Mama Gets Trashed (A Mace Bauer Mystery)

by Sharp, Deborah

Uncomfortable that I might be intruding on an intimate moment, I turned to go. From the corner of my eye, I noticed a swath of familiar fabric resting on the bench by Angel’s side. I hadn’t even reached the door when I remembered where I’d seen it: Navy blue with white piping. It was the jacket to Prudence Law’s conservative suit.

  twenty-two

  Marty and I sat at our usual lunch table at Gladys’ Diner. We were waiting for Mama to quit swanning around the room and come tell us what she planned to order. We would never order the same thing. That would take all of the fun out of stealing from each other’s plates.

  I crooked a finger to Mama, trying to motion her back to our table. Instead, she moved in on a church lady friend across the room. She stuck a fork in the woman’s squash casserole for a generous sample. Chewing, Mama gave me the wait-a-minute finger. With her, that’s always more like ten minutes.

  “Let’s just order,’’ I said. “She’s probably going to get the Monday special meat and three.’’

  “Right,’’ Marty said. “Meat loaf, collards, black-eyed peas, and mashed potatoes.’’

  In the distance, Mama’s features formed the mmm-mmm face. She licked her lips and nodded at her friend. “Make that squash casserole instead of the potatoes,’’ I said.

  “But she’ll definitely have the butterscotch pie for dessert.’’ Marty tapped on the menu. “So, I’ll order the vegetable plate and coconut cake.’’

  “Barbecued pork sandwich and banana pudding for me,” I said. “Now, what kind of sides do I want—’’

  “Oh my!’’ Marty slapped her hand over her mouth, whispering between the fingers. “Look who just walked in to sit at the counter.’’

  I quit considering the side orders. Prudence Law stood at the front of Gladys’, crisp in a light blue blouse with a Peter Pan collar, her navy jacket folded over an arm. I wanted to tell Marty I’d seen her that morning at the golf course, but I didn’t want to have to create a lie about why I was there. It felt strange, keeping my baby sister out of the loop.

  “We should ask her to sit with us.’’ Marty elbowed me.

  “She probably wants to be alone,’’ I said.

  “Not at a time like this. She’s hurting, and she’s so shy. I’m sure she doesn’t have a single friend in Himmarshee.’’

  I recalled Prudence looking not at all shy when she coolly put the mayor’s wife in her place at the morning meeting. And she seemed to have at least one very special friend in town: Angel Fox.

  “C’mon, the woman just lost a sister. Imagine how any of us would feel.’’ Marty looked at me, her blue eyes brimming with compassion.

  I nodded okay. Marty stood and waved Prudence over.

  _____

  “I can’t stay long.’’ Prudence took a seat. “I’ve only just put in an order for takeaway.’’

  “You must have a lot to do,’’ Marty said. “Will you let us know if there’s any way we can help?’’

  The resemblance between the two women was amazing. Marty was blonde, and Prudence’s hair was dark, but both were petite. Both had enormous blue eyes and a fringe of bangs that gave them a waifish appearance. Their pale complexions were similar, too, as was the pink curve of their rosebud lips. Did men—or maybe women?—want to protect Prudence, like they always did with Marty? It was clear at least one man had felt no protective instinct toward Prudence’s murdered twin, Camilla.

  “Thank you, Marty. What a kind person you are.’’

  “Everyone says that about Marty.’’ Our cousin Henry had materialized at the table, and was standing next to Prudence with an expectant look. “Are you going to introduce me, cousins?’’

  I did the honors.

  “I’m sorry for your loss,’’ he said, holding on to Prudence’s hand. “I hear your sister was a wonderful woman.’’

  “That’s a thoughtful thing to say. It appears kindness to strangers runs in your family,’’ she said.

  “You must not have met Maddie yet,’’ Henry said.

  He found an extra chair for the table, stuck it right beside Prudence. As she scooted a bit to let him in, her jacket fell off the chair back. Henry bent to the floor to retrieve it, dusting off some cornbread crumbs. Shaking it out, he returned it with a flourish. “I believe this belongs to you, pretty lady.’’

  Her cheeks flushed adorably. She fluttered her eyelashes, Mama-style. “So gallant!’’

  Henry waved a hand. “It’s nothing.’’

