2 On the Nickel

by Maggie Toussaint

  “It’s Mama,” I admitted flatly. My conscience warned me to keep my mouth shut, that this might blow over. Then again, it might not. But if I kept this worry inside, I would surely end up in the nuthouse. I needed to tell Jonette. “She got into a fight with Erica Hodges at Ladies Outreach meeting two days ago.”

  Jonette’s jaw dropped, forming a perfect O in her heart-shaped face. “Your mom beat up that old biddy? And you didn’t call me?”

  “It didn’t come to blows, but they were inches from it.” Now that I’d opened the floodgates, words bubbled out. “Mama moped around Monday afternoon and Tuesday, too. She didn’t watch her soaps, and she hasn’t said a word about the food I’ve served. She went straight to bed after her hospitality meeting last night. It’s like someone reached inside and turned Mama off. I’m worried.”

  Jonette’s amber-flecked eyes rounded. “I see what you mean. Ordinarily, Delilah would be breathing fire and plotting ways to get back at Erica by now. Shutting down isn’t her style.”

  My head pounded something fierce. Using the heels of my hands, I massaged my throbbing temples. “If that isn’t enough to worry about, Charlie has been helpful lately. He drove both girls to the office supply store and endured their back-to-school shopping without complaint.”

  It took me two years to put my life back together after my divorce from Charlie Jones. I’d finally come to terms with my new existence. But the rules of life kept changing on me. I didn’t know how to handle a nice Charlie or a quiet Mama.

  Jonette inhaled sharply and went statue still. “What’s he up to?”

  “He’s sucking up to me. To make me think he’s changed.”

  My friend’s hand went to her throat. “You’re not buying his con job, are you?”

  A twosome from our golf league whizzed past. I leaned close to Jonette. “Get this. He paid his child support check a week early this month. I didn’t have to remind him about it.”

  “Something is definitely up with him. Watch your back and your front, too.” Jonette frowned. “Are the girls okay?”

  “Charla and Lexy are fine. They love this extra parental attention. Charla talks nonstop about getting her driver’s license in a few months, and Lexy plans to join the high school yearbook staff.”

  “How’s Madonna?”

  I inherited my very pregnant, short-haired Saint Bernard from a friend who’d been murdered. “She’s rounding out. Sleeping all the time. I still can’t believe we’re having puppies.”

  “I can hardly wait.”

  Jonette wanted one of the puppies, but I had no idea what to do with the rest of the batch. “Sell them,” the vet had said. My immediate reaction had been: No way! Making a profit on Madonna’s offspring was coldly wrong. Especially since she’d saved my life.

  “What about the hot affair?” Jonette asked. “What’s the word on that?”

  Heat streamed from my cheeks. “A few scheduling problems, but hot just the same.”

  A big grin lit Jonette’s face. “All that sneaking around put pep in your step this summer. And the man absolutely lights up when he sees you. I wish Dean reacted the same way to me.”

  Dean was Jonette’s sixth try at finding true love. It tore me up that she was unhappy again. When was it going to be her turn? “I thought things were better between you two.”

  Jonette’s expressive face fell. She seemed fascinated with the card clip on the steering wheel. “I’m thinking about leaving Dean, but I can’t afford to lose my job, too.”

  Dean owned the Tavern, where Jonette worked as a barmaid. If Dean couldn’t see how special Jonette was, he was toast as far as I was concerned. “Ouch. Tough call there.”

  “No kidding. But, it’s not like either one of us is interested in someone else. Dean and I are comfortable together, like a pair of old shoes.”

  Another cart of lady golfers motored past on the sun-dappled cart path. I wished I knew what to tell Jonette. My experience with males was limited to two men, Charlie and Rafe. Charlie was oatmeal to Rafe’s Belgian waffle. Inspiration struck.

  Maybe Dean was oatmeal, too. “You deserve new shoes. If Dean isn’t up to par, you need to go shopping.”

  “Good morning, ladies. What are we shopping for?”

  My head whipped around to the source of that deep voice. Built like a fireplug, Detective Britt Radcliff gave the impression bad guys didn’t stand a chance against the mighty forces of law and order. His thunderstorm-gray eyes danced with laughter.

