Mama Gets Trashed (A Mace Bauer Mystery)

by Sharp, Deborah

  “Language, son,’’ said Mama, ever the Sunday school teacher.

  Tires screeched on the highway. Sirens screamed. The first of several cop cars sailed onto the turnoff to the dump. Carlos’s car was the second one in line. Prudence sat in the back seat, her face impassive. Sal’s gold Cadillac brought up the rear of the police parade.

  I pointed with the golf club at Prudence. “Looks like your girlfriend didn’t get far. She was probably trying to run when Carlos caught her. He’s good at getting people to confess. By now, she’s probably given you up, too.’’

  Jason’s mouth was set in a grim line. Where were his adorable dimples now?

  fifty-three

  Carlos slammed on his brakes. Prudence stared out the opposite window, as if bored by the scene in front of her. She seemed to be dressed for a morning hunting pheasants on the English moors, sporting a ladies’ tweed shooting vest over a crisp white blouse.

  With a glance at his suspect in the back, Carlos got out and strode toward Mama and me.

  “Are you two okay?’’

  Worry clouded his eyes. The touch of his hand, stroking my face, was warm. But his voice was colder than I thought it would be. Had Sal delivered the last part of my phone message?

  When I didn’t answer immediately, Mama jumped in: “We’re fine. Though I think you should check Mace for injuries, slowly and thoroughly.’’

  I felt my face flush. Was Mama really trying to promote some hanky-panky with her would-be murderer waiting to be arrested? I was encouraged, though, to see the hint of a smile cracking through the granite of my ex-fiancé’s jaw.

  “I’m okay.’’ I gestured toward Jason, who ducked when he saw me point the club. “He might need some medical attention, though.

  I whacked at both his hands to stop him from compacting Mama into a trash cube.’’

  Sal had arrived. He hugged Mama tight, and then bent to look at Jason. “That left wrist might be broken. Remind me not to stand too close when you’re swinging your way out of a sand trap, Mace.’’

  I must have looked at him blankly, because Mama translated: “This club’s called a sand wedge, honey.’’ She touched the broad head. “You use it to try to get the ball out of a sand trap, a shot that has become unfortunately familiar to me.’’

  I’d had enough golf for one day. I jerked a thumb at Carlos’s back seat. “Did the evil twin confess?’’

  “No. She says she knows her rights. She asked me for a ‘bar-rister.’’’

  “Her boyfriend said the same, except he wants a lawyer,’’ Mama said.

  Carlos crossed his arms over his chest and focused on me, unsmiling. “You know this carelessness of yours is almost criminal. It’s a pattern. You had no business putting yourself and your mother into danger.’’

  The lid that kept my temper from boiling over began to rattle. After what Mama and I had just been through, I expected him to wrap me in his arms and comfort me. I hadn’t expected to be berated.

  “They’re the ones who came after us,’’ I said. “We were minding our own business, returning home after a nice breakfast at the truck stop.’’

  “Yes, after you showed up at a sex party to ‘investigate.’ Camilla clearly thought you were getting too close, which set this morning’s events into motion. That much I learned before she quit talking.’’

  “Prudence.’’ I corrected him.

  “No.’’ He shook his head. “I said it right the first time. The murder victim was Prudence, the out-of-town sister. The killer was Camilla, the librarian.’’

  I stared at the woman in his car. She looked back, eyes cold as stones.

  “Say what?’’ Mama tilted her head sideways and shook it. “I must have gotten some garbage juice in my ear. I thought I heard you say the murdered sister was Prudence. Wasn’t she still in Atlanta when Mace and I found Camilla dead at the dump?’’

  “Not according to data from Prudence’s cell phone.’’ He held up his own phone as a visual aid. “That showed she arrived in Himmarshee two days before you discovered the body. Prudence was likely strangled by Mace’s pal, Jason, aided and abetted by her own sister, Camilla.’’

  I thought of the days of anguish we’d been through, when it looked like Maddie’s husband might have killed Camilla. Now, it turned out Camilla wasn’t even dead? Steam started rocking the lid on my temper pot.

  “How long have you known this?’’

  Carlos shrugged. “Suspecting something and getting the information I need to prove it are two different things.’’

