Page 116 of Agnes and the Hitman

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.

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