  “You’re right about that,’’ I muttered.

  Marty kicked me under the table, but Henry and Prudence ignored me.

  “I just love your Southern manners. British men are not nearly so courtly.’’ What sounded like a giggle escaped her lips. My cousin puffed out his chest.

  “So, Henry, how are those young’uns of yours?’’ I asked. “And how ’bout your sweet wife? Is she pregnant again?’’

  Taking my hint, Henry announced he had to meet some colleagues for lunch. Prudence pushed back her chair to stand. Shooting out of his seat like it gave him a shock, he helped her out of the chair. “Don’t let Mace scare you away,’’ he said.

  “She hasn’t scared me.’’ Prudence put a hand on his sleeve, stroking his arm through the fabric of his button-down shirt. “Don’t be daft. I’m making a quick stop in the loo, then I’m on my way out.’’

  As soon as she was out of hearing range, I lit into my cousin. “Slimy much? Are you really flirting with a woman whose sister was just murdered?’’

  He looked wounded. “I most certainly was not flirting! I was just being a gentleman; ‘gallant,’ in fact.’’

  “What’s even weirder is she was flirting back. Right, Marty?’’

  “I didn’t see it that way,’’ my sister said. “Don’t be so critical, Mace. Her sister was just brutally murdered, as I shouldn’t have to remind you. She’s entitled to act a little strange.’’

  Strange? Oh how I wanted to tell them about Prudence at the golf course.

  “I’m right and you’re wrong.’’ Henry stuck his tongue out at me. “Just because Maddie’s not here doesn’t mean you have to stand in for her role as bitchy sister.’’

  He looked around the diner, waggled his fingers at Mama. She was now cadging a spoonful of creamed spinach off someone else’s plate.

  “Where is Maddie anyway?’’ Henry asked.

  They both cocked their heads at me. Maddie’s whereabouts was the last question I wanted to discuss. I shrugged.

  “Henry’s right, you know.’’ Marty buttered a biscuit. “You’re doing a pretty good job of playing Maddie’s role. You’re acting all judgmental, just like she always does.’’

  Henry rose. “I’m going to find a table for my meeting, before you two start throwing cutlery.’’

  With barely a nod at our departing cousin, Marty continued in the same vein, telling me how she understood people far better than I did; how I should rely on her judgment about Prudence.

  “Maybe you should stick with the critters and let me handle the people,’’ she said.

  Henry had announced I was acting like Maddie. But listening to Marty harangue me, I realized both of us were taking on some of our absent sister’s least lovable traits. Maybe Marty suspected something was amiss. Maybe imitating Maddie was a way both of us were dealing with that unvoiced suspicion.

  I decided to let my little sister blow off steam. I’d curb my impulse to take offense. As she talked, my gaze wandered around the room. Prudence was at the counter, waiting while Charlene collected her take-out order. Brewing hot tea—an uncommon request in Himmarshee—was taking some time. Prudence seemed to be explaining that hot tea isn’t made by microwaving a glass of sweet iced tea.

  Charlene rushed past us to a serving station at the rear of the diner, muttering as she went. “I know I’ve seen a single-size tea bag around here somewhere.’’ She called over her shoulder to Prudence. “Just give me a sec, hon.’’

  A good-looking cowboy waited at the register to pay his bill. H
e tipped his hat to Prudence, and they struck up a conversation. Before long, the two of them were chatting away like old friends. They gazed into each other’s eyes as if they were the only two souls in the place. He said something to make her smile, and she leaned toward him, placing a hand on his broad chest. He put an arm around her. She stepped close. Her tiny but well-developed frame fit neatly against the intimate contours of his body. Surely, they’d just established a record for quick canoodling.

  “Look at Prudence now,’’ I hissed, interrupting Marty’s rant. “You can’t tell me that’s not flirting.’’

  I was rewarded by seeing Marty’s mouth drop open just after she’d finished the phrase “… your very bad judgment, Mace.’’ She looked at Prudence and then back at me, and then back again at Prudence. The cowboy was nuzzling the English woman’s pale neck. Prudence giggled.

  Finally, Marty said the six words I loved above all others.

