Mama Does Time

by Deborah Sharp

  I could see Maddie through the plate glass window, washed in a red glow from the emergency room sign. She was sitting in a nearly empty row of chairs. The set of her mouth was as hard as the steel bolts that screwed the chairs to the floor. Marty was beside her, staring into space and worrying the tissue in her hands into shreds.

  As soon as the doors to the waiting room swooshed open, my sisters jumped up as if they were stitched together.

  “Thank God!’’ Marty ran to me and threw her arms around my neck. The tears started to flow.

  “Come over here and let me take a look at you,’’ Maddie commanded, using her middle-school principal tone.

  With my knee aching and Marty still clinging to my neck, I inched across the floor toward Maddie. I untangled myself, and Maddie clasped me by the shoulders. She turned me in a complete circle. When we came face-to-face again, I thought I saw a glimmer of moisture in her eyes. It was probably just a reflection from the hospital’s bright lights. She patted my arm, which turned into an awkward, one-handed hug.

  “Mace, you had us so worried.’’ She let out a sigh of relief. “Donnie Bailey called to tell me about your accident. I’ve been wracking my brain for a way to break the news to Mama if you didn’t make it.’’

  I expected overreaction from Marty. Mama always says her nerves are too close to the surface of her skin. But not from Maddie. “You can see I’m fine,’’ I told her. “Didn’t Donnie tell you I was okay?’’

  “He did. But he also told us you were on your way to the hospital. Marty and I were afraid he just didn’t want to break the truth about how bad things were.’’

  “We were afraid,’’ Marty chimed in, sniffling into the tattered tissue.

  “That’s why we rushed over here to see for ourselves.’’ Maddie patted at me again. “Lord, Mace, I’m so glad to see you in one piece.’’

  “Your forehead is bloody.’’ Marty tenderly brushed my hair away from the cut. “What happened? Did you swerve to avoid a possum?’’

  My sisters knew I’d never hit any animal, not even a possum, if I could help it.

  “I didn’t swerve. I was run off the road.’’

  Alarm registered on Maddie’s face. Marty looked even more scared.

  Martinez had been standing by the check-in desk, studying a sign about insurance co-payments like it held the cure to cancer. I got the feeling he was more comfortable with my family arguing than with our affection. He cleared his throat, a loud rumble in the quiet waiting room.

  “There’ll be plenty of time for you to get into all that, Ms. Bauer. Now, you need to check in and let the doctor take a look at you.’’

  “Y’all remember Detective Martinez,’’ I said to my sisters.

  Maddie looked at him like he’d poisoned the fundraising candy for the middle-school band. “How could we forget him? He’s the man who put our poor mother into prison.’’

  “Jail, Maddie, not prison.’’ I figured I’d head off another vocabulary lecture on correctional facilities. “By the way, Detective.’’ I put some ice in my voice. “I spoke to the daughter of one of my mother’s bingo cronies today. I know you have some information about Mama’s trunk being empty of any murder victim last night while she was playing bingo. Playing bingo all night long, as it happens.’’

  The granite came back to his jaw. “I’m still gathering facts in relation to the investigation, Ms. Bauer. I’m not willing to go into those matters right now. Besides, I came here to make sure you get medical attention. And that’s what we’re going to do.’’

  “That’s true,’’ I conceded to my sisters, “he was nice enough to give me a ride here. And he’s promised to look into why Big Sal called me to meet him at the golf course, and then disappeared before I got there. If not for that call, I’d never have been way out that way in the first place, nor landed my Jeep in a canal.’’

  My sisters started talking over each other, peppering me with questions. Maddie was louder, of course. “What does Mama’s obnoxious boyfriend, have to do with anything?’’ she demanded.

  “You were in a ditch, Mace? Were there water moccasins?’’ Marty shuddered.

  Martinez stuck his hands into his pockets and slipped away. In a few moments, he returned with a middle-aged black woman. She had on a white coat. A stethoscope was draped around her neck. He stepped between my sisters and me and held up his hand to interrupt.

