Vinny glared at us through narrowed eyes. “You can’t prove that.”
I snapped photos of the offending items with my phone. “Bitty will identify them.”
“We’ll take the photos to the cops if we have to,” Agnes added.
Carmen stared at him with steely eyes, her hand gripping her cane. “If you don’t want to end up in the slammer, you’d better return every single thing you took from Bitty.”
“Yeah?” Vinny sneered at her. “And who’s gonna make me?”
Leona elbowed us aside as she tugged her fedora down over her forehead. She grabbed the collar of Vinny’s shirt and yanked him down to her level, so they were nose to nose over the display case. “Pipe this, noodlehead,” she said, sounding like she was trying to imitate Humphrey Bogart’s voice.
“Noodlehead?” Vinny echoed.
Leona ignored his interruption. “We didn’t make this trip for biscuits. We’re gonna brace ya, put the screws on ya, and if you don’t sing like a bird, we’re gonna fill ya with daylight. Savvy?”
Vinny yanked back out of Leona’s reach, his T-shirt rumpled and his eyes wide. “Are you batshit crazy?!”
“You bet we are!” Agnes chimed in. She put up her dukes and danced around like a boxer ready to fight. “And if you don’t do as we say, we’re going to flay you up so bad!”
“Flay me?” Vinny backed up a step. “You ladies belong in the nuthouse.”
Agnes punched at the air. Vinny flinched, and so did I. This was getting way out of hand.
“Pizza!” I yelled. “Who wants pizza?”
Everyone ignored me.
Leona planted her palms on the top of the display case. “You’ve been dealing in more than just oyster fruit.”
“Oyster what?” Vinny backed up another step.
“Pearls, you buffoon,” Carmen said, poking him in the chest with the end of her cane. “We know you iced Freddie Hanover.”
Vinny put his hands up. “Hey, whoa. No way. I didn’t kill nobody!”
“But you knew him,” I said, no longer so eager to flee now that the conversation was back on track, even if it was a crazy, out-of-control roller coaster track.
“Okay, yeah, sure,” Vinny admitted, “but that’s not a crime.”
“Being a fence is,” I said.
He shook his head, anger replacing his fear. “Nah. Don’t go throwing accusations at me. You won’t like what happens next.”
Carmen poked him in the chest with her cane again. “Don’t threaten her.”
“Yeah, buster. Pipe that.” Leona produced a pearl-handled pistol from her handbag. The kind you’d see a femme fatale wield in an old hard-boiled detective film.
Vinny’s eyes widened as Leona pointed the weapon at him. Mine did too.
“You bet I brought my beanshooter,” Leona said, still channeling Bogart. “If you don’t want to get yerself a Chicago overcoat, you’d better start singing.”
“Yeah!” Agnes bounced and punched the air again, making Vinny cringe. “Sing like a canary! Whistle like the wind! Hiss like a snake!” She herself let out a long and violent hiss.
Vinny recoiled.
“Or you’ll find yourself in cement shoes,” Carmen added, getting into the noir spirit.
“I didn’t kill Freddie!” Vinny yelled. “I’ll return Bitty’s stuff! What else do you want me to say?”
