Mama Gets Trashed (A Mace Bauer Mystery) (2 page)
Read Mama Gets Trashed (A Mace Bauer Mystery) Online
Authors: Deborah Sharp
Tags: #Fiction, #mystery, #cozy, #mystery novel, #humorous, #mystery fiction
No one said a word as Jason walked away. The waiter approached, with our dessert plates and coffee crowding a tray. Mama leaned close and grabbed my wrist, so hard it hurt. She whispered in my ear, her breath a hot blast.
“You know what they say about playing with fire, Mace. Somebody’s bound to get burned.’’
fourteen
Marty took a sharp
breath. Step faltering, she clutched my hand
.
“It’s like seeing a ghost.’’ Her voice was hushed. “She’s the image
of Camilla.”
From Mama’s living room, we could see our dinner guest through the glass panels of the front door. Illuminated by the front porch light, the sister of the murder victim hesitated. She looked like she was trying to decide whether to ring the bell, or turn and run.
Mama was in the shower. She’d insisted Sal go out and leave us women alone to meet Camilla’s sister. He’d taken Teensy, so the
frantic-barking, early-warning system was absent. The young woman
had crept so quietly across the porch, her presence took Marty and me by surprise.
The doorbell rang. I gave Marty a little push across the living room.
“Buck up, sister. You invited her over because she can use some support. Now, answer the door so we can be supportive.’’
Squaring her shoulders, Marty welcomed Prudence Law into Mama’s home.
She did indeed look just like the newspaper picture of her slain sister. Her features were small and serious; her hair was long and dark. A fringe of bangs framed enormous eyes. Tonight they were puffy and red, and filled with sadness.
My sister clasped Prudence’s hand in both of hers, and pulled her across the threshold. “I’m Marty, and this is Mace. I worked with Camilla at the library. We are so terribly sorry for your loss.’’
Nodding in agreement, I stood by feeling useless. Marty and Mama were more skilled at giving comfort. I was relieved to hear the clack of Mama’s kitten-heeled sandals as she bustled from the bathroom hallway to the living room. She must have hurried to finish dressing. Her hair was damp, and she wore only one of the lemon-sherbet colored earrings that matched her pantsuit and shoes. A yellow scarf at her neck was slightly askew.
“Oh, honey
…
C’mere and let me give you a hug.’’ She enveloped Prudence in a baby-powder-scented squeeze.
Stiffening slightly, our visitor seemed taken aback. I’d always heard the English were standoffish. Mama’s hold didn’t loosen.
Soon, Prudence surrendered. She lowered her head to rest on Mama’s
shoulder.
“What an awful, awful thing.’’ Murmuring, Mama stroked the young woman’s back. “Don’t worry. We’re going to find out how this happened to your sister, aren’t we Mace?’’
When I didn’t answer, she peeked around Prudence’s head and scowled at me.
“The police are doing everything they can.’’ I refused to let Mama bully me into making an empty promise to Prudence about something that didn’t involve me or my family. “I just know they’ll get you some answers soon.’’
_____
“You’re missing an earring.’’ Maddie deposited several take-out containers from the Pork Pit on the kitchen counter, and then pointed to Mama’s right ear.
Mama examined her reflection in a silver toaster. “Well, you girls might have mentioned that before Maddie got here. Plus, my scarf looks like a monkey escaped from the zoo and came to my house to practice his knot-tying skills.’’
Removing her scarf, she shook out the wrinkles from the lopsided bow.
Marty peered down the hallway to make sure Prudence was still in the bathroom, and then hissed at Mama: “We were a little distracted!’’
I brought Maddie up to speed. “We were busy trying to comfort the loved one of a murder victim. But I can see how providing fashion commentary for Mama should have taken precedence.’’
“Don’t sass me, girl.’’ Mama slapped my wrist with the sherbet-colored scarf. “You are not too big for me to go out to the tree and cut a switch.’’
“Ooooooh!’’ I held out my hands and shook them. “I’m trembling.’’
Mama turned her back on me and re-tied her scarf. She started searching through her cabinets for serving platters for the meat and big bowls for the side orders.
“I don’t know why we can’t just eat out of the take-out boxes. You’re making extra work with all those dishes to wash,’’ I said.
“Well, why don’t I just dump out everything right on the table? We can eat off that. Who needs plates anyway?’’ Mama rapped her
knuckles on the tabletop. “Heck, who needs a table? Maybe we should put dog bowls on the floor, and get down there and eat with
Teensy. That way we wouldn’t have to wash any silverware, either.’’
“Since when does Teensy eat from a dog bowl? Every time I’m here, you’re feeding that ridiculous mutt by hand.’’
I looked at my sisters. Marty gave me a conspiratorial wink. Maddie didn’t seem to be paying attention. She’d pulled one of the
white plastic containers aside. “No Sauce’’ was scrawled across the top
with a heavy black marker. “The plain chicken breast is mine.’’ She pointed to the box. “My stomach’s still not feeling right.’’
Mama’s brow immediately furrowed, but Marty shushed us all with a whisper. “Here comes Prudence! Try to behave, would you? And let’s use the plates
and
the silver. We don’t want to reinforce her worst stereotypes about Southerners.’’
“Agreed.’’ Mama put a finger to her own lips, kissed it, and then placed it gently over my big mouth. “No sniping tonight, honey. Best behavior.’’
“I second that,’’ said Maddie. She poured herself a glass of soda water. When she sipped, a loud burp escaped.
“What did I just say?’’ Mama scolded. “Manners, Maddie!’’
Prudence’s face was flushed, and a bit damp. She’d been in the bathroom for quite a while. Had she been crying? I thought of how I’d feel if one of my sisters died. A natural death would be bad enough. But to know Marty or Maddie had suffered at the hands of some sex maniac? I don’t think I could stand that.
Mama finished dishing up the food. Marty was laying out plates. Maddie followed with silverware and a folded napkin for each place setting.
“What would you like to drink?’’ I asked Prudence. “We have sweet iced tea, wine, beer, or soda.’’
“Maybe I should stick to soda. I should have my wits about me, in case the police call with news.’’
She looked with longing at a box of sweet pink wine Mama had just hefted out of the refrigerator. Not waiting for Prudence to amend her order, Mama said, “One little glass isn’t going to hurt you, honey. You can dilute it with a bit of fizzy water or lemon-lime soda, if you’d like.’’
Relief flashed across Prudence’s face. “No, the wine alone will do quite nicely.’’
Mama handed over the glass, filled to the rim. Prudence didn’t protest that it was too much, or that she didn’t usually partake. She steadied the glass in both hands, raised it to her mouth, and took a huge swallow. Marty, Mama, and I exchanged a glance. Maddie didn’t seem to notice.
As Mama and Marty finished pouring their drinks, I watched Maddie. She smoothed her napkin, tucking it under her plate. Then she straightened her fork, which she’d already placed at a precise angle. She pulled her smart phone from her pocket, and checked for messages. With a small shake of her head, she put it away.
This was the longest I’d ever seen my sister last without filching a bite or two of food before a meal began.
“Let’s eat,’’ Mama said, as she sat. She reached across the table and the four of us joined hands. Prudence, who’d begun unfolding her napkin, looked wary.
“We normally say a blessing, honey.’’ Mama nodded for Maddie and me to include her in the circle. “Do you mind?’’
Her face reddened. “Of course not. Please, do go ahead.’’
Mama thanked the Lord for the food she was about to serve. Hopefully, He didn’t subtract points for the fact she hadn’t actually cooked it. She thanked him for bringing her girls together, and for showing Prudence the path to her home. Then she finished up.
“Please God, watch over this dear girl. Help her overcome her
sorrow. Please guide the authorities in their efforts to find out wha
t happened to her sister, Camilla. And, if you should wish it, please make Mace do what she ought to and use her skills to find the murderer.’’
I aimed a sharp kick at Mama’s shin. Too late. Prudence dropped our hands and lifted her face. She stared at me, those big eyes filled with questions.
“What does your mother mean? Can you find out what happened to Camilla? Can you find out who killed my sister?’’
In the silence that followed, I heard Maddie take another sip of soda water. Marty’s foot tapped nervously. The Elvis Presley clock on the wall made a brushing sound as the singer’s famous pelvis swung back and forth. Mama’s smile was as innocent as a baby’s.
Finally, Marty spoke. “Mace is an amateur detective.’’
“She’s solved several murders—with my help, of course.’’ Mama patted her hair.
“I’m not sure the cops would put it that way.’’ I was thinking of one particular cop. “They might say I’ve stuck my nose into some cases where it didn’t belong.’’
“She’s being modest.’’ Marty offered our guest the platter with
the chicken and ribs. Prudence took a serving of each, dousing them
with barbecue sauce. “Mace has a different way of looking at the world—’’
“You can say that again.’’ After interrupting, Maddie added nothing more.
I missed her jibes, the normal Maddie behavior. This Maddie? Quiet? Worried? Hurting? This wasn’t normal. I wanted normal back.
Our little sister also seemed to be waiting—in vain—for Maddie to toss a zinger. “Anyway,’’ Marty finally continued, “Mace notices things other people don’t. She usually arrives at a conclusion of who might have done the crimes before the police do.’’
“Crimes, plural?’’ Prudence tackled her chicken leg with knife and fork.
“My family is exaggerating. I’ve gotten lucky a couple of times.’’
“Four,’’ Mama said.
A bite of drumstick paused midway to Prudence’s mouth. “How common
are
killings in Himmarshee?’’
“The last few years have been unusually murderous,’’ I said.
“How fascinating. I’d love to talk to you some more about your methods. What kinds of things do you look for? What clues tell you someone might be capable of murder?’’
She hoisted her empty wine glass, eyebrows raised in a question. Marty refilled it. It appeared Prudence had stopped worrying about how sober she’d be if the police should call.
“Why don’t you tell us something about your sister?’’ Marty smoothly changed the subject from Himmarshee’s recent history of homicides. “Were you identical twins?’’
Prudence took a swallow of wine. Her eyes welled with tears. Marty
looked stricken.
“Oh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to bring you pain.’’
“It isn’t your fault, Marty. I’m feeling a bit guilty. I’m angry at myself that a petty argument led us to become estranged.’’
“What was the fight about?’’
Now,
that
was the Maddie I knew: To the point. Short on sensitivity. Prudence frowned at Maddie’s blunt question.
“It was just something between sisters. Our bond as twins wasn’t broken; merely frayed.’’ She pressed her lips together, gaining composure. “If you don’t mind, I’d rather not talk about that. I’d rather remember how close we once were: like peas in a pod, everyone said. We even spoke our own secret language as children.’’
“That’s not uncommon with twins, I’ve heard,’’ Mama said.
“My sister was always so clever. Far smarter than I
…
’’
Prudence worked on the rib she’d taken, slicing off a bite of meat from the bone. Ribs were usually eaten with the hands, chicken drumsticks, too. But none of us pointed that out. She poured on more sauce; sawed off another piece. “My, that’s quite good!’’
“Anyway,’’ she finished that rib and continued, “that’s why I can’t understand
…
” Her words tapered off as she helped herself to a couple of spoonfuls of potato salad.
“What?’’ Mama prodded.
“Well, that outfit,” Prudence said. “That was not the outfit of a smart girl; a girl who was top of her class.”
I came to her sister’s defense. “Now, we don’t know how or why she was wearing those clothes—’’
“I do,’’ Prudence said. “I know a bit about these kinds of things. Leather wear and a fetish collar, complete with metal O ring; being submissive. It’s sick is what it is. I thought it was something Camilla had put behind her.’’
“Maybe that clothing wasn’t her choice,’’ Marty said.
“Sad to say, it probably was. She took risks, romantically speaking.’’ Her voice went cold. “
Sexually
speaking. I did not approve. For such a clever girl, Camilla could be quite stupid.’’
What seemed like raw hatred flickered in her eyes, but the look was gone so quickly I wasn’t even sure I saw it. A strained silence settled over the table. Prudence stared at her plate. When she finally looked up, her expression was pleasant. Neutral. She gestured at the meat platter.
“Do you suppose I could have another one of those ribs, and some more of that sweet red sauce?’’
Until then, I hadn’t noticed she’d blotted up every bit of her barbecue sauce with a piece of cornbread. Camilla Law’s grieving twin seemed to have an unusually hearty appetite.
fifteen
A high-pitched sound penetrated
Mama’s front door—like a dentist’s drill crossed with a power saw.
“Mama, if you don’t make Teensy stop that hideous barking,
I’m going to skin him alive and make a couch pillow out of his coat.’’
Maddie must have been feeling better. She was back to slinging zingers.
“He’s just happy to be home, honey. By the way, if you ever harm one hair on my dog’s head, I’ll—’’
“—Give her a medal?’’ I finished the sentence.
I heard the key turn in the door. The little dog skittered across the tiled entryway, bounded through the living room, and burst into the kitchen. He ignored everything but his mission: To reunite with his mistress. Teensy rounded a kitchen chair, performed an aerial launch over my outstretched legs, and leaped onto Mama’s lap.