  “This is Dr. Taylor,’’ he said to me. “She says she can see you immediately.’’

  He turned to Marty and Maddie. “I’d appreciate it if you’d let your sister go now. The doctor’s going to examine her and run some tests. You can fill the admitting clerk in on all her insurance information. Then, I hope you’ll stick around to make sure she gets home safely.’’

  “Are you saying we wouldn’t do that anyway, Detective?’’ Maddie didn’t give him time to answer. “I know you’re accustomed to dealing with lowlifes and criminals, but you don’t need to tell decent people how to act.’’

  “Hush, Maddie.’’ Marty’s voice was soft but firm. “You’re not acting very decent right now. This man saw that Mace got here all right. I think we owe him gratitude, not rudeness.’’

  Maddie looked as if a rat had just run over her foot in her spotless kitchen. I was surprised, too. Marty never stands up to Maddie, not even mildly.

  Maddie harrumphed, but she shut up. She turned her back on the rest of us, and put her purse up tight against her chest, like a shield. She didn’t say thanks to Martinez. But she didn’t say anything else nasty, either.

  As I was walking into the examining room with Dr. Taylor, I saw Marty place a hand on Martinez’s arm. She was gently steering him away from our older sister and toward the emergency room exit to outside.

  ___

  Martinez was gone, but my sisters were still waiting when I came out after two hours, one brain scan, and a short argument over my refusal to wear a hospital gown. The gown fight I lost. But I won the scan, which was far more important. Dr. Taylor saw no evidence of damage to my hard head, so she cleared me to go home.

  Maddie was asleep sitting up, snoring softly. It’s a good thing the emergency room was empty. She’d be beside herself if she ever thought someone had seen her dozing—eyes closed, mouth open, defenses down.

  Marty leaned against a wall, one tennis-shoed foot propped up behind her. Eyes cast downward, she was fending off the attentions of two handsome guys in green hospital scrubs. One offered her a cup of coffee; the other looked like he was ready to offer her his heart. Happily married or not, Marty attracts men the way honey draws bears. Always has.

  “I’m back, better than ever,’’ I called from the doorway.

  Marty looked up with Mama’s radiant smile; Maddie rubbed drool from her chin and frowned. “Is it time for school yet?’’ she asked.

  “No, the kids have a few more hours of peaceful sleep before you’re back to terrorizing them,’’ I said.

  We were back to normal—except for the fact that our mother was still in jail.

  Marty extricated herself from her male fan club and joined us. “I’m so glad everything’s okay, Mace. What are we going to do next?’’ she asked.

  “I’m going home to a hot shower. My body’s aching like those Clydesdales from the beer commercial used me as a football. First thing in the morning, I’ll go back to visit our cousin Henry. I want to prod him for some idea what the state attorney’s office plans to do about Mama’s charges.’’

  “I might know a little something about that,’’ Marty said quietly.

  Maddie and I looked at her like she’d grown two heads. First she’d crossed Maddie; now she was offering an opinion. We knew our sister had gotten a promotion at the library. Was this more forceful Marty a result?

  “I’m not saying anything is certain.’’ Marty cast her eyes
to her shoes. “It’s just that I had the chance to talk to Carlos while you went off with the doctor.’’

  “Who the hell is Carlos?’’ Maddie asked me.

  I gave her a shrug.

  “Carlos Martinez. The detective,’’ Marty said.

  Maddie and I exchanged raised eyebrows.

  “What?’’ Marty said. “That’s the man’s name. Anyway, he spent a long day asking a lot of questions about Mama. He said he heard over and over what a good person she is. He was taken by surprise at the number of people who love her for one thing or another.’’

  “Mama’s lived all her life in Himmarshee, Marty. She’s popular,’’ Maddie said. “That’s not exactly a news flash.’’

  “Let me finish, Maddie. He said he was just doing his job when he put her in jail. It was the only way he could think of to figure things out after all of us showed up at the police department. He said he’s not as sure as he was that she belongs there.’’

