“Newcomer asshole,’’ I muttered.
“Language, Mace.’’
Mama was momentarily distracted from the Maddie issue by the prospect of the wild driver in the SUV killing someone, like us. I didn’t mention that a ruined party barely registered on Maddie’s problem-o-meter right now.
In the distance, the salon’s sign beckoned. A huge pair of mechanical purple scissors snipped at the air. The SUV pulled out to pass again, terrifying a white-haired couple in a Buick, and earning a one-fingered salute from the cattle-hauling cowboy.
I prayed we’d make it without the SUV causing a crash. If we did, it’d be the first time I was ever relieved to pull in under those scissors to park at Hair Today Dyed Tomorrow.
thirty
“Oh my goodness! My hair looks a fright.’’
Mama caught a glimpse of herself in the mirrored walls of Betty Taylor’s shop. I trailed her into the salon, toting her box filled with aromatherapy candles and Color Me Gorgeous pamphlets.
“Windswept hair is the price you pay for sticking your head out the window to scream at rude drivers, Mama.’’
D’Vora glanced at us. Then she ducked her head and hurried into the stock closet. I was beginning to take her avoidance personally.
“What’s up with her?’’ I asked Betty, as I put down Mama’s supplies.
She shrugged. As she stood back to examine the haircut on the woman in her chair, I realized it was the dark-haired teacher from the scary incident with the kids at Himmarshee Park.
“Elaine, right? How’s the ankle?’’ I asked her.
A smile slowly replaced her look of confusion. “Oh, hi! I didn’t recognize you since I’m not hanging on to your neck and limping.’’ Lifting her leg under the purple drape, she showed off her taped ankle. “Not bad. Still swollen. I won’t be running around after the kids for a while.’’
The bells at the front door jangled. An older woman entered. Another customer waited to pay at the cash register .
“D’Vora, get out here! I’m busier than a short-tailed cow in fly season.’’ When Betty yelled, the young stylist came running.
Nodding a quick hello at Mama and me, D’Vora rang up the departing customer, and then settled the new one in a chair at the shampoo sink. I took a seat. Since I had to work over the weekend, I had the day off from the park. There was no better place in town than Hair Today to catch up on gossip, both useful and not.
I introduced Elaine to Mama. Exactly as I predicted, she offered the teacher some advice: “Honey, your hair is so pretty. You ought to let it grow out.’’
“Welcome to my world, Elaine. My mother’s not one to hold back on helpful beauty tips. Helpful tips of any sort, actually.’’
The teacher’s dark eyes sparkled. She seemed more amused than offended. “I’ll give it some thought, Rosalee.’’
I filled everyone in on how the mayor had nearly run down Elaine’s school class.
“I’ve done some checking up on that man. People say he bought the election. I didn’t like him before. Everything I’ve heard since makes me like him even less,’’ Elaine said.
“Join the club,’’ I said. “He’s bringing in some developers to build a big subdivision right next to Himmarshee Park; maybe even pave over the park itself.’’
“Our nature park?’’ Betty turned Elaine’s head back to the mirror. “Can he do that?’’
“This is Florida,’’ I said. “Anything’s for sale if the price is right. I made an appointment for this afternoon to talk to him about it. Mama’s coming along for moral support. Right, Mama?’’
She fluffed her hair. “It’s more like I’m coming along to charm the mayor. We all know which of us loses her temper and who smoothes things over.’’
“I can certainly understand losing your temper about the prospect of ruining that lovely park.’’ Elaine said. “When my family visited from Canada, that’s the first place I took them.’’
“See if you can find out anything from the mayor about that poor girl’s murder,’’ Betty said. “The sooner we know what happened, the safer I’ll feel.’’
I noticed D’Vora hadn’t chimed in on the conversation. Not on the prospect of development, our sleazy mayor, or the murder. She didn’t even ask where Canada was. She concentrated on her shampoo job like she was curing cancer.
“Seriously, Betty … what’s wrong with D’Vora?’’ I whispered.
“Man trouble, I’ll bet.’’ Betty whispered back. “That man of hers fell out of the loser tree and hit every branch coming down.’’