  “I was wrong. You were right.’’ She nodded. “That is definitely flirting.’’

  twenty-three

  “Well, if that doesn’t beat all.’’ Mama sopped up the last of the gravy on her plate with a chunk of meat loaf.

  As soon as Charlene brought our lunch orders, Mama had come running back to our table at Gladys.’ Between bites, Marty and I filled her in on Prudence’s encounter with the cowboy at the counter.

  Marty wasn’t completely ready to pass judgment, though.

  “We don’t know what’s going through her head, y’all. Everybody grieves differently. You’ve always said that, haven’t you, Mama?’’

  “Grieving and making a spectacle of yourself in public with a cowboy you’ve never met are two entirely different things, honey. I can’t get my head around that gal’s behavior.’’

  Mama patted her mouth with a napkin, and then whipped out her Apricot Ice. Using the screen on her smart phone as a makeshift mirror, she delivered a smack-smack kiss to her reflection.

  “Now.’’ She snapped shut her lipstick. “Enough about Prudence and her impropriety. What do you girls suppose we can do about Maddie?’’

  Uh-oh. I didn’t like where this was heading. What would I say if Mama mentioned she was concerned about my older sister’s emotional health? What if she started talking about saving Maddie’s marriage? She took a small sip from her water glass; regarded us with a grave expression.

  “We simply cannot let her wear that yellow dress.’’

  I shouldn’t have worried. Mama would let nothing dissuade her from her mission: Making sure none of her daughters ever embarrassed her with misguided color choices.

  “Henry!’’ Mama called across three tables to where our cousin’s lunch meeting was breaking up. “Come and give your Aunt Rosalee some sugar, honey.’’

  Like most everyone else, Henry rushed to do Mama’s bidding. No sooner had he kissed her cheek than she whipped out her phone to show him the picture she’d taken of Maddie’s dress at Fran’s Fancy Frocks and Duds.

  “Isn’t that just awful?’’ she asked.

  “Looks fine to me. The color’s nice and bright, like a flashing yellow traffic light. And I like those little short sleeves. They look like bells.’’

  Mama shook her head, not hearing the answer she wanted from Henry. “That’s another thing. Maddie’s upper arms will look like hams in those sleeves.’’

  “Why don’t you leave her alone, Mama? Maddie already bought the dress.’’ I signaled Charlene for some more coffee. “So what if it’s not perfect? Big deal. Let her wear what she wants.’’

  Mama narrowed her eyes at me. Before she could start in on my snippiness or my fashion faux pas, Henry headed her off.

  “Are you going to bring a pan of your lemon squares to Kenny’s big bash, Aunt Rosalee?”

  “Ooooooh, I love those!’’ Marty said.

  “It wouldn’t be a party without them.’’ Henry grabbed one of Mama’s hands in both of his; smiled into her eyes. “No one can bake like you do.’’

  Smooth, I thought. It was no wonder my charming cousin had a way with a jury, particularly ones with lots of women members.

  Mama patted her hair. “Well, of course I will, Henry. I know how you love them.’’

  Talk among the three of them turned to detailed descriptions of their favorite party foods, despite the fact we’d just finished lunch. My appetite was definitely off. I was feeling guilty about what I knew—and they didn’t know—about Maddie. I wanted to tell them she was in real trouble, far more trouble than having an ugly party dress. I couldn’t violate her confidence, though.

  I was deep in thought when a caress of warm breath and a kiss on my cheek brought me back to my surroundings. I smelled faint aftershave, sandalwood and spices. Carlos!

  Turning in my seat, I pulled his face to mine for a real greeting. “Am I ever glad to see you!’’ I planted an unusually public, and long-lasting, smooch on his lips.

  Carlos looked surprised, but pleasantly so. He returned my kiss with equal enthusiasm.

  “My, my.’’ Marty smiled. “Must be something in the water at Gladys’ today.’’

  Henry clapped Carlos on the back. They shook hands.

  “Looks like ‘on-again’ is lasting longer than usual with Mace and her boyfriend,’’ Mama said.

  I waved my ring hand in front of her face. “My fiancé.’’

  Marty and Henry chuckled. Mama smiled her approval.

  “Let’s call Reverend Delilah. You two can set the date. It’s about time you made an honest woman out of my daughter, Carlos.’’