  If we were Catholic and Marty was a man, she could have been a priest. She’s always been good at getting confessions.

  “How do you do that?’’ Maddie asked.

  “Do what?’’ Marty said.

  “Get people to open up.’’

  “I’m curious about that, too, Marty,’’ I said. “I just spent a couple of hours out in the country with Martinez. I never even knew his first name, let alone that he was thinking about letting Mama go.’’

  “I don’t think I do anything special. I just sit there and people talk.’’ Marty weighed what she wanted to say next. “But if you really want to know, Maddie, you have a tendency to judge. That might make it harder for folks to tell you things. And as for you, Mace, you give off the impression you’re more interested in animals than you are in people. So they might be reluctant to bother you with personal things.’’

  For Marty, that was scalding criticism.

  “I don’t mean to hurt your feelings, but you did ask,’’ she said quickly. “There is one other thing.’’

  “Well, go ahead and tell us, Marty. It’s not like you’ve held anything else back,’’ Maddie said.

  “Carlos is starting to believe Mama might know things about the murderer that she’s not even aware she knows. He wants to find out what they are before the knowledge brings her harm.”

  ___

  I was wound up after my sisters dropped me off at home. I stood for a long time under a hot shower, lathering with the rosemary and lemon soap that Mama claims will fight bruising. I can’t attest to its therapeutic qualities, but I can say that afterwards my skin smelled exactly like lemon chicken.

  I dragged out my ancient chenille robe and slipped on thin socks to sleep in. Then I had to lower the air conditioner a couple of notches. It was still September, which means full-blown summer in Florida. In addition to the swelter, we’d already had a close pass by one storm this hurricane season. Everyone dreaded the appearance of one with better aim.

  I threw back the comforter on my bed, fluffed my pillow, and climbed in. Then I proceeded to stare at the ceiling for the next fifteen minutes. The bedside clock read 2:10 am.

  The aroma coming off my body reminded me of the chicken I’d stashed in the ’fridge the night before, when Mama called from jail. It called me to the kitchen.

  After I polished off the chicken, I ate some tortilla chips with a bowl of my homemade salsa. It’s strong enough to blow the back of your head all the way to Guadalajara. My stomach grumbled in protest. Now, sleep really did seem a long way off.

  Opening a beer, I sat down at the computer and killed off a bunch of spam. I checked tomorrow’s weather—hot, but at least no new storms—and looked at some news headlines. There was an item from Orlando about a dust-up at one of the theme parks. A disgruntled parent, who’d spent too long in line under a searing sun, decked a costumed character. The last name of the man inside the cartoon-dog suit happened to be Martinez. That got me to thinking about Marty’s new best friend, and what he might be planning next. His mysterious past had already made me curious. Since he opened up to my sister, he seemed even more interesting.

  I found the news archives for the Miami Herald and typed in a search with Martinez’s name and the words “police department.” When the first story popped up, my heart skidded into my stomach.

  Martinez’s pregnant wife had been murdered in their Miami home.

  I awoke to the smell of coffee brewing in my kitchen. I leaned over to make sure there wasn’t a pair of men’s shoes sitting under my bed. A shooting pain in my forehead reminded me that my noggin got a pretty good knock when I crashed. But even with a concussion, I think I might have remembered having sex. That’d be like forgetting your first bite of chocolate layer cake after being on a six-month fast.

  Make that an eight-and-a-half-month fast.

  My head was pounding. But I managed to scan under the bed and across the floor. Nope. Nothing but worn pine planks and dust bunnies. Looks like I still hadn’t tasted that chocolate cake. The only footwear in sight was mine.

  I got out of bed, grabbed my granddaddy’s shotgun from the closet, and crept to the bedroom door. I didn’t think a murderer would go to the trouble of making me coffee before he killed me, but you can’t be too careful.

  Peeking around the doorjamb, I spotted a familiar hand spilling three teaspoons of sugar into each of two coffee cups on the kitchen counter. As I propped the shotgun against the wall, I suddenly felt all the pains I hadn’t realized I’d had. My shoulder throbbed. My knee ached like Great Aunt Ella’s arthritis in December. I limped out of hiding.

