ve been missing?”

  “Yes?”

  “I just found it.”

  Fifteen minutes earlier, Agnes had met Lisa Livia in the kitchen and found her wearing not only the Bon Ton pink-hearts dress, but also the pink-heart necklace that had started the whole mess as Rhett’s collar.

  “You’re kidding,” she said, and started to laugh.

  “My daddy gave it to me,” Lisa Livia said, holding it out with one finger. “He said he’d had it appraised and it was worth about ten grand and he wanted me to have it”

  “Ten grand?” Agnes said doubtfully.

  “He’s wrong,” Lisa Livia said. “It’s worth at least thirty. The big hearts are pink quartz, but th
e spacers are pink diamonds. Good ones, too. He probably went to some fence in Savannah who low-balled him.”

  “Oh, my God,” Agnes said. “And he put it on Rhett.”

  “Here,” Lisa Livia said, and held out her hand, and when Agnes put out her palm, Lisa Livia dropped a pink ribbon onto it. “It’s one of the hearts and a couple of the diamonds. It’s not much, probably only five grand, but it’s a thank-you and a souvenir. In case you ever forget Maria’s wedding. Or need some quick cash.”

  Agnes held up the ribbon to see the heart sparkle in the sunlight, the diamonds sparkling brighter. It was godawful ugly. “I’ll never give it up,” she said truthfully.

  “We gotta wear them,” Lisa Livia said, and helped her tie it on. Then she stood back and smiled happily. “Brenda’s going to have a heart attack.”

  They made their way down to the gazebo with Rhett, the flamingos honking in the background because that idiot Butch had not shown up, and they both stopped, stunned, when they saw Evie, dressed in the same cherry dress and wearing a pink jacket and a pink straw hat with a giant pink daisy on it, looking cute as all hell, sitting beside her husband, Jefferson, in all his grayed Dynasty dignity.

  “I don’t believe it,” Agnes said as they sat down in the front row, Rhett collapsing at their feet. “Evie wore the dress.”

  “She cheated,” Lisa Livia said. “She’s wearing a jacket.”

  “Yes, but it matches,” Agnes said, impressed. “I bet she had that made. I bet it cost ten times what the dress did. And the hat is killer.”

  “She’s gonna outshine Brenda,” Lisa Livia said. “I just love Evie Keyes.”

  Garth was sitting right behind them with a pretty girl in her Sunday best named Tara, who was looking around wide-eyed at everybody. He looked serious, sitting straight in a very nice suit jacket that Palmer had helped him pick out and then paid for, and Agnes thought, Good for Palmer. She turned around and whispered, “You’ve done a great job here, Garth. I don’t know what we would have done without you.”