“Just look at my precious little boy.’’ She held the Pomeranian aloft, waving a paw at Maddie and me. “How could you girls even joke about hurting him?’’
“I wasn’t joking,’’ Maddie said.
Dinner was done, but we still lingered at the kitchen table. Pleading exhaustion, Prudence had left as soon as she finished her dessert.
Considering how much she’d drank, it was a good thing Marty offered
to drive Prudence in her rental car to her motel. I was glad she was the sister keeping her company.
Sal’s Bronx boom echoed from the living room. “Could you believe that scrawny mope? Offering to arm wrestle me?’’
I heard Carlos’s more subdued tone. “It’s the typical barroom
correlation between number of beers and lack of sound judgment.’’
Even the timbre of his voice gave me a little shiver of desire.
Mama was right. If I was smart, I wouldn’t do anything to burn what
we had together.
“We’re in here, Sally.’’ Turning in her chair, Mama quickly surveyed her reflection in the countertop toaster. She Apricot Iced. Then, she offered the lipstick to me. In vain, of course.
“Well, at least wipe the barbecue sauce off your face,’’ she hissed.
“Carlos likes barbecue sauce.’’
Maddie laughed, and the sound warmed my heart.
I handed Mama a banana from the fruit bowl on the table. “Quick, take the peel off this and drop it down your blouse.’’
She cocked her head in a question.
“I told Maddie how good that rotten banana looked on you when
we were digging through the dump for your ring.’’
“Shhh!’’ She craned her neck to look toward the living room. “Don’t remind Sal. He’s none too happy his ring nearly got trashed.’’
The ceramic ducks on Mama’s display shelves shook as Sal’s heavy
footsteps led the way to the kitchen. “There’s my gorgeous gal!’’ Gawgeous, he said. “Am I the luckiest husband in the world, or what?’’
Mama jumped up for a hug. Sal gave her a long, wet-sounding kiss. Trapped in the center of their tight embrace, Teensy squirmed to get free. Sal placed the dog on the floor and went in for a second smooch, this one even more passionate.
“Get a room, would you?’’ Maddie said.
Carlos squeezed around Sal to put a hand on my shoulder. When
I lifted my face for a more personal greeting, he pointed a finger toward my chin. “You’ve got something orangey-red all over there.’’
Mama’s smile was victorious as she handed me a damp napkin.
I wiped the remnants of dinner off my face while the two men got settled at the table. Teensy hopped onto Sal’s lap, and was soon snoring atop the spacious expanse of the big man’s stomach. Carlos asked, “How’d it go with the victim’s sister?’’
“Prudence,’’ I said. “And the dead girl’s name was Camilla.’’
“I’m working the case. I know their names.’’
“So why don’t you use them?’’
“Carlos don’t mean nothing by it, Mace. Sometimes cops depersonalize the people involved in crimes—both the victims and the perps. It makes the job easier. Right, partner?’’
Carlos’s only answer was a curt nod.
“Well,’’ I said, “we just spent a couple of hours with Prudence. It seems to me the death of her sister was quite personal.’’
Carlos glowered at me. “I think I know that better than most.’’
I felt a sharp jab on the top of my foot. Mama should have stomped even harder with that kitten heel. I deserved it, for pointing out that murder is personal to a man who lost his wife in a vicious homicide.
Maddie rescued me. “Prudence told us she and Camilla were estranged.’’
Carlos lifted an eyebrow. “How estranged?’’ I could almost hear the wheels and gears grinding in his detective’s brain.
We caught him up with what she’d said—how their twin bond was strained but not torn, and how she didn’t want to elaborate on exactly why. “Did anyone else notice that mean look on her face when she talked about how Camilla was dressed?’’ I asked.
I was met with blank stares from Mama and my sisters. “I did think it was strange she wanted to grill Mace about solving murders,’’ Marty said.
“Prudence had the tough task today of officially identifying her sister’s body,’’ Carlos said. “She took it pretty hard.’’
“Has the medical examiner determined how Camilla died?’’ I asked.
Carlos exchanged a look with Sal. “It’ll all be in the newspaper tomorrow.’’
“My cousin Henry already told us what he’d discovered from his sources at the courthouse,’’ I said. “She was strangled, right?’’
Another curt nod.
Sal gently petted the sleeping dog. “Strangulation often has sexual overtones.’’
Flashing back to the racy getup Camilla wore, I fought the urge to say,
Gee Sal, ya think?
Mama stood up and began clearing the table. “I’m putting a mora
torium tonight on any more talk about murder,
or
sex.’’
“Sex, too?’’ Sal grinned at her. “I hope that doesn’t mean you’re sending me to sleep on the couch. We haven’t been married long enough for that.’’
Mama snapped a dish towel at him. “Stop it, you!’’
Teensy awoke with a bark.
“We have leftovers,’’ Mama said. “Are you two hungry?’’
Sal licked his lips. “Starving—’’
“—We already ate,’’ Carlos said at the same time.
All of us laughed, except Maddie. The look on her face was serious. “Everything in this world seems to come down to sex one way or the other, doesn’t it? Wanting it. Getting it. Doing the wrong thing because of it.’’
Sal cocked his head at my sister. Strait-laced Maddie voluntarily bringing up
S-E-X
? Carlos and Mama aimed puzzled frowns her way, too. I was the only one at the table with any idea why Maddie’s mind was on sex.
The quizzical stares didn’t seem to register with Maddie. Frowning, she took out her phone again. Her face darkened as she began typing out a message, thumbs striking the keypad like angry pistons.
sixteen
“Just me. I’m back.’’
Marty’s voice from the front porch kick-started Teensy’s engines again. The dog darted to the door. In addition to shattering eardrums with his piercing barks, he seemed intent on protecting the home and the helpless humans inside. To wit: One hardened police detective from the mean streets of Miami; a three-hundred-plus-pound tough guy from Da Bronx; a principal whose raised eyebrow could silence a cafeteria full of middle-schoolers; an outdoorswoman and sometime alligator trapper; and a four-foot-eleven-inch dynamo whose dainty feminine stature belied an iron will.
“Teensy! Quiet!’’ Sal’s shout was so loud it made waves of the
sweet pink wine inside Mama’s vibrating glass. It stopped the barks
in mid-yap. Teensy let out one final protest whine.
“Good dog! Everybody’s safe.’’ Marty scooped up the Pomeranian and brought him to the kitchen. Her face glowed a bit from hiking a mile or so back from the hotel in the warm evening. “You are SUCH a brave boy.’’
Wagging his whole body, Teensy dog-kissed Marty’s face from chin to forehead.
“Gross,’’ I said.
“Don’t encourage him,’’ Maddie added.
“Don’t listen to your sisters, Marty.’’ Mama chucked Teensy under the chin. “Only truly mean and awful people don’t like dogs.’’
“Oh, I like dogs, Mama. I just don’t like
that
dog.’’ I pointed at the offending animal wiggling in Marty’s arms.
“He’s not so bad.’’ Carlos reached out a hand to pat Teensy. Letting out a yip, the dog bit him on the thumb.
¡
Dios mío
, that hurt!’’ He narrowed his eyes. “Little bastard.’’
When Sal and I laughed, both Mama and Carlos scowled at us.
“Why don’t we all move into the living room?’’ said Marty, making
peace. “Teensy can stay here and defend the kitchen against any further
intruders.’’
Grabbing a bottle of soda water, Maddie followed the men out of the kitchen. Mama twisted the spigot on the box of wine, adding a half-glass more for Marty and her. I took three beers from the ’fridge for Sal, Carlos, and me.
“Uh-oh, Mama’s having more wine,’’ Marty said. “Somebody keep an eye on her ring.’’
Meeting Marty’s jibe with a frown, Mama spooned up some premium dog food for Teensy. When he skittered over to his bowl, she slid a doggie gate across the kitchen entryway and made her exit. Loud enough for us to hear her in the living room, she said, “It’s a shame the only one of my babies who never criticizes me has to stay in the kitchen.’’
I grabbed a seat next to Carlos on Mama’s peach-colored sofa. When I offered him one of the beers, he winced as he grabbed the bottle.
“Let me look.’’ I lifted his right hand, and examined the thumb. “The skin’s barely broken.’’
“It still hurts.’’
“Give me a minute,’’ I said.
In the bathroom, I rustled up some cotton balls and alcohol. I stepped over the doggie gate to get ice and a clean dishtowel from the kitchen. Teensy, scarfing his supper, barely noticed.
When I returned bearing my Nancy Nurse supplies, Carlos looked embarrassed and pleased at the same time. There is not a man alive who doesn’t like being fussed over—no matter how
muy
macho he is, or how hardened from a career of chasing scary criminals. If I’d learned nothing else from Mama’s lessons about womanly wiles, I had at least learned that.
Plus, I liked to be in charge in a medical emergency, so it was win-win for me.
I swabbed the wound—more of a scratch, really. “Does that sting?’’
“Not too bad.’’
I put my mouth close and blew on his thumb, just like Mama used to do for us when we were children.
“That tickles,’’ Carlos said.
“If you’re a good boy, maybe Mace will give you a lick off her lollipop.’’ Sal leered at us from his recliner.
“That sounds pretty good.’’ Carlos smiled suggestively. “There’s nothing like a sweet, juicy lollipop. I like the cherry ones best.’’
Marty laughed. I’m pretty sure I blushed.
“Has every couple in this family regressed to acting like hormonal teenagers?’’ Maddie said. “Get a room, you two.’’
“Don’t be such a sourpuss, Maddie,’’ Mama said. “You’re really off your oats, girl. Your ‘monthly visitor’ still giving you trouble?’’
Sal cleared his throat. Carlos got interested in reading the label of his Budweiser bottle. “Have you gone crazy?’’ Maddie stared at Mama.
Before Maddie inadvertently revealed I’d lied with that cover
story about menstrual troubles, I said, “Nope, Mama’s not crazy. Just a little inappropriate, due to all that pink wine she’s consumed
. Let’s talk about something else, why don’t we?’’
“Fine with me,’’ Mama said. “Let’s see if we can figure out what Maddie should wear to Kenny’s party. I’m still opposed to that yellow dress, honey.’’ She took a magazine off the coffee table and started leafing through the sticky-noted pages. “Now, I’ve marked pictures of dresses in shades that would be much more flattering with your complexion.’’
Sal heaved himself to his feet. “Fashion? That’s my cue to go to the den and catch some sports on TV.’’ Carlos wasted no time following the big man’s lead.
As soon as they were gone, Maddie exploded: “The yellow dress is fine. I have no damned intention of changing it, Mama. And I’ll thank you to keep your big nose out of my business.’’
I’m not sure which shocked Mama most. Was it pious Maddie using a curse word? Or was it her inaccurate characterization of Mama’s cute-as-a-button nose?
In a teasing tone, Marty said, “C’mon, Maddie. Mama’s nose isn’t
that
big.’’
Maddie turned her wrath on our little sister: “I am
not
in the mood for your appeasements. Not every insult can be forgiven, Marty. Not every slight can be patched over with a lame joke.’’
Marty looked like she’d been slapped. I tried to step in. “Okay, everybody, tempers are a little short tonight.’’
“There’s nothing wrong with my temper.’’ Mama glared at Maddie. “She’s the one who’s not acting like herself. You better shape up, girl. You don’t want to ruin your husband’s birthday party.’’
“This is not about Kenny! Can’t there ever be a single thing that’s about me?’’
If I didn’t know about the current problems between Maddie and
her husband, I’d have laughed out loud. In their marriage, Maddie had
always
had the upper hand. Kenny was worshipful, always trying extra hard to please her. Their relationship was always 80 percent about Maddie; 20 percent about Kenny. Until now.
“Mama’s right,’’ Marty said. “There’s nothing festive about this mood of yours. You better get yourself into that yellow dress and a celebrating mood by Saturday.’’
Maddie was quiet; staring at her hands in her lap. I prayed she wasn’t going to cry. That would change things in an instant. If the other two ever witnessed Maddie in the state I’d seen, they would not rest until they knew what was wrong. And then they’d try to fix it.
“Lay off her, would you?’’ I said. “Can’t a gal have a bad night with
out her family jumping all over her?’’
Marty gave me a suspicious glance. “Why are you sticking up for Maddie? Seeing you two as allies is as likely as seeing the snake lie down with the pig.’’
Before Mama could pile on, Maddie got up and collected her purse from the table by the front door. Without a parting word, she walked out. The slam of the door shattered the stunned silence in the living room.
Of course, that started up Teensy again. If he hadn’t been causing such a ruckus, yapping and trying to breach the doggie barrier, I’d have asked Marty whether she pictured me as the serpent or the hog. Either way, I wasn’t flattered.
_____
Carlos and I sat on Mama’s front porch swing. It was just us, holding hands. Our silence was comfortable; companionable. Jasmine s
cented the warm air. A half-moon glowed above, outlining the clouds in silver. Crickets chirped. A barely-there breeze rustled through
a magnolia tree. In the distance, a car with squeaky brakes stopped at the traffic light on State Road 70.
Mercifully, Teensy had settled down. Either he’d fallen back to sleep in the kitchen, or he’d choked to death on a second helping of his canine cuisine. Whatever, the quiet time alone with Carlos was a welcome change.