More loudly, she called out, “D’Vora, you’re so quiet you’re scaring the customers. Is that no-account Darryl up to no good again?’’
D’Vora shook her head, kept right on scrubbing at the customer’s hair. Scabs were probably forming on the poor woman’s scalp by now.
Under her breath, Betty caught us up: “She tells me that mo-ron bought brand new custom wheels for his truck, even though they can barely cover the rent. I guess that’s better, though, than him being out there spending money on other women.’’
“Oh, I’ve been there,’’ Mama said. “My girls have been a lot luckier picking out men than I was. Well, it took Mace a while, but she’s got a keeper now.’’
Betty sighed. “That Carlos is sure gorgeous! Such thick, dark hair. And skin that looks like buttered rum. You’re a lucky girl, Mace.’’
“They all three are,’’ Mama said. “Marty and Maddie got a couple of princes, too.’’
A troubled look flitted across D’Vora’s face. She finally joined in, abruptly changing the subject to the charms of the golf pro. “I saw him at Gladys,’ speaking of men. He’s one tasty-looking hunk.”
“I don’t get the attraction of golf,’’ Elaine said. “Hitting a little ball all day? Bor-Ing!’’
“Golf may be God’s dullest gift to the world of sports, but D’Vora’s right about the pro,’’ I told her. “This guy will make you want to find the sweet spot.’’
Mama slapped my hand.
“Ouch! I meant on a golf club, Mama. That’s where you’re supposed to hit the ball.’’
She narrowed her eyes at me. “That boy’s forbidden fruit, Mace. You’re almost a married woman. You’re spoken for.’’
“‘Spoken for?’ What am I, a heifer at the Himmarshee Livestock Auction?’’
Elaine smiled.
“You know what I mean,’’ Mama said. “Once you’re engaged, you cannot waltz around flirting with anything in pants.’’
“Since when have I done that?’’
Betty butted in, nipping our squabble in the bud. “Speaking of flirting, I saw Sal’s man-crazy cousin C’ndee at the Booze ’n’ Breeze drive-thru. She told me about some of that Italian food she’s serving for Kenny’s party. I can’t pronounce it, but it sure sounded good. Who’s that Jersey sparkplug seeing these days?’’
Mama slapped her forehead. “I can’t believe I forgot to tell y’all. Guess who’s been beating his head against the wall, trying to get C’ndee to go out with him.’’
A salon full of women raised their eyebrows at Mama. Even D’Vora stopped her torture by towel. She cocked her head, waiting. Mama hadn’t shared any C’ndee gossip in awhile, so this news was bound to be fresh.
“Who?’’ D’Vora asked.
“Guess.’’
Not this routine again.
“The music director at Abundant Forgiveness,’’ Betty said.
“Nope.’’
“The cook at the Pork Pit,’’ said D’Vora.
“Guess again.’’
“Juan, from Juan’s Auto Repair and Taco Body Shop,’’ offered Elaine.
Mama shook her head.
“Oh, for God’s sake, Mama. We don’t have all day. Who?’’
“The honorable Big Bill Graf. Our new mayor.’’
Mama looked satisfied when the woman at the shampoo sink gasped. She peeked out from under D’Vora’s towel. “But he’s married! Didn’t he run on a family v
alues platform?’’
Betty waved off the question with her purple comb. “He sure wouldn’t be the first hypocrite to hold office.’’
Mama lowered her voice. “Now, I’m the very last one to countenance cheating, but have you met Mrs. Mayor? That woman always looks like she’s been sipping vinegar. What a sourpuss! Maybe the mayor wanted somebody cheerful and lively for a change.’’
“C’ndee is lively all right,’’ I said.
“She has some real fun events planned for Kenny’s birthday party,’’ Betty said. “Maddie and Kenny must be looking so forward to it. What a celebration they’re going to have.’’
D’Vora dropped a big bottle of shampoo. When all of us looked her way, she tossed the towel on a chair and pointed her chin at the customer, “She’s ready for you, Betty.’’
