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“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.”
The girl looked at Garth with awe. Garth blushed brighter than Cerise.
Agnes turned around and grinned.
Palmer and Downer took their places next to Reverend Miller, a big man who looked extremely unhappy to be there. Downer, on the other hand, looked ecstatic, which meant he probably had something horrible up his sleeve. And Palmer looked like death, or at least hung-over to the point of death, staring off into the distance with that If I Don’t Move, My Head Won’t Fall Off look in his eyes.
The reverend nodded to the band, which immediately struck up very fast Latin dance music that spooked Cerise and Hot Pink into wild honking.
“What the hell?” Palmer said, turning on Downer, who was laughing his ass off.
“Don’t you get it?” Downer said, holding on to Palmer now, he was laughing so hard. “It’s flamingo music.”
“What?” Palmer said, completely confused.
“Flamenco music,” Agnes said grimly, but at that point the entire assembly was looking the other direction, and even the band slowed and then stopped playing as the musicians gaped.
Brenda had arrived.
She’d probably been expecting the wedding march and intended to slide in front of Maria, so the flamenco music took her by surprise, but she carried on anyway, walking down the aisle in a black lace dress, holding a black lace handkerchief to her lips at intervals and nodding to anyone who murmured their sympathy to the widow as she glided to the front. By responding only to those who said something, she stayed just this side of good taste, but Brenda in black lace was always going to be hot, and the black lace mantilla she had added had an unfortunate Bride of Dracula effect that threatened to topple the whole thing over into comedy, except that Taylor was really dead.
“Morticia Addams does Seville?” Lisa Livia whispered.
“She’s a widow,” Agnes whispered back. “Show some respect.”
“She ain’t as much of a widow as she thinks she is,” Lisa Livia said.
Brenda reached the gazebo and gave a sad smile to the groom’s family in the front row and then turned to her side of the aisle to take her seat.
Lisa Livia waved to her.
Brenda saw the necklace and went rigid. Then she saw Agnes and went berserk. “We can’t have this wedding,” she said loudly, and pointed to Agnes. “That woman is a murderer. Detective Xavier, I saw you back there, why isn’t this woman in jail?”
Xavier took a couple of steps out from underneath the old oak. “I believe Miss Agnes is on a recreational furlough. Don’t you worry, Mrs. Beaufort. I got my eye on her.” He nodded to Reverend Miller. “You can go on, Reverend.”
“Well, I’m making a citizen’s arrest,” Brenda said, rigid and righteous in black lace.
“You can’t, ma’am,” Xavier said. “She’s already under arrest. Now let’s just all sit down and get started on this nice wedding.” He came strolling over to the chairs on the bride’s side, looking more relaxed than Agnes had ever seen him. On his way, he tipped his hat at Evie Keyes and gave her a roguish grin, and she smiled back at him, dimpling under her pink daisy.
Jefferson Keyes looked startled.
