Agnes and the Hitman (17 page)

“So you and Carpenter,” Agnes said. “You’re like, partners?” She shifted on the swing so she could look up at him through those ridiculous red-rimmed glasses. Her lips were very close, and her curls brushed his neck, and she was warm against his arm, and she was bra-less in that strappy dress, squished against him. ...

“Okay, then,” Agnes said when he didn’t answer her. “Who
do you
work
for?”

“We work for a very special organization,” Shane said, trying to sound noble.

“That sounds so ... UNICEF-ish.” She looked back toward the kitchen. “It’s not UNICEF, is it?”

Carpenter came through the screen door, a body bag over his shoulder, and Agnes’s big eyes got wider. “I’ve got the package ready for removal and the scene cleaned. I’m sure you checked the wallet and saw the half a dime. Not a professional. Four shots—overkill, don’t you think?”

“I was annoyed,” Shane said.
The shithead fucked up my afterglow.

Agnes looked from one to the other. “I was just going in,” she said. “Very nice to meet you, Mr. Carpenter, thank you for cleaning up my kitchen.” Then she got up and left, taking her warmth with her.

Shane stood, too.

Carpenter said, “What does she know?”

“Now, nothing,” Shane said. “Shortly, probably too much. She’s in the middle.”

“Wilson won’t like it.” Shane stood, silent

“You would make a good department head,” Carpenter said. “I would enjoy working for you.”

“With,” Shane said. “This job could end it.”

“This job could make it. Wilson told me Casey Dean’s hit will be here.”

Carpenter considered that. “Casey Dean is a professional. He’d never have anything to do with this—” He shook the body bag ever so slightly.

“True,” Shane agreed. “So something else is going on.” Carpenter looked back inside to Agnes, who now appeared to be talking to the wall over the table. “What about her?”

“Someone appears to want her dead.”

“Why?”

“I’m not sure.”

“You sure she was the target for this guy?”

“Not positive.”

“Is it our business if she is?”

“It’s my business.”

Carpenter nodded back toward Agnes. “There’s a kid in the basement. Connected to this?” He jerked the body bag on his shoulder as if it were full of feathers and not dead meat.

“I don’t think so. This guy was coming to shoot. The kid was like another one who came last night, after something.”

Carpenter looked thoughtful, as if he were calculating something, and Shane was taken aback when he said, “I understand she cooks.”

“Yes.”

“I am often hungry in the morning.”

Shane paid attention. “She makes an excellent breakfast”

“Perhaps I should come for breakfast.”

“That would be ... new.”

Carpenter nodded. “A good partnership is flexible.”

“Wilson might not like it.”

“Wilson is retiring,” Carpenter said. “You are in a complex situation. And I am often hungry in the morning.” He touched a finger to his forehead in a salute and readjusted the body bag over his shoulder. “Be centered.”

Then he was gone and Shane went inside to see what Agnes was saying to the wall.

“Hello?” she whispered.

“H’lo?” came a cautious whisper back.

“So who are you?” Agnes whispered.

“I heard shootin’,” the boy said, his voice a soft drawl. “Yes.”

“Damn.” There was a moment of silence, then, “Listen, I got my rights.”

“No, you don’t,” Agnes said, annoyed at his lack of groveling. “You attacked me in my house. I hit the last kid who attacked me with a frying pan.”
And then there was the meat fork,
she thought, shuddering at the memory of the blood running down Taylor’s neck. “Now who the hell are you?”

The boy sighed. “I’m Three Wheels Thibault.”

“The kid who died here last night was named Two Wheels Thibault. Relative of yours?”

“Cousin,” Three Wheels said.

“Well, I’m sorry for your loss,” Agnes said, and added hastily, “I didn’t kill him.”

“He were a dickhead. Always callin’ names. Actin’ like a big shot. Pokin’ fun. Made me
mad,
you know.”

“No,” Agnes said. “I wouldn’t know about that.” She looked over her shoulder at Carpenter and Shane, who were still talking. That wouldn’t last long. “Can you climb up out of there?”

“No, ma’am, I tried.” The boy summoned up some outrage. “I think I hurt my ankle. I’m gonna sue that guy who dropped me in here.”