Mama and Marty tried unsuccessfully to get me to speculate
on Maddie’s wordless departure. Marty left shortly after, saying she
had to wake up early for work. Sal and Mama had decided to turn in, too.
Suddenly, a low moan sounded in the night. Both Carlos and I straightened on the swing, instantly alert. Was someone in pain? Did they need help? I stood and went to the railing. Leaning over, I peered into the yard. Bushes and trees cast dark, shadowy shapes. I couldn’t tell if anything out there was moving.
There was the moan again. And then a sigh. And then a high-pitched, feminine giggle.
Ohmigod, how embarrassing. “We can hear you, Mama!’’
The commotion was coming from the open window of the master bedroom, on the far side of the house.
Mama’s voice floated onto the perfumed air: “Shhhh! I think I heard something, Sally.’’
“You heard
me
! I’m trying to tell you to keep it down. Carlos and I can hear everything out here.’’
“Mace?’’
“Yes!’’ I rolled my eyes at Carlos.
“I thought all y’all went home.’’
“Well, Carlos and I didn’t. And we know what you’re up to inside
. You should stop. Now.’’
The sound of muffled laughter and snickering made its way from the side of the house. Then came frantic whispering, and more giggling.
“Oh, for God’s sake,’’ I said. “Stop acting like adolescents. Get a room!’’
“We
have
one,’’ Sal called out. “If youse two would give us some privacy, maybe we could get around to using it.’’
“Yeah,’’ Mama added. “Why don’t you take your own advice, Mace?”
Great. Hearing the two of them wasn’t bad enough? Now, my own
mother was advising me to spirit away my fiancé and get some sex on?
Carlos grinned at me; a sly, sultry smile that made me want to
melt into a puddle on the porch. He fished his keys from his pocket.
“Did you hear me, Mace?’’ Mama called. “Why don’t you and Carlos ‘Get a room?’”
He dangled the car keys in front of my eyes.
I didn’t bother to answer Mama. I pulled Carlos off the porch and steered him onto the path that led to his car. His car with that nice,
roomy
back seat.
seventeen
The road home was
dark, but I was still aglow. Nothing lifts your spirits like some back seat love-making while parked in a cow past
ure. Climbing out of Carlos’s car and stepping on a cow patty didn’t
even dampen my mood. Smooshing a second one, though, was a bit of a bummer. But more for Carlos than me.
“¡
Dios m
í
o
, you stink!’’ he said, with typical male sensitivity. “Good thing you followed me in your Jeep. There’s no way I’d let you back into my car.’’
I high-kicked my leg outside, bringing one of the crap-clodded boots close to his face. He started the car and rolled up the window, leaving a tiny slit at the top to talk to me. “No kidding; that’s disgusting. I’ll wait here in my manure-free zone to make sure your engine starts.’’
“Oh, that’s nice: I show you a good time, and you toss me out like used kitty litter.’’
He blew me a couple of kisses through the window. That was probably less an authentic gesture of love and affection than a chance to cover his nose with his hand.
Now, I was tooling home with the windows rolled down in my Jeep, trying to air out my stinky boots. It wasn’t working.
I looked at the ring on my hand, and grinned. I never thought I
’d be engaged to such a city boy. Carlos’s family may have kept cattl
e a couple of generations back in Cuba, but he was much more Miami these days than Camaguey. Imagine being so put off by the smell of a little manure. Then again, it
was
pretty fresh manure. I leaned my face out the window, grateful to the local grower who had decided to plant orange groves. The fragrant blossoms on several hundred acres of trees in the distance were sending out some much-needed aroma assistance.
When my sisters and I were kids, we used to complain about the biological byproduct of the cattle on our ranch. Daddy would always laugh and say,
That’s the smell of money, girls.
That was before his cow-calf operation started hemorrhaging cash; before the stress of losing our ranch led to his fatal heart attack. By then, the manure didn’t smell like money anymore. It just smelled like shit.
I shook my head to clear away sad memories. Mama’s always big on handing out advice, most of which I never take. But there’s one bit of her counsel that’s always stuck with me:
Don’t look back, Mace. What’s passed is past, and you can’t change it. Focus on making the best of what lies ahead.
I was pretty happy about what seemed to lie ahead for Carlos
and me. Come to think of it, I wasn’t exactly unhappy about what had
just passed between us. Given the potential for embarrassment if caught, we’d decided against doing anything X-rated in his parked car in front of Mama’s house. I’d shuddered at the thought of her coming out to rap at the window while Carlos and I were … occupied. Getting it on in a deserted pasture was as much revisiting my misspent youth as I was willing to do.
The highway home cut right through the center of Florida’s interior—citrus and cattle country. Agriculture was still managing to hold on in the region, despite encroaching development—like the new golf course community on Himmarshee’s southern edge. Under the light of the moon, I took in the shapes and sounds that defined my slice of Florida. Sabal palms, tall and thin with a top like a Q-tip, dotted a flat landscape. Bushier cypress trees were silhouetted in the distance, like dark sentries guarding the watery
perimeter of Starvation Slough. A cow lowed. A night heron squawked
as he hunted in the wetlands nearby. The eyes of a small critter, maybe a raccoon or opossum, reflected my headlights from the undergrowth along the shoulder. I slowed, just in time to avoid hitting the possum that ambled onto the road.
As I drove out of the orange grove, the citrus scent began to give
way to the smell of garbage. The turnoff to the city dump was just ahead. An image of Camilla’s lifeless body popped into my mind. Silently, I repeated a prayer for her soul. Mostly, I hoped she hadn’t suffered too much before she died.
The glare of bright lights in my rear-view mirror startled me from thoughts about the murdered woman. It was unusual to see another car on this stretch of road, this late at night. It looked like the vehicle was tearing up the pavement, too. Within moments, it
was right on my rear. Before I knew it, a powerful, American-sound
ing engine was revving behind me. The car drew closer. High beams flashed. A horn honked. Big and black, with tinted windows, the vehicle came closer still.
I murmured into my mirror, “What do you want me to do, asshole? Levitate out of the way to spare you the monumental effort of passing me?’’
I stuck my left arm out the Jeep’s window, waving at Mr. Hurry Up to go around me. He could easily pass. There was nothing in the oncoming lane between here and Wachula. Finally, he got tired of riding my bumper. Gunning it, he blew by me in a blur, and I saw it was a sedan. Between the dark windows and high speed, I didn’t get a good look at the driver. It could have been
Mrs.
Hurry Up, for all
I
saw.
My headlights caught a Florida plate and a red-white-and-blue bumper sticker. But the sedan pulled ahead and disappeared before I could read what it said. I repressed the urge to honk my horn and flip him the bird. Florida’s drivers are notoriously prone to road rage. You never know what might set off somebody’s crazy fuse, even in little Himmarshee.
As the big car’s taillights became miniature red dots, I wondered where he was headed in such a rush. My mind wasn’t completely on my driving, or what happened next would never have happened. An alligator—eight or nine feet, at least—had heaved itself out of the reedy wetlands and onto the pavement. Making its way across the highway to a canal, it stretched clear across the center line: Snout in the oncoming lane, tail oscillating across my lane. In an instant, I swerved. I missed the gator, but my right front tire hit the concrete abutment of a small bridge over the slough. The car bucked. The steering wheel jerked.
And just like that, I lost control.
eighteen
The Jeep’s right side
veered off the road, spitting sand and weeds every which way. I’d taken my foot off the accelerator, but I was fighting forward momentum. Over-correcting could flip me into the canal where the gator now lurked.
Suddenly, I heard a voice, low and calm, in my head: Mama’s third husband, who’d taught me to drive.
Take a deep breath. You know what to do.
Once, when No. 3 was giving me a lesson, an oncoming car strayed into my lane. I went off the road, and he guided me back:
Ease off the gas. No brake. If the drop-off’s sharp, turn back sharply. If it’s smooth, nice and easy.’’
Holding my breath, I executed a turn between sharp and smooth. The Jeep leveled out; tires gripped pavement. Number 3 may have been a bad match for Mama, but he was a good man—and a great driver. I let out my breath, until the Jeep traveled a few more yards.
Bumpedty-bump, bumpedty-bump, bumpedty-bump.
Uh-oh. The right front tire must have blown hitting the concrete curb of the bridge. I punched the button for my emergency flashers and slowed to a stop. Before I got out of the vehicle, I listened for the deep bellow of a big gator. I hoped he’d moved on. A tire iron was no match for a riled-up, nine-foot reptile with seventy-five or eighty sharp teeth.
_____
Sweaty, grease-stained, and mosquito bitten, I got back in my Jeep. Still, I was grateful—first, that things hadn’t ended worse; and second, that Husband No. 3 also taught me to change a tire.
As soon as I settled into the driver’s seat, I noticed my cell phone was lit. Between swearing at the balky lug nuts and swatting at swarms of bugs, I must have missed it ringing. The caller ID said
Maddie
. She’d left a voice mail.
The first thing I heard was a sob, and then a couple of sniffles. “It’s me, Mace. I tried you at home, but no answer.’’
There was a long pause. She took a deep breath. “Kenny never came home from work, and he still hasn’t called. He’s not answering my text messages, either.’’
She blew her nose.
“I’m so angry … but I’m also wuh-wuh-worried.’’ Breaking on the last word, her voice became a sob.
After a moment, she seemed to collect herself. “I don’t mean to pile all this on you. There’s no need to come over here. I’m fine. Fine.’’ She repeated herself for emphasis.
“It’s such a long way, and it’s already so late.’’
I started my Jeep.
“I’m going to try to get some sleep. Everything will look better in the muh-muh-morning.’’
That last, choked-out word pierced my heart. I made a U-turn, heading back to Himmarshee and my hurting sister.
nineteen
Maddie’s front windows were
dark; the spot where Kenny always parked his truck conspicuously empty. The place looked sad
and lonely. Or, maybe I was just projecting my sister’s abandonmen
t onto the inanimate house.
When I pulled around to the side of the house, I saw the dim blue
glow of a TV coming from Maddie and Kenny’s bedroom. So she was still up. I hurried to the front door and retrieved the key from its hiding spot under her pot of dying geraniums.
I called out as soon as I opened the door so as not to startle her
…
or raise her hopes it was Kenny coming home. No answer came from her room, but I heard the rustle of bed linens being thrown aside. She was up and waiting for me by the time I walked down the hallway.
“I told you not to come. I’m fine.’’
That was a lie. Maddie’s eyes were swollen nearly shut from crying. She wore a ratty bathrobe and just one sock, all stretched out with no elastic at the top. The other was probably lost somewhere in her bed. Used tissues spilled from the pocket of the robe. Beyond her, I saw more tissues all over the bed, a snowdrift of crumpled white.
“I know you’re fine. When I got your message, I was in the neigh
borhood anyway.’’
She gave me a suspicious look. “You were not.’’
“Okay, I thought maybe you could use some company.’’
“Fine. But leave those nasty boots at the front door. You stink like the livestock market after the Tuesday auction.’’
Maybe her griping about my crap-covered boots was a good sign. When I scuffed back inside in my socks, the TV was playing an ancient rerun of
Matlock
. The sound was off, but Andy Griffith was doing his trademark wily Southerner grin. It made me sad to think Andy was dead and gone.
“Kenny hasn’t come home.’’ Maddie looked over her shoulder at the rumpled, empty bed. “He hasn’t even called.’’
I gave her a half-hug. “There, there.’’ As I gave her shoulder an awkward pat, I wished again she’d chosen to tell her secret to Marty instead of me.
As if she could read my mind, Maddie said, “Bet you never thought you’d be comforting me, did you? Haven’t I always been the old, happily married lady who has it all together? Haven’t you always been the one unlucky in love?’’
I didn’t think she was looking for an answer. Fact was, she
had
always been happy with Kenny, ever since I could remember. They were junior high school sweethearts. As far as my dismal record in the romance department, everybody was pretty clear on that—thanks to Mama, the Mouth of the South.
“You have to help me find him, Mace. I just want to know what’s going on. I have to know before this stupid party on Saturday. ’’
“Have you thought any more about cancelling it? Maybe you should.’’
She sunk onto the bed, tears in her eyes. “I can’t! It’s paid for. A hundred people are coming. It’s supposed to be Kenny’s big night.’’
She rooted around on the bedspread for a shredded tissue. When
she dabbed at her eyes, a snowstorm of white flecks fluttered onto her robe.
“There must be some reason Kenny’s cheating. What’s wrong with me, Mace? Have I been a bad wife? Am I a bad person?’’ She blew her nose. “Is it because I’ve put on a few pounds?’’
I gave her shoulders a gentle shake. “Don’t even think like that, you hear me? You’re a fantastic wife. That mo-ron is lucky to have you.’’ I found a nearly whole tissue and handed it to her. “This is not about you! It’s about Kenny, and whatever is going on in his pea-sized male brain.’’
I figured I should say no more about Kenny. Maddie would never
forgive me for trashing him, once they got back together. And they
were
getting back together, I was sure of it. Or, at least, I hoped
for it.