She hurried toward the door, averting her eyes from Mama and me. “Sorry, I’ve got to run an errand real quick.’’
She left the shampoo bottle where it fell. The bells jangled as the door swung shut.
“Weird,’’ Elaine said.
Mama and Betty exchanged knowing smiles. “Want to bet the errand has something to do with her checking up on her man?’’ Mama said.
“Nothing like hearing someone else’s husband is cheating to make you suspect your own,’’ Betty added.
I didn’t think it was Darryl troubling D’Vora. Why was she avoiding Mama and me? Did she know something about Kenny and Maddie she didn’t want to talk about?
I followed her out the front door to find out.
thirty-one
D’Vora sat across the street,on a bench under a magnolia tree in the courthouse square. She faced the building, where a handful of clerks and legal workers were arriving to start their day. I watched her for a while. She was fidgeting with the hem of her purple smock and chewing at her thumb like it was a Tootsie Roll.
I crossed the street and sidled up behind her. “Hey,’’ I said, and she nearly jumped off the bench.
“You scared me!’’
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to.’’ I pointed at the space next to her. “Mind if I sit for a bit?’’
She shrugged, and I was afraid she was going to bite clear through her thumbnail.
As I took a seat, D’Vora’s gaze lit everywhere but on me. “Listen …” I began.
She quickly called out to a couple of youngish women who looked like they could have graduated with her from Himmarshee High: “Hey, y’all. Already hot as hell’s hinges, isn’t it?’’
“Hot enough the trees are bribing the dogs,’’ one answered, as they entered the courthouse.
I tried again. “I feel like you’ve been avoiding me. There’s something I want to talk …”
D’Vora glommed on to another acquaintance, who was wearing a form-fitting dress in royal blue. “Hey, Amber,” she shouted. “You’re sure looking good. That’s definitely your color.’’
Amber beamed. “I’m coming in next week for blonde highlights. I didn’t lose all this weight to go through life with mousy brown hair.’’
“Give me a call, anytime. Better yet, let me give you a card.’’ D’Vora rocketed off the bench, but Amber motioned her to sit down.
“I know Hair Today’s number by heart.’’ She looked at her watch. “Gotta run! I’m just about late.’’
The stylist sat again, reluctantly it seemed. Her eyes darted here and there, but Himmarshee’s miniature morning rush hour appeared to have ended.
“Why do you keep running away from me?’’ I asked her.
“I’m not.’’ Now, she was worrying both thumb and index finger between her teeth.
“D’Vora, if you know something you think I should know, you need to tell me. I’ve always been straight up with you, haven’t I?’’
She nodded, twisting her hand at her mouth to gnaw on yet another fingernail.
“Are you afraid you’ll get in trouble?’’
She shook her head. She looked like she was about to cry.
“Are you afraid of getting someone else in trouble?’’
She nodded. Sure enough, a tear rolled down her cheek.
I put a hand on her knee. “Honey, it’s probably not as bad as you think. You’ll feel better once you get it off your chest. I can share some of the burden of knowing with you.’’
I saw her wavering. “D’Vora, you need to do the right thing.’’
That sealed it. She started blubbering, trying to get the words out: “Iiiii … ttttt … it’s …” She pulled a tissue from her pocket and blew her nose. Slipped it back into her smock.
“It’s what?’’
“Not what. Who. It’s Kenny.’’
The thumb flew back to her mouth. She was biting so hard, I could hear her teeth nicking the nail. I gently took her hand, holding it still in mine.
“What about him?’’
“He’s cheating on Maddie.’’
I sighed with relief. Not that the news wasn’t bad. But I’d already dealt with the anger and disappointment of finding out about my brother-in-law’s philandering.
“I saw him out at the lake at sunset, in his truck. I knew it was his because it had that bumper sticker on the back, Proud Graduate of Bubba University.’’ She pulled a folded slip of paper from her smock, and placed it on my lap. “I also took down his license tag number, just so no one would think I was imagining things.’’
I put the paper in my pocket. “We know about it, D’Vora.’’
Shock played across her pretty face. “You do? Maddie, too?’’