  “How long?’’

  “A couple of days after you found the body. Neighbors in Atlanta saw Prudence packed and leaving for Florida last week, well before the call went out to her cell phone as Camilla’s emergency contact.’’

  His gaze shifted briefly to the back of his car. His suspect stared back coldly.

  “I contacted some of the twins’ old friends in England, who revealed how deep their rift really was. Camilla hated Prudence. Prudence was their parents’ favorite, and more accomplished at everything than Camilla was. She’d been jealous of her sister her whole life.’’

  “And knowing all this, you allowed Kenny’s name to be dragged through the mud, despite how fragile my sister’s marriage is right now?’’ My voice had gotten louder.

  Sal put a hand on my arm. “That’s police work, Mace. Sometimes you have to keep a false impression about guilt and innocence hanging out there to lure in the bad guy. Or girl, in this case.’’

  I whirled to confront Sal. “Did you know, too?’’

  He shook his head. Mama said, “You can’t expect Carlos to share everything about his investigations with you, Mace. People’s lives could be at stake.’’

  “So you’re on his side?’’

  Mama gave me the same sad look I’d seen when she had to tell me my childhood dog was dead, fatally kicked by a horse. “Honey, this is Carlos’s job. There shouldn’t be a ‘his side’ and ‘your side’ to this. If you keep seeing things that way, maybe you’re right. Maybe you aren’t ready to be married.’’

  Carlos cleared his throat. “Speaking of my job, I need to get these two processed.’’

  Mama, Sal, and I watched as he read Jason his rights. He called over two more officers to help load him into the back of a squad car, since he couldn’t properly walk with duct tape around his ankles. When they were done, Carlos returned to his own car. Without a goodbye, he drove away with Camilla.

  Did I want to question Sal? Did I want to know? I decided I did, even if it was humiliating or painful.

  “Thanks for getting the message to Carlos,’’ I said. “Did you tell him everything I asked you to?’’

  Pulling at his collar, Sal aimed his gaze on the ground. “I told him everything, Mace. Including that you were sorry and you loved him.’’

  “And what did he say?’’

  Sal mumbled something, his eyes avoiding mine. Mama nudged him to repeat it. I was sorry when he did.

  “He said he wished he could believe you.’’

  fifty-four

  A Happy Birthday banner flapped over the entrance to the VFW hall. A cake in the shape of a monster truck dominated the room, minus the words Maddie once planned for the top—To the World’s Best Husband. A disc jockey spun some of the birthday boy’s favorite country tunes: “Bubba Shot the Jukebox”; “Mud on the Tires”; and “Lifestyles of the Not So Rich and Famous.’’

  Marty had pulled the DJ aside earlier, asking that his playlist not include “Whose Bed Have Your Boots Been Under?’’ or “Your Cheatin’ Heart.’’

  Maddie looked resplendent, yellow dress and all. She sipped a soda as she welcomed the party guests. Her husband had been sprung from his holding cell after the true suspects were arrested. Carlos told the reporter for the Himmarshee Times Kenny had been kept overnight at the jail “for his own protection.’’ The newspaper didn’t publish over the weekend, but word of Kenny’s innocence had already spread over the unofficial hotli
ne.

  Some of the same people who’d wanted to hang Kenny for murder showed up to see if my sister would kill him for cheating instead.

  He sat in a chair against the wall, accepting birthday wishes and half-truths from friends who claimed they knew all along he didn’t do it. Every few minutes, his eyes shifted toward the wife he’d wronged. Maddie had on her game face, but I knew she’d need time before she’d trust him again, completely. Camilla had manipulated Kenny, pushing all the right buttons for male pride and ego to lure him into her plan. Still, the fact he’d made any progress on the road to forgiveness was probably due to Maddie’s condition.

  Before the party started, she revealed to Mama and Marty that she was pregnant.

  “I knew it!’’ said Mama, after hugs and congratulations were exchanged. “A mother can always tell.’’

  “Get real,’’ I said to her. “You had no idea. You were blaming some bad Brunswick stew for Maddie’s nausea.’’

