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“Yes.”
Lisa Livia stopped yawning. “I’m coming over.”
“Fine, but about Taylor. He’s in on the swindle.”
“You’re kidding me. He signed the papers, too. How dumb is he?”
“Not that dumb. He?—”
“So what’s your name, me lad?” Doyle said to Three Wheels as they both helped themselves to pancakes. “Three Wheels.”
“No, it is not,” Agnes said to him, and then into the phone she said, “Hang on a minute.” She turned back to Three Wheels. “Do not say that around Detective Xavier, because he will make the connection that you’re related to Two Wheels, understand?”
Three Wheels nodded.
“That’s not the name on your birth certificate, right?” Agnes said, not sure. The Thibault clan didn’t seem to be wound real tight; it was entirely possible Three Wheels had a cousin legally christened Steel-Belted Radial.
“Nah, that’s what Two Wheels called me when I fell off’n my tricycle when I were little,” Three Wheels said, semi-morosely. “He were always makin’ fun.”
“Well, those days are over,” Agnes said. “What’s your given name?” When Three Wheels looked confused, she added, “Your real name, the one on the birth certificate?”
“Garth.”
Agnes nodded. “Garth.”
“They kept tell in’ my momma she was shameless, and that was Garth’s big hit that year plus she just really liked his music so?—”
“Garth it is,” Agnes said. “How are those pancakes?”
“Grade A, Miss Agnes.”
“Excellent,” Agnes said, and went back to Lisa Livia and the cakes on the griddle, flipping them as she cradled the phone, and then moving on to turn the ham. “You still there?”
“Getting dressed,” Lisa Livia said, her voice muffled. “I’m trying not to miss any of this. Who the hell is Garth?”
“The kid who pointed a gun at me and tried to steal my dog last night.”
“What?” Doyle said, looking sharply at Garth. “I’m real sorry about that,” Garth said, forking up another pancake.
Agnes double-checked the cakes on the griddle, took the empty platter, and filled it again, then filled another with the ham.
More batter, she thought, and began a second bowl. Garth must not have eaten in a week. Or he was a teenage boy.
“He tried to steal Rhett, so you’re feeding him sour cream pecan pancakes this morning,” Lisa Livia was saying. “Makes perfect sense to me. I’ve missed you.”
“Wait’ll I tell you the next part,” Agnes said. “Taylor?—”
Somebody knocked on the back door, and she stepped back to see who it was.
“Morning, Miss Agnes,” Carpenter said.
“Good morning, Mr. Carpenter,” Agnes said, surprised. “Thank you for my electricity. Would you like breakfast?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said, and came inside, pretty much filling the kitchen.
“Have a seat,” she said. “Shane’s in the basement with Detective Xavier, but I imagine he’ll be up shortly.”
“Everything in its time.” He took a glass from her open shelf, sat down, and poured himself some milk.