  “Shoes,” I said, chewing my bottom lip.

  “Definitely shoes,” Jonette echoed with mock solemnity.

  “Right.” Britt’s grin faded. But his cop face didn’t scare me. He’d been my Sunday school teacher and self-proclaimed protector ever since I could remember. “I need to talk to you, Cleo.”

  My throat constricted as possible implications of a visit from a cop leaped into my head. I had visions of twisted metal and precious blood spilled. I jumped out of the golf cart in alarm, my red Titleist cap tumbling to the ground. “My kids!”

  I’d moved too fast, and the world went dark. Temporary blackouts were an annoying side effect of low blood pressure. I clawed my way out of darkness to find Britt holding me by my forearms and Jonette at my side.

  “Your kids are fine.” Britt’s scowling face filled my field of vision. “You sure you’re not in a family way?”

  Giddy relief flooded my foggy brain. My daughters were safe. I pushed at the strong, capable hands that supported me. “I’m not pregnant. Why did you scare me like that?”

  “But she could be.” Jonette poked me in the ribs with her elbow. “She has an active sex life these days.”

  “Shush, Jonette.” I stepped out of Britt’s reach, leaned against the cart, and hugged my arms to my chest. “If it’s not the girls, is it Mama?”

  “Delilah is fine, as far as I know.” Britt shoved his hands in the pockets of his tan slacks. “I’m here because of the trouble at the Ladies Outreach Committee meeting on Monday.”

  My stomach clenched and my breath hitched. “I don’t understand. Is there an official complaint against Mama?”

  “I’m afraid so. Erica Hodges filed an incident report yesterday. Two witnesses confirmed that Delilah threatened Erica during the meeting. Do you know what’s going on?”

  Fire brimmed in my veins. But before I could get a word out, Jonette beat me to it. “I’ll tell you what’s going on,” she said. “Erica Hodges is a trumped-up, royal pain in the ass, that’s what. She lords her blue-blooded heritage over the rest of us peons. If Delilah threatened her, she deserved it.”

  I tried to breathe normally. The girls were okay. Mama was okay. Erica was a puke, but that was old news. Bending down, I picked my cap off the grass and snugged it on my head. “I was there and overheard the exchange. Mama didn’t threaten Erica. She suggested Erica should mend her ways. Mama was upset because Erica ruined the circus outing they’d spent months planning. For sick children.”

  “Upset or not, Delilah can’t go around issuing terroristic threats. Can you talk some sense into her?”

  I managed a choking laugh. “Mama is practically a force of nature. She marches to her own beat.”

  “She better watch what she says. Erica is pretty stirred up about this.” He studied me for a long moment. “Those guns still under your bed?”

  My breath caught in my throat. “How do you know about that?”

  “It’s my business to know these things. Keep the guns away from Delilah until this settles down. Let’s be smart about this.”

  The guns weren’t the problem. Mama was. She didn’t take direction well. Never had. Never would. “I’ll see what I can do.”

  “Be assertive. And nosy,” he said.

  A short blast of air puffed out of my nostrils. “You didn’t think my nosiness was good a few months ago. You told me to keep my nose out of police business.”

  Britt’s weight shifted onto the balls of his feet, his shoulders went back, and his arms tense
d. His police detective eyes pinned me to the golf cart. Potential energy hummed in the air. “Should I take Erica’s complaint seriously?”

  A deep chasm opened between us with that question. I respected law and order, but family loyalty put me squarely in Mama’s corner. If Britt came after Mama, he’d be coming after me, too.

  Dread constricted my chest. I hated being on the wrong side of the law. But I hadn’t done anything wrong. Neither had Mama. Unless you counted her shooting her mouth off, which was an everyday occurrence.

  “Of course not.” I blinked furiously. “Jonette’s right. Erica’s a bully. She participated in the argument one hundred percent.”

  He held my gaze until I squirmed. Britt trusted me to tell him the truth. Every accountant knew that increasing the number of data points increased precision and accuracy. I didn’t have enough data points for this conflict between Mama and Erica. All I had was the sinking feeling that my life was about to get messy again.