Matlock
was over. One of the judge shows was starting. Maddie flicked channels on the remote until she landed on a rerun of
Two and a Half Men
. Charlie Sheen’s philandering character probably wasn’t the best subject for my sister’s viewing tonight. I grabbed the changer and found an animal show. Some kind of antelopes raced across an African plain. It’d be only a matter of time before the camera showed the lion chasing after them, death on their trail.
On second thought, maybe a comedy would be a better option.
“Are you hungry?’’ I asked.
Maddie shook her head.
“All I saw you eat at Mama’s was a few bites of that plain chicken breast. Have you had anything else?’’
Another head shake, some tissue shredding. “I can’t eat.’’
“Well, I’m hungry. I feel like having some mashed potatoes with butter. You’ll have a few bites, okay?’’
Maddie shrugged. At least she didn’t say no. I headed to the kitchen to prepare our default comfort food.
When I returned, bearing a pot of whipped potatoes and two big spoons, Maddie had washed her face and combed her hair. She’d tossed handfuls of the used tissues into the wastebasket in the corner. Those were encouraging signs, even if what she’d chosen to watch was some woman-done-wrong movie on Lifetime.
I plumped a pillow for my back, and sat beside my sister on the bed. Both of us rested against the headboard. The potato pot created a warm spot between us. When she made no move to dig in, I scooped up a buttered spoonful for her. Just as Maddie had done for me through countless of my nasty or humiliating breakups, I raised the spoon toward her. “Mmm, yummy!’’
Obligingly, she opened up and ate.
“Better?’’ I asked, after she’d savored several more bites.
“A bit.’’ Her smile was wobbly, but at least it was a smile.
“Want to try to get some sleep?’’
Maddie glanced out the window to the side yard. No truck.
“I’ll stay up and wait,’’ I said. “I’ll wake you as soon as he gets home.’’
I didn’t mention that first I planned to have it out with her cheat-
ing husband, no doubt calling him a few names the church ladies at Abundant Forgiveness would not forgive.
Despite my best intentions, the Lifetime movie sucked me in. The woman wronged dumped her louse and ended up with a great guy who appreciated her. By the time the credits rolled, and I had the potato pot washed and draining on the sink, Maddie was snoring softly. My own eyelids felt heavy. Maddie’s bright red clock—apple-shaped, stamped with the words
World’s Greatest Teacher
—read 1:47 a.m.
The house was so quiet, the sound of the refrigerator humming
carried from the kitchen into the living room. I sat myself in Kenny’s recliner. Would it reek of cheater’s musk? All I smelled, though, was Kenny’s usual scent: a not-unpleasant mix of engine grease and drugstore aftershave.
The chair was cushiony, and I was exhausted. It seemed like I’d just sat down, but next thing I knew, harsh morning light slanted through the living room blinds.
I’d turned off the alert sound on my sister’s phone so as not to wake her overnight. I picked up the phone from the coffee table, and was about to turn it back on, when I saw there was a text message, from Kenny. I hesitated only a moment before I read it.
I did something terrible. I don’t think you can forgive me. I’m so sorry
.
Outside, his parking spot was still empty.
twenty
“Angel, doll, this drink
is delicious, but could I get just a smidge
more vodka?”
Beatrice Graf offered up a pleading tone and what looked like a Bloody Mary to the barmaid at the 19th Hole. I’d just taken my first sip of morning coffee, and the mayor’s wife was already pursuing an alcohol buzz.
Without a wasted motion, Angel picked up my money from the bar, spun to retrieve a bottle of premium vodka, topped off the glass of Mrs. Mayor, and replaced the bottle on the shelf. Then, she proceeded to the register to ring up my coffee.
I’d returned to the golf course to take another crack at finding Kenny. I was waiting for an opportune moment to speak with Angel.
She returned with change from my five. “Keep it,’’ I said.
Angel’s eyes lit. “Thanks.’’
“You should at least make it an Irish whiskey.’’ Beatrice chuckled beside me, stirring her drink with its celery stalk. “Who comes to a bar and orders a plain coffee?’’
“Somebody who has to be at work in an hour.’’ I wrestled with a couple of sugar packets, managing to get most of the contents spilled into my cup.
Mrs. Mayor fluffed at her poodle perm, then hoisted her Bloody Mary at me for a toast. Her eyebrows had a reddish tint, to match her hair. Her mascara looked like she’d applied it with a paint roller. I clinked her morning cocktail with my mug, and each of us took a swallow of our preferred poisons. Angel performed a quick introduction. I didn’t let on we’d met before.
“I’m running a ladies’ group meeting for the Newcomer’s Club this morning. I always tell the gals to have a little nip. It makes the time go faster. You should try it.’’
“Think I’ll stick to coffee, but thanks.’’
She saluted us, wobbling a bit as she walked away. I suspected that wasn’t the morning’s first Bloody Mary. She didn’t seem to place me from the dining room the day before, or the library before that. Probably the memory-killing effect of too many drinks.
“Bit early to be hitting the vodka.’’ I nodded toward Beatrice. The purple pom-poms on her golf socks bobbed as she zigzagged across the dining room.
Angel shrugged. “To each his own. I don’t judge; I just pour.’’
“A generous shot, too. Doesn’t management get mad if you give people extra booze without getting extra money?’’
She looked around the empty bar, then leaned in close. “Can you keep a secret?’’
“I’m a vault.’’
“I only start her out with half a shot. She ALWAYS asked me for more, even when I poured her a double, so now I pour her less to begin with.’’
“Smart.’’
“I’m a clever girl.’’ She gave me one of her strangely seductive grins. “So, you’re not a golfer, right?’’
“Not even on a dare,’’ I said.
“So how come you’re back here today?’’ Wiping down a sprinkle of sugar crystals on the bar, she came close enough to brush my
wrist with hers. “Did you miss me?’’
I whisked my hands into my lap, folding them there. “I’m still looking for my brother-in-law, Kenny. Thought I might find him here this morning. My sister said he likes to play on Mondays.’’
“Haven’t seen him.’’
“Will you tell me if you do?’’
“I said I would.’’
“And you keep your word?’’
“Always.’’
She reached out a hand, grazing her fingers across the top of my left breast. I jumped back so fast I nearly fell off the stool.
“Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you.’’ That suggestive smile again. She pointed. “You spilled some sugar all over your shirt there.’’
I wasn’t sure what her game was, but I knew I wasn’t playing. I made a show of consulting my watch. “Look at the time.’’
“Yeah, you better get to work. You do something with animals at the park, right?’’
I surely looked stunned, because she said, “You must have mentioned that.’’ She gestured at my shirt again. “Plus, it says ‘Himmarshee Nature Park,’ right there.’’
I looked down at the logo. “Oh, right. Thanks for the coffee.’’
“Thanks for the tip. Hope to see you again, soon.’’
Angel’s gaze now focused on a spot over my shoulder. I turned, to see the mayor coming in the door from the golf course, trailed by a group of four or five younger men. They were loud: laughing, shaking hands, and slapping backs.
“You owe me another game, you son-of-a-bitch.’’ The mayor wagged an index finger in the tallest man’s face, but his tone was teasing, not angry. “You stole that one like a whore lifting a drunk’s wallet.’’
An older woman on her way to the ladies’ room gave him a disapproving frown. The mayor, bidding the group goodbye, seemed not to notice. His face was red. He mopped his brow with a big white handkerchief. His canary-colored golf shirt showed rings of sweat at the arms and under his saggy pectoral muscles. His jaunty yellow cap was wilted. It was early, but the September sun was already heating up the course.
Angel had filled a glass with iced water, and was moving in the mayor’s direction. She nodded toward the door to the outside patio. He opened it, and they both went out.
She gave him the water, which he drained in one long swig. He held the ice-filled glass to each temple, cooling off. Angel waited, arms crossed over her chest. He put the glass on a table and whispered something in her ear. Angel shook her head, lips pressed into a hard line.
She pulled a pack of cigarettes from her apron, took out two
.
He rushed to light hers first, and then his. As they shared a smoke, he
put a hand on her arm. She looked at it like it was a palmetto bug crawling across her skin. He immediately dropped it, and lowered his eyes to the table. Everything about his posture suggested he wanted something from Angel.
Everything about hers said she wasn’t giving it.
twenty-one
The sound of sustained
applause echoed in the empty dining room of the country club. It seemed to be coming from an open door leading to the room where Beatrice Graf was holding her event.
I’d already paid my tab and finished my coffee. The mayor and Angel were still outside. With no other customers at the bar, there was no telling how long they’d talk. I’d try to catch up to each of them later to see what I could learn about Kenny.
In the meantime, I was curious about all the clapping. I peeked from the dining room into the private room, and saw about twenty-five women inside. Mrs. Mayor was right. Almost every guest had a glass of wine or a cocktail at her plate. I ducked into a dining-room booth with an unobstructed view so I could spy in my preferred manner: Unobserved.
I was surprised to see Prudence Law, wearing a nervous smile and a conservatively cut suit. She walked to the lectern at the front of the room, and waited for the applause to spatter to an end. She stood on tiptoe to reach the microphone.
“Thanks for that nice introduction. I asked Mrs. Graf if I could say a few words to let you know how awfully grateful I am for the gift basket, as well as the kind expressions of sympathy so many of you have sent.’’
An acknowledging murmur moved around the tables in the room.
“As a librarian, Camilla was terribly keen on book groups. Several of you mentioned that she was helpful with suggestions for reading material. She’d be pleased to know she’s remembered in that way.’’
The mayor’s wife stepped to the lectern, claiming three-quarters of Prudence’s limelight. “All of us are so sorry for your loss. Your sister was a lovely woman.’
She was singing a different tune today. At Gladys’ diner, I’d heard her skewering the murder victim for her sex clothes and sinful ways.
A woman in a mint-green sweater set hesitantly raised her hand at the front table. Prudence and the mayor’s wife simultaneously nodded their permission to ask a question. The woman looked momentarily confused as to who was in charge, but she plowed ahead anyway.
“Have the police told you anything about who might have killed Camilla?’’
When Beatrice began to speak, the sweater-clad woman raised her hand again, a bit timidly: “I was asking her sister.’’
Mrs. Mayor aimed a glare at the questioner, but quickly covered it with a fake-looking smile. Prudence edged her aside and reclaimed the lectern. “No, they say they’re still investigating. They haven’t provided any specific information, beyond the fact she wasn’t killed where her body was found. They haven’t let me into her home. That leads me to believe they’re still looking for evidence there.’’
The mayor’s wife shouldered Prudence out of the spotlight. She spoke directly into the microphone. “I think we have to assume Camilla knew her killer.’’
Though sidelined, sweet Prudence still managed to put some frost
in her voice. “I’m not sure we can ‘assume’ anything at this point. Why do you say that?’’
“Well, surely that clothing was meant for some kind of special occasion. She dressed that way for a reason.’’
Prudence’s eyes were cold enough to make the woman at the front table wrap herself more tightly in that sweater.
“I wasn’t aware my sister was required to check with you regarding what she wore in the privacy of her home. I thought you Americans were all for individual freedom.’’
The look she aimed at the mayor’s wife was so scornful, I’m surprised it didn’t singe the split ends off her bottle-red hair. But instead of becoming argumentative or blustery, as I expected, Beatrice cast her eyes downward to the floor.
“I’m so sorry,’’ she mumbled, seemingly submissive. “I certainly don’t want to offend you, or the memory of your dear sister. Especially not at a time like this.’’
Prudence sniffed, and smoothed at the sides of her dark jacket. The lapels were trimmed in white piping.
“It’s all right,’’ she finally said, sounding like it definitely was not all right. “You can’t help being ignorant.’’
I thought that would get a rise from Mrs. Mayor, but instead she started clapping, and the other women followed her lead. Leaning back toward the microphone, she said. “Thank you so much for
coming, Prudence. Anything you need, please call any one of us, right gals?’’
Heads nodded and voices murmured in assent. Prudence marched
out into the dining room. Her gait was determined; her jaw set. A
flush suffused her fair skin. She didn’t look grief-stricken. She looked
furious.
_____
Before I left, I checked in at the pro shop. The young woman behind the counter said she hadn’t seen Kenny. I also asked about the club’s pro, but Jason wasn’t in. Just as well. With no makeup, dirty hair, and red eyes after my nearly sleepless night at Maddie’s house, I wasn’t exactly looking my best. Not to mention, I still hadn’t scraped all the cow crap from my boots.
Not that I felt I had to impress Jason. After all, I had a fiancé.
Now, thanks to all the coffee I’d downed at the bar, I needed to visit the ladies’ room before I started the drive to work. While I was there, I figured I’d find that stash of moisturizing lotion and hair supplies again. I could use all the beauty help I could get.
I wended my way from the toilets past the whirlpool tub and back to the changing room. A soft murmur of voices came from a corner, behind a bank of lockers. I paid them no heed. I was on a moisturizing mission, trying to allay the effects of thirty-plus years in the Florida sun with a few free dollops of a silky-smooth cream I was too cheap to buy for myself. I slathered my bare arms and neck. It smelled clean and spicy, like lemons and rosemary.
