2 On the Nickel

by Maggie Toussaint

  Charlie slowed the car. “Then what did I just see?”

  “You saw me being ushered out of a crime scene by a police officer.”

  My driveway was full since both my car and Mama’s were there. Charlie parked on the street next to the curb. “Crime scene? Are you in trouble with the law?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. Britt took exception to my helping fold the Sunday bulletins.”

  Charlie rubbed his chin. “I don’t buy that. Not for a minute. Erica’s death wasn’t an accident?”

  I chose my words with care. “Britt thinks there was more to it.”

  A frown flickered across Charlie’s face. “I thought he got all the sinister folks rounded up a few months ago.”

  “Apparently not.” I opened the car door. “Thanks for the lift. I appreciate the favor.”

  “I know how you can make it up to me.” His eyebrows rose suggestively. “Lunch?”

  “No lunch.”

  “I’m not giving up, Cleo. You need me.”

  I slammed the car door. “Goodbye, Charlie.”

  I mounted the porch stairs searching through my purse for my keys.

  Mama opened the door before I could get my key in the lock. She grabbed my arm and pulled me in the house. After working the bulletin mashing machine all morning, I wasn’t surprised at her grip strength.

  Static electricity crackled in the air. “Are you satisfied?” Mama snapped.

  I was satisfied I wasn’t eating lunch with Charlie. I was satisfied Mama wasn’t going to jail right this minute. I was satisfied Francine and Muriel didn’t beat me at the folding game. I bent down to pet Madonna, who had waddled forward to greet me. “What do you mean, Mama?”

  “Muriel called. She said you grilled her and Francine about Erica. I should have known you would spy on me. Only, why did you have to damage my car and make me hide in the house for two days? Why not just ask me?”

  Talking to Charlie about lunch reminded me of how empty my stomach was. I started toward the kitchen. “I did ask you about Tuesday night, and you didn’t tell me a darn thing. Furthermore, I did not damage your car. You did.”

  Mama circled around and blocked my way. “I told you I didn’t run down Erica Hodges. Why don’t you believe me?”

  “Because the evidence points to you, Mama.” I ticked off the facts on my fingers. “You and Erica had a public blowout on Monday. She turns up dead at church after being at another church meeting with you. You won’t account for your time Tuesday night. And finally, your car looks like it hit someone. Britt said Erica’s death was murder. Murder, Mama. Serious stuff. You could go to prison for life.”

  Mama’s face darkened. She hammered one fist into the palm of her other hand. Flesh smacked against flesh. “This is America. I’m innocent until proven guilty.”

  “I want to help you, Mama. Don’t shut me out.”

  “This isn’t fair. Erica Hodges was a rotten person. I’m not the only person in this town who hated her guts.”

  My stomach growled. I identified with its emptiness. Despair ate at me. Mama’s future seemed bleak, and I couldn’t do a darned thing about it. Britt would never believe it was accidental that Mama ran over Erica a bunch of times. Mama’s chances of convincing him of her innocence were slim to none.

  I did my best imitation of Britt’s steely gaze. “Britt is interviewing the clergy and the church office staff right now. It’s only a matter of time until he interviews you. He knows your friends are lying. He told me so. When he sees your car, he’ll lock you up and throw away the key.”

  Mama’s chin jutted out. “Let him come,” she growled. “I didn’t murder anyone.”

  Her nostrils flared pure dragon fire. “And another thing. I’m sick and tired of you bossing me around. This is my house. I can come and go as I please. Stick that in a boring sandwich and eat it.”

  Chapter 7

  Water pulsed out of the showerhead, kneading the knotted muscles in my back. I rolled my shoulders every which way to relieve tension. Between the murder investigation, Mama’s secrets, and my hot date tonight, I couldn’t relax. The kids weren’t helping either.

  “Mom, I have to have that new camera,” Lexy shouted through the bathroom door. “Did you even read that spec sheet I brought home?”

  “I’ll check into it, Lex. But not right now. Later,” I promised. I ducked back under the stream to rinse conditioner from my hair.

  Blessed silence followed. Then Charla burst into the bathroom. “Mom, I desperately need a new wardrobe. Misty Rogerson has the cutest jean skirt ever invented. When can we go shopping, Mom? Can we go this weekend?”

