That was a hard thing to forgive, and he guessed he still had some forgiving to do because the anger hadn’t passed with the time. And he fully expected them to treat Agatha the same way they’d treated Tammy.
“Oh, you’re too thin,” Brenda said, checking him over like he was a turkey at Thanksgiving. “Is nobody feeding you?” She scowled at Agatha.
“Poor thing,” Gayle said. “Who let you leave the house like this? You’re all wrinkled. I’ll press all your shirts while I’m here since no one is doing it for you. And honeybear, stop wearing socks with your sandals.”
Hank felt his blood pressure spike, and he saw all the neighbors were still standing on their porches watching the show. His lips thinned and his eyes scanned his sisters, lingering over each of them as they clucked over him and shot poisonous verbal darts at Agatha. And then his eyes rested on Hazel. She’d been quiet, standing back from the others and watching him closely. But it wasn’t the scowl on her face that drew his attention. It was the blooming shiner on her eye.
“What happened to your eye?” he asked, appalled at the sight.
“Long story,” she said. “Why don’t you introduce us to your friend?”
“This is my fiancée,” Hank said, emphasizing the word. “Agatha Harley. Agatha, these are my sisters. Hazel is the oldest. And then there’s Betty, Brenda, Patsy, and Gayle.”
“Nice to meet you all,” Agatha said. He could feel the nervous energy coming off her in waves, and his sisters didn’t help the tension any. They just stared at her.”
“So you think you’re going to marry our baby brother, huh?” Gayle asked.
“I am going to marry him,” Agatha said, straightening her shoulders. “In two weeks. We’re glad you’ve decided to come celebrate with us.”
Hazel snorted. “We’ll see about that. Two weeks is a long time. People change their minds all the time.”
“I won’t change my mind,” Agatha said.
“I wasn’t talking about you,” Hazel said.
“Hazel,” Hank said. “This is our home, and you’re welcome here as long as you treat both of us with respect.”
“Well,” Patsy huffed. “I never heard such a thing. I thought Southerners were supposed to be polite. Blood runs thicker than water. Don’t you forget that.”
“Blood doesn’t mean anything to me,” Hank said. “I’ve learned over the years that family is what you make it. And I’ve made my family here.”
“If you don’t want us here then we’ll turn right around and head back home,” Hazel said.
“Not likely,” Betty said with a good-natured smile. “I’m not getting back in that van until it’s fumigated and I get a good night’s sleep. I’m too old for road trips. Stop being an instigator, Hazel. We voted and we’re all sick of your attitude. You didn’t want to come to begin with.”
“You voted?” Hazel asked, narrowing her eyes at her sisters. “Why would I want to come watch Hank make another mistake?”
“Because we voted on that too,” Gayle said. “Majority rules.”
Hank growled low in his throat and was about to lose his temper, but Agatha squeezed his arm.
“I don’t mean to interrupt this touching family reunion,” Brenda said. “But don’t you think we have more important things to talk about than Hank’s next marriage? We’ve got a bit of a crisis on our hands, and Hank is the law. He’d probably know what to do about this mess.”
“What mess?” Hank asked, sharper than he’d intended.
He heard another squeal of tires, and a bright red convertible sped down the street and came to a stop in front of their house. He closed his eyes and decided to accept that the universe was against him today. He might as well go back to bed and wake up with a fresh start tomorrow. That was the only way he’d make it through.
Heather Cartwright’s bleached blond hair shone like a beacon and rock and roll blasted from the speakers.
Hazel snorted. “Figures she’d be consorting with women like that. Now we know how she got her hooks into Hank.”
The others nodded in agreement and watched Heather get out of the car like she was a car wreck. Though to be fair, Heather was a bit of a car wreck. But she’d never much cared what people thought about her.
“Agatha!” Heather squealed. “I found the cutest little boutique in Austin for your trousseau. Lots of lingerie. I promise you’ll thank me, Hank. Let’s go shopping.”
“I can’t right now,” Agatha said. “We’ve got company.”
“But the wedding is only two weeks away,” Heather said, pouting. “It’s the little things that will add up in the end. Believe me. I’m an expert.”
“Yeah, go along and go shopping,” Gayle said. “It’s not like his family traveled all this way to get a look at you.”
Heather arched a brow at the tone and put her hands on her hips. “If you only came to get a look at her then you can do it at the wedding. Good grief, Hank. This is your family? Is your last name Manson?”
“Heather,” Hank said, a warning note in his voice. “You’re not helping.”
“Maybe it’s time for us to go, girls,” Brenda said. “I want to check into the hotel and soak in the hot tub. I’ve got to get the death cooties off me.”
Hank regretted even asking the question. “What death cooties?”
“Tell him,” Betty said to Hazel. “He can help.”
“Help with what?” Hank asked.
“Him,” Hazel said, pointing to the third-row seat.
They all moved in a huddle until they could see into the van and the third row. There was a man sitting in the back seat, his head lolled to one side and his face waxy and pale with death. He also appeared to be naked. Hank felt the blood drain out of his face and he looked between his sisters and the body they’d been transporting.
“Somebody had better start explaining right now,” he said.
“Hey, you’re the big-shot detective,” Hazel said. “Doesn’t seem so hard to figure out to me. I’m more concerned about the fella I shot. That seems like something that would come with a lot of paperwork.”
“You were in a shoot-out?” Agatha asked, pulling out her phone.
Hank examined the big swollen purple patch of traumatized skin around Hazel’s right eye. It had blistered into hues of blue and green over the course of their conversation.
“Enough of this,” Hank demanded. “Start talking or I’m hauling you all down to the sheriff’s office. How’d you get that black eye?”
“It’s his fault,” Hazel said, pointing to the dead guy.
“Are you telling me that’s a real person in your van? An actual dead man?”
They looked at him like he was the one who’d lost his mind. “Of course it’s a real dead person,” Patsy said. “He fell right out of the hearse.”
“Oh God,” he heard Agatha say.
Brenda and Gayle had gotten back in the van and pulled the dead man out onto the lawn. “I’m not riding with him over to the hotel,” Brenda said.