  “That’s not how I remember it,’’ Mama said airily before rushing to fetch Maddie a ginger ale.

  D’Vora arrived an hour late with the infamous Darryl. She looked lovely in a glittery red dress. He, on the other hand, sported a wrinkled Western shirt, jeans with a can of dippin’ tobacco in the rear pocket, and boots so crusty they looked like he’d been out stomping cow patties. When he headed straight for the bar, I cornered D’Vora: “Glad you could make it.’’

  Her eyes were glued to the pointed toes of her red high heels. When she finally looked up, a tear spilled onto her cheek. “The whole thing was so confusing, between what I saw in Kenny’s truck, and what everybody was saying. Then, his mug shot was on TV. He looked awful guilty.’’

  I waited to see if she was done.

  “I’m sorry. I should have listened to you, Mace.’’ She sniffled, and wiped her eyes. “I’m going to apologize to Kenny, too. He was never anything but nice, and I was quick to jump to conclusions, like everybody else.’’

  I was ashamed to admit that same tendency applied to me.

  We both looked across the room at Maddie and Kenny. She’d walked over to join him, and he leaped up to settle her into a chair. Maddie didn’t look wedding-day happy, but she didn’t look thunderstorm angry, either. As she sat, Kenny put a hand on her shoulder. She gave it a brief pat, instead of knocking it off.

  D’Vora sighed. “I wish just once Darryl would act sweet to me. I better go find him before he gets drunk and falls into a food platter.’’

  After D’Vora left, I studied the scene around me. Elaine Naiman made an appearance, shaking hands and introducing herself to party-goers. I could definitely see her running for mayor. Big Bill Graf and his wife may not have committed murder, but they were up to their naked asses in the swingers’ circle. That kind of sinfulness would go over during a campaign like a stripper at a church supper. Elaine would be a shoo-in.

  Mama regaled a group of guests with her garbage-truck adventure.

  “I’ll never be able to wear my persimmon pantsuit again. It’s completely ruined.’’

  Mercifully, my phone rang so I didn’t have to re-hear the already familiar story. My heart sank when I saw it was an unfamiliar number. Not Carlos. He hadn’t returned any of the messages I’d left.

  I moved away so as not to disturb the crowd, and then clicked on the call. Glasses clinked and music played on the other end. Suddenly, I knew who’d called Maddie’s answering machine to say Kenny did not commit the murder.

  “Hey, Angel.’’

  “How’d you know it was me?’’ She seemed surprised.

  “Sounds like the 19th Hole. Are y’all busy?’’

  “Slammed. I just called to tell you I’m glad the real culprits were arrested. Camilla played me like she did everyone else.’’

  The scene with the picture album at Camilla’s house ran through my mind. She’d paged through the photos, describing the more accomplished twin. Everything she said applied to Prudence—the sister she’d envied, hated, and finally murdered.

  “Did you know Camilla was pretending to be Prudence?’’

  “I suspected, but I wasn’t sure until she came to the swingers’ party. Camilla had a scar … well, let’s just say it was in an intimate spot. I saw it that night. Even before that, I tried to tell you to keep looking for the killer.’’

  “I appreciate that.’’

  “I would have said more, but I was afraid. Camilla could be vicious.’’

  “Obviously.’’

  “I’ve got to get back to the bar. I hope you come in sometime to visit. I’ll buy you a beer.’’

  “Sure,’’ I said, though both of us knew I was lying.

  As I hung up, I saw Mama was coming to the conclusion of her story. Clasping her hands behind her back, she spun two or three times, apparently acting out being rolled up in the rug. She gave a couple of short hops, her feet together as if bound.

  “What in the world is she doing?’’ Marty had sidled up next to me.

  “Performing the tale of the day she almost got trashed,’’ I said. “Either that, or dancing the most unfortunate bunny hop ever.’’

  Marty gave a soft chuckle, before her expression shifted to something more serious. “I’m sorry about you and Carlos, Mace. Mama told me things aren’t so great between you.’’

  She gently lifted my hand, looking in vain for the engagement ring. I patted my blazer pocket with my right hand. Foolishly, I was still carrying around the ring.

  “Is Carlos coming to the party?’’