  After three days of school she already wanted new clothes? I gave up on the water massage. At this rate I’d be wrinkled as a prune if I didn’t finish up in here. I lathered up with the expensive soap Jonette had given me. The kind that matched the perfume I planned to wear. The kind I had never used before.

  The fragrance was heavenly. I inhaled a lungful and hummed inside. “You’re in charge of your clothing allowance, dear. You know if you have money left.”

  She wiped the steam off the mirror and studied her face. “That’s another thing, Mom. My clothing allowance isn’t nearly enough. You can’t expect me to wear the same things day in and day out. Plus, my clothes are lame.”

  “Charla, you selected every item in your closet. Don’t blame me if you don’t like them.” I had clothing worries of my own for tonight. The selections in my closet weren’t exciting. I’d bought conservative clothes because the old Cleo didn’t like drawing unwanted attention to herself. But the new Cleo had the opposite goal.

  My daughter stomped her foot and whirled, red hair flying like a wind-tossed veil. “All the guys couldn’t keep their eyes off of Devon today, Mom. I’ll bet she doesn’t have a clothing budget.”

  I shut the water off and reached for a towel. “I’m an accountant. Your grandfather was an accountant. Even if we became wealthy overnight, we’d live on a budget. That’s how Sampsons are.”

  “That’s like so unfair. I’m not a Sampson. I’m a Jones. I’m talking to Daddy about this.”

  I hoped Mama didn’t hear Charla denying her Sampson heritage. Her flip dismissal of all that my parents and I had worked for wouldn’t set well with Mama. We owned this house free and clear, the business, too. Sampsons were long-term planners. And my plan for tonight was to enjoy time away from my responsibilities.

  Wrapped in a damp towel, I darted to my bedroom, expecting both girls and the dog to be camped out at the bathroom door, but I only had to navigate around the dog. Ah, peace and quiet at last.

  Madonna lumbered up with a groan and followed me to my bedroom. She padded over to the inflatable whelping box, grabbed a huge mouthful of ruined sheets, then headed for my bed. Only she was too heavy to get more than her front legs up on the mattress. She cried pitifully.

  Sympathy welled. The vet said I was supposed to relieve her anxiety, not add to it. The dog sensed something was different about tonight. The least I could do was to help her get what she wanted. I was probably confusing the dog by allowing her back on my bed, but I needed her to be content. I lifted her rear end, and she licked my face appreciatively.

  With that done, I headed over to my closet. I needed to focus if I wanted to look like a woman Rafe dated. Sophisticated and polished didn’t come naturally to me.

  Too bad my wardrobe lacked zip. Jonette had threatened to toss everything out and start over, but I wouldn’t let her. Conservative is my middle name, although tonight, I wanted something fun to wear.

  I flipped through the outfits hanging in my closet. Too old. Too frumpy. Too ten years ago. I settled on a taupe blouse and a pair of slacks that were a shade darker. Not exactly a hot outfit, but tasteful. Tasteful was important.

  “Mom, whatcha’ doing?” Charla entered the room and joined Madonna on my bed. Madonna’s tail thumped happily against my rock-hard pillow and scratchy bargain-basement sheets. The dog rested her jumbo head in Charla’s
lap.

  “Getting dressed for my dinner date,” I answered, removing the taupe shirt and slacks from my closet. I wished for privacy, but I’d always had an open-door policy with my girls. One man wouldn’t change that.

  “About that new camera, Mom,” Lexy stated as she entered the bedroom and climbed up on the bed, flopping across the pillows. “When can I get it?”

  The taupe blouse was just light enough that the black bra might be visible through it. Darn. I wouldn’t dream of going out in public like that. With a sigh, I settled for an institutional white bra and cotton panties. Too bad for Rafe. Too bad for me, too. I needed a black blouse. Looks like I’d be frequenting the clearance sales.

  “Mom, are you listening to me?” Lexy asked.

  Under cover of my damp towel, I shimmied into my panties. “Sorry, Lexy. I didn’t promise you a new digital camera. Those things cost a fortune. I promised we would price them out, borrow one, or see if we could buy a used one.”