“Unfortunately, yes. Even the best marriages get into trouble. I just hope Maddie and Kenny can get past this.’’
I stared off into the distance, wondering whether that would even be possible.
D’Vora took out her tissue and blew her nose again. As she composed herself, my gaze settled on the moss hanging like gray lace from the oak trees. I thought of the old Southern folktale that told of its origins. Supposedly, a Spanish woman was captured by Indians. They cut her long hair and tossed it high into the trees. In no time at all, the black hair turned gray. It spread from tree to tree, and that was the beginning of Spanish moss.
I was imagining the fear that dark-haired woman must have felt, when I realized D’Vora had stopped sniffling. She was speaking again.
“… and that’s why I’ve been wracking my brain, wondering if I should tell them.’’
“Tell who, D’Vora?’’
“The police, of course.’’
A shiver ran up my spine. Suddenly, my attention was riveted.
“Why would you tell the police Kenny’s cheating? If they got called out every time a man in Himmarshee cheated, that’d keep them pretty busy, wouldn’t it?’’
I searched D’Vora’s face. Her eyes were on the pavement. Her voice came out hushed.
“It’s not so much that he was cheating. It’s who he was cheating with.’’
The shiver in my spine turned into a fusillade of pinpricks.
D’Vora continued, the words flowing now like water. “I saw him, Mace. I saw Kenny parked in a public place, doing things with that librarian. With Camilla.”
A sob worked its way up from deep in her chest. “It was the night before you and your mama found the poor thing murdered, lying dead in piles of garbage out at the dump.’’
thirty-two
Bookshelves lined the walls of the living room at Camilla Law’s small, but tastefully furnished, home. A framed quotation by Jorge Luis Borges held a place of honor over a fireplace. In black letters bordered with gold, the words were illuminated by two small spotlights mounted in the ceiling:
I have always imagined that Paradise will be a kind of library.
I said a silent prayer that after what Camilla suffered, she had found just that paradise.
The police finished searching for evidence at her house. Camilla’s sister had been permitted to move in from the hotel. She planned to remain in Himmarshee to follow the details of the murder investig
ation. She also had to handle all the arrangements that follow any sort of death. Planning a funeral. Sorting out finances. Deciding what to do with the possessions left behind by a loved one.
I didn’t envy Prudence those tasks, even as she mourned her sister. I didn’t want to bring on added pain, but given the information I finally dragged from D’Vora, I had to find out more about Camilla. If I also happened to discover something about Camilla’s mysterious twin, that would be all the better.
I’d taken a seat on a sofa in the living room. A shrill whistle sounded from the kitchen. Prudence poked out her head. “I’m sorry there’s nothing to eat. I had to throw out some spoiled food. Will you have a cup of tea with me?’’
I thought about the kinds of questions I wanted to ask about her dead sister. It was almost lunch time. I weighed my need for fortification against her judging me to be a pre-noon lush.
“Have you got anything stronger than tea?’’
I saw the tiniest frown of disapproval before she banished it. “I’ll take a look. I never touch alcohol myself, but Camilla may have kept something in the house.’’
I recalled Prudence polishing off those brimming glasses at Mama’s house. Maybe the English didn’t consider sweet pink wine to be “alcohol.’’
She opened a closet door in a small hallway. She felt around on the top shelf, and then held up a dusty bottle of bourbon. “Will this do?’’
I gestured with thumb and forefinger to indicate a small amount. “Just a swallow or two. I’m driving.’’
She put the bourbon on the coffee table in front of me, and then went to retrieve her tea. She returned, carrying a small tray. On it was a delicate porcelain tea cup, a miniature pitcher of water, an empty juice glass, and a second glass filled with ice. The glassware looked like expensive crystal.
“I wasn’t sure how you’d drink it.’’ Her smile was apologetic as she eased into a chair facing the sofa.
“Undiluted,’’ I said, tipping the bourbon into the empty glass. I knocked back a generous swallow. It burned my throat. She sipped daintily. Light glowed through the rose-covered teacup, so fine it was nearly translucent.
Mama Gets Trashed (A Mace Bauer Mystery) Page 15