  “I don’t take that much sugar, Maddie. Marty’s the one who likes her coffee just like yours.’’

  My older sister turned around, smiling in the sunlight that streamed through my window. “Well, hey, Sleepyhead. I wondered whether you were ever getting up.’’

  Leave it to Maddie to sound so uncharacteristically chipper at an inappropriate time, like first thing in the morning. I mumbled a bad word, moved slowly to the counter, and waved at her to hand over the cup of too-sweet coffee.

  “You’ll be sorry you’re being such a grump after I tell you my good news, Mace. Henry called me this morning. Apparently he tried to call you, too.’’ She aimed me a look. “But he kept getting your answering machine.’’

  I glanced at the clock over the sink and rubbed my eyes. Twenty ’til eleven. I must have been dead to the world.

  “Henry says they’re letting Mama out. The state attorney’s office has decided not to charge her.’’

  I felt tears rising. The effort of blinking really fast to stop them hurt my head, so I collapsed into a kitchen chair and just let them come.

  “I know, Mace. I felt like crying, too.’’ She pulled a paper towel from the kitchen roll and handed it to me. “Those are tears of relief, is what those are. This has all been just too much, hasn’t it? Drink your coffee now. I’ll do up this mess of dishes you left in the sink. My kitchen is always spotless before I go to bed.’’

  Not even my tears could deflect criticism from Maddie, who’s a toothbrush-on-your-knees-type house cleaner. I’m more from the one-swipe-of-the-mop-every-six-months school.

  She made a face as she picked up a bowl with hardened salsa in the bottom. “Henry says they’re going to release her after lunch sometime.’’ She shot a squirt of dishwashing liquid at the salsa and started scrubbing. “He says he’ll give a call when we can go to the jail to pick her up.’’

  Maddie mentioning jail reminded me of what I’d found on the computer about Detective Martinez. I decided to tell both my sisters at once. They’d surely have questions. And, seeing how Maddie was right in the middle of washing up for me, I didn’t want to distract her.

  She lifted an empty beer bottle off the counter and held it up. “Just how much of this stuff do you drink, Mace? Do you thin
k it’s smart to overdo it with liquor when you’ve just suffered a brain injury?’’

  “Beer’s not liquor, Maddie. It’s beer. And the doctor said my head is fine. One bottle is hardly overdoing it.’’

  “I’m just telling you to watch yourself. You know Daddy’s family had more than its share of drunks.’’

  I had a vague memory of a family picnic that ended in a fistfight after Daddy’s brother Teddy got tossed into a jumbo-sized vat of potato salad.

  “Thanks for the warning,’’ I said. “Now, I’ve got to call into work and explain why I’m so late.’’

  “I already took care of that for you. Everything at the park is squared away. I talked to your boss. I caught her up about your accident, and told her how much you needed some time off. Rhonda said to go ahead and take what you need. She did mention something about a New Jersey woman with a panther, but I didn’t catch all that.’’

  I counted slowly to five. It didn’t work. “I wish you wouldn’t do that, Maddie.’’

  “Do what?’’

  “Step into my life and take over.’’

  Maddie looked wounded. “I was just trying to help.”

  “Well, it’s embarrassing. I’ve already got one mother. And I can manage things fine on my own.’’

  Maddie took a long look around my little house, with the dust on the kitchen countertops, my clothes in a heap where I’d left them on the living room floor, and Paw-Paw’s old shotgun leaning against the wall in the hallway.

  “Hmmm.’’ There was more meaning packed into that little sound and her cocked eyebrow than into a whole half-hour lecture.

  I got defensive. “Things aren’t normal right now, Maddie. Mama’s been unjustly accused of murder. Someone may have tried to kill me last night. And we still don’t know who murdered Jim Albert, and why they planned to let Mama take the blame for it.’’

  Maddie dried off my beer glass. She examined it as she held it up to the light. “You’re right, Mace.’’