Agnes looked back again at Shane and Carpenter. Shane looked roughly the size of a grain elevator. Carpenter was bigger. “Three Wheels, these are not men who get sued.”

“Think they’re better’n everybody else,” Three Wheels groused.

“No, it’s because anybody who might sue them stops breathing,” Agnes said, acknowledging what she’d been trying to ignore about Shane’s career choice.

“Oh,” Three Wheels said, all grouse gone. “That was the shootin’ thing?”

“Yes.”

“They with the mob? My grandpa used to work for the mob.”

“Who’s your grandpa?”

“Four Wheels Thibault”

“Four Wheels?” Agnes said, and had an out-of-body Two Wheels— Three Wheels—Four Wheels—I-Just-Had-Sex-with-a-Professional-Killer-and-Almost-Died-Three-Times epiphany. “Jesus Christ. Never mind. Who sent you to kill me?”

“Grandpa. ‘Cept I weren’t supposed to kill you, just supposed to get the dog with the collar on’t He said it’d be easy. You was supposed to be
alone.”

“Yeah, well, bad luck for you,” Agnes said, and then Shane turned back to the house, and she said, “You be
quiet,”
and shut the door and stepped away from the wall, realizing as she did that, while she didn’t know the kid she had imprisoned in her basement well enough to trust him, she didn’t know the man she’d just had sex with at all.

“Yep.” Shane closed the back door. “And so is Macy.”

“That was an interesting conversation,” Agnes said. “‘The package.’ ‘Not a professional’? ‘Half a dime’?”

“The body. Not a professional killer. Five hundred dollars.” Shane jerked his head toward the porch, changing the subject. “So you want to move out there for the night? Carpenter said he’ll have the electricity back by morning. Until then, it’ll be cooler out there.”

“Sure.” Agnes took a deep breath. “Okay, so the kid in the basement. He’s just a kid. I don’t think he was trying to hurt anybody.”

“He had a gun, Agnes.”

“He says he was only after Rhett. I’m sure he didn’t mean any real harm. I think we should just let him stew down there for the night, talk to him in the morning, you scare him, make him see the light. That’ll be plenty enough.” She turned and went past him toward the housekeeper’s room, and then stopped and turned back when he didn’t follow. “So you coming to help carry stuff?” She looked nervously toward the basement door.

Shane sighed. “Agnes, I’m not going to hurt him.”

“He just came to get Rhett,” Agnes said, pleading with him from behind her glasses.

She wasn’t wearing a bra under her dress; in fact, he was pretty sure she wasn’t wearing anything under her dress. He was tired, but not that tired. “What else did he tell you?” he said, trying not to give away that she could probably get pretty much whatever she wanted from him.

Agnes sighed. “His name is Three Wheels Thibault, and his grandpa, Four Wheels, who used to work for the mob, sent him to get the dog. The kid last night, Two Wheels, was his cousin who always picked on him. He says he hurt his ankle when you dropped him in the basement and he was going to sue you but I talked him out of it. I think he’s bluffing.”

“What’s his favorite color?” Shane said.

“Blue,” Agnes said.

He shook his head. “You sure you’re okay?”

“No. People keep trying to kill me.”

“And I keep stopping them,” Shane said.

“And don’t think I’m not grateful,” Agnes said. “You’re getting a really nice breakfast tomorrow.”

“Make enough for Carpenter,” he said. Agnes blinked. “Really?”

“That a problem?”

“No,” Agnes said, her brow furrowing as she thought about it. “No. He seems like a good guy. I mean, his skill set is upsetting, but so is yours, and I’m for you. People are trying to kill me and you’re saving me, so I’m definitely for you.”

Shane nodded. “All right, then.”

“So come help me get the pillows,” Agnes said. “Do not shoot Three Wheels. Save yourself for Grandpa Four Wheels, who sent both boys.”

“I’m not going to shoot Three Wheels,” Shane said, exasperated. “What do you think I am?”

“A
hitman,” Agnes said. Shane nodded. “Good call.”

Agnes wrapped her arms around herself. “You could have lied to me, you know.”

“I’m guessing that’s when you pick up the meat fork,” Shane said, and pointed her toward the bedroom.

“I’m giving up meat forks,” Agnes said, and she sounded as though she meant every word of it.

“We’ll see,” Shane said.