  I shrugged. “I think I’ve really screwed things up. I left messages, telling him I’m sorry and I don’t want to lose him. But I haven’t talked to him since this morning, when he sped off with Prudence … I mean Camilla … handcuffed in the back of his car.’’

  “Well, at least she’s used to handcuffs,’’ Marty said. “How do you suppose the murder happened?’’

  Mama stopped beside us to butt in: “This is how some of the swingers say it went down. Camilla had the whole thing planned. She talked her sister into a visit so they could reconcile.’’

  “Maybe she gave Prudence the diamond bracelet as a peace offering,’’ I said.

  “Then she got her to dress up as a submissive for old time’s sake. She hooked her up with Jason, saying he liked to role-play being dominant,’’ Mama added.

  “That set Prudence up to be strangled,’’ I said. “She picked Kenny as a convenient suspect, jumping his bones in a public place so someone would be sure to notice.’’

  Mama said, “Camilla told Jason to make the rough sex serious—and fatal.’’

  Marty’s eyes had begun to widen at “some of the swingers.’’ By the time Mama said “rough sex,’’ my little sister was sputtering: “How in the world do you know so much about this kind of thing, Mama?’’

  “Honestly Marty,’’ I said, “that’s a part of the mystery you may not want solved.’’

  George Strait’s “I Cross My Heart’’ started playing. Sal came and whisked Mama onto the floor for a slow dance. Marty went to find her husband, Sam, to do the same. To my surprise, Kenny and Maddie were also on their feet, swaying to the love song. George had just gotten to the part about making all the dreams come true, when I smelled sandalwood and spices.

  Carlos must have rushed to get to the party before it ended, because his hair was still damp. A dab of shaving cream nestled near his ear. I wiped it off. He straightened my collar, which had bunched at the neck of my blazer. His touch made my breath catch in my throat.

  “Buenas noches, niña.’’

  “Good evening to you too,’’ I managed to say. “Did you get my messages?’’

  “All of them.’’ He smiled. “You’re very determined.’’

  “What can I say? I’m in love.’’

  Side by side, we watched the dancers. Maddie and Kenny had inched imperceptibly closer. When the song ended, Kenny’s fingertips rested for just a moment on Maddie’s belly. I couldn’t begin to imagine the emotions
each read in the other’s eyes.

  Carlos leaned toward me. His breath against my cheek was warm. It smelled sweet and delicious, like flan and Cuban coffee. “Looks like Kenny is forgiven.’’

  “Not yet,’’ I said.

  “Do you think they’ll get there?’’

  I nodded. “I do, eventually. I guess that’s how people in love are. They may argue. They may even disappoint each other. But they don’t give up, even if it takes some time.’’

  “Kenny loves her. He’ll give her all the time she needs.’’

  I turned to face him. “Are we still talking about Maddie and Kenny?’’

  He traced the outline of my lips, his fingers as light as butterfly wings. I felt a shiver from my mouth to my toes.

  “We’re talking of whatever you want to talk about.’’ His voice was husky.

  “You mentioned time … ” I let the word trail off as I took the ring from my pocket. As he watched, I slipped it back onto my finger.

  “What about time?’’ He whispered, his lips brushing my ear.

  “It’s the right time.’’ I ached to be with him; to finally be one with him. “Reverend Delilah is here tonight. What do you say we choose a date and ask her if she’ll marry us?’’

  His eyes searched mine. He must have found what he was looking for, because he pulled my face to his for a kiss that made my feet feel like they were floating high above my head.

  “What are we waiting for?’’ he said.

  He put his arm around my waist. Together, we walked toward the minister who would unite us forever as husband and wife.

  the end

  about the author

  Like the characters in her Mace Bauer Mysteries, Deborah Sharp’s roots were set in Florida long before Disney or South Beach came to define the state. She does some writing at a getaway in the wild region north of Okeechobee, and some at the Fort Lauderdale home she shares with her husband, Kerry Sanders. A former USA Today reporter and native Floridian, she knows every back road and burg, including some not found on any state maps. The little town of Himmarshee may be fictional, but the rodeo-and-ranches slice of Florida that inspires it is both authentic and endangered.