  In the sudden silence, Britt’s radio on his hip squawked. I startled at the burst of noise. Britt’s focus shifted as he responded. I leaned forward, straining to decipher the abbreviated police jargon. Britt uttered a terse response and turned to face us again. Waves of tension radiated from him. Harsh lines etched into his rugged face.

  “What is it? What happened?” I asked.

  “Police business downtown. Go home and stay out of trouble.” Britt fixed me with another stern glare and hurried away.

  Reasons for Britt’s urgent summons tumbled through my head, none of them good. The possibility of more mayhem in Hogan’s Glen sent my stomach on a terrifying roller-coaster ride. Flying too fast. Free-falling too long.

  Nervous heat poured off my body. Cold sweat beaded in my hairline, pooled down the rigid channel of my spine.

  “You all right?” Jonette asked, touching my shoulder.

  “Not exactly.”

  “You look like you’ve had a terrible shock.”

  “Gee, thanks.” I studied my two-toned shoes. “The police radio. That sound of electronic static.” I took three deep breaths. “I feel like I’m standing outside in that moment before a storm when the light thins. That twilight moment is upon me.”

  “Wow. That’s deep. I never thought about a storm that way before.”

  “I can’t shake this feeling. It feels like . . . you’re gonna think I’m crazy.”

  Jonette implored me to continue with a wave of her hand.

  I hated this helpless, skittering feeling. I tossed my hat back into the cart. My fingers sought a hank of hair and held on tight. “I can’t shake this awful feeling in my gut. That call Britt just got, I can’t stop thinking about it. What if that call is something terrible?” I met Jonette’s anxious gaze. “Britt was headed downtown. Did you hear anything else?”

  Her face scrunched. “Something about the Episcopal church.”

  The pounding in my head turned to thunder. My family belonged to Trinity Episcopal. Worse, Mama, Francine, and Muriel were meeting at the church this morning to plan the Sunday school hostess schedule for the fall.

  I stilled. “You going home like Britt ordered?”

  “Hell no.” Jonette snorted. “Detective Dumb-as-Dirt can’t tell me what to do. I’m headed to the church. Aren’t you?”

  I managed a breath and climbed in the cart. “You bet. But you drive. I can’t think straight.”

  Chapter 2

  Jonette zoomed out of the golf course parking lot, turning right in front of a speeding pickup truck. My life flashed before my eyes. Images roared through my head in horrifying succession.

  A scream ripped from my throat. I braced for impact. The blue truck honked loudly and swerved onto the grassy shoulder to avoid hitting us.

  She glanced at me over the top of her leopard-print sunglasses, her expression the picture of innocence. Her right hand fluttered through the air. “What?”

  My fingers were embedded in the arm rest. “Get us there in one piece.”

  Jonette grinned. “He missed me by a mile.”

  I glared at her. “He missed us by inches. Pay attention.”

  “Don’t be such a wet blanket, Clee.” Jonette’s hands came off the wheel to emphasize her point. The car veered toward the fog line. “I’m a good driver.”

  My stomach lurched. “You’re an accident waiting to happen. If that truck hit us, we’d be goners. Not even the Jaws of Life could save us.”

  “Hey. This is a fine car.” Jonette patted the dusty dashboard. “Don’t you go knocking my two-thousand-dollar car. It gets me where I need to go.”

  I glanced at the stalled traffic before us, and my heart stuttered. “Slow down. That van up ahead is turning.”

  She slammed on brakes at the last minute and stopped short. Behind us, tires squealed on the pavement. If we got hit from behind, we’d need firemen to put out the flames.

  “I thought you’d be less bitchy once you got laid on a regular basis,” Jonette said. “You ought to ask your doctor about a prescription mood enhancer.”

  My blood pressure spiked. Jonette had no right to criticize my moods. Sure, I was wound tight, but I had good reason. Living with two teenaged daughters, a pregnant dog, and an independent woman would wind anyone tight.

  “You’re driving like a maniac. Cool it,” I said. “Charla will be driving on this road in a few months. Do I have to ground you every time she gets behind the wheel?”

  Jonette’s lower lip jutted, but her hands stayed put on the steering wheel. “I’d never do anything to hurt Charla. You know that.”

