He reared back to look at Angie down the slope of his nose. “I’m here to kill that got-damned pop-eyed skinny-assed woppish sumbitch that’s been sniffing after my wife.”

“That’s something you’ll have to take up with Tony directly,” Angie said calmly. “But he’s in Savannah just now. You could make an appointment to kill him next week, if you want. I can give him a message.”

She had a moment to wonder if she had misjudged Tab Darling’s degree of drunkenness, but his expression went from ornery to confused, and from there to sorrowful. “Savannah?” he said. “With Harriet?”

“Not to my knowledge,” Angie said, and managed to look him directly in the eye. “Harriet came back on the train from Savannah. I know, I was sitting across from her.”

“That’s what Pearl said, too, but I thought she was just covering for her sister.” Tab looked directly stunned at this news. “But then where is she?”

“If I knew,” Angie said, “I would tell you.”

John put a hand on Tab’s shoulder. “Let’s get you home. She’s probably there waiting.”

Tab gave John a hard look. “You’re so got-damned superior. You Grants, better than everybody else. But not for long. You’re almost one of us. One of the Rose boys.” His grin was not pleasant. “One of the Rose girls’ boys.” Behind a cupped hand he stage-whispered in Angie’s direction. “Poor bastard. Don’t know what’s coming at him.”

Tab patted his head as if to settle a nonexistent hat, then walked out the door and fumbled his way down the steps. There was a huge old convertible at the curb and he lurched toward it with keys held out from his body in a perfectly straight arm, like a kid determined to pin the tail on the donkey.

Angie said, “You can’t let him drive.”

John closed his eyes and then opened them again. “Of course not.” He raised his voice. “Hey, Tab, can I get a lift?”

From the bottom of the stairs he looked up at Angie. “Somebody will come by for Kai’s car tomorrow.” He tossed her the keys and then he bolted down the walkway toward Tab, who had already fallen into the driver’s seat, sideways.

Five minutes later John waved to her as he steered the convertible away from the curb, though she was hidden behind the curtains in the parlor. He waved to her, though he couldn’t see her at all, or know if she was even there.

Flat on her back on the old striped couch on the porch, Angie focused on the moth that was bumping its way around the lampshade. Her head felt too heavy, and her stomach too full, and that was the price to pay for chasing wine with beer.