I went a little crazy with the pump bottle, and spilled a big glob of moisturizer on the counter. I thought I remembered seeing a stash of towels in a wicker basket behind the lockers. Rounding the corner, I spotted Angel at the far end. I could see she was in deep conversation with someone standing just behind the lockers, out of sight. She held tight to the woman’s hand. The look on Angel’s face was tender, caring. She didn’t appear nearly as hard as she did while working behind the bar.
Uncomfortable that I might be intruding on an intimate
moment, I turned to go. From the corner of my eye, I noticed a swath of familiar fabric resting on the bench by Angel’s side. I hadn’t even reached the door when I remembered where I’d seen it: Navy blue with white piping. It was the jacket to Prudence Law’s conservative suit.
twenty-two
Marty and I sat
at our usual lunch table at Gladys’ Diner. We were waiting for Mama to quit swanning around the room and come tell us what she planned to order. We would never order the same thing. That would take all of the fun out of stealing from each other’s plates.
I crooked a finger to Mama, trying to motion her back to our table. Instead, she moved in on a church lady friend across the room. She stuck a fork in the woman’s squash casserole for a generous sample. Chewing, Mama gave me the wait-a-minute finger. With her, that’s always more like ten minutes.
“Let’s just order,’’ I said. “She’s probably going to get the Monday special meat and three.’’
“Right,’’ Marty said. “Meat loaf, collards, black-eyed peas, and mashed potatoes.’’
In the distance, Mama’s features formed the
mmm-mmm
face. She licked her lips and nodded at her friend. “Make that squash casserole instead of the potatoes,’’ I said.
“But she’ll definitely have the butterscotch pie for dessert.’’ Marty tapped on the menu. “So, I’ll order the vegetable plate and coconut cake.’’
“Barbecued pork sandwich and banana pudding for me,” I said. “Now, what kind of sides do I want—’’
“Oh my!’’ Marty slapped her hand over her mouth, whispering between the fingers. “Look who just walked in to sit at the counter.’’
I quit considering the side orders. Prudence Law stood at the front of Gladys’, crisp in a light blue blouse with a Peter Pan collar, her navy jacket folded over an arm. I wanted to tell Marty I’d seen her that morning at the golf course, but I didn’t want to have to create a lie about why I was there. It felt strange, keeping my baby sister out of the loop.
“We should ask her to sit with us.’’ Marty elbowed me.
“She probably wants to be alone,’’ I said.
“Not at a time like this. She’s hurting, and she’s so shy. I’m sure she doesn’t have a single friend in Himmarshee.’’
I recalled Prudence looking not at all shy when she coolly put the mayor’s wife in her place at the morning meeting. And she seemed to have at least one very special friend in town: Angel Fox.
“C’mon, the woman just lost a sister. Imagine how any of us would feel.’’ Marty looked at me, her blue eyes brimming with compassion.
I nodded okay. Marty stood and waved Prudence over.
_____
“I can’t stay long.’’ Prudence took a seat. “I’ve only just put in an order for takeaway.’’
“You must have a lot to do,’’ Marty said. “Will you let us know if there’s any way we can help?’’
The resemblance between the two women was amazing. Marty was blonde, and Prudence’s hair was dark, but both were petite. Both had enormous blue eyes and a fringe of bangs that gave them a waifish appearance. Their pale complexions were similar, too, as was the pink curve of their rosebud lips. Did men—or maybe women?—want to protect Prudence, like they always did with Marty? It was clear at least one man had felt no protective instinct toward Prudence’s murdered twin, Camilla.
“Thank you, Marty. What a kind person you are.’’
“Everyone says that about Marty.’’ Our cousin Henry had materialized at the table, and was standing next to Prudence with an expectant look. “Are you going to introduce me, cousins?’’
I did the honors.
“I’m sorry for your loss,’’ he said, holding on to Prudence’s hand. “I hear your sister was a wonderful woman.’’
“That’s a thoughtful thing to say. It appears kindness to strangers runs in your family,’’ she said.
“You must not have met Maddie yet,’’ Henry said.
He found an extra chair for the table, stuck it right beside Prudence. As she scooted a bit to let him in, her jacket fell off the chair back. Henry bent to the floor to retrieve it, dusting off some cornbread crumbs. Shaking it out, he returned it with a flourish. “I believe this belongs to you, pretty lady.’’
Her cheeks flushed adorably. She fluttered her eyelashes, Mama-style. “So gallant!’’
Henry waved a hand. “It’s nothing.’’
“You’re right about that,’’ I muttered.
Marty kicked me under the table, but Henry and Prudence ignored me.
“I just love your Southern manners. British men are not nearly so courtly.’’ What sounded like a giggle escaped her lips. My cousin puffed out his chest.
“So, Henry, how are those young’uns of yours?’’ I asked. “And how ’bout your sweet wife? Is she pregnant again?’’
Taking my hint, Henry announced he had to meet some colleagues for lunch. Prudence pushed back her chair to stand. Shooting out of his seat like it gave him a shock, he helped her out of the chair. “Don’t let Mace scare you away,’’ he said.
“She hasn’t scared me.’’ Prudence put a hand on his sleeve, stroking his arm through the fabric of his button-down shirt. “Don’t be daft. I’m making a quick stop in the loo, then I’m on my way out.’’
As soon as she was out of hearing range, I lit into my cousin. “Slimy much? Are you really flirting with a woman whose sister was just murdered?’’
He looked wounded. “I most certainly was not flirting! I was just being a gentleman; ‘gallant,’ in fact.’’
“What’s even weirder is she was flirting back. Right, Marty?’’
“I didn’t see it that way,’’ my sister said. “Don’t be so critical, Mace. Her sister was just brutally murdered, as I shouldn’t have to remind you. She’s entitled to act a little strange.’’
Strange? Oh how I wanted to tell them about Prudence at the golf course.
“I’m right and you’re wrong.’’ Henry stuck his tongue out at me. “Just because Maddie’s not here doesn’t mean you have to stand in for her role as bitchy sister.’’
He looked around the diner, waggled his fingers at Mama. She
was now cadging a spoonful of creamed spinach off someone else’s
plate.
“Where is Maddie anyway?’’ Henry asked.
They both cocked their heads at me. Maddie’s whereabouts was the last question I wanted to discuss. I shrugged.
“Henry’s right, you know.’’ Marty buttered a biscuit. “You’re doing a pretty good job of playing Maddie’s role. You’re acting all judgmental, just like she always does.’’
Henry rose. “I’m going to find a table for my meeting, before you two start throwing cutlery.’’
With barely a nod at our departing cousin, Marty continued in the same vein, telling me how she understood people far better than I did; how I should rely on her judgment about Prudence.
“Maybe you should stick with the critters and let me handle the people,’’ she said.
Henry had announced I was acting like Maddie. But listening to Marty harangue me, I realized
both
of us were taking on some of our absent sister’s least lovable traits. Maybe Marty suspected something was amiss. Maybe imitating Maddie was a way both of us were dealing with that unvoiced suspicion.
I decided to let my little sister blow off steam. I’d curb my impulse to take offense. As she talked, my gaze wandered around the room. Prudence was at the counter, waiting while Charlene collected her take-out order. Brewing hot tea—an uncommon request in Himmarshee—was taking some time. Prudence seemed to be explaining that hot tea isn’t made by microwaving a glass of sweet iced tea.
Charlene rushed past us to a serving station at the rear of the diner, muttering as she went. “I know I’ve seen a single-size tea bag around here somewhere.’’ She called over her shoulder to Prudence. “Just give me a sec, hon.’’
A good-looking cowboy waited at the register to pay his bill. He tipped his hat to Prudence, and they struck up a conversation. Before long, the two of them were chatting away like old friends. They gazed into each other’s eyes as if they were the only two souls in the place. He said something to make her smile, and she leaned toward him, placing a hand on his broad chest. He put an arm around her. She stepped close. Her tiny but well-developed frame fit neatly against the intimate contours of his body. Surely, they’d just established a record for quick canoodling.
“Look at Prudence now,’’ I hissed, interrupting Marty’s rant. “You can’t tell me
that’
s not flirting.’’
I was rewarded by seeing Marty’s mouth drop open just after she’d finished the phrase “
…
your very bad judgment, Mace.’’ She looked at Prudence and then back at me, and then back again at Prudence. The cowboy was nuzzling the English woman’s pale neck. Prudence giggled.
Finally, Marty said the six words I loved above all others.
“I was wrong. You were right.’’ She nodded. “That is
definitely
flirting.’’
twenty-three
“Well, if that doesn’t
beat all.’’ Mama sopped up the last of the gravy on her plate with a chunk of meat loaf.
As soon as Charlene brought our lunch orders, Mama had come running back to our table at Gladys.’ Between bites, Marty and I filled her in on Prudence’s encounter with the cowboy at the counter.
Marty wasn’t completely ready to pass judgment, though.
“We don’t know what’s going through her head, y’all. Everybody grieves differently. You’ve always said that, haven’t you, Mama?’’
“Grieving and making a spectacle of yourself in public with a cowboy you’ve never met are two entirely different things, honey. I can’t get my head around that gal’s behavior.’’
Mama patted her mouth with a napkin, and then whipped out her Apricot Ice. Using the screen on her smart phone as a makeshift mirror, she delivered a
smack-smack
kiss to her reflection.
“Now.’’ She snapped shut her lipstick. “Enough about Prudence and her impropriety. What do you girls suppose we can do about Maddie?’’
Uh-oh. I didn’t like where this was heading. What would I say if Mama mentioned she was concerned about my older sister’s emotional health? What if she started talking about saving Maddie’s marriage? She took a small sip from her water glass; regarded us with a grave expression.
“We simply cannot let her wear that yellow dress.’’
I shouldn’t have worried. Mama would let nothing dissuade her from her mission: Making sure none of her daughters ever embarrassed her with misguided color choices.
“Henry!’’ Mama called across three tables to where our cousin’s lunch meeting was breaking up. “Come and give your Aunt Rosalee some sugar, honey.’’
Like most everyone else, Henry rushed to do Mama’s bidding.
No sooner had he kissed her cheek than she whipped out her phone
to show him the picture she’d taken of Maddie’s dress at Fran’s Fancy Frocks and Duds.
“Isn’t that just awful?’’ she asked.
“Looks fine to me. The color’s nice and bright, like a flashing yellow traffic light. And I like those little short sleeves. They look like bells.’’
Mama shook her head, not hearing the answer she wanted from Henry. “That’s another thing. Maddie’s upper arms will look like hams in those sleeves.’’
“Why don’t you leave her alone, Mama? Maddie already bought the dress.’’ I signaled Charlene for some more coffee. “So what if it’s not perfect? Big deal. Let her wear what she wants.’’
Mama narrowed her eyes at me. Before she could start in on my
snippiness or my fashion faux pas, Henry headed her off.
“Are you going to bring a pan of your lemon squares to Kenny’s big bash, Aunt Rosalee?”
“Ooooooh, I love those!’’ Marty said.
“It wouldn’t be a party without them.’’ Henry grabbed one of
Mama’s hands in both of his; smiled into her eyes. “No one can bake
like you do.’’
Smooth, I thought. It was no wonder my charming cousin had a way with a jury, particularly ones with lots of women members.
Mama patted her hair. “Well, of course I will, Henry. I know how you love them.’’
Talk among the three of them turned to detailed descriptions of their favorite party foods, despite the fact we’d just finished lunch. My appetite was definitely off. I was feeling guilty about what I knew—and they didn’t know—about Maddie. I wanted to tell them she was in real trouble, far more trouble than having an ugly party dress. I couldn’t violate her confidence, though.
I was deep in thought when a caress of warm breath and a kiss on my cheek brought me back to my surroundings. I smelled faint aftershave, sandalwood and spices. Carlos!
Turning in my seat, I pulled his face to mine for a real greeting.
“Am I ever glad to see you!’’ I planted an unusually public, and long-
lasting, smooch on his lips.
Carlos looked surprised, but pleasantly so. He returned my kiss with equal enthusiasm.
“My, my.’’ Marty smiled. “Must be something in the water at Gladys’ today.’’
Henry clapped Carlos on the back. They shook hands.
“Looks like ‘on-again’ is lasting longer than usual with Mace and her boyfriend,’’ Mama said.
I waved my ring hand in front of her face. “My
fiancé
.’’
Marty and Henry chuckled. Mama smiled her approval.
“Let’s call Reverend Delilah. You two can set the date. It’s about time you made an honest woman out of my daughter, Carlos.’’
“Soon,’’ he said.
“You hear that, honey? He’s ready to be caught! All you have to
do is toss the net. And make it snappy. You’re not getting any younger.’’
“I’m not a quart of milk with an expiration date, Mama.’’
“Mace grows more beautiful every day,’’ Carlos said.
Marty coughed. I felt my cheeks flush.
“I am not the one setting up blocked roads, Rosalee. Your daughter doesn’t want to be caught, or else she’d slow down and let me catch her.’’