  A mail truck pulled off to insert letters in a roadside mailbox. Jonette accelerated around the mail truck, scooting over the double yellow lines into the lane of oncoming traffic. My feet jammed into the floorboard. I closed my eyes and prayed aloud. “Dear God.”

  She veered back into our lane. My eyes popped open. “I’d like to live long enough to see my children graduate from college.”

  “We’re almost there, ’fraidy cat.”

  Jonette parked on Main Street a block away from the church. I pried my fingers off the vinyl armrest and stumbled from her death trap of a car. My heart raced faster than an Olympic athlete’s.

  I rolled my eyes at my friend. “You ever put me through that again and I’ll kill you with my bare hands.”

  She tossed her sunglasses on the dash and flashed me a megawatt smile. “Promises, promises.”

  I turned my attention to the imposing stone church. What had happened in the shadow of the tallest steeple in town? Please, dear Lord, don’t let Mama be in the middle of this. My uneasy feeling grew at the sight of the two uniformed officers guarding the driveway entrance to Trinity Episcopal.

  Jonette wormed her way through the crowd as I held on to her car and tried to steady my racing heart. Britt was nowhere in sight. I spotted my elderly next-door neighbor, Mrs. Waltz, headed my way. She was eighty going on a hundred and ten, with her gray bun coiled tightly on top of her head. Her pale green polyester slacks outfit reminded me of pistachio ice cream. “What’s going on?” I asked, sounding calmer than I felt.

  “Car wreck in the church lot.” Mrs. Waltz leaned heavily on her wheeled walker. Her breath came in short huffs. “What happened to your hair?”

  “Golf hat.” I ruffled my limp hair self-consciously. I should have left my hat on. “Was anyone hurt in the crash?”

  From attending this church all my life, I knew the layout of the rear parking lot intimately. If there was a car wreck back there, it couldn’t be too serious. There was only one place, the circular loop connecting the back paved rectangle to Main Street, where there was any room to go faster than a crawl. While I was thinking this, a part of me was also thinking, Please don’t let Mama be back there.

  “Don’t know, and I’m not waiting to find out.” Mrs. Waltz maneuvered her walker around the island I made on the sidewalk. She muscled it over a bit of grass and back onto the concrete. “Got to keep moving or my joints will seize up.”

&nbs
p; “Nice seeing you,” I called to her back.

  Jonette returned, looking puzzled.

  “Well?” I asked.

  “I didn’t get much. No one is allowed on the church property.” Jonette did an empty-handed gesture. “I spoke to two of your mother’s friends. Muriel and Francine were working in the church office when the police evacuated the building. Muriel is miffed because they won’t release her car from the rear parking lot.”

  That shaky feeling in my knees returned. The hair on the back of my neck stirred. “Muriel is always miffed about something. She’ll get over it. Did you see Mama?”

  Jonette shook her head. “She’s not here. Muriel and Francine said Delilah stood them up today.”

  Relief flashed through me, closely followed by annoyance. “Where is she?” I hoped she wasn’t over at Erica Hodges’ house beheading Erica’s chrysanthemums again. Or over at the newspaper spreading rumors about Erica to the gossip columnist.

  “I asked her friends. They don’t know where she is.”

  Another thought broadsided me. What if Mama hadn’t made it because she’d been in the parking lot accident? I shivered. “Is her car parked back there?”

  Jonette patted my shoulder. “Chill, Cleo. Delilah’s not here. That’s good news. Let’s not invite trouble.”

  “You’re right.” No need to invite trouble; it came whether you wanted it or not. But I couldn’t shut down my worry machine. Dread crept from my bones into my blood.

  I shook my head to clear it. “Why is our entire police force here?”

  Jonette shrugged. “Don’t have a clue.”

  “Mrs. Waltz said it was a car wreck. Did you hear anything about a collision?”

  “Not a peep.”

  The stone front of the church looked cold and forbidding, no easy feat in the heat of August. It’s normally welcoming red double doors reminded me of spilled blood. My knees wobbled, and I willed them to hold me. Don’t borrow trouble, I reminded myself.

  Except for the driveway to the rear parking lot, the structure of Trinity Episcopal filled the block on the Main Street side. It was maddening to be so close and still be clueless. “Let’s sneak around back.”