  “Soon,’’ he said.

  “You hear that, honey? He’s ready to be caught! All you have to do is toss the net. And make it snappy. You’re not getting any younger.’’

  “I’m not a quart of milk with an expiration date, Mama.’’

  “Mace grows more beautiful every day,’’ Carlos said.

  Marty coughed. I felt my cheeks flush.

  “I am not the one setting up blocked roads, Rosalee. Your daughter doesn’t want to be caught, or else she’d slow down and let me catch her.’’

  He was grinning, which made me smile. I thanked my stars Carlos didn’t seem to be embarrassed or put off by Mama’s constant nagging about our wedding. I was about to invite him to sit down, when the cow bells at the door jangled. I got distracted when I saw who was walking in.

  Jason gave a big cheerful wave. In a polo shirt and cap emblazoned with the name of the golf course, he headed straight for our table. Nodding quickly at the others, he zeroed in on me.

  “I was passing by and saw your Jeep parked outside.’’ He dropped a casual hand on my shoulder. “I hear you were asking for me at the pro shop this morning.’’

  Charlene picked that moment to come pour my coffee. “Who’s the hottie,’’ she whispered, loud enough to be heard in the kitchen over the roar of the dishwasher.

  “Jason,’’ he answered, with a flash of white teeth. “I’m the pro at Himmarshee Links. You should come out sometime. I’ll help you work on your swing. I keep trying to get Mace to let me finesse hers.’’

  At the next table, a couple of women from the courthouse swooned. Flustered, Charlene knocked over the creamer on our table with her coffeepot. The cream splashed out to where Carlos still stood, landing all over the front of his slacks. He jumped back, and then grabbed a handful of napkins. I wasn’t sure whether his frown was due to Jason’s shameless flirting, or his fastidiousness about his clothes.

  “Sorry,’’ said Charlene, flushed with embarrassment.

  “Not to worry,’’ Carlos smiled at the waitress. “I keep a second set of clothes in my locker at work, which is where I need to be right now.’’ He glanced at his watch, gave me a peck on the cheek, and headed out the door.

  “Was it something I said?’’ Jason aimed his tanned dimples at me. “I’ve got to get back to work, too. I just stopped to ask if I’m going to see you again.’’

  The glances exchanged by my family members caromed around the table like
pool balls. I lifted Jason’s hand off my shoulder.

  Mama frowned. “Since when do you play golf, Mace?’’

  Marty said, “The last I remember, you were saying you wished you’d left that gator you trapped in the pond at the golf course. You said maybe he’d do us a favor and eat a few newcomers.’’

  “Ouch!’’ the pro laughed. “I don’t think that’s what the course’s architect had in mind when he designed our water hazards.’’

  “Talk about your penalty stroke,’’ Henry said.

  I mumbled something about stopping by the course soon. Jason left shortly after, to sighs from two tables of women.

  Once he was out of earshot, Mama got serious. “Why are you going to the golf course?’’

  I tried to think of a convincing lie. I came up blank.

  “None of your business.’’

  Even as the words escaped my mouth, I knew Mama would not rest until she made it her business. I had to discover what Kenny was up to before my family imploded under the weight of what I was hiding

  I threw a ten on the table and rushed out the door after Jason.

  twenty-four

  “Wait up!’’ I yelled from the sidewalk outside Gladys’ Diner.

  A big ol’ boy in bib overalls and a cap touting Nutrena cattle feed turned with a hopeful smile. I shook my head and pointed at the golf pro in the parking lot.

  Jason stood beside a red BMW convertible, which is a pretty fancy car for a pro who works at a small golf course built on a former cow pasture in middle Florida.

  “Well, well.’’ He leaned against the driver’s door, and crossed his arms over his chest. “Looks like you did want to see me again, sooner rather than later.’’

  “Don’t flatter yourself,’’ I said. “I needed to ask you some questions, but I didn’t want to talk in front of my family.’’ Not to mention my fiancé, I thought.

  He glanced at his watch; lit a cigarette. “I’ve got a few minutes.’’ He exhaled. “Knock yourself out.’’

  I decided to stick to my cover story, about trying to find out who might owe my brother-in-law money. Kenny hadn’t been back to the club since we’d spoken earlier, Jason said.