  “Mom, that won’t work,” Lexy insisted. “I need the latest technology if I want a shot at staff photographer. The photos from the old digitals are too pixilated for the yearbook. I need a brand new camera.”

  I blotted my damp hair on the towel before I donned the rest of my clothes. The mirror on my dresser reflected three pairs of eyes avidly watching my every move. The girls hadn’t been this fascinated with my clothing since potty-training days.

  I slipped into my bra. “I can’t believe the yearbook staff is required to own state-of-the-art technology. You’re going to a public high school, for Pete’s sake. What’s wrong with our old thirty-five millimeter? It takes excellent photos.”

  “But in order to use them for the yearbook, we’d have to pay to convert the images to electronic files. I have to have this digital camera, Mom. My whole life depends on it.”

  “Let’s talk about me now,” Charla said. She flipped her curly red hair over her shoulder. “We should start shopping for my fancy white dress tomorrow. Barbie Sperry and Marissa McGregor already found their dresses at a bridal shop. They say the good ones go first, and I definitely want a good one.”

  I slid into my slacks and blouse. I was not taking my fifteen-year-old daughter to a bridal shop to try on wedding gowns. “What about the stores that sell prom dresses? Don’t they have white ones left over from last spring?”

  “No one gets their Snow Ball gowns from a department store, Mom.” Charla’s expressive hands punctuated her every word. “Don’t you know anything? Besides, look at it this way. It will be a two-for-one deal. Once we have the gown for the Snow Ball, I’ll be all set for my wedding.”

  Madonna moaned as Charla’s movements shook the bed. “Careful with the dog, dear. She shouldn’t be jostled around.”

  Charla cooed and kissed Madonna on the nose. “I’m sorry.”

  Madonna thumped her tail again, whacking Lexy on the butt. “Hey. Watch it,” Lexy said.

  “About the dress,” Charla continued, “We could start at Wedding Central tomorrow and work our way down the wedding food chain.”

  “No way,” Lexy said. “I need that camera for school next week. I get Mom tomorrow.”

  Ignoring them, I opened my jewelry box. Pearls reminded me too much of Mama. My heart-shaped locket had been an anniversary gift from Charlie. I chose a delicate gold chain with an emerald pendant. Daddy had given me that necklace for my thirtieth birthday.

  A splash of cologne, a pair of gold hoops, taupe heels, and I was ready to go. “How do I look?”

  “Isn’t that shirt see-through?” Charla said.

  I glanced in the mirror. Was the shirt too sheer? I would be mortified if everyone in the Boar’s Head could see my bra. Even if my bra was white. “Do you think so?”

  “Don’t worry, Mom,” Lexy said. “It isn’t like anyone would actually look at your shirt.”

  Her comment sent me scurrying back to my closet. What good was going out on a date if no one saw the clothes I wore? I didn’t want Rafe to be bored.

  Ten minutes later, every outfit I owned had been rejected by my fashion critics. Tufts of white dog hair dotted my clothes, and the wild look in my eyes was exceeded only by my pounding headache.

  “Cleo?” Rafe called from the foot of the stairs. “You ready?”

  Panic flashed through my veins. Not only was I not ready, but I literally had nothing to wear. I made an executive decision. “Out.” I pointed to the door. “Both of you. Out.”

  As they filed out, I hollered down to Rafe. “Just a minute.”

  I hurried to the phone and called Jonette at the Tavern. “Emergency. No clothes. Hot date. What to do?”

  Loud music and raucous laughter filled my ear. “Where are you going?” Jonette asked.

  “Boar’s Head.”

  “No problem. Your taupe slacks and blouse are perfect.”

  In dismay, I glanced at the discarded clothing strewn all over my bedroom. From the disarray, it appeared a tornado had whirled through my belongings, scattering and destroying everything in its path.

  I had no idea where my taupe outfit was. But it had to be in here somewhere. “Charla said the shirt was too see-through.”

  Jonette snorted her disapproval. “Charla wants you to get back together with Charlie. She can’t be objective about your date clothing. Trust me. The taupe outfit is fine. But we need to work more on the see-through angle.”

  I stopped rifling through my discarded clothes. Anxiety knotted my stomach. “My taupe blouse is see-through? I’ve worn it all over town. For years. I’ve even worn it to church.”