He was grinning, which made me smile. I thanked my stars Carlos didn’t seem to be embarrassed or put off by Mama’s constant nagging about our wedding. I was about to invite him to sit down, when the cow bells at the door jangled. I got distracted when I saw who was walking in.
Jason gave a big cheerful wave. In a polo shirt and cap emblazoned with the name of the golf course, he headed straight for our table. Nodding quickly at the others, he zeroed in on me.
“I was passing by and saw your Jeep parked outside.’’ He dropped a casual hand on my shoulder. “I hear you were asking for me at the pro shop this morning.’’
Charlene picked that moment to come pour my coffee. “Who’s the hottie,’’ she whispered, loud enough to be heard in the kitchen over the roar of the dishwasher.
“Jason,’’ he answered, with a flash of white teeth. “I’m the pro at Himmarshee Links. You should come out sometime. I’ll help you work on your swing. I keep trying to get Mace to let me finesse hers.’’
At the next table, a couple of women from the courthouse
swooned. Flustered, Charlene knocked over the creamer on our table with her coffeepot. The cream splashed out to where Carlos still stood, landing all over the front of his slacks. He jumped back, and then grabbed a handful of napkins. I wasn’t sure whether his frown was due to Jason’s shameless flirting, or his fastidiousness about his clothes.
“Sorry,’’ said Charlene, flushed with embarrassment.
“Not to worry,’’ Carlos smiled at the waitress. “I keep a second
set of clothes in my locker at work, which is where I need to be right
now.’’ He glanced at his watch, gave me a peck on the cheek, and headed out the door.
“Was it something I said?’’ Jason aimed his tanned dimples at me. “I’ve got to get back to work, too. I just stopped to ask if I’m going to see you again.’’
The glances exchanged by my family members caromed around the table like pool balls. I lifted Jason’s hand off my shoulder.
Mama frowned. “Since when do you play golf, Mace?’’
Marty said, “The last I remember, you were saying you wished you’d left that gator you trapped in the pond at the golf course. You said maybe he’d do us a favor and eat a few newcomers.’’
“Ouch!’’ the pro laughed. “I don’t think that’s what the course’s architect had in mind when he designed our water hazards.’’
“Talk about your penalty stroke,’’ Henry said.
I mumbled something about stopping by the course soon. Jason
left shortly after, to sighs from two tables of women.
Once he was out of earshot, Mama got serious. “Why are you going to the golf course?’’
I tried to think of a convincing lie. I came up blank.
“None of your business.’’
Even as the words escaped my mouth, I knew Mama would not rest until she made it her business. I had to discover what Kenny was up to before my family imploded under the weight of what I was hiding
I threw a ten on the table and rushed out the door after Jason.
twenty-four
“Wait up!’’ I yelled
from the sidewalk outside Gladys’ Diner.
A big ol’ boy in bib overalls and a cap touting Nutrena cattle feed turned with a hopeful smile. I shook my head and pointed at the golf pro in the parking lot.
Jason stood beside a red BMW convertible, which is a pretty fancy car for a pro who works at a small golf course built on a former cow pasture in middle Florida.
“Well, well.’’ He leaned against the driver’s door, and crossed his arms over his chest. “Looks like you did want to see me again, sooner rather than later.’’
“Don’t flatter yourself,’’ I said. “I needed to ask you some questions, but I didn’t want to talk in front of my family.’’ Not to mention my fiancé, I thought.
He glanced at his watch; lit a cigarette. “I’ve got a few minutes.’’ He exhaled. “Knock yourself out.’’
I decided to stick to my cover story, about trying to find out who might owe my brother-in-law money. Kenny hadn’t been back
to the club since we’d spoken earlier, Jason said.
“Did you notice if he seemed particularly close to anyone out there?’’
Jason stroked the handsome cleft in his chin; appeared to give my question some thought.
He finally said, “He spends a lot of time at the bar, talking to Angel.’’
I hoped the surprise didn’t show on my face. She had told me she barely knew Kenny. It also seemed she was more into girls than guys. I decided to take the plunge; ask the question right out.
“Isn’t Angel gay?’’ I said.
He took a drag. “That’s complicated. I think her sexual leanings depend on what’s in it for Angel.’’
“Do you think there’s something in it for her to have some kind of sexual relationship with my brother-in-law?’’
“Nah. He’s not her type. Not enough money or power. I think it’s more a bartender-as-confessor thing for him. Lots of people pour out their problems to bartenders.’’
An image formed in my mind of Prudence’s jacket on the locker room bench; the tender look on the barmaid’s face. “Well, who is Angel’s type?’’ I said. “Is she serious about anyone?’’
He cocked his head. “Why? Are you interested in girls? Didn’t you say you were engaged? I assumed to a guy.’’
He grabbed my left wrist, holding up my hand to examine my ring. His grip was a little rough.
“That hurts.’’
He squeezed—hard—before releasing me. “Sorry. I can be a little dominant at times. Guess I don’t know my own strength.’’
I rubbed my wrist; decided to let it pass. In my mind, golf was kind of a girly sport. Maybe he was trying to show what a man he was with a crushing grip. I said, “What about the mayor?’’
“And Angel?’’ he asked.
“Well, I meant the mayor and Kenny, but yeah. What’s the deal with Angel and Mr. and Mrs. Mayor? It seems like they walk on eggshells around her.’’
He laughed. “Probably afraid if they offend her she’ll pour a stingy shot.’’ He put thumb to mouth in the sign for drinking. “Both
of them like their booze. A lot.’’
“Kenny, too?’’
He crushed his cigarette underfoot, and then glanced at his watch.
“Nah, Kenny seems like he’s strictly a beer man. Doesn’t over-indulge, like a lot of folks do out there.’’ A strange smiled played across his lips. “Oh, yeah. There are
all
kinds of over-indulgences at Himmarshee Links.’’
“What’s that supposed to mean?’’
He put up his hands, signaling he’d say no more. “I really have to get going. Like I told you before, it’s complicated.’’
“You can’t say that and just leave me wondering. That’s not fair. Is there something shady going on out there? Is my brother-in-law involved?’’
That would be all Maddie would need: a husband walking the criminal path.
Jason gazed around the parking lot. The after-lunch crowd was starting to stream out. He lowered his voice. “I don’t think so. But you wouldn’t believe the stories I could tell about what goes on at the club.’’
“Like what?’’
He hit the key fob to unlock the BMW; eased himself into the front seat.
“I really do have to go. I’ve got a lesson scheduled. Honest, I’ll fill you in on everything, just not right now.’’ He turned on the engine. It purred. “Meet me at the club for a drink.’’
I narrowed my eyes at him. Was he playing me?
He returned my look with a guileless grin. His cheeks dimpled, and the skin around his eyes crinkled with sincerity. “I swear I’m not coming on to you, Mace. It’s just a friendly meeting. Maybe I can give you some information that might help you find out who borrowed Kenny’s money.’’
If I was going to help Maddie, I did need information. It was just a drink. What could it hurt?
twenty-five
A loud laugh echoed
through the cypress trees, shattering the quiet sanctuary of Himmarshee Park. Startled, a great blue heron
took flight from the creek bank near the nature path. Another laugh
sounded, even louder than the first. A group of men in business dress rounded a curve in the path near the park office. I was outside the office, in a vending machine alcove, battling a recalcitrant package of Corn Nuts.
The noisy crowd of suits and ties came to a halt on the board
walk over Himmarshee Creek. The mayor, at the center of the group
, nodded toward the water: “You know what they say about waterfront property in Florida, don’t you?’’ His voice boomed, and he slapped one of the suits on the back. “Get it while you can. They’re not making any more!’’
The man chuckled, a bit too heartily I thought. A second suit, much taller, stepped forward to peer over the railing. He pointed to the dark water below. An expensive-looking gold watch peeked out from the monogrammed cuff at his wrist: “So this stream also fronts the parcel we’ve been talking about?’’
Parcel? What parcel? These guys looked like developers. No telling what kind of proposal they’d cooked up.
I stepped out of the vending area and onto the wooden boardwalk, my indestructible snack bag in hand. My boss’s lectures
about being more friendly and welcoming to park visitors ran through
my mind. Well, here were some park visitors. I injected a smile into my voice.
“Can I help y’all?’’
Except for the mayor, the men looked like they’d all selected their outfits from the Timeless Fashions for Business Guys Shoppe: white shirts, dark suits, black dress shoes, red ties—with a couple of striped-blues thrown in to mix things up. It had to be 95 degrees outside. They stood in the full sun, and not a one of them had thought to take off his jacket. It was clear they weren’t from around here.
The mayor gave me a campaign-poster smile. I was surprised to see a diamond stud winking from his earlobe. Pretty hip for a guy sporting polyester beltless slacks, white loafers, and a T-shirt that screamed BILL GRAF FOR MAYOR in red block letters.
“I know you, don’t I?’’
“We’ve met at the country club.’’ I didn’t add that when we met, Mama had informed him she’d voted for his opponent, and then tried to browbeat him and his wife into attending her church. “I think you also play golf with my brother-in-law. Kenny Wilson?’’
He pursed his lips like he was thinking. “Nope. The name doesn’t
ring a bell.’’
“The staff out there said you two played together. Big guy? Drives a pickup truck with silver mud flaps?’’
He grinned. “Oh, yes. The flaps with the naked girl silhouettes. You don’t see too many of those at the club.’’
“Naked girls or mud flaps?’’ said the tall man with the watch. A couple of the other suits smirked.
“I think I might have played a round or two with your brother-in-law, when one of my threesome didn’t show.’’
The tall suit leered. “Threesome? I’ve heard you like to play with a foursome.’’
The mayor ignored the comment. “Your brother-in-law’s a lousy
golfer, by the way.’’
I didn’t reveal I’d heard the same assessment of the mayor’s game.
“Have you seen Kenny lately?’’
“Can’t say that I have. Look, we’re kind of busy here.’’ His tone was impatient. “We’re looking for the park supervisor. We need to have a cornfab about business.’’
Opening the office door, I pointed inside to my boss, Rhonda.
“ ‘
Corn
fab’ away.’’
A familiar wave of relief that I wasn’t management material washed over me. When the mayor and the four suits had filed into the office, I slipped in behind them and took a seat at my desk. I’d been working on an exhibit about the mating habits of the Sandhill crane. I arranged it so I could disappear behind it.
Rhonda, trapped in a dull phone conversation about budgets
and such, quit talking in mid-sentence when she spotted the mayor. “Anyway
, those are the salient points about personnel.’’ She quickly wrapped up the call. “I’ll have to get back to you. Something’s just come up.’’
As soon as she placed the receiver on its cradle, she unfolded her lithe body from her chair, and stretched her hand out toward Graf. “Mr. Mayor, what a pleasant surprise.’’
A smile spread across her lovely face. Only I recognized it as one
the former fashion model reserved for people she didn’t really want to see. It reached her angled cheek bones, but stopped short of warming her hazel-flecked eyes.
A couple of the suits seemed awestruck to find such a beauty wearing park department khakis. The mayor, though, barely gave her a second look. “Where’s your boss, doll?’’
Her smile was cool. “I am the boss.’’
Which of Rhonda’s characteristics confused him, I wondered: The fact she was black, or that she was a woman?
“So, you’re in charge?’’
She extended a long graceful finger, tapping the supervisor title on her desk nameplate. “That’s what it says.’’
“Well, screw me like a rabbit, I’m surprised.’’ It didn’t seem to register with the mayor he was pissing off a possible ally in whatever plan he was hatching. “We’re trying to find out anything we can about the owners of the properties next to the park.’’
“All you have to do is go to the county courthouse.’’ Rhonda took her seat again, started shuffling papers. “Property ownership is public record.’’
The mayor glanced furtively around the office. He didn’t seem to notice me slumping down behind a stuffed Sandhill crane—a tall, regal bird with a red cap of feathers.
He lowered his voice. “We’re more interested in off-the-record kind of information. Are any of the property owners having financial problems? Anyone contemplating divorce? Or, maybe one of the families is struggling with a tragic—and costly—illness?’’
I came out from behind my bird.
“In other words,’’ I said, “is there anybody in a bad way so a bunch of developers can take advantage and buy their land cheap?’’
“That’s rude,’’ one of the suits said.
“What’s rude is outsiders coming in here and buying up property to build ugly crap that nobody wants.’’
Rhonda lifted her palms in the air in the traffic cop position. “That’s enough, Mace.’’
“You know it’s true,’’ I said. “Why don’t you ask them what they
have planned? No doubt it’s something that will compromise every living tree and critter, not to mention the water supply, in this
end of the county.’’
“It’s a subdivision,’’ the mayor said. “Country Haven. New homes for five-hundred residents. The park will become a very important amenity. Everyone wants a house conjoining a park.’’
“Adjoining,’’ I said. “But nobody wants to live next to a shoddily built subdivision with cookie-cutter houses and too many cars and people.’’
The face on one of the suits turned thoughtful. “What’s the possibility of getting a zoning change for the park itself?’’ He looked out the window to acres of pristine woods and water. “That’s prime real estate, just going to waste!’’
The mayor glared pointedly at him, and then cut his eyes to Rhonda and me as if to make sure we noticed. “We’d never do anything to compromise this beloved park, or Himmarshee’s precious eco-system, for that matter. It’s what makes this part of Florida very unique.’’
I bit my tongue so I wouldn’t correct him again. Lord knows, Maddie drilled it into my head enough: Unique is unique. Something can’t be “very’’ unique. Even beyond his grammar, though, I wasn’t buying his words.
A frown creased the face of one of the suits, the gold watch guy who’d first gazed over the railing at the creek. “I’m still troubled a
bout the image of the community itself. Marketing Country Haven
as ‘How Things Were Back When’ is difficult with headlines screaming about a sexually tinged murder.’’
The mayor tugged at his collar. Swallowed a couple of times. He looked nervous. Stalling for time, maybe? The suit had a point.
“Mrs. Graf and myself were just discussing this at breakfast.’’
I could stand the mayor’s misspeaks no longer. “That’s ‘Mrs. Graf and I.’”
He looked confused. “You and her have talked?’’
Rhonda caught my eye; shook her head. “Never mind,’’ I said.
“Big city sin can touch even the most innocent of towns. Satan likes nothing more than to wreak havoc where he’s not wanted. He loves it when he can get his hooks into the weak and the idle.’’ His voice rose like a hell-fire preacher. “The point is, all this about the murder will be forgotten by the time we break ground.’’
“It won’t be forgotten by the victim’s friends and family,’’ Rhonda
said.
I nodded in agreement. “I’ll bet that’s exactly what’s troubling everyone who knew that poor girl: How will her brutal murder affect Himmarshee’s image?”
At least one of the suits had the good grace to look embarrassed
. But the mayor blustered on. “It was a horrible thing, but it’s over. Once we get this project off the ground, people are just going to be happy we’re bringing jobs and a boom to the tax base.’’
I think he meant
boon
. I said, “That’s assuming you do get it off the ground. Don’t underestimate how much people are tired of runaway growth. Maybe they don’t want yet another fake community to replace what’s real and natural about Florida.’’
One of the suits smirked. “Natural? Swamps and snakes? Bugs and humidity?’’ The others laughed.
He was hunting bear without a rifle, attacking my native state. Rhonda caught my eye again, though, and gave me the cease-and-desist glare. She’d heard me rant before about people who can’t appreciate Florida’s original beauty.
She said, “I think we can all agree we want what’s best for Himmarshee, and for justice. That’s where Mace comes in. Give her a
few days, and she’ll be on her way to solving Camilla’s murder. She’s
done it before.’’
A couple of the suits aimed curious looks at me. I wanted to hide again behind my bird. Sputtering, the mayor waved away Rhonda’s
comment. “That’s preposterous! I’m confident the police have it in hand. They hardly need a redneck Agatha Christie sticking her nose in.’’
“Mace isn’t a redneck,’’ Rhonda said.
“That’s all right, boss. If the boot fits
…
’’ I lifted my foot, showing off my size-ten clodhopper. Some dried manure flaked off the heel and onto the floor.
“Well, she’s not the dumb kind of redneck, anyway,’’ Rhonda said. “She’s super-smart, even if she isn’t great with people. She keeps her mouth shut and her eyes open. I’ll tell you right now, Mace might know who killed Camilla before the police do.’’
The mayor pulled at his collar again, wiped some sweat from his forehead. He gave me a suspicious look. “Irregardless,’’ he said, as I winced at the extra
ir
, “surely the police don’t encourage amateurs to help solve crimes?’’
“I don’t have a bull in this rodeo, Mr. Mayor. I didn’t even know
the victim. Besides, the Himmarshee police hardly need my help,’’ I said. “Carlos Martinez is the head of the homicide division, and he’s quite capable.’’
I didn’t elaborate that Carlos IS the homicide division.
“He earned his stripes solving murders in Miami,’’ Rhonda added.
“He’ll have this one wrapped up in no time,’’ I said.
The suit with the posh gold watch glanced at it. “I hope so. The sooner people forget about this murder, the more houses we can sell.’’
“I’m sure that will help Camilla’s soul rest in peace,’’ I said.
_____
It was quitting time. The mayor and his cronies had taken a couple of maps, and left to survey the park’s outlying areas. Along with the Corn Nuts and a Coke, one thing sustained me over the afternoon: The image of all those shiny black dress shoes and the mayor’s white loafers slogging through dank muck and soggy marshes. I only wished we’d had a drenching rain to make things worse.
In the parking lot, a huge Hummer commanded two spaces. I was sure it was the developers’ vehicle—a fitting symbol for an invading army. It sat in the full sun, soaking up heat. I hoped they all burned their legs on the Hummer’s black seats when they climbed in.
At the far end of the lot, the driver of a small school bus had wisely
parked under the shade canopy of a live oak. She read a paperback in the front seat while a field trip group finished up. The kids were getting close. Childish laughter and piping voices filled the woods.
I heard a car engine start as I was putting some research files about birds in the back of my Jeep. The first children were just beginning to lope into the parking lot from the nature path. They were hot on the trail of a squirrel, which was making for the safety of the oak tree.
“Slow down!’’ a teacher’s voice called out.
A cluster of kids raced after the leaders, trying to close the gap on the squirrel. Only a few children heeded the teacher’s command.
The car engine revved. With a squeal of tires, a dark sedan rocketed out of a blind parking space, hidden by the big Hummer. The car’s tinted windows were rolled up. I saw the faint outline of a man in a white T-shirt behind the wheel, talking on a cell phone. He wasn’t paying attention.
The children skipped excitedly across the lot. The squirrel scampered up the tree. Gaining speed, the car came closer. The kids were directly in its path.
“Watch out!’’ I shouted.
twenty-six
The attention of the
first boy in the line of children snapped from the squirrel to the speeding car. His eyes widened in fear. He seemed rooted to the pavement. The car came closer. Inside the parked bus, the driver pounded frantically on the horn:
Beep! Beep! Beeeeep!
Kids scattered. The teacher screamed. Just in time, the black car swerved.
Safe, but scared, some of the kids began to cry. As the teacher hustled toward them from the woods, she tripped and fell to the parking lot pavement.
When the car zoomed past, it was close enough that I could
see through the dark windows. The mayor was behind the wheel. He yakked away on his phone as if nothing had happened. As he sped for the exit, I saw a red-white-and-blue campaign sticker on his bumper: “A Mayor Should Care. Vote Graf.’’
I ran to help the teacher.
“Are you okay?’’
Wincing in pain, she tried to rise to one knee. She sank back to the asphalt. “The students?’’
I looked toward the bus. The driver was comforting everybody. Some had already taken their seats inside. “Fine. Probably a little shaken.’’
“I think I twisted my ankle.’’
I bent; she looped an arm around my neck. I hoisted her to her feet, steadying her at the waist. “Good thing you’re strong,’’ she said. “I’m not exactly a delicate flower.’’
“Me, neither.’’ I grinned. “Let’s get you over to the bus and the kids.’’
I quickly introduced myself.
“Elaine Naiman,’’ she said. “We’ll shake later.’’
She was pretty, in a studious-looking way: Thick, dark hair cut short; horn-rimmed glasses; a build that was sturdy but not fat. If Mama were here, she’d advise Elaine to grow out that glossy black hair. It was her best feature. And, of course, Mama would try to convince her to put on some Apricot Ice.
“I feel so stupid,’’ she said, as we slowly made our way to the bus. “I shouldn’t have brought the kids out here without an aide. But there were only ten signed up for the trip, and they seemed so disappointed when our aide called this morning to say she couldn’t make it.’’
She looked in the direction the car had gone. We could still faintly hear it, battering the boards of the bridge over Himmarshee Creek just before the park’s exit to the highway. “It’s a weird coincidence,’’ she said. “The aide had to cancel because some idiot on a cell phone ran a stop sign this morning and hit her car.’’
She shifted her weight, moaned. I paused, to give her a short rest
.
“Speaking of idiots,’’ she said, “who was driving the black sedan?’’
“You won’t believe it,’’ I said. “That was Himmarshee’s mayor.’’
_____
I sneezed when I walked through the door to the 19th Hole Lounge. The smell of cologne and spilled wine was so strong, it was like a punch in the nose. Everything in the bar was overdone: the laughs were too loud; the backslaps too hard; the hair and makeup on the women too much. The only thing that wasn’t too much was Angel’s outfit. That was too little, with a midriff top that barely skimmed the bottom of her breasts.
Men stood two deep at the bar—ordering, of course. But also ogling, perhaps wondering if the next time she reached for a top-shelf bottle, the blouse would ride up and reveal everything she had.
She was trim and taut, with bumps and curves in all the right spots. Even I had to admit, her body was hot. As the comedian Dom Irrera always said,
That don’t make me gay, does it
?
I didn’t want to spend too much time at a place that clearly wasn’t my style. But I did want to talk to Jason. I saw him on a stool at the end of the bar. He sat with his legs spread. The mayor’s wife stood between his knees, facing him and swaying slightly. Had she been out here all day, drinking?
I edged closer in the crowded bar so I could see and hear them. A burly guy with his arm around a big-boobed blonde provided the perfect camouflage. I slid onto a seat at a high-top table, hiding myself behind the big guy and busty babe.
“Aw, c’mon,’’ Beatrice said to Jason. “It’s just a little Sex on the Beach. I know for a fact you like that.’’
Jason raised an eyebrow at her.
“Them. I mean I know you like them.’’ She giggled. “Y’know, the
drinks
called Sex on the Beach.’’
“You’re a naughty girl.’’ He shook a finger at her. She bit it, and then sucked, doing an excellent imitation of a banana-eating contest I saw once during Spring Break in Daytona.
Jason grinned, and extracted his finger from her mouth. He moved
it south, tracing her bare cleavage. She closed her eyes and shuddered, and then placed her palm on his thigh. With a devilish smile, he lifted it, and moved it several inches closer to his lap. When she tried to kiss him, though, he bobbed his head out of her reach.
I looked around to see if anyone else was catching this action, and nearly fell off my stool when I noticed who was. The mayor sat alone, just a couple of seats away from his wife and the golf pro. He followed every move they made, his eyes glued to the mirror behind the bar. I expected him to jump up and pound Jason to a pulp. That’s what would have happened in most every bar I knew. Oddly, the mayor didn’t look angry. He looked interested, like a man watching a fascinating documentary. There was some other expression there, too, but I wasn’t sure just what. The bar was dark, and the mayor looked away when he caught me staring at him in the mirror.
Suddenly, I realized Jason was standing next to me. While I’d been preoccupied with trying to read the mayor, the pro had broken away from Beatrice.
“So, you came.’’
“Yep, been here awhile. I didn’t want to interrupt you, though. You looked like you were pretty into Mrs. Mayor.’’
“ ‘Into’ her. Good one.’’ He plucked a peanut from the bowl on my table, popped it into his mouth. “I’m just keeping the members happy. It’s part of the job.’’
“Maybe you should find another job.’’
“Why?’’ He sounded genuinely surprised. “I like it here, and I’m not hurting anybody.’’
I gestured down the bar with my chin. “Except her husband, maybe?’’
Jason’s gaze followed mine. He didn’t seem the least bit taken aback to see the mayor so close by. He smiled slyly. “Don’t be too sure of that.’’
Someone pinched my waist. Hard. A familiar voice rang out in the noisy bar. “Well, well, if it isn’t my daughter—my
engaged
daughter—talking to this handsome man. This handsome,
single
man.’’
I turned to see the Mama Glare aimed full force at Jason.
He dimpled, pouring on the charm. “I was just telling Mace about another gator we’ve found on the course. Don’t worry. I have no designs on her at all. We’re just friends. I still can’t get over the fact you’re her mom, though. You’re so beautiful; you seem far too young.’’
Mama thawed a bit.
“I know your husband, Sal. He brags about you all the time, saying how he can’t believe he managed to catch you. I have to say, though, all his bragging hasn’t done you justice. Sal’s a very lucky man.’’
Mama smoothed at her hair. Jason had her at “brags about you.’’
“What are you doing here?’’ I asked.
“Sal and I have an early dinner engagement. I was on my way to the Ladies when I spotted you.’’ She sniffed. “I smell manure. What’s that all over your boots, Mace?’
I grabbed a handful of peanuts, stuffed all of them in my mouth. Mama slid the bowl to the far side of the table, out of my reach.
“Calories, Mace. If you and Carlos ever do get married, you want to make sure we don’t have to push you down the aisle in a handcart.’’
I chewed. Mama shook her head. “Just like a cow and her cud. Where are your manners?’’ she said. “Now, why did you say you’re here?’’
“I didn’t,’’ I mumbled through a mouthful of peanuts.
“The gator. Mace helped trap our last one.’’ Jason shot me a look. “Remember?’’
Was he more clever than I gave him credit for?
“Rosie!’’ A Bronx bellow vibrated the air. Sal stood in the doorway, beckoning Mama. “Our table’s ready, sweetheart. C’mon, I’m hungry!’’
Jason waved at Sal. The big man waved back, and yelled across the room. “I’m ordering the steak, Mace—that big T-bone you liked so much.’’
Now that everyone in the lounge knew Sal’s and my meat preferences, Mama took her leave. But not before taking my peanut bowl. “Sal’s hungry, honey. And Lord knows you don’t need these.’’
When she was gone, Jason said, “Your mother’s a trip.’’
“Yeah, but no vacation,’’ I said. “So, you told me you’d fill me in on all the secrets of Himmarshee Links. I hope I didn’t waste the drive out here.’’
Jason looked around, leaned in close to whisper. I thought he was going to reveal something scandalous. Instead, I felt his hot tongue in my ear. Before I could smack him, Angel grabbed him from behind by the shoulder. It must have hurt, because Jason jumped off his stool and let loose with a few curse words. He spun around. When he saw who it was, the expression on his face turned in an instant from angry to contrite.
“Manager needs to see you in the office. Right now.’’ Her tone was brusque. “You’re probably in trouble. Again.’’
“Sorry, Angel.’’
He should have told
me
he was sorry, seeing as I was the one whose ear he tongued. Angel didn’t bother to acknowledge his apology. She just glared at him until he scurried away.
She took the spot he left, next to me. “You’re back.’’
“Yep. Jason promised to tell me all the dirty secrets about this place.’’
She snorted. “And you believed him?’’
“Why wouldn’t I?’’
“He’s trying to hit on you. There’s nothing to tell.’’
I looked at her. She looked back, seemingly assessing me the same way I was assessing her. Could I trust her? My concern for Maddie outweighed my suspicions about Angel telling the truth.
“I’m worried about my brother-in-law, Kenny. My sister hasn’t seen him in a couple of days. Something’s going on. I’m just trying to find out what.’’
“Why do you assume it’s something out here?’’
“Because all of this mess with Kenny and Maddie started when he suddenly got interested in golf. It’s so out-of-character, I just know there’s got to be a tie-in.’’
We eyed each other. Silence stretched between us.
“I hear you know Kenny better than you let on. He likes to hang out at your bar.’’
She shrugged. “So do a lot of other guys.’’
“Can you tell me anything about his friends? What he says? How he acts?’’ I said. “It’d mean a lot to me.’’
“I don’t know his friends, but I can tell you Kenny’s a stand-up guy.’’ Angel spun a cocktail straw like a tiny baton between her index and middle fingers. “He’s a good tipper.’’
Kenny? The same man who used a five-percent-off coupon for a three-dollar peach cobbler at the Pork Pit?
She stopped spinning the straw. “He’s not in any trouble, is he?’’
I thought about Maddie, and what she might do to her cheating
husband once she moved past the betrayal stage into rage. “Yeah, you could say Kenny’s in a little trouble.’’
“Well, whatever it is, it’s got nothing to do with the club. This is a family environment.’’
I looked around. Everyone was drinking heavily. Men flirted with anyone but their wives. A clutch of well-preserved women in their fifties surrounded Jason, who’d returned to the bar. One tweaked his nipple through his golf shirt; the rest giggled and urged her on like hormone-addled teenagers.
“Yeah, you’re right, Angel. This place is so wholesome I’m surprised you don’t have a spot in the bar just for Bible study.’’
I slid off the stool, gathered my purse, and headed for home. I’d need a hot shower to wash away the nasty images from the 19th Hole.
twenty-seven
“Ice cream man’s here!’’
Sal bulled his way through the kitchen door at Mama’s house, carrying two sacks filled with quart containers. Himmarshee had a brand new ice cream parlor. After I showered and ate a quick dinner at home, we’d all met up at Mama’s for a late evening sampling of their wares. No one had to twist our arms to help support local business, not when the business featured frozen flavors like Rodeo Red Velvet and Cracker Trail Coffee.
So far as I knew, the parlor had no plans to play off the local Speckled Perch Festival by naming an ice cream Fried-Perch Peach.
I fetched bowls from the cabinets; Marty got the spoons. Mama put out a couple of plates so the scoopers wouldn’t drip all over the table. Sal provided commentary as he lined up the ice cream:
“Here’s Kissimmee Kandy Kane. This one’s Chief Wild Cat Chocolate. Here’s Brahman Butterscotch, Growling Gator Tracks, and vanilla.’’
“Vanilla?’’ Mama said. “Couldn’t they come up with something more exciting?’’
“The girl in the shop told me vanilla is vanilla. No one felt inspired.’’
“Well, Maddie and I both love vanilla. They could have tried a little harder, don’t you think, honey?’’
Mama looked across the table at Maddie. She didn’t seem to realize
Mama was waiting for her to chime in on the virtues of vanilla. Maddie stared off into space, tracing her finger around the rim of her empty bowl.
“What say you, Maddie?’’ Sal said. “Can you think of a cute name?’’
“Just a spoonful or two, please. I’m not that hungry.’’
Maddie uninterested in wordplay
and
not hungry? Silent shrugs were exchanged.
Once all our bowls were filled, I asked Sal, “How was dinner at the golf course?’’
“Delicious! That place might be a little strange, but there’s nothing off about their food.’’
Maddie suddenly went as still as a rabbit when a hawk flies over.
“Strange how?’’ Marty asked. “
Mmm-mmm
, that chocolate flavor is good.’’
“Well, you can start with all the women with their big bazooms,’’ Mama jumped in before Sal could answer. “That can’t be natural, can it? Fifty-year-olds showing off their boobies like strippers. It’s not right.’’
“Add to that those hideous outfits the men wear to go golfing.’’ I slid a spoonful of Cracker Trail Coffee into my mouth. Heaven.
“Hey, we never complain when you ladies want to mix it up with the jazzy colors and patterns,’’ Sal said. “Golf gives men an excuse to strut our stuff, fashion-wise.’’
“That’s not the only strutting the men are doing out there,’’ Mama
tsked.
Maddie was so immobile, I wasn’t sure she was breathing.
“What do you mean?’’ Marty asked.
Mama leveled a stern look at Sal. “Do you want to tell them, or should I?’’
He grabbed for the carton of Brahman Butterscotch. With a pleading look, he held it out to Mama.
“I got this just for you, Rosie. I know how you love your butterscotch.’’
She turned, showing him the back of her head. Mama refusing butterscotch? Would the world soon stop spinning?
“Why don’t you girls ask my husband about men strutting?’’
“Which husband?’’ Marty said.
“I think she means her current one,’’ I offered.
Marty and I raised our eyebrows at Sal. Maddie regarded him seriously.
He waved a hand. “Your mother thinks I have a thing for the barmaid. It’s ridiculous.’’
Mama huffed. “Not so ridiculous when I had to wipe the drool off your chin after you got an eyeful of that mini-midriff she was wearing. Not that you were the only one staring.’’
“Everybody knows I only have eyes for you, Rosie.’’
“That’s true, Mama. It’s common knowledge,’’ Marty said.
Mama snorted. “I know one thing. That gal’s no natural blonde. Not with that olive skin and those dark eyebrows.’’
“Not a natural blonde, huh?’’ I rolled my eyes at Mama, the original peroxide-bottle belle. “The horror.’’
Teensy chose that moment to jump into Mama’s lap. Like furry sprinkles, a dusting of white dog hair settled on the ice-cream scoopers. “Gross!’’ I took them to the sink and rinsed them in super hot water.
“Do you mind, Mama?’’ Marty plucked the little dog off his owner’s lap and deposited him back on the floor. “I prefer my ice cream unadorned with shedding Teensy.’’
“Don’t pay any attention to them, darlin,’” Mama cooed to the dog. “You’ll never forget you’re mama’s baby. You’ll never forget what good care Mama takes of you, will you? Not like some ungrateful daughters I could mention.’’
Maddie finally moved, pushing her chair back. She’d tried just a few bites of ice cream.
“Didn’t you like it, Maddie?’’ Sal peered into her bowl. “There’s no dog hair in there.’’
“I need to make a phone call.’’ She took her cell into the living room.
I tried to steer the conversation back to the golf course again. I wanted to know what Sal thought was strange, because I certainly thought something was. “Sal, about what you said—’’
Mama shushed me. Putting her finger to her lips, she crept to the kitchen doorway to eavesdrop on Maddie. Marty followed. I began again. “The golf course, Sal—”
This time Marty put a finger to her lips; shook her head at me. Mama whispered: “I’m worried about your sister, Mace. Something’s wrong, and I aim to find out what!’’
From the other room, I could hear the faint electronic beeps of Maddie hitting the keypad on her phone. There was a pause. Then she spoke, her voice shaking with anger and frustration.
“Not voice mail again! Where are you? This is ridiculous. We need
to talk. You owe me that, at least. I’m leaving another message: ‘Call. Me. Back.’ ’’
The next thing we heard was the door close on the hallway bath
room. The pipes in the old house were noisy. Water running to the sink’s faucets sounded through the wall.
In a hushed voice, Mama asked, “What do you suppose that was all about?’’
She and Marty cocked their heads at me. I shrugged.
“She doesn’t sound happy,’’ Sal said.
“No kidding,’’ Marty said. “She’s not eating, either. Maybe she’s dieting to get into her yellow party dress. Maddie’s always in a bad mood when she diets.’’
“I wish she’d rethink that dress,’’ Mama said. “Very few people can wear bright yellow. I’m lucky I’m one of them.’’
From Maddie’s misery to Mama’s lovely skin tone, another record set.
“What do you suppose Kenny will wear?’’ Marty asked.
“Something new, I bet. Have you noticed he’s lost weight?’’ Mama said. “He looks great.’’
Sal scooped seconds of the Kissimmee Kandy Kane ice cream
into his bowl; considered for a moment, and then plopped in another
mound of chocolate, too. “Must be all the exercise he’s getting, playing golf,’’ he said. “Kenny’s making all sorts of new friends at the club.’’
From my angle, I could see Maddie, listening just outside the
kitchen door. Her face was damp and her eyes were swollen. I didn’t
let on she was there.
“He’d better not be getting too friendly with that barmaid,’’ Mama said. “Maddie will tee up for a hole-in-one right off his forehead.’’
“That’s a ridiculous idea, Mama,’’ Marty said. “Maddie’s not insanely jealous, like you. Besides, she has nothing to worry about with Kenny. He’s the most loyal husband on earth.’’
A stifled sob came from the hallway. Maddie rushed from the house, slamming the front door behind her. Teensy scampered to the window in the living room to watch her go. Within moments, a car engine started. Tires squealed. The dog’s fevered barking outlasted the sound of Maddie fleeing.
twenty-eight
“I don’t want to
make the call, Mace. You do it.’’
Maddie held a cocktail napkin with a phone number scribbled on it in lipstick. She’d found it deep in the pocket of a pair of Kenny’s slacks. Hand shaking, she shoved the napkin at me. I didn’t
want to make the call either. But this was my sister. I took the number.
I hadn’t waited around at Mama’s to hear any more of Teensy’s
yapping—not to mention any further dissection of Maddie’s strange
behavior. I made a quick excuse about having to be up early, and was out the door right behind her. I tailed her to her house.
Now, the two of us were in her living room. The telephone beckoned on a table between us. The room was so quiet, I could hear the motor whirring on the decorative fountain in Maddie’s front yard.
I punched in the phone number. It rang and rang, maybe a dozen
times, before someone finally answered. The clink of glasses and laughter echoed in my ear.
“19th Hole Lounge; Angel speaking.’’
I pressed down the button on the phone to disconnect.
“Who was it?’’ Maddie asked.
“Nobody,’’ I lied. “They never picked up.’’
“No answering machine? No voice mail?’’
I shrugged. “Maybe they can’t afford it.’’
I folded the napkin and slipped it deep into my pocket. I wasn’t going to make it easy for Maddie to call again. I wasn’t sure how
the golf course’s bar—and its gorgeous barmaid—played into Kenny’s
unfaithfulness. But I’d rather find out first than let Maddie assume the worst and act rashly. Angel didn’t seem like a good person to cross without having all the facts in hand.
Later, when Maddie’s mind was less burdened, she might think about hitting redial on her home phone. For now, the number was
hidden in my pocket. I tried to distract her. “Why don’t you try Kenny
again?’’
“I’ve dialed that number so many times the cramps in my fingers have cramps,’’ Maddie said. “I have the feeling he’s hiding out at his hunting camp. Would you go look for him? I’m so angry, I honestly don’t trust what I might do if I find him.’’
I knew Maddie was right about that. The mood she was in, she might just shoot him and mount his head like a hunting trophy on the wall. “Absolutely, I’ll go. If I find him, I’ll fetch him home again.’’ I didn’t say I’d probably knock some sense into the cheating bastard first.
“You can find it, right?’’
“Yep, I was just out there last winter when y’all had that big pig roast. It’s almost to the Okeechobee County line, not too far from the dump.’’
Maddie nodded. “I owe you one.’’ Her voice was so soft I had to lean in to hear her.
She looked miserable. It seemed every ounce of the self-confidence she’d always possessed had been sucked out. Putting my arm around her, I pulled her close. I wanted to protect her.
“You’d do the same for me, sister. You don’t owe me a thing.’’
I smoothed at Maddie’s fiery red hair, and brushed my lips against
her cheek. It tasted salty from the tears she’d shed.