  “Would you stop with that? Your taupe outfit isn’t see-through. Just the opposite. What I meant is you need to buy sheer blouses. I can help you with that.”

  I pawed through the clothes, left shoulder pressed up high to keep the phone in place. Taupe slacks. Where were they? “Okay. Thanks, Jonette. I can handle this from here.”

  “Wait. Did you find out anything from the church ladies?”

  The cuff of my taupe slacks protruded from a prim hunter-green suit I’d tried on and hated. “Maybe. Muriel was starting to tell me something Erica did to her when Britt showed up. Erica had run-ins with people besides Mama. The trouble is that Mama was Erica’s most vocal opponent. How about you? Did you have any luck?”

  “I heard that Erica visited her lawyer’s office a lot lately. Plus, she hadn’t paid her weekly bill at the beauty shop in over three months.”

  Triumphantly I snatched the clothes I’d been searching for from the discard pile. I shook the dog hair and wrinkles out of my slacks and shirt. “Why do some people think they don’t have to pay for things? I would no more get a haircut I couldn’t pay for than fly to the moon.”

  “Me, neither.”

  “I’ve got to go. Rafe is waiting.”

  Jonette laughed, deep and throaty. “Waiting is good for men. Puts them in their place and heightens anticipation. Don’t worry about the delay. Your date will be fine.”

  I hoped she was right. I didn’t want to send Rafe the wrong signal. But I’d feel much more comfortable if I knew what the right signal was.

  Rafe’s eyes lit up as I descended the staircase. “You look great.” His possessive kiss curled my toes. “You smell even better.”

  My tingling skin had me wishing dinner was done, and we were alone at his place. I kissed him back. “You, too.”

  “Watch that. There are impressionable young children in this house,” Charla said, using her cheerleading voice that carried across two football fields.

  I shared a conspiratorial look with Rafe that I hoped said “we’ll finish this later” loud and clear, then I reached for my purse. Madonna, who had been watching me like a hawk, started whimpering.

  Her neediness reminded me of Charla at two. I patted the dog on the head. “I’ll be back soon, Madonna. Until then, Charla and Lexy will take good care of you.”

  “She wouldn’t cry if you didn’t leave her,” Lexy pointed out. “Mom, did you see the ‘For Rent’ si
gn on Ed Monday’s house?”

  The house next door had been empty ever since my next-door neighbor, Ed Monday, was arrested and incarcerated. I’d gotten used to it being quiet around here these last few months. Guess the kids had, too. I squeezed Lexy’s shoulder and managed a smile. “I’m sure it will work out fine, dear.”

  A timer buzzed. “Dinner’s ready,” Mama announced from the kitchen. She’d spent the better part of the afternoon working on one of her creations.

  The rich aroma of homemade pizza filled the air as Mama opened the oven. For a moment, I wished I was eating here. Then I remembered she’d made Christmas pizza, and I was glad for Rafe’s invitation to eat out.

  Charla hustled us out the door. “You kids have fun.”

  I wasn’t ready to go yet. I hadn’t given them the standard warnings about locking the door behind us and looking out for each other while I was gone. I hadn’t kissed either of them good night. My heels drug.

  Sensing my reluctance, Rafe halted on the porch. “We can stay here tonight if you like.”

  His acceptance and understanding cleared the doubts from my head. The girls knew the drill. I had to let go of the reins if I was going to enjoy myself. I needed that time off, and so did my girls. Besides, Mama was here with them.

  “No way,” I said. “We are eating out and spending the evening together. No kids. I require grownup food and grownup entertainment, if you catch my drift.”

  His gaze warmed. “I like a woman who knows what she wants.”

  If he kept looking at me like that, I’d jump him on the porch. Not a good idea. I needed to put things back on a less intimate footing for my own peace of mind, so I spoke the first thing that popped in my head. “You don’t think I’m a ball-busting, snooping Amazon with control issues in the bedroom?”

  I held my breath in horror.

  Those were the very words my ex-husband flung in my face when I’d uncovered the evidence of his affair. Jonette was the only person I had ever told, and she’d said not to believe a word from a man who couldn’t keep his pants zipped. How would Rafe take